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maandarinee · 3 years

Note

what are all the podcasts you listen to?

anon I'm so glad you asked

Since it is a pretty long list including synopses (stolen from the podcast feed or website because I'm Bad at summaries and in some cases it's been a while since I listened) I'm going to put it under a cut.

I've separated the list into "Complete" (either finished or cancelled) and "Ongoing" podcasts. Some have additional comments by me. Current favorites are marked orange. My eternal beloved are Our Fair City and Wolf 359.

Complete

ars PARADOXICA: "When an experiment in a time much like our own goes horribly awry, Dr. Sally Grissom finds herself stranded in the past and entrenched in the activities of a clandestine branch of the US government. Grissom and her team quickly learn that there's no safety net when toying with the fundamental logic of the universe."

Blackwood: "Five years ago, Molly Weaver, Bryan Anderson, and Nathan Howell started a podcast focused on the local legend of a monster called The Blackwood Bugman. Quickly, the investigation grew out of their control, as they discovered that, not only are the legends seemingly true, many people in Blackwood have turned up dead or disappeared without a trace." --> [this feels like the Blair With Project, but as a podcast. Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

Dreamboy: "Dane, a spun-out musician spending the winter in Cleveland, Ohio, has two main goals: keeping his job at the Pepper Heights Zoo and trying not to waste all his time on Grindr. What he doesn’t expect is to get swept into a story about dreams, about forevers, about flickering lights, about unexplained deaths, about relentless change, and about the parts of ourselves that we wish other people knew to look for. Oh, and also a murderous zebra." --> [very NSFW; does cool things with music! Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

King Fall AM: "...centers on a lonely little mountain town's late-night AM talk radio show and its paranormal, peculiar happenings and inhabitants." --> [cancelled after 100 episodes, ends on a huge cliffhanger]

Our Fair City: "A campy, post-apocalyptic audio drama." --> [I know the description sounds like nothing but just trust me, I love it so much]

Steal the Stars: "...is a gripping noir science fiction thriller in 14 episodes: Forbidden love, a crashed UFO, an alien body, and an impossible heist unlike any ever attempted."

Stellar Firma: "...a weekly Science Fiction, Comedy podcast following the misadventures of Stellar Firma Ltd.'s highest born but lowest achieving planetary designer Trexel Geistman and his bewildered clone assistant David 7. Join them each episode as they attempt to take listener submissions and craft them into the galaxy's most luxurious, most expensive and most questionably designed bespoke planets. However, with Trexel's corporate shark of a line manager Hartro Piltz breathing down their necks and I.M.O.G.E.N., the station's omnipresent and omniinvasive stationwide A.I. monitoring those necks to within 3 decimal places, they'll be lucky to make it a week before being slurried and recycled into raw human resources." --> [semi-improvised, I thought I'd have a problem with the improv bit because that's not usually my thing, but no, I absolutely devoured this]

TANIS: "...is a serialized docudrama about a fascinating and surprising mystery: the myth of Tanis. Tanis is an exploration of the nature of truth, conspiracy, and information. Tanis is what happens when the lines of science and fiction start to blur." [+ spinoff The Last Movie] --> [I have no clue what the hell is going on here]

The Black Tapes: "...is a serialized docudrama about one journalist's searc for truth, her enigmatic subject's mysterious past, and the literal and figurative ghosts that haunt them both."

The Magnus Archives: "...is a weekly horror fiction anthology podcast examining what lurks in the archives of the Magnus Institute, an organisation dedicated to researching the esoteric and the weird. Join new head archivist Jonathan Sims as he attempts to bring a seemingly neglected collection of supernatural statements up to date, converting them to audio and supplementing them with follow-up work from his small but dedicated team. Individually, they are unsettling. Together they begin to form a picture that is truly horrifying because as they look into the depths of the archives, something starts to look back…"

Time:Bombs: "...a new audio drama podcast about the hilarious world of bomb disposal. Ride along with EOD technician Simon Teller on the busiest night of the year for him and his team - when business is, quite literally, booming."

Wolf 359: "Life's not easy for Doug Eiffel, the communications officer for the U.S.S. Hephaestus Research Station, currently on Day 448 of its orbit around red dwarf star Wolf 359. He's stuck on a scientific survey mission of indeterminate length, 7.8 light years from Earth. His only company on board the station are stern mission chief Minkowski, insane science officer Hilbert, and Hephaestus Station's sentient, often malfunctioning operating system Hera. He doesn't have much to do for his job other than monitoring static and intercepting the occasional decades-old radio broadcast from Earth, so he spends most of his time creating extensive audio logs about the ordinary, day-to-day happenings within the station. But the Hephaestus is an odd place, and life in extremely isolated, zero gravity conditions has a way of doing funny things to people's minds. Even the simplest of tasks can turn into a gargantuan struggle, and the most ordinary-seeming things have a way of turning into anything but that." --> [starts funny, turns very intense]

Ongoing

Alba Salix, Roya Physician (+ The Axe & Crown): "A witch, her apprentice, and her fairy herbalist treat the ills of a fairy-tale kingdom." + "Gubbin the troll tavernkeeper deals with his clueless new landlord, his shady niece, and some new competition."

Archive 81: "A found footage horror podcast about ritual, stories, and sound."

Arden: "A (fictional) true crime podcast about cold cases and the reporter and detective who try to solve them."

Brimstone Valley Mall: "The year is 1999. Lurking somewhere between Hot Topic and the food court, five misfit demons from Hell kill time inciting sin in a suburban shopping mall. When the lead singer of their band goes mysteriously missing, the demons only have two weeks to find him before they play the biggest gig of the millennium - or face the wrath of Satan herself."

CARAVAN: "First rule of Wound Canyon: No one who gets in, ever gets out. So when a brilliant, ghostly specter flies through the sky amid the rain and lightning, Samir stumbles off a steep cliff and into a hidden world, one in which demons, vampires, and all other manner of paranormal creatures take sanctuary." --> [also pretty NSFW and horny in general]

Death by Dying: "The Obituary Writer of Crestfall, Idaho finds himself deeply in over his head as he investigates a series of strange and mysterious deaths… when he is supposed to simply be writing obituaries. Along the way he encounters murderous farmers, man-eating cats, haunted bicycles, and a healthy dose of ominous shadows." --> [I had to stop listening to this in public because it kept making me undignified laugh and snort noises]

Desperado: "Blood magic, Voodoo magic, old gods, new gods: We've got it all! Follow the story of misfits from all over the world, as they try to survive and protect their heritage from modern-day crusaders."

EOS 10: "Doctors in space, a deposed alien prince, a super gay space pirate and a fiery nurse who'll help you win your bar fight."

Girl In Space: "Abandoned on a dying ship in the farthest reaches of known space, a young scientist fights for survival (and patience with the on-board A.I.). Who is she? No one knows. But a lot of dangerous entities really want to find out. Listen as the story unfolds for science, guns, trust, anti-matter, truth, beauty, inner turmoil, and delicious cheeses. It’s all here. In space."

Janus Descending: "...follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place. Told from two alternating perspectives, Janus Descending is an experience of crossing timelines, as one character describes the nightmare from end to beginning, and the other, from beginning to the end." --> [absolutely harrowing horror]

Love and Luck: "...is a fictional radio play podcast, told via voicemails and set in present day Melbourne, Australia. A slice of life queer romance story with a touch of magic, it follows the relationship between two men, Jason and Kane, as their love grows both for each other and their community." --> [soft and gay, feels like a warm hug]

Potterless: "Join Mike Schubert, a grown man reading the Harry Potter series for the first time, as he sits down with HP fanatics to poke fun at plot holes, make painfully incorrect predictions, and bask in the sassiness of the characters." --> [the only non-fiction podcast on the list]

Primordial Deep: "When a long extinct sea creature washes up on the shores of Coney Island, marine biologist Dr. Marella Morgan is contacted by a secret organization to investigate the origins of the creature’s sudden and unnatural resurgence. Soon, she and a team of experts find themselves living on the research station The Tiamat, traveling along the abyssal plains as they search for answers far below the waves. But there are dangers in these ancient waters. Reawakened, prehistoric monsters are rising from the deep -- jaws wide and waiting, and in the darkness, something is stirring."

Red Valley: "No one at Overhead Industries wants to talk about defunct research station Red Valley, and account man Warren Godby is out of his depth. When he meets Gordon Porlock, a disgruntled archivist with a bag of tapes from the station’s last known occupant, they will begin a journey to the limits of experimental science, confront horror and trauma from the past, present and future, and try to remember the cheat codes from Sonic the Hedgehog 2."

Rusty Quill Gaming: "An actual play podcast following a mixed ability group of comedians, improvisers, gamers, and writers as they play through the extended, tabletop roleplaying campaign Erasing the Line, an original game world of the GM’s crafting." --> [took me a while to get into because I have trouble focusing on non-scripted things, but eventually I got really hooked on the plot and attached to the characters. This podcast is really fucked up at times if you think about it]

SAYER: "A narrative fiction podcast set on Earth’s man-made second moon, Typhon. The eponymous SAYER is a highly advanced, self-aware AI created to help acclimate new residents to their new lives, and their new employment with Ærolith Dynamics." --> [feels like Welcome to Night Vale but narrated by GLaDOS from Portal]

StarTripper!!: "Join Feston Pyxis on a road-trip through the cosmos, as he leaves behind his old life in search of the best and wildest experiences the galaxy has to offer!"

The Amelia Project: "...is a secret agency that fakes its clients' deaths, then lets them reappear with a brand new identity! A black comedy full of secrets, twists... and cocoa."

The Big Loop: "...a biweekly anthology series. Each episode is a self-contained narrative exploring the strange, the wonderful, the terrifying, and the heartbreaking. Stories of finite beings in an infinite universe." --> [I don't like anthologies, except this one]

The Bright Sessions: "Dr. Bright provides therapy for the strange and unusual; their sessions have been recorded for research purposes." --> [think X-Men, but with therapy instead of a school]

The Deca Tapes: "Recordings have surfaced of ten people that are locked into the same space together. We don’t know where they are, or if they'll get out. But the answers must be somewhere on these tapes."

The Silt Verses: "Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories."

The White Vault: "Follow the collected records of a repair team sent to Outpost Fristed in the vast white wastes of Svalbard and unravel what lies waiting in the ice below."

Tides: "...is the story of Dr. Winifred Eurus, a xenobiologist trapped on an unfamiliar planet with hostile tidal forces. She must use her wits, sarcasm and intellectual curiosity to survive long enough to be rescued. But there might be more to life on this planet than she expected." --> [think The Martian, but on a water planet]

Unwell, a Midwestern Gothic Mystery: "Lillian Harper moves to the small town of Mt. Absalom, Ohio, to care for her estranged mother Dorothy after an injury. Living in the town's boarding house which has been run by her family for generations, she discovers conspiracies, ghosts, and a new family in the house's strange assortment of residents."

VAST Horizon: "Nolira is an agronomist tasked with establishing agriculture in a new solar system, but when she wakes up on a now- empty colony ship, the whole of her plan disappears. The ship has been set adrift, with numerous mission-critical problems requiring immediate attendance outside of her area of expertise. Nolira is aided by the ship’s malfunctioning AI, which acts as her confidant and companion during the fight for survival."

Victoriocity: "Even Greater London, 1887. In this vast metropolis, Inspector Archibald Fleet and journalist Clara Entwhistle investigate a murder, only to find themselves at the centre of a conspiracy of impossible proportions."

We Fix Space Junk: "...follows seasoned smuggler Kilner and reluctant fugitive Samantha as they travel the galaxy, dodging bullets and meeting strange and wonderful beings as they carry out odd jobs on the fringes of the law."

Welcome to Night Vale: "Twice-monthly community updates for the small desert town of Night Vale, where every conspiracy theory is true. Turn on your radio and hide."

Within the Wires: "Stories told through found audio from an alternate universe."

Wooden Overcoats: "Rudyard Funn and his equally miserable sister Antigone run their family's failing funeral parlour, where they get the body in the coffin in the ground on time. But one day they find everyone enjoying themselves at the funerals of a new competitor - the impossibly perfect Eric Chapman! With their dogsbody Georgie, and a mouse called Madeleine, the Funns are taking drastic steps to stay in the business…" --> [one of THE funniest podcasts I have ever listened to]

#ask #anon #please talk to me about podcasts at all times #podcasts #podcast recommendations

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hrtiu · 3 years

Text

Worthy of Devotion Chapter 6

Yeah so... obviously I didn’t stick to my weekly update schedule 😅 But hey, Chapter 7 is already halfway done!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28259979/chapters/72995721

Kaminoan breakfast was not to Riyo’s taste. It was all raw fish, squid, and shellfish chopped up and mixed together with some kind of acidic syrup and, as a native of a marshy moon with no oceans, Riyo found it disagreeable. Still, she dutifully slurped down the food and nodded along to Prime Minister Lama Su’s unhurried conversation.

“As you can see, our facilities are state-of-the-art, and the Republic is reaping the benefits of our skilled army,” he said.

Riyo nodded and picked up the last spoonful of her breakfast, hesitating only a moment before putting the tentacled mystery in her mouth. The food they fed the clones at the cafeteria had looked different, like a nutritional paste or some kind of fortified starch. This seafood hash was no doubt a delicacy meant to honor her visit, but she’d honestly prefer the paste.

“This is quite an impressive operation you have here, Prime Minister,” she said. “I look forward to discussing the future of the Republic’s relationship with Kamino at the summit.”

She set her spoon down and left her napkin on top of her plate, signalling that she was done with the meal—finally. She’d spent most of the previous night making last-minute preparations with Maja, and she didn’t think she could handle another moment of small talk and crustaceans.

Lama Su inclined his long neck. “Shall we?”

He rose to his feet and Riyo, flanked by Maja, Captain Rex, and Commander Fox, followed him out of the dining hall and into a spare, white conference room. Nala Se, Senator Burtoni and several other Kaminoan dignitaries were already seated inside, and the Prime Minister showed Riyo to her seat at the head of the table. Rex and Maja found their own spots at the far end of the group, and Fox stationed himself at the door.

Lama Su took the chair next to Riyo and cleared his throat, drawing the eyes of all the attendees to him. “I want to thank Chancellor Chuchi for visiting with us today. I am eager to discuss Kamino’s role in the Republic’s military moving forward, and to build upon the foundation of goodwill and trust that we have already established.”

“Thank you for having me, Prime Minister,” Riyo said. She waited for him to extend his welcome to Rex and Maja, too, but he moved right on to business.

“I’ll begin with the basics. As we on Kamino have provided the Republic with an excellent military in the past, no doubt contributing greatly to the Republic’s victory in the war, we believe the Republic would be amenable to extending our contracts. Perhaps the Republic no longer has need of such a large army, but surely some standing military force is necessary for the defense of our systems, and we are also in the process of developing new technologies and personnel specializing in peacekeeping and violence deterrence.”

Riyo’s mouth twisted. The phrase “peacekeeping” had been too-often used throughout the war to justify acts of aggression, and was he really going to completely ignore the clone legislation the Senate had just passed? Senator Burtoni had to have told him.

“The Republic does indeed owe a large debt of gratitude to its clone army,” she said, gesturing to Rex, “who protected citizens and defended our sovereignty at the risk and often expense of their own lives. However, you must understand that, given recent legislation involving the legality of pressing clones into military service, we cannot continue to use your services in the same way.”

Lama Su leaned over the table and laced his long fingers together. “Yes, Senator Burtoni informed us of this legislation. I fail to see why a practice that ensured the Republic’s victory in the war could so conveniently be deemed illegal after the fact.”

“The criticism is valid, Prime Minister, but unfortunately we cannot change the past. We can only try to move forward in a way that is consistent with our values, and creating sentient life only for it to be forced into military service is not consistent with our values.”

Lama Su’s giant eyes narrowed ‘til only a thin slice of grey iris peeked through. “What are you proposing, Chancellor?”

Riyo inclined her head towards Rex.

“All production of clone soldiers needs to end immediately,” Rex said. “The Republic has already paid, so it’s no harm to you. The Republic won’t commission any clone soldiers in the future, either.”

“This is outrageous!” Senator Burtoni said, addressing Riyo and ignoring Rex. “It is an insult to our relationship with the Republic!”

“The Senate’s vote is final,” Rex said. “Kamino is free to do what they wish, but all member systems of the Republic have to abide by Republic laws, which now prohibit the enslavement of any sentient beings for any reason.”

“Where was all this talk of slavery when the Republic ordered the army?” Senator Burtoni demanded. “I must say, Chancellor, this law feels rather pointed. If Kamino is to be singled out like this, perhaps we would not wish to remain-”

Lama Su held up a hand and Senator Burtoni closed her mouth, nodding in deference to the Prime Minister. “Chancellor Chuchi, we of course would wish to remain in the Republic, but you must understand how much our economy is tied to the cloning industry. We have invested decades of education, technology, and infrastructure into this endeavor. What you are asking is not so simple as turning a switch from on to off.”

Riyo nodded sympathetically, though it irked her to no end the way they continued to ignore Rex. “I understand your concern, Prime Minister, which is why I have already negotiated several agricultural contracts on your behalf. The nerf industry is very interested in your work isolating desirable genetic traits. Etrat Industries is also willing to hire Kaminoan geneticists to develop more drought-resistant grains.” Riyo passed a datapad to Lama Su and gave him a moment to look it over. “The current value of these contracts is about 75% of what the clone army generated for Kamino, but I believe these contracts can grow into a sustained economy that does not rely on one product, and no longer requires widespread war to be profitable.”

Lama Su’s dark eyes darted across the screen and he nodded thoughtfully. “We will need time to consider and speak with these contacts of yours before formally agreeing, but I find your proposal to be a compelling one, Chancellor.”

Riyo held back a sigh of relief. Maja had insisted that Kamino valued membership in the Republic enough to play hardball, but Riyo still hadn’t been sure the agricultural contracts would be tempting enough to soothe any hurt feelings. And as abhorrent as she found the Human factory here on Kamino, Riyo still didn’t want the Kaminoans to leave the Republic. For one thing, leaving the Republic would leave them free to create clone armies for other people.

The summit moved on and they first went through the new clone legislation and what exactly it meant. No, cloning wasn’t entirely illegal. Yes, cloning sentient beings for servitude was illegal. Then they went through each of the agricultural contracts line by line and Lama Su and his advisors discussed which ones they could easily take on with minimal capital expense. Lama Su was difficult to read, but Riyo thought she could see a pleased glimmer in his eye as he examined the proposed quotes for each contract. She made a mental note to throw a party for Maja later for pulling so much of that together.

“Well,” Lama Su said after several hours of debate, “You are our customer, so of course we will halt production as you requested. We are tentatively willing to commit to never producing clone soldiers again, but it will take some time before we can formalize the agreement. This was, as you know, the foundation of our economy for some time. We wish to remain in the Republic, but leaving is an option if we feel we are not being treated fairly.”

“I can assure you, Prime Minister, we will do everything we can to ensure that all citizens of the Republic—Kaminoan and Clone alike—will be treated fairly,” Riyo said.

“Excellent. That brings our summit to a close-”

“One more thing, if I may,” Riyo interjected.

Lama Su looked up at her, a frown of mild indifference on his face. “Yes, Chancellor Chuchi?”

Riyo’s eyes darted quickly to Rex at the end of the table, then over to Fox. She hadn’t had a chance to consult them about this part, but she was reasonably sure they’d approve. “As the price for the clones’ production and cultivation until adulthood has already been paid for, the Republic is willing to assume responsibility for the care and raising of all clones aged zero to three effective immediately, and for only half the cost the Kaminoan facility would have spent on their training.”

The grey brows above Lama Su’s eyes rose. “What do you mean, for only half the cost?”

“Your people would pay the Republic to take over the raising of these clones half of the estimated cost of training them here on Kamino. You would still come out ahead, financially.”

Lama Su’s nostril slits flared slightly and his eyes turned over to Senator Burtoni.

“They were created for the Republic. I suppose the Republic can claim them at any time,” Senator Burtoni said.

Lama Su’s expression remained impassive, but years of experience in politics told Riyo what he was thinking. He didn’t like the idea of capitulating to yet another Republic demand, but he was counting credits, and she knew the calculus would end up in her favor.

“If you insist, then of course we are willing to oblige our loyal customer,” he said. “It will take time to sort out logistics, so let’s say tentatively the handover will take place in six months-”

“I’ve already worked out most of the logistics on my end. We should be able to pick up the children in one month.”

A brief silence filled the conference room at her words, and Lama Su stared down at her. “As you wish, Chancellor.”

They closed the summit with all the necessary formalities, and Riyo walked from the room, her shoulders tucked back and her chin held high all the way until they reached the safety of her rooms. Then she let the tension of the negotiations go and her placid expression dropped.

“Oh my goodness, I wasn’t at all sure that was going to work, Maja.”

Maja patted her shoulder. “I told you they’re desperate to stay in the Republic. As an extragalactic planet, the Republic is vital in connecting them to trade and the political life of the rest of the galaxy.”

“Yes, but I really thought demanding all that, plus the younger clones—I was worried they’d reject us just out of spite.”

Maja smirked. “Pride is one thing, but credits are king.”

“You, my friend, are a genius.”

“Who am I to contradict the Chancellor?”

Riyo laughed, but her laugh quickly morphed into a sigh. “And now the work begins. Can you call back our contact with the Child Services Agency on Coruscant? And get in touch with those other agricultural conglomerates we haven’t heard back from yet.”

“On it, boss.”

Riyo started for the office near the back of her quarters, but a low cough turned her attention behind her. Commander Fox was standing there, helmet on and blaster still in hand, his posture stiff and formal. Next to him was Rex, helmetless, with a warm smile on his face.

“Yes, Commander? Captain? I’m sorry, I probably should have asked your opinion on this, first. I just had so many holo calls to make to work things out, and I couldn’t find either of you anywhere-”

“It’s not a problem, Madam Chancellor,” Rex said. “Thank you for caring. I know it means a lot to the boys.”

Riyo smiled at him. “Of course, Captain,” she said, then her smile fell. “After coming here, I couldn’t do nothing. I… I had some idea what it would be like here, but nothing prepared me for actually seeing it.”

“We’re clones. How else do you think we were raised?” Rex said.

“I know, it’s just… different when you actually see the trichbasa stuffed.”

“The what?”

“Oh, it’s a Pantoran phrase. Sometimes you don’t want to see the messy details of how something gets made. It’s… easier not knowing.”

“I’m glad you were willing to stomach it for us, ma’am,” Rex said.

“Ma’am?” Maja said, poking her head back into the hallway from the study. “The Chief Administrator of the Child Services Agency is on the holo.”

“I’ll be right there!”

She bade the two clones a hasty farewell and threw herself right into work. Committing to finding safe and nurturing permanent homes for thousands of young clones had meant taking on a huge amount of logistics in a short time, but she was determined to succeed. The clones deserved nothing less.

---

Riyo and Maja toiled late into the night and hardly slept before their scheduled departure the next morning. Riyo spent almost the entire flight back to Coruscant drafting up letters looking for donations and support for the child clones. She’d found enough backers the night before the summit to make the ask, but there were still so many more details to work out and more funding never hurt.

About halfway through composing a letter to a wealthy philanthropist from Bespin, Riyo’s eyes began to droop. She was so tired, if she just rested her eyes a moment she could finish this up. Yes… Just a moment was all she needed...

“Ma’am?” A gloved hand gently tapped Riyo on the shoulder, and she opened her eyes only to find her face smooshed up against the transparisteel of the observation window. She blinked blearily up at Fox, identifying him as the tapper.

“Yes, Fox?”

“We’re starting the landing sequence, Madam Chancellor.”

“Oh…” She sat up and rubbed at her eyes, then hastily swiped at the puddle of drool that had collected on her datapad. “Why didn’t anyone wake me!”

“We were informed that it would be unwise…” Rex said.

“I told them if they did I’d murder them,” Maja said from where she sat in the corner, her gaze never budging from the datapad in her hand.

Riyo laughed, then buckled herself in for landing. “And that’s why I picked you as my assistant.”

Maja raised the stylus she was holding and tipped it in Riyo’s direction. “Exactly.”

They landed and Rex offered to escort Maja to her apartment, which Riyo appreciated. Maja didn’t get the same security detail that Riyo did, but she could just as easily be targeted by political enemies.

Fox and Riyo took the high-speed lift up to Riyo’s secure apartment in Coruscant’s upper levels, and Riyo’s focus wavered as the lights of the city blurred by through the lift’s transparisteel windows.

“...Madam Chancellor?”

Riyo shook her head to rouse herself and looked to Fox, concentrating hard to make sure she wasn’t dreaming up his sudden desire to talk. “Yes?”

Fox’s helmet was clipped to his belt, but his expression was as opaque as ever. “Thank you,” he said. Then he spread his arms to the side, letting them hover awkwardly away from his hips.

Riyo furrowed her brow at him. She’d had way too little sleep in the past 48 hours to believe she was interpreting this correctly. “Fox?”

Fox cleared his throat, a ruddy flush spreading across his cheeks. “You can hug me, if you want.”

“Oh. Oh!”

That certainly woke Riyo up. She stood dumbfounded for a moment, then saw in the twitch under Fox’s eye that if she didn’t do something quick he might break the lift open and jump out. She fell forward into what she now recognized as open arms and wrapped herself around his torso. Her fingers barely met around the bulky backplate, but she would not be deterred.

Fox’s gloved hands rested uncertainly on Riyo’s shoulders, and she smiled into his chestplate. Not too long ago Fox had been alone and untouched in one of those awful nurseries on Kamino, just like all of his other brothers. She wasn’t about to let that travesty continue.

“I only wish I could have done more,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest.

He didn’t respond for a beat. Riyo was glad he didn’t lie to her, didn’t tell her that she’d done more than enough. There was still so much to do, so many wrongs to right. And she’d only been able to rescue the youngest clones.

“There’s still time,” he said eventually.

She squeezed him tight, her arms full of unyielding plastoid. Through all the armor, though, she thought she could feel a beating heart.

---

“But where are we going to get the money? This is the question nobody seems interested in but me,” Senator Taam said.

“Maybe because we are more concerned with sentient lives than with credits,” Senator Organa snapped.

Fox suppressed a sigh behind his helmet. These Armed Services Committee meetings got things done, but the process was painfully slow. Palpatine had been one evil piece of Sithspit, but at least he’d been able to move quickly. If he’d wanted a fully-funded clone retirement program he’d have just called a meeting, made a few benevolent threats, and been done with it.

“Concern doesn’t pay for programs! The budget does, and I want to get this bill funded as much as any of you. So we can actually provide something to these clones.”

“Whenever we needed new flagships we managed to find the money from somewhere-” Senator Organa said.

“Ok, ok, we’re not getting anywhere arguing,” Chancellor Chuchi said. “Senator Taam is right—it doesn’t matter how great our ideas are if we can’t fund them.”

“Exactly-” Senator Taam said.

“But Senator Organa is right that we can’t use that as an excuse for inaction. This is going to cost major credits, and the budget is going to feel it. So we need to make sure that the public sees it as the necessity it is.”

The table fell silent and the committee exchanged apologetic glances. The corner of Fox’s mouth turned up. Palpatine may have been more efficient, but moments like these reminded him of why he preferred Chancellor Chuchi’s methods. Aside from the obvious fact that she didn’t abuse his brothers and send them to their deaths.

“In my experience, the more civilians know about us the more they’re willing to support us,” Rex said.

Senator Organa nodded. “That’s an excellent point. Up until now the GAR has been used for propaganda, but soldiers have mostly been portrayed as distant, heroic figures. We can run a publicity campaign that highlights your individuality.”

“As well as your practical skills,” Senator Paulness said. “Clones should find more employers willing to hire them and invest in their training if they understand the clones’ unique qualifications.”

Chancellor Chuchi tapped her stylus in her assistant’s direction. “Maja, have Talia Tantipani draw up preliminary ideas for a publicity campaign, would you?”

“On it, ma’am.”

“That’s all well and good, but publicity alone won’t be enough,” said Senator Taam.

“You’re right. We need to also demonstrate the ways in which a retired clone army can benefit the populace,” Senator Paulness said.

“Plenty of the systems we fought on are in desperate need of reconstruction. The locals already know us and most are friendly to us—they might be open to clone workers coming to help rebuild,” Rex said.

“Hmm…” Senator Taam said. “We could expand the Relief and Recovery Agency and have it give hiring precedence to former clone soldiers.”

“I can work on incorporating more job training into the Relief and Recovery Agency, too,” said Senator Organa.

The senators began talking excitedly amongst themself and the energy in the room lifted. Fox recognized a breakthrough when he saw it, and he found himself tuning the chatter out. A twinge of guilt nudged at his conscience, that he wasn’t paying more attention to legislation that would affect the livelihoods of so many of his brothers, but there was only so much of this endless talk he could force himself to focus through. Besides, he had other things to worry about.

Like Daw Saetang. He was an agricultural lobbyist, and though he’d attended several meetings with the Chancellor already, he was slated for a one-on-one right after the Armed Services Committee finished up. One-on-one meetings called for more thorough background checks, and though Saetang’s check hadn’t raised any red flags, something about him still bugged Fox. Was it his smarmy smile? Or maybe the way he didn’t have face tattoos like all the other Pantorans Fox had met. Not that he’d met that many…

“Ok then, Senator Taam will reach out to the Relief and Recovery Agency, Senator Organa will focus on the publicity campaign, and Senator Paulness will head up our contacts in various employment and job training organizations.” Captain Rex said.

The senators all nodded their agreement, and Chancellor Chuchi started gathering up her datapads. “Excellent. I know progress can seem slow, but we need to give our veterans support as soon as possible.”

The meeting adjourned and Fox waited while Maja and Chancellor Chuchi chatted and collected their supplies together. The Chancellor was close enough to her assistant that Maja must be able to smell her perfume—a citrusy scent that Fox only knew because his damned helmet filter didn’t work very well any more. He’d have to request a new one, which would be a royal pain now that his position fell outside of typical command structures.

Yes, he’d have to get it replaced. That way, if the Chancellor ever wanted to hug him again, he wouldn’t be cursed with the memory of her perfume following him around all day. Though, who was he kidding? Why on earth would she ever want to hug him again? He’d been as stiff as a clanker. He’d heard the Kaminoans describe the clones as “droids but better,” before, and thinking back to his painfully awkward hug, he believed there might be some truth to it.

Maja and the Chancellor left the conference room and Fox trailed them a few steps behind. They followed the well-trod path to the Chancellor’s office, where Saetang was already waiting outside for them.

“Madam Chancellor! An honor to see you again,” the tall Pantoran man said, holding his hand out towards Chancellor Chuchi with confidence.

“It’s good to see you, too, Mr. Saetang,” the Chancellor said.

“Please, it’s Daw. And Ms. Joyo, always a pleasure,” he said to Maja.

“Likewise,” Maja said.

Saetang ignored Fox, which suited Fox just fine.

They stepped into the Chancellor’s office and Fox stationed himself by the door. He prepared himself to tune out yet another circular policy argument, but Saetang and his skeezy smile drew his attention. He kept his eyes locked on the Pantoran man and scanned for unusual traits that might signal some sinister motive.

Saetang’s eyes flitted to Fox, and for a moment Fox could swear the man could see his gaze through the tinted visor. But that was impossible.

The negotiations continued, and Saetang had a way of getting what he wanted while making it seem like he was losing that got under Fox’s skin. Still, he trusted Chancellor Chuchi to be able to deal with snakes like Saetang. She’d been around the Senate long enough to recognize the type.

“I’ll be sure to communicate your terms to my colleagues,” Saetang said smoothly. “We’ve had our eyes on that Kaminoan gene selection technology for some time now, and I’m sure we can strike a mutually beneficial deal with them.”

“Thank you, Daw. I very much appreciate your time,” Chancellor Chuchi said, rising to her feet to signal the end of the meeting.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said. He stood, but made no move towards the door.

“...Is there something else, Mr. Saetang?” Chancellor Chuchi said.

“My apologies, Madam Chancellor, I was working up the nerve to ask you… I nabbed a reservation at Pantiat Ichi for tomorrow and was hoping you might accompany me.”

Fox’s hands held his blaster a little too tightly, and he had to make a conscious effort to loosen his grip. It was just an invitation. Why did it feel like a threat?

Chancellor Chuchi’s eyebrows rose. “Oh! I’m afraid I’ll be busy tomorrow evening. It’s such a shame, I’ve heard they have the best Pantoran food on the planet.”

Saetang offered her a rueful smile. “I understand, it’s so last minute. If your evening frees up, though, please let me know.”

“Of course.”

She walked him to the door of her office and he bowed over her hand before he left, bringing a bluish blush to her cheeks. Then he left and the door finally shut on the bastard.

When the Chancellor turned back to her desk, Maja was grinning at her like a tooka with a convor.

“Stop it!” Chancellor Chuchi said, and she shoved Maja playfully.

“Stop what?” Maja asked, eyes wide with innocence.

“He’s just a smooth-talking lobbyist. It’s not a big deal.”

“You know I actually could carve out time for dinner for you tomorrow night.”

The Chancellor eyed her friend doubtfully. “Are you serious?”

“Why not? He seems nice enough, and I’ve heard Pantiat Ichi is to die for.”

“He’s a lobbyist!”

“Yes, there are rules you’d have to follow, but I can make sure everything is square. Really, Riyo, why not get out and have a little fun? You haven’t taken a single personal day since taking office.”

“I… I suppose I could…”

Maja’s smile grew. “You want me to send him a message?”

Chancellor Chuchi threw up her hands. “Fine. Why not?”

“That’s the spirit!” Maja said, rushing the Chancellor for a surprise hug.

Chancellor Chuchi laughed and pushed at her friend, and soon Fox could no longer make out exactly what they were saying. He sighed and commed Thorn through his helmet’s built-in system. His helmet might be old and falling apart, but at least it was still soundproof with the dampers on.

“Thorn? Can we get another background check on Daw Saetang? Dig a bit deeper this time.”

---

The first human Bacara ever killed couldn’t have been much older than he was. At least, biologically. If he just went by years then Bacara was likely at least a decade younger. Regardless, the Twi’lek man Bacara shot in the chest was too thinking, too breathing, too sentient for comfort.

Bacara had never before thought to be grateful to be fighting droids, but he had to admit it was much easier to blow a clanker’s head off than a Twi’lek’s.

“Sir, the remaining Separatists have been cleared out,” Solus told him over the comms.

“Do a thorough sweep of the area. I don’t want any stragglers to catch us off guard,” Bacara said.

General Mundi joined Bacara at the top of the ridge overlooking the wooded battlefield. “Excellent work, Commander.”

“Just doing our jobs, sir.”

“Still, I know fighting against sentients isn’t quite that same. You’ve adapted well.”

Bacara nodded and put his hands behind his back. “What’s our next move, sir?”

“Once everything’s sorted here, we only have one more assignment before returning to Coruscant.”

Bacara smiled. He’d get to see his batchmates for the first time in months. And more importantly, he’d be able to tell them what he’d learned about their inhibitor chips.

“It is difficult to be away from the ones we love, isn’t it?” General Mundi said.

Bacara’s smile faded. He didn’t like when the General said things that seemed to respond to the thoughts in his head, especially not when his thoughts strayed too close to the inhibitor chips. “Captain Peke’s waiting to report in the command center,” he said, ignoring the General’s question. It had been rhetorical, anyway.

“Excellent,” General Mundi said, and together they headed for the command center, a collapsible durasteel bunker that had seen plenty of wear in all different kinds of terrain and atmospheres.

They stepped through the automatic doors and Bacara immediately sensed something was wrong. The doors slammed shut behind them and the lights extinguished. When they turned on again the General was surrounded by insurgents, one of them with a blaster held to his head.

“Don’t move! Or the Jedi gets it!” the man said, dirt and blood on his face and desperation in his eyes.

“Let’s just stay calm…” Bacara said, slowly setting his blaster on the ground.

“I tried to warn you, sir!” Captain Peke said from across the room. He was tied up to a chair, and another one of the insurgents held him at blaster-point.

“Everybody quiet!” the man with his blaster to Mundi’s head said.

Peke shut his mouth and Bacara slowly rose from his crouch, his hands held high with his palms open.

“We don’t want trouble with the Republic,” the lead insurgent said. “And we aren’t with the Separatists, either. We just want our planet to be in peace, we just want to live free without Republic interference.”

Bacara’s eyes darted to General Mundi’s, but the General seemed unconcerned. “This is not something you want to do, son.”

“Shut up!” the man shouted. “I know all about your Jedi tricks, and that won’t work on us!”

“This is not going to end well for you. If you leave now we won’t follow you,” Mundi said.

“We’re not leaving until you order all Republic forces out of this system!”

“This is your last warning.”

“Kriff you and your warnings! I’m the one with the blaster!”

With a sudden whoosh of power, General Mundi pushed outward from himself, knocking everything away from him in a perfect wave of energy. Bacara fell backwards and scrambled to grab his blaster before any of the rebels could get to it first. He grabbed the grip and rolled onto his back, aiming up at whoever might have followed his movements. But there was no one there.

General Mundi stood in the middle of the room, the blue glow of his lightsaber illuminating the carnage around him. The insurgents were dead. All of them. Eight bodies lay scattered around the room, burning wounds bearing testament to their singular cause of death. General Mundi looked down at their prone bodies, his mouth turned downwards and his eyes sad.

“...General? Are you alright?” Bacara asked.

General Mundi turned yellow eyes to Bacara. “Yes, Bacara, thank you. It’s just a shame.”

“...Yes, sir.”

“Well then. Let’s free Captain Peke, shall we?”

Bacara got to his feet and he and General Mundi untied Captain Peke from the chair. Bacara called for help with cleanup through his comm, and in only a half hour they were debriefing in that very same command center as if nothing had happened. All throughout the debrief, though, Bacara could see the shadows of the bodies around the room.

#foxiyo #commander fox #riyo chuchi #star wars #fanfic #tcw #the clone wars

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mysmesomefluff · 3 years

Text

Believe Again: Chapter 31 (Preview)

A/N: Posting the first part of this chapter here first because the update is so overdue LOL sorry I’m honestly just sick of the plot part i just want to write mindless fluff where everyone is happy again T_T also been getting swamped with group projects/presentations already (everything stacked in the first half of the semester for me this time) so I’ll try to finish the rest of it this week if possible if not early next week. :”)

***

Saeyoung ran the plan over in his head for what seemed like the thousandth time. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he was worried about forgetting something when he was panicking like this.

This mission had two aims: one, to rescue Saeran and his girlfriend and two, to erase all information in Mint Eye’s database relating to the twins and the RFA. The rest—namely Park Ha Yoon—would be dealt with by the Prime Minister’s men. Two teams were going in to save Saeran and his girlfriend, and both Jumin’s men and a small team of the elite forces provided by the Prime Minister would help with this rescue mission.

Honestly, he was still having a hard time wrapping his head around just this part. Never in his life would he have expected to be working with that man… the man his mother had always warned him and Saeran about. For as long as he could remember, she had refused to allow them to go outside freely, always reminding them of the fact that they had a father who would do anything to erase them from this world.

And yet, here this man was, helping them.

Well, Saeyoung supposed it wasn’t exactly like he was doing God’s work either. All this was on the condition that he and Saeran packed their bags, left the country for good and buried the truth of their birth forever.

But at least he didn’t want them dead. Saeyoung supposed maybe that made him the better parent, at least when compared to his mother… which set the bar ten feet underground.

Nevertheless, it was clear enough from their meeting that things like kinship meant little to the seasoned politician. He had only become more agreeable after Jumin pointed out that Park Ha Yoon knew about the twins’ link to him and could reveal it at any time. A ticking time bomb, if he would.

So when the Prime Minister assured them that he would handle that part of the operation, Saeyoung had a shuddering feeling he knew what was going to happen. Only dead men could tell secrets, after all.

He just didn’t know how trustworthy Prime Minister Choi was. He could easily be plotting to get rid of him, Saeran and the RFA in the same manner after their work here was done.

At least Jumin had the foresight to make the necessary preparations beforehand. Once they got out safely, Jaehee would have their contact in the news station broadcast news of Mint Eye, Park Ha Yoon, and the truth of the human experimentations going on there. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep the politicians busy for a while, including the Prime Minister, and give Saeyoung enough time to escape with his family.

He and MC had spent the past few days packing and thinking of where they could go. There were so many considerations involved, like MC’s pregnancy, costs and accommodations, but too little time. Jumin had graciously offered his help, but that would leave a trail, and Saeyoung didn’t want him to suffer any backlash as a result of helping them. He had done more than enough. He had already risked too much just by being at the negotiation table with the Prime Minister about this.

“Saeyoung, how long more?” came Vanderwood’s voice in his bluetooth earpiece.

“Almost.” Saeyoung clicked his tongue. There were a few hackers on the other end trying to block his access now; at least they only just realized that he was infiltrating the system. He already found the files that needed to be deleted, it was just a matter of waiting now.

“Let us know when you’re ready.”

It felt just like old times. As partners, he and Vanderwood usually were put in the same team on missions, with Saeyoung playing the role of back-up and tech support while Vanderwood got his hands dirty out in the field. It was no different this time; Vanderwood would be accompanied by a team of men—thankfully, the ones under Jumin and not the military team—and once they received the green light from him, they would put the plan into action.

“You serious about coming with us?” Vanderwood asked.

“Of course.” It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Vanderwood. The man was a seasoned field agent, Saeyoung knew he could trust him with his life.

But he had to be there for Saeran. Every time Saeyoung attempted to imagine what Saeran might be going through in that building—brainwashing, being force-fed that elixir, being beaten and abused—he felt sick to his stomach. And almost immediately after that he would recall the time he had first brought Saeran to the bunker, and how he had tried to end his life when he finally got the chance to be alone…

That was the day it truly dawned on Saeyoung just how much his little brother had suffered for all those years that they were apart. The pain he saw that day in Saeran’s mint-coloured eyes went far beyond description that mere words could provide, and Saeyoung was deathly afraid that he would be sucked back into that despair like before, drowning in quicksand with no way of getting up again.

“He’ll be fine,” came Vanderwood’s voice again, interrupting his thoughts. Saeyoung’s lips turned up slightly, grateful for the reassurance. It was all he could hold onto for now, as uncertain as those words were.

It reminded him of when he was young, telling Saeran about all those wonderful things they could do when they grew up and found the means to finally run away from that terrible, terrible house. All he had back then were a bunch of pretty words to share with his brother. With empty hands, all he could cling on to was hope, or maybe an illusory fantasy that was just nice to think about. He couldn’t do anything else, other than watch Saeran cry and hold him close at night when they were both too cold to sleep. And then when he joined the agency, he could only imagine and hope that his brother was doing well somewhere out there in this vast and seemingly empty world.

Things were different now. He had more than just words to offer. His hands weren’t useless any longer. Now, he had skills, strength, and the means to keep his once empty promises to Saeran. He wasn’t going to let his little brother down again.

He just hoped he wouldn’t be too late.

#mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger #saeran choi #saeran fanfiction #saeran #mysme fanfiction #mystic messenger fanfic #saeran fanfic #believe again #my writing

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matrixreimagined · 3 years

Text

The Dream Chronicles Chapter 7

I always forget to post this here! lol

A03 Story Link

A03 Chapter Seven

Trinity woke with the ship.

The gentle hum of the systems rebooting, coming out of their overnight stasis. She heard the lights in the hall flicker on and reach their gentle hum.

She opened her eyes.

Neo was still lost to sleep, his face relaxed and content. She ran a hand down his cheek. Stubble was starting to form. The hair on top of his head was also quickly growing into what looked like a buzzcut. It was cute, she thought, but his haircut in the Matrix had suited him much better. It somewhat softened his features.

It would grow back, she knew. Just as hers had done, fifteen years ago.

She wished she could just stay and watch him sleep. But there were things to do and everyone had been slacking since finding the One. Morpheus was letting it slide because he was so excited himself, but they needed to stay on top of things. Especially repairs. The last thing they needed was for the ship to break down while everyone on board was celebrating and watching Neo kick ass all through the construct.

Sighing, she tried to slip out of his arms, only for his grip to tighten, pulling her back to his chest with a dissatisfied groan.

Try as she might, she couldn't help the smile on her face. For a poddie, Neo was already shockingly strong.

"Don't you dare," he muttered.

"I need to shower," she replied, squirming as she tried to fight his vice-like grip.

"Smell good to me."

She smirked. "I'd like to keep it that way." She slipped down and out of his arms, quickly stepping to her feet.

His eyes cracked open, a lazy grin on his face. "Want help scrubbing your back?"

"Some other time," she promised, grabbing a fresh set of clothes from her shelves. She leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. "I'll be back soon."

Neo hummed, closing his eyes. "Miss you already."

She hurried to the wash. It appeared that no one else was up yet. She could not hear the subtle creaks that came from the crew moving about on the metal ship.

While there were two bathrooms on the ship, only one contained the showers. It was usually a fight in the morning to get there first and Trinity nearly always won.

She kept her time to a minimum, scrubbing her body down and soaping her hair, all the while knowing it wouldn't make much of a difference. In a few hours, she'd be covered in dirt and sweat from running repairs.

Still, it was soothing. And while water was plentiful in Zion due to the recycling plant, on a hovercraft, they were much more limited. Most ships allowed for showers every two days. As the Neb rarely made port in Zion, they tried to conserve water the best they could. Meaning, oftentimes, they were limited to twice-weekly showers.

The urge to get back to Neo was surprisingly overwhelming. She told herself it was only because they'd have to spend the day separately and not because his absence weighed on her every moment that they were apart.

She had lived without him for decades but now minutes dragged by.

Trinity dried off quickly before dressing for the day and slipped back into the hall. Dozer's door was open, as was Morpheus'.

She opened the door to what had quickly become hers and Neo's room.

The man in question was sitting up in bed. He had dressed for the day and made the bed before sitting back on top of it, the datapad pulled down and resting on his lap.

He looked up as she entered, a smile forming on his face that made her heart fucking stop.

"What are you looking at?" she asked to distract herself from his contagious grin, tossing her used clothes into the laundry bag.

"Catching up on the history of Zion. You know-—trying to fill in the gaps."

"How's that going?" She sat next to him on the bed, glancing down at the datapad. He was reading about the Second Machine War, judging by the pictures.

Neo shrugged. "It dually makes sense and is hard to make sense of."

Trinity nodded. "Despite your dreams, you spent thirty years indoctrinated by the Matrix. It'll be harder to let go of certain things."

Neo powered down the datapad, pushing it up behind them to its rightful station. He leaned towards her, pressing a kiss to her lips. "Good morning."

"Morning," she echoed, resting her head against his. "How are you feeling today?"

"Mentally, pretty good. I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be."

"And physically?"

"I'll do anything you ask if you don't tell Apoc where I'm hiding."

She laughed, craning her neck to kiss his cheek. "Sorry, sweetheart. It's back to bootcamp, I'm afraid."

Neo was practically beaming at her and it took her a moment to realize the term of endearment she had laid upon him. She felt herself flush, but Neo kissed her before she could dwell on it for too long.

She let herself get lost, at least for the moment, in the tastes and sensations of Neo. She wanted to just say fuck it all… to call out sick and just stay in bed, kissing him, all day.

But it wouldn't be beneficial for either of them.

Neo still had to train, and she had a ship to run.

But a few minutes more wouldn't hurt.

............

While there was technically no time constraint on breakfast being served, they were definitely late, considering everyone else was already sitting when they walked in.

Switch wasted no time honing in on the tray in Neo's hands. "What's with the bowls and shit?"

Tank was quick to jump in on that as Neo and Trinity made their way past the table to the little kitchenette. "Oooh, that was from their date last night."

Trinity sighed as Neo set the tray in the soapy water. It was going to be a long fucking day.

"Date?" Switch nearly hollered, looking up. "What date? We're on the Neb!"

Dozer fielded that one. "They made do. Dinner, tea, bottle of my home brew."

"What? Ugh!" Switch shook their head. "I can't fucking take this."

"That's really cute, though!" Mouse piped up.

"I'm dying. I'm literally dying."

Neo stopped up next to Trin as she prepared their teas. "Think they've noticed we haven't said anything yet?" he asked, bending down to whisper in her ear.

"Definitely not." She gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry they're like this."

He kissed her head before reaching for two bowls.

"Just look at them," Tank was saying. "It's nearly nauseating."

"Nearly?" Cypher added.

"Hey, dumbasses," Trinity said loudly as Neo poured them each a serving of breakfast, "take a moment and remember who makes your schedules and decide if you really want to be doing overnights for the next month."

Apoc snickered as a collective sigh filled the kitchen. Trinity had never been so thankful for her one friend who seemed able to mind his own damn business.

She brought their teas over and sat at the end of one of the tables, Neo quickly following with their breakfast.

"You two look awfully domestic," Tank said, like he was unable to help themselves. It only made sense, thought Trinity. Of everyone on the crew, Tank was probably the least afraid of her.

"How long was that?" Trinity asked with a sigh.

"Not even thirty seconds," Neo replied evenly, slipping into the seat next to her, "although I'm not sure what you expected."

"You know what? With the exception of Neo, everyone on this crew has gone after me and Sparky for years. And now that I'm on the other side, I get it and I'm getting in on it!"

Neo smirked at the operator. "I'm not exactly innocent; I've definitely got in on going after you and Sparks on my end."

"See!" Tank said, raising a hand to accentuate his point. "This is my time to shine!"

Trinity rolled her eyes while the others chuckled, save Morpheus. He was eyeing Neo with that intense curiosity.

"You're remembering," the captain commented.

"More and more every day," Neo admitted with a glance to Trinity, remembering their conversation the previous night. "The problem is I'm not sure which dreams are reliable, and which aren't."

"What the hell does that mean?" Cypher asked.

"I mean," Neo paused trying to think of how best to explain, "it's undeniable that some of the things I know are accurate, but there's very little I trust implicitly."

"You dreamed of the club," Apoc noted, sounding curious.

"I did," Neo agreed. "Hundreds of times. And the scenarios ranged a few dozen different ways. But nothing actually matched what really happened that night. And even as far as meetings go, I had other dreams where I met Trin in a library or in a bus."

Trinity's head turned towards him quickly and he was met with a stunned silence from the rest of the room. She shook her head, sighed, and went back to her breakfast wordlessly.

The stares from the others didn't stop.

"What?"

"When Trinity and I were deciding how to make contact with you," Morpheus replied, "we discussed both your bus route and the library you frequent."

Neo glanced to Trinity and back to Morpheus.

Fuck.

"I wonder then, if instead of a fixed linear path, you've been dreaming multiple eventualities of the possible ways this could have gone."

"Oooh," said Tank, shaking his head. "Too many big words possibilities for breakfast conversation."

"Agreed," Switch jumped in. "I'd much rather hear about the shit the Messiah may or may not know."

Neo smirked, setting down his spoon into his breakfast, again leaning forward so he could see around Trinity. "Switch, with the things I know, do you really want to play with me?"

"Save the teasing for Trinity, Messiah. I want dee-tails."

Before Neo, Trinity reflected, she probably could have counted the number of times that other's antics had made her blush on one hand. She didn't embarrass easily, nor was she uncomfortable with people being sexually explicit. Case in point, three of her closest friends were Sparks, Tank, and Switch.

Now? It felt as if her cheeks were stained pink at all times.

"I can't speak to the entire validity of everything I know and remember from this world, however"—Neo kept eye contact with Switch—"do the words 'the Switch Shuffle' have the same resonance for you as they do for me?"

Trinity choked on her breakfast, coughing as she tried to swallow the goop. He looked to her, slipping a hand onto her back immediately as Switch spluttered and Apoc, Dozer, and Tank burst into laughter. The others continued to look on in stunned disbelief.

Neo continued rubbing Trinity's back in small circles as he handed her the tea. She took it gratefully, sipping to soothe her throat after the unexpected revelation.

"Oh, shit. Neo knows about the Switch Shuffle," Tank said, wiping his watery eyes. "New best day ever."

Neo shrugged, looking back to Switch. "Now, do you actually have to be drunk to perform the Switch Shuffle or is that just the only way I've seen you do it?"

"I dance better drunk," Switch confirmed, nodding in slight awe. "Okay, Messiah. Tell me about that dream."

Again, Neo shrugged, sliding his arm fully around Trinity's back to hold her against him. He stiffened as he did, remembering again that this was not his world and while Trinity was still his, she did not have the memories that he did. He went to lower his arm, but Trinity leaned into him in silent permission.

He swallowed while the others eagerly listened in. "We were in Zion at a celebration in the Temple. Switch had a little too much to drink when everyone was getting ready and arrived completely sloshed. Before Hamann could do any sort of announcements, Switch was demanding the drums start and proceeded to do the Switch Shuffle in front of half of Zion. No music, no one else dancing. Just a big circle cleared for you to… shuffle."

"That's bloody brilliant!" Switch said, nodding ferociously.

Neo picked up his spoon. "I enjoyed myself."

"What else happened?" they asked, drumming their hands on the table, bouncing in their seat.

"That was mostly it," Neo said, squeezing Trin's side. "Just dancing."

"Dancing?" Tank asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Or… you know… dancing?"

Neo said nothing, just took another bite of his breakfast.

The short answer, which he would not be sharing, was both.

He could still hear the beat in his head of the drums echoing around the Cave. Heat rolling around them with hundreds of people dancing in close quarters. Trinity pressed against his body, his arms around her as they swayed to the beat. Not caring about sweat or the people around them watching, just moving together.

Before stumbling home. Leaving the party early to kiss in empty halls and elevators. Fumbling to unlock their apartment as he pinned her to the door, before their clothes fell to the floor and their rhythm changed.

He tried not to shift as he felt himself harden.

Instead, he just took another bite.

"This is fucking wild," Mouse said, eyes wide. "I've never even seen the Switch Shuffle. I've only heard about it."

"That's because I don't drink around children."

"I'm seventeen!" Mouse whined.

"You're a baby."

"I'm old enough to drink and go into the Matrix. I should be old enough to see the Switch Shuffle."

"You're really not missing much," Trinity told him.

"Neo's seen stuff in his dreams that I've never seen in real life! How is that fair?"

"Don't worry, Mouse," said Tank, slinging an arm on the younger man's shoulders. "One day, you'll see real titties too. Just not Trinity's."

Trinity smirked, sparing a side glance at Neo. Years of worrying how the One would react to waking up in the real world were wasted down the drain.

When she had gone into the Matrix that night to find him, she was secure in the knowledge that she was at an advantage. She knew things about him. She orchestrated getting him out of his tiny apartment and to the club, had watched him for weeks on end.

And then he had said her name.

It was intimidating, sometimes, how well he knew them all. An odd anecdote about Switch's dancing skills or Deadbolt giving him a hard time, but it all came back to her.

Entwined, the Oracle had told her. Their fates were entwined and inseparable. "He'll be the One. But without you, he'll fall."

She had spent so long trying to figure out why life in the real world still felt wrong and incomplete. Like a breath caught in your throat. Taking in more and more but being unable to release. And then, he was there, and she could finally exhale.

"Oooh," said Switch, sitting up straighter. "Have any fun stories about Sparks?"

Neo blinked, tilting his head to the side in thought.

"Ease up," Trinity ordered the table softly. "Breakfast first, then interrogation."

Switch stuck out their tongue but started eating.

"You guys up for poker later?" Tank asked. "I know Neo knows all of us but maybe that would be a chance for us to know him."

Trinity glanced to Neo, inclining her head slightly and leaving the decision to him. She had to admit, it wasn't a bad idea, but he needed to do so on his own terms. When she gave no indication one way or the other, Neo nodded. "Yeah, that might be nice."

"Awesome!" Switch grinned. "I'll bring the cards, Neo brings the stories, and Dozer can bring the booze."

"I'll bring the stomach pump," Apoc added dryly before turning to Neo. "Finish up. I'll meet you where we trained yesterday."

Neo nodded, unsure what he was dreading more: the intense workout or having to let Trinity go from his arms. She felt so fucking right, leaning into him, tucked into his side. He finally understood why couples felt a need to display affection.

It wasn't about proving something. It was about never wanting to let go of something good in a world where everything else was bullshit.

The older man carried his dishes over to the sink, setting them in the water before saying a quick goodbye to everyone.

Trin leaned her head against his shoulder, briefly, before sitting up to continue eating her breakfast.

The crew at large still seemed fascinated with their interactions. Most were trying, subtly at least, to avoid staring at them.

Cypher, however, was blatantly watching them.

It made him a little uncomfortable and he tried to think back to his dream memories of the real world. While he had plenty of memories of Tank and Dozer and Switch and Apoc, even a fair few with Mouse, there were significantly less of Cypher.

He knew the man, vaguely.

Had memories with Cypher lingering in the background, watching Trinity a little too intently for Neo's liking. Mostly on the Neb. In fact, he couldn't think of any memories of Cypher in the Matrix or even in the city.

It was as if the man existed only on the ship.

He couldn't quite make sense of it, but then, things were still becoming clearer.

Trinity started giving orders out to the remainder of the crew, letting them know their jobs for the day, prioritizing a crack in the outer hull that needed to get repaired before they flew off anywhere new.

She turned to Morpheus. "I'm giving you a heads up—there's a good chance Lock is going to want a call. He wasn't too happy with the latest report."

The captain barely withheld a sigh. It was nice, Neo thought, to know some things never changed.

Neo waited for Trinity after he finished eating so he could take her bowl to the sink as well. She rewarded him with a small smile that made his heart skip a beat.

"Good luck," she said as he walked by.

He cupped her cheek as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "See you soon," he promised, more for his benefit than hers.

He ignored the teasing sounds from Switch and Tank as he left to continue his training. Life was good.

.............

One by one, the rest of the crew filed out of the mess hall to get back to work. Cypher and Dozer went to work on the hull, and Mouse hurried along to help with the wiring on the bridge. Morpheus left to take inventory, leaving only Switch and Tank behind with Trinity.

"So?" Tank pushed.

"You can't just let things be, can you?" Even as she said it, her lips twitched into a small smile.

"Not for all the bread in Zion. Come on! How was your date?"

"It was good"—she found herself looking down as she thought back to the night before—"really good."

"It was his idea?" Switch asked, leaning forward.

She nodded. "Yeah. Said he wanted to make sure we did this right, despite all the memories and confusion. And he's more concerned with making sure I'm comfortable than he is with this transition."

Trinity wondered if it was wrong that it made her unbelievably happy to see him trying so damn hard to make her feel safe and happy.

"It's all he seems to be focused on," Tank agreed. "Much to Morpheus' dismay."

She considered admitting what the Oracle had told her. To unleash the burden that lay on her shoulders for fifteen goddamn years and yet… she stopped herself.

She had her reasons for keeping it to herself for so long, least of all that what the Oracle said was for her and her alone. She knew she would have been weaponized if anyone had known her ties to the One.

She'd thought about telling her friends before, just so she could talk to somebody about it.

But Tank would be too excited to keep it to himself. Even if he never told, his actions lacked subtlety and Switch would have kept it to themself but would have teased Trinity mercilessly, she knew. And there was always the chance of being overheard and found out.

Of course, now the secret was mostly already out.

She and Neo were bound together.

A profound attachment that she couldn't begin to explain.

But she stopped herself from saying more about the Oracle because… well, because the only person she really wanted to share that with was Neo.

And it was stupid—he had barely gone from her sight and she already missed him and was counting down to when she'd have an excuse to touch him again.

They had spent two nights together and the thought of sleeping in her own bed alone made her queasy.

The words were already on the tip of her tongue every time she caught sight of him, and her heart ached to say them.

I love you.

But he was still so new to the real world. He was still adjusting and the last thing she wanted to do was confuse him as he learned to separate his dreams from reality.

"Morpheus'll get over it," Switch said, pulling Trinity from her thoughts abruptly. "So, have you two fucked yet?"

"Will you stop fucking asking that?!" Trin said, staring at her friend incredulously. "In what world would I ever share that kind of information?"

"This world, Neo's dream world… who cares? Come on, I mean, he stayed the night after your little date, didn't he?"

"We're sharing a space." She didn't mean for it to come off defensive, but it definitely did.

"Whatever. The fucking is inevitable. What I'm curious about is, are you two married in his world?"

Oh.

Truthfully, she hadn't thought about it.

Marriage was, after all, a simple ceremony and a piece of paper.

It was low on her priorities long before she met Neo but now… the idea of putting some kind of formal claim on him was appealing. To have him marked as taken…

She had never been particularly possessive but now it crept through her. A dark urge to keep him for her own. To lock him away where he could be safe and protected and hers. It sounded far too good for her liking.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "But I feel like he would have said something if we were. He's been very honest about the whole thing."

"I don't know," said Switch, "you said yourself, he's concerned with making sure you feel safe. And you're kind of a flight risk. He might not be telling the full truth.""

Shaking her head, she said, "He wouldn't lie. He knows that everything between us right now is based on trust and…"

"Slow down," Switch narrowed their eyes, leaning forward. "Holy shit. You really trust this guy, don't you? Like actually trust him, trust him?"

Why did it feel like she was walking into a trap?

Trin looked away briefly before admitting, "Yeah. I do."

Switch looked to Tank. "Took this bitch years to trust me. Turns out, all it takes is a line about seeing her in my dreams and a swift make out."

Trin flipped Switch off.

"It is weird," Tank said with a shrug. "I mean, under normal circumstances, if someone walked up to me and said they knew shit about my future, I wouldn't believe them. Maybe it's because he's the One or maybe it's just because you two have your whole"—Tank waved a hand—"thing going on."

Trinity knew what he meant.

Tank tended to be as trusting as they came but the things Neo said were somewhat out of the realm of belief. And yet, she never doubted his words or his intent.

"And not for nothing," Tank added, almost as an afterthought. "I know you know more than you're saying."

Her crew wasn't stupid, that was for sure.

She nodded, unwilling to lie to her friends through anything beyond omission. "If there was anything that I felt was related to safety or the wellbeing of the crew, I would let you all know. But there are some things that don't need to be shared."

Switch snorted loudly. "You tell that to Morpheus?"

"Yes."

"How'd the Cap take that?"

"As well as can be expected." Trinity sighed. "There's a lot that I know. But there's a lot more that I don't. Until Neo and I are able to figure things out, he's just going to have to deal with it."

"Surprised you didn't figure things out last night." Tank had a teasing tone lacing his words.

"We talked some."

"Some?" the operator pushed, waggling his brow.

She kept a blank face. "Yes."

"Ugh, stop it with that!" Switch shook their head. "I get that you're keeping some things to yourself but at least tell me this: the One a good kisser?"

It took all her self-control to not let that question affect her. Because fuck. The care and attention put into each moment where they were fused together was outweighed only by the sheer passion and mutual adoration.

Kissing Neo was toe-curling, body-tensing, eye-rolling, breathtakingly perfect.

"Fucking amazing," she muttered before she could stop herself. She regretted it immediately, noting the shit-eating grins on both her colleagues' faces and Trinity sighed. "He knows me, okay? Like, in some ways we're starting this like it's new, but he still is coming in with all this information."

Tank bounced in his seat. "And when you say he knows you…"

She'd already alluded to it. In for a penny. "He's been dreaming about me for fifteen years. He knows my body better than I do."

Switch smacked Tank in the chest. "Can't take it. Can't fucking take it anymore."

"I'm literally dying," said Tank, shaking his head, "Trin, please, I am fucking begging you… let me tell Sparks!"

She shook her head. "Not until I talk to Ghost. I don't want him to hear about this third-hand."

Tank leaned forward. "Sweetheart, I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this to myself. We message every day and I keep telling him ‘not much' is going on. Not much, Trin! When we've got a living, breathing Messiah walking around and you're saying shit like that!"

"I have faith you can keep this to yourself for at least a few more days."

"I don't!"

"I can always find more work for you if you think you have enough time on your hands to be gossiping," she teased. It was an empty threat and they both knew it.

"You owe me so big, mami."

Trin rolled her eyes. "On that note," she said, "I need to get back to work. As do the two of you."

"Bo-ring," Switch sang even as they stood up. "But I guess I'll have to wait for tonight. Playing poker with the One is sure to be fun."

"It'll be something."

Trinity could only hope the crew would behave.

#the matrix #the matrix fanfiction #neo x trinity #Neo (The Matrix)#trinity (the matrix)#tmdc #the matrix dream chronicles #the dream chronicles #the matrix has queue

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daydreambts · 3 years

Note

i hadn't meant to ramble like that, using metaphors to describe how i feel about the whole soulmate thing. it's something planned, something i have no say at all, so i don't really like the whole system. it makes me feel like i have no choice but to fall in love, because that's just the way it's supposed to be. i'm not sure where to categorize this thing with hoseok though. a momentary spark or could it be something more? i'm not sure where i want it to fall either.

for a moment, there is silence. then my father appears, and i immediately catch the underlying meaning behind his words. while he doesn't mind making a small connection with hoseok and his potential, my father doesn't want to delve deeper into it until he knows hoseok can make the cut into the ruthless business market. there is no strong animosity, just wariness. i smile at my father before we both look at hoseok again.

"is that so? the fireworks show was spectacular, i must say, and though i appreciate the offer, i'm afraid i've left the wife waiting too long," my father replies, looking at me for a bit longer before excusing himself. i watch my father go through groups of people until i can no longer see him. i grip at the timer on my wrist, having hidden it when my father appeared. even if my apprehension is absent, there are still other factors to consider on hoseok being my soulmate. my father, at this time, doesn't really approve. "i'll have to pass on the offer myself, mr jung. i think papa was right. i've already monopolized too much of your time, haven't i? how selfish of me."

•━»•»🌸«•«━━━━━━━━•••

Your father's frank rejection was like a bucket of cold water poured on Hoseok. Even though he had thought that he was operating with his logical mind, it seemed that he had been wandering about, like someone in a dream. Of course your father wouldn't want Hoseok to be connected too tightly, either to himself, or to you. You were the daughter of somebody that was leagues ahead of him, and he really ought to remember his place. He bowed at your father as the latter took his leave.

At your self-disparaging comment, he shook his head. "I'm the one who should apologize. It was presumptuous of me, Ms. Fadri. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the party." He bowed courteously and left, all too aware that he hadn't vocalized the wish to see you again nor the truth of the expired timer of his wrist. Soulmates, fate, even true love... he wasn't sure if all those really existed. But his business was something real and concrete, and it would serve him better to make real and concrete achievements in this field as well.

He headed to one of the stations he had indicated, at the sushi chef's were a small group had gathered. He greeted them and easily made conversation; on the just-finished fireworks show, his sushi recommendations, and his upcoming projects. Mid-level businessmen or those with businesses that have stalled were much more receptive to introduce him to their daughters than Mr. Fadri had been. Hoseok showed them all the utmost friendliness, but he could no longer bring himself to kiss their hands nor politely play along their not-so-subtle hints about their daughters' availability.

#soulmate!hoseok #momorini #bts rp #hoseok au #hoseok rp #bts roleplay

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nureyevv · 5 years

Text

This job was supposed to be easy. That’s why Buddy had put him out in the field in the first place, right? He wasn’t as experienced as Jet in these things, but they’d said it’d be good practice for when the real work began. They just needed some cushion creds-- it was the perfect opportunity to acclimate him to the life of crime.

It was the exact sort of thing Juno would have normally refused to take part in. He wouldn't steal just to steal, certainly not from innocent people, but it just so happened their mark today was a double decker asshole. The Diamond Dame Casino, just off Saturn, was notorious for attracting the worst kind of people. Juno had never been fond of casinos anyway. He couldn't understand how someone could make a living off of other people’s addictions and still sleep soundly at night. The Diamond Dame was a whole different brand of nasty, though. It was a known location among criminals to make dirty deals without risk of being caught, and at the head of it all was a man by the name of Dallas Olson. He’d inherited the business from his father and had been inadvertently running the place into the ground ever since.

See, the issue with raising a kid around some of the worst spenders this side of Venus was that, more often than not, they don’t shape up to be the best with money. Olson’s bank account said he was in debt to just about every person he’d ever met, and a man like Olson met a lot of dangerous people. Normally, a guy like that would be a thief’s jackpot-- no pun intended. The only issue was that, 90% of the time Olson didn’t even know when he would be making out checks. Most days he tried to put it off until someone pulled a knife on him and he was forced to find some creds then and there. No robber worth his name (or lack thereof) would take a job with that kind of uncertainty.

At least, that was what Nureyev-- or Glass-- had told Juno when he asked why Olson had yet to be robbed blind.

They would have passed Olson by, too, if it wasn’t for the tip Buddy got. It was incredibly vague; all it told them was that Olson was making a repayment today. They didn’t know who he was repaying, how much he owed, or when it would happen. Juno had almost deemed it a lost cause when Vespa had spoke up: “They’re just giving us money at this point, Bud.”

Apparently, when you had a spaceship with four master criminals, a hacker that couldn’t be beat, and an ex-detective, nothing was impossible.

So, they set the stage. Vespa, Rita, and Jet would stay on the ship. Jet would be at the wheel, waiting for one of two orders: get us the fuck out of here or open fire. Rita would handle the tech-- get them into The Diamond Dame’s security system. Vespa would be in charge of monitoring the live footage, watching out for possible threats and keeping the operation in line. Buddy and Pe-- Rex were out in the casino, stationed by each of the exits. When they got word of who it was they’d be robbing, they’d be the ones doing the dirty work.

That was where Juno came in. His role was simple enough: figure out who it was that was walking out with their paycheck.

At least, it sounded simple enough. Then he actually got to the casino, with all its flashing lights and chiming slot machines. Juno could hardly think straight as it was, and there were so many people, more than he’d ever imagined. Being observant, picking one oddity out of a crowd, that was supposed to be his whole thing. He had to at least be decent at it if he was able to make a living off it for all those years, and yet… he had a bad feeling about this.

He couldn’t focus, and if he couldn’t focus there was no way he’d be able to pull this off. Still, he couldn’t tell the rest of them why he was so distracted because his big distraction was one of them. Whatever name he called him, Peter Nureyev, Rex Glass, or tonight’s specialty, Orion Krum, he couldn’t push that man from his mind. They hadn’t talked since their first encounter in the martian desert, not really. Every time Juno tried to catch him alone, to explain or apologize, or something, Nureyev always slipped away in the way only he could. It was obvious he didn’t want anything to do with Juno.

Juno didn’t blame him for it either. He left, and Nureyev moved on, even if Juno couldn’t say the same for himself. Just watch the crowd, Steel.

From his spot at one of the slot machines he examined a few groups. There was one gaggle of wealthy looking women who were far too drunk to be there on official business. Juno crossed them off a mental suspect list. He caught sight of one suspicious looking man dressed in a particularly showy black gown and for a moment he thought he might be onto something.

A moment later another man arrived in a similar sneaking fashion and Juno was right back to square one. The only thing those two were guilty of was an affair. His eyes continued to trace the crowds until he caught sight of that face again.

Stars, that face.

Peter didn’t look like himself tonight. His usual warm colors had been replaced with a deep blue, suit, speckled with silver like the night sky. He wore none of his signature makeup or jewelry, but his expression said he didn’t need it when he had a face like that. He looked like the kind of man that, if Juno had spotted him back on Mars, he would have avoided at all costs: arrogant, rich, and cold.

And, simultaneously, he looked like an undercover thief Juno really wanted to take back to his room after all of this was through.

He shook the thought from his mind almost as soon as it entered. He needed to move. Maybe a new vantage point would show him something he couldn’t see from here, or at least block out someone he very much could--

As he stood up from his machine he only narrowly avoided walking straight into someone. Juno stumbled backwards a few steps and was just about to apologize when he saw the man in front of him. He recognized that blonde hair and pointed nose from Vespa’s lectures. Dallas Olson.

He was young, Juno might have even said handsome if he didn’t dim in comparison to another nearby face. “Apologies, madame,” he said in a thick accent Juno couldn’t quite place, “I didn't mean to startle you.”

Juno inhaled deeply and tried to remember who he was. Tonight, his name was Renee Bruner, a lady with too much free time and enough creds on hand to find plenty of ways to entertain himself. The dress Buddy had provided him made him look the part, long and tight fit, made of a brilliant magenta silk, but he still had to sound like Renee, too.

“No harm done,” he said with a breezy, somewhat bored smile. “You know how it is after you’ve had a few.”

Olson nodded in agreement and extended a hand out to him. Internally, Juno’s stomach dropped. He’d hoped this encounter would be short and sweet. “It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. My names Dallas Olson. I’m the owner of this establishment.”

Juno took his hand and shook it. “Renee. It’s quite the place you got here.”

“Aw, you’re too kind,” he replied with fake humility. “This may seem a bit odd, but I was wondering if you might do me a favor?”

Juno felt the hair on his arms prickle. “I suppose it depends on the request.”

Olson smiled gingerly. “But of course,” he answered with a slick kind of charm Juno only liked on one man. “My hope was that, if you agreed, you could introduce me to that gentleman behind you.”

Juno didn’t need to look to see who Olson was gesturing at. He looked anyway. Sure enough, Nureyev stood there, pretending to be properly entertained. The tenseness in his jaw said he knew he was being watched.

Juno didn’t know how Olson had managed to put together that they knew each other. They’d been so careful, coming in separate entrances and staying away from one another. Had they received bad intel? Was Olson on to them? Should they call a quits now--

“You… do know one another, yes?” asked Olson, and Juno was relieved to hear the doubt in his voice. So he didn’t know anything for sure. They could work with that. “I simply assumed with the way you have been looking at him that you were acquainted. I like to associate myself with all my new guests, and I had not seen your faces before…”

Dammit, he chided himself. He’d given himself away. If he’d been obvious enough that Olson had spotted him then he was sure Nureyev already knew too. Couldn’t he go two seconds without making a fool of himself?

Something about this situation definitely stunk. Olson wanted to talk to them for a reason, and Juno knew it wasn’t just good business practice. He was nervous, that much Juno could tell by the perspiration in their handshake, but he didn’t know why. At least, not yet.

It was time to change his approach. It’d be more suspicious to flat out deny knowing Peter now, and besides, trying to find their mark without a lead wasn’t going anywhere.

“No, no, you’re right. That’s my husband,” he said and braced himself.

“Steel,” he heard Vespa’s voice in his ear, “this is not the plan.”

Near by, Nureyev had heard the exact same conversation. He would just have to make it part of the plan.

Juno smiled and ignored her, keeping his attention on Olson. “I’ll bring you over now, just let me grab my bag.”

“Of course,” nodded Olson.

Juno moved to the side of the machine he’d been sitting at and grabbed a purple purse. Quiet enough Olson wouldn’t hear it, Juno muttered, “Just play along, alright?”

Gesturing at Olson to follow, Juno led him over to Nureyev as Vespa complained. If Peter was caught off guard he didn’t show it. Juno knew this was a role he could play. It was familiar for both of them, and a bit nostalgic. The only thing Juno had severely underestimated was how much it would hurt to pretend to be his again.

“Hello, love,” said Juno a bit awkwardly. He was learning he really hated undercover work. “I want to introduce you to the owner, Mr. Olson.”

Peter, unlike Juno, never let his disguise falter. It amazed Juno, but then again, maybe that was just what twenty years of practice looked like. His eyes were still ice cold, but he quickly adapted to the new information. He slid an arm around Juno’s waist and pulled him close, eyes still glued to Olson. It was protective but not loving. In other words, it was completely in character.

Juno hoped he didn’t notice how he shivered at his touch and seemed to flourish in the safety of Nureyev’s torso. It still felt so natural.

“Orion Krum. I hope my wife hasn’t caused too much trouble,” said Nureyev.

For a reason Juno couldn’t understand, Olson seemed to get more pale the longer he looked at them. “Not at all!” he said with unconvincing enthusiasm, “I had asked him to introduce us. I must say, though, he seems much happier now that he’s with you. His expression earlier was quite distressed.”

What was his game? If he didn’t know who they were, why was he so invested in them? Juno was trying to put the pieces together. They were missing something but he didn’t know what. Olson was scared, but of what? The answer tugged at the back of his mind and Juno tried to pull it free. He almost had it when Nureyev spoke and broke his concentration.

For the first time in the night, Peter, or rather Orion, was looking at him. There was something in his eyes, though, something that hadn’t been there earlier and made Juno’s heart do a somersault. There was something coy about that look that wasn’t like the character he was playing tonight. Peter Nureyev was peaking through. “Is that true? Were you feeling left out?” Then, noticing his error he added a cool: “then don’t wander off next time.”

That smugness… It felt like being teased by the Peter who loved him, all those months ago. Juno was caught off guard. “I, uh, Nur--”

Before he could say something that couldn’t be unsaid, Peter cut him off. Before Juno knew it Peter’s lips were on his and anything he was planning to say was forgotten. It was effective, that’s for sure. A one hit KO that was over almost as soon as it began.

Peter pulled away. It was barely a peck on the lips, just enough to fluster Juno while not being too uncalled for. Afterwards he turned his attention back to their new friend while Juno was left properly flustered. “Well then. We’ve met, my wife has been returned. Now we’ll be on our way, unless you had some further plan for my time.”

The prickly facade was back. Peter Nureyev had been shoved back inside, and while Juno had much preferred it to the emotionless creature he was imitating now, Olson looked… chipper. The color was back in his face and his smile was unsettling to say the least. It looked like they’d just fallen into whatever trap Olson had set, but Juno didn’t know how.

Something was about to go very wrong. He turned to Peter and tried to get a warning out before it was too late. “This isn’t right, we have to--”

Suddenly, Juno was ripped away and Peter’s comforting presence was gone. In its place was blaster and Olson’s iron grip.

Oh, thought Juno. This explains a lot.

One arm was up against his throat, keeping him from escaping. The barrel of the blaster was digging into his skull, and he wasn’t planning on risking his brains in a struggle. He was facing Nureyev, whose face Juno couldn’t read: shock, anger, fear? Or maybe nothing at all.

“Juno!” said Vespa’s stern voice in his head.

“Verona,” called Olson at someone Juno couldn’t quite see. “This kind man here will be providing you your payment.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow in his direction. “And why would I do that?”

The answer was obvious enough, though, at least to Juno. Olson had finally dug himself into a hole he couldn’t climb back out of, but he wasn’t about to give in. He had plenty of unknowing customers with the kind of spending money he needed. Olson was smart enough to find an out and desperate enough to risk it all.

All he had to do was find an unsuspecting soul stupid enough to fall into his trap with something more than money to lose. Leverage. He’d almost done it, too, but their was one big problem. The most expensive thing he or Nureyev had on them was the clothes on their backs. No wonder Juno couldn’t figure out who had the check-- there wasn’t a check to begin with.

“Well, if you’d like to keep your wife’s brain in-tact, I would highly recommend giving Ms. Verona whatever she asks,” drawled Olson. Juno really hoped Peter was as concerned with his safety as Olson thought. Around them, heads turned. A few people looked nervous at the sight of the scene before them, but most just turned a blind eye. Olson let a lot of dirty business slip by unnoticed. It wasn’t difficult to return the favor.

“What makes you think I care about all that?” asked Nureyev with that signature nonchalance. He was playing some kind of angle. That didn’t make it sting any less.

Verona shot Olson a look that said he was supposed to have this under control. Panic flashed over his features but he was quick to compose himself. It seemed like the bullet in Juno’s head wouldn’t be the only shot fired if this deal fell through.

“Don’t play games. It's the money or his life,” growled Olson at Nureyev.

“Glass, Juno,” ordered Vespa, “get out of there!”

Juno thought that was easier said than done when there was a gun to your head. They were at a disadvantage-- even if they might have been able to take Olson and Verona in a fight, any sudden movements and he might end up with a hole in his head. They could try to stall until Buddy arrived, but Juno had no clue where she was or if she’d be able to do anything before Olson lost his patience. They had to act alone.

He looked to Nureyev, equal parts indignant and afraid. To Juno, it was still obvious he was in character. That’s right, he thought, we still have the element of surprise.

Juno didn’t know what his plan was, but he knew Nureyev had one. Nureyev always had a plan. So, without thinking it through, he played along.

“Orion,” he said, voice small, “I’m sorry I wandered off before I won’t do it again-- just, just get me out of here. Please. Just give them what they want.

Nureyev sighed. “Fine. What do you want.”

Verona spoke up now. “Ten thousands creds.”

“You’d have to be a fool to carry that kind of money on you!” Peter protested.

“Then give me the passcode to you fucking bank account, then,” Verona snapped back. She was getting irritated, though not entirely at Nureyev. It seemed she was under the impression Olson had a more reliable way of paying her back.

Peter caught his eyes. Did you see that, they seemed to ask, and of course Juno did. The private eye in him was already putting two and two together. She was the weak link. She was their escape route. “Hurry up, Krum,” said Olson through gritted teeth.

Peter chewed his lip. “I will, but there is a… slight complication.”

“What? What could possibly be the problem now?” demanded Verona.

“I’m a busy man-- I don’t have time to track all my expenses and banking, that’s what having a secretary is for.”

“And?”

Peter looked at her like it was obvious. “I don’t know my passcode.”

Juno nearly laughed. Their plan was to annoy Verona into snapping, and Peter was damn good at it. The mirth was, unfortunately, short lived.

Verona shook with rage. Juno thought it was entirely possible she might just combust then and there, and for a moment Juno was terrified they’d miscalculated. He couldn’t help but fear that, when she lashed out, she’d go straight for Nureyev’s throat.

The idea of it was enough to make him feel like he was going to be ill.

And then Verona spun on Olson. “Dammit, Olson, you said you had the money and you’re gonna get it for me. No more games.”

“I will, just wait, please, a few moments more,” sputtered Olson. “They have the creds we just have to--”

“We?” She cut in. “I don’t have to do anything, understand? You owe me. I said I was done playing. You either have what you owe me or you don’t. So what’s the answer?”

On cue, Juno heard the distinct click of a blaster’s safety being turned off, and he got the impression it wasn’t set to stun. A large man stood behind Olson in all black, eyes fixed on Verona. One word from her and his target would be dead.

This was their chance. In his fear, Olson’s grip loosened and his aim wavered. Juno took the moment to slip away, over to Nureyev. The two of them had been almost completely forgotten.

Nureyev’s hands were on his shoulders, sturdy and strong. Juno might have even thought protective if he didn’t know better. The taller man tried to lead him away from all of this so they could make their escape. They could disappear before anyone even noticed they were gone, but…

“Drop the gun, Olson,” instructed Verona. The blonde man whimpered, reserved to his fate, and tossed it at the floor where it clattered at their feet. At Juno’s feet.

No one was supposed to die here. Not even double decker assholes.

“Juno,” Nureyev said at his side, tugging at him now. “We need to go before people start shooting--”

Juno was moving before he could even think of the consequences. He dove for the blaster and shifted the dial to stun. Around him he heard voices, Verona yelling orders, Vespa shouting in his ear, Peter, the real Peter’s, fearful “Wait--.” He blocked it all out.

They were all close to him, he should have been able to hit them, but without the THEIA he was never one hundred percent sure. Three shots, just three shots.

Bang. The first beam went straight into the armed man’s chest. He crumpled to the floor.

Bang. The second shot was for Verona, and he only barely hit the mark. Just in time, too. By the way her hand had gone for her pocket she’d been looking to grab a blaster of her own. He made contact with her shoulder, and though she tried to stay conscious she followed her minion to ground.

Juno took a breath before firing for the third and last time. Olson gaped at him. “Wh--”

Bang. He didn't get to finish before Juno blasted him in the gut.

People were starting to panic now. Threats were one thing, but actually shooting to host was another. Before the chaos could close in, Nureyev grabbed his hand and they were running.

They busted through the casino doors, the cool night air hitting them like pool water on a summer day. “Your aim is getting quite good, detective.”

Juno glanced up at Peter and was met with a smile. A genuine one, at that. “Ah, well,” he answered, sheepishly. He hoped the darkness would hide his blush.

“Yea, he’s a fuckin’ natural,” growled Vespa over their earpiece. “It’d be awful nice if he was as skilled at following directions.

“Oh, don’t be honorary,” chided Nureyev. How was it that he could keep up this pace and not be at least a bit winded. “This job would have failed no matter what Juno did. No reason to place blame.”

“But Glass, I’d hardly call it a failure.” The voice speaking them now belonged to Buddy. Juno had almost forgotten she’d been in the casino all together.

“That so?” he asked between strained breaths. “Where did you go during all that? I nearly died!”

“Spare me the dramatics, Juno, you two had it completely under control. I figured if we weren’t going to get our creds from Olson I might as well tamper with the machines a bit. You wouldn’t believe what kind of money people put in those things.”

At his side, Nureyev’s grin widened at the thought of their loot. “Very clever, as always, Ms. Aurinko. I believe I see you now. You’ll have to show us what you picked up when we get there.”

Sure enough, they’d crested a hill and below, at the very bottom of the incline, was the ship. It was only then that Nureyev slowed his pace.

He met Juno’s eyes, lifted a hand to his ear, and shut off his communication device. Juno didn’t know why, exactly, but he repeated the motion anyway.

Nureyev seemed to blend into the night, his skin the only glowing contrast to the deep navy around them. He looked good, but then again, he always looked good.

There was a momentary silence between them, then: “You know, I’d like to believe you meant what you said back there.”

Juno searched his face for hints but found none. He had said a lot of things in the casino, most of them in the hopes of not getting killed. He didn’t have the slightest idea which one Peter was referencing now.

“I’m… not sure I follow.”

The dark haired man nodded, as if he’d expected that. “You said you wouldn’t wander off again, Juno. I hope that’s the truth this time. I hate to admit it, but each time I lose you I find it a bit more difficult to move on.”

The smile was still present on Peter’s face, but it was distant and sad. His gaze was somewhere else entirely. The ice from the evening’s alias had melted away and Juno was left with someone he recognized. Someone he loved.

“Yea… Yea I think I know how you feel,” answered Juno, “but, if it means anything, I think it is. True, I mean. At least, I want it to be.”

They were close now, and there were still a million unsaid things between them. Peter only said one of them, though.

“I suppose I’ll just have to trust you, then.”

And really, Juno couldn’t have imagined anything better than that.

#i hope you all know i died writing this #it aint original and it aint good but i still died ok #pls... i crave validation... pls love me #the penumbra podcast #tpp #juno steel #peter nureyev #jupeter #buddy aurinko #vespa ai #jet siquliak #rita tpp #my writing #gosh i hope people actually like this

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slightly-nerdy-rambles · 5 years

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Robstarweek Day 1: City-Sitting (Prompt: Wayne Manor)

Heeere we are, it’s Robstarweek! This is the first year I’ve gotten to participate, and after seeing some of the great writing and art that’s come from previous years I am pumped. These oneshots will all be crossposted to my fanficition.net account under the collective title “Stardust in Her Hair (Robstarweek 2019)” if anyone wants to see them there.

For day one, “Wayne Manor,” I was both intrigued and a little intimidated by the kind of material I’d be tackling. I’m not exactly a Batman expert (or as well-versed in the greater DC franchise as many people here in general), but I do enjoy expanding on the universe connected to the Teen Titans animated series. I’ve been meaning to tackle something related to the ‘verse’s Justice League, Batman and such for a while now, and this prompt gave me a great excuse to do so. It’s actually based on a concept that I’d already been playing around with, and now that I’ve written something for it there’s a pretty good chance that I’ll come back sometime to turn it into a full story.

I should note, a lot of my inspiration for characterization and such here (especially when it comes to Penguin’s personality) comes from animated series The Batman.

City-Sitting

Ragged laughter echoed through the still halls of the Gotham Bay Art Museum. Penguin strode down those halls, as he far too often did, like he owned the place. He wasn’t bothered by the nighttime security systems – his trained birds had already taken care of that – but he couldn’t help but wonder why the museums around here always saw fit to tempt him.

Well, their loss was his gain. With Batman away on Justice League business, Penguin stepped with an extra note of confidence into the newly expanded Ancient Wonders exhibit. It didn’t take him long to find his prize: an elegant – and, more importantly, priceless – sculpture of the Egyptian hawk-headed god Ra.

With a nasty little grin, he approached the statue and reached over its barrier. “Too easy,” he muttered to himself.

As if in defiance of that statement, a small disk flew in and burst at his feet. Smoke billowed out around the would-be thief, sending him back with a startled yelp.

“You didn’t really think we’d leave Gotham unprotected, did you?”

Penguin started again and turned at the sound of that voice. The smoke was thinner here, and through the haze he was able to make out a familiar but long-absent form, already clutching his bo staff.

“Well well, if it isn’t the little bird-brain come back to the nest,” Penguin drawled with a smirk. “I was expecting the other brat, but with Daddy Bat gone this won’t be a problem either way.”

Robin gave his staff a little twirl and showed off a smirk of his own. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you.”

Well, Penguin was done talking. With a flick of his wrist, he pointed his trick umbrella forward and shot off the explosive tip. Robin was forced to step back and shield himself with his cape as it burst against him, giving Penguin a chance to turn around and grab the sculpture through the thinning smoke. In another moment he had his umbrella’s copter mode running, and he quickly rose up past the costumed teen.

Ha! It really was too easy. Those chumps over in Jump must have let Robin go soft.

There was a flash of green light, and his copter mechanism exploded.

Penguin had just enough time to think that he should seriously stop tempting fate before he slammed hard onto the museum floor, the statue of Ra rolling harmlessly out of his grip. Robin stood over him and pressed his staff against the dazed villain’s chest, keeping him down while he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Meanwhile, a purple-clad girl that Penguin had only ever seen in newspaper images flew into his range of vision and swooped down to pick up the statue.

“I thought the Penguin was one of your mentor’s most troublesome adversaries,” the girl commented as she checked the statue over for damage, nodded in satisfaction, and placed it back on its pedestal.

Robin glanced back at her, that stupid smirk still on his face. “He is when he doesn’t get too cocky. You should have seen him the first time Superman was in town.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Robin had to keep himself from laughing as he relayed the story back to Batman.

“I barely had to do anything but distract him while Star got into position. I think that might be the fastest Penguin’s ever been taken down!”

The voice on the other line hummed in thought. “Good work, but don’t get too comfortable,” it finally said. “That only worked as well as it did because he wasn’t expecting an enemy who could fly. Now that you’ve used up the element of surprise, the news of who’s here is going to spread through Gotham’s underworld and you can bet the next criminals will be ready for you.”

Robin fought back a scowl – as much as he wanted to just take pride in this victory, Batman was right. He glanced up at Starfire, who was flying several yards ahead of his cycle as they traversed one of the many secret tunnels leading to the Batcave. She remained silent, though whether she was leaving him to his conversation or simply didn’t have a comment he wasn’t sure.

“I know,” he said at length. “We’ll just have to be ready for them too.”

“This isn’t a vacation, Dick. Don’t think I didn’t notice your choice of partner.”

Now Robin did scowl down at the console on the R-cycle. “Is that seriously what you think is going on here?!” he snapped. “Starfire’s my teammate, Bruce. I didn’t bring her along as a date, I brought her because of how well we work together.” He fixed his gaze ahead and revved up the cycle, bleeding off some of his frustration into the increased speed. Day one in Gotham and he was already missing his home and the rest of his team.

Maybe it was that acceleration or maybe Starfire deliberately slowed down for a moment, but suddenly she was keeping pace at his right. She said nothing other than a tentative, “Robin?” but the concerned look she gave him told him she was ready to mediate if need be.

Meanwhile, a sigh sounded through the other end of the line. “…I suppose I know that,” Bruce admitted. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt out there. Either of you.”

Robin grit his teeth, but his frustration was already starting to drain away. “I know,” he muttered.

The tunnel opened up then, into a vast cavern that Robin hadn’t seen in far too long. “We’re here,” he informed the console as he slowed to a stop. “I’ll update you again later.”

The Batcave hadn’t changed as much as he had expected. The main computer had been upgraded, of course, and the trophy area had a few new additions, but everything still felt so… familiar.

Of course, that wouldn’t mean much to someone who had never seen the place before. Robin couldn’t help but smile at Starfire’s low gasp as she rose slowly toward the ceiling, rotating this way and that to take everything in.

“I take it you approve, Lady Kory?”

Both young heroes looked over to find Alfred waiting for them on the upper floor. Starfire grinned and flew over to alight next to him.

“The Batman’s base of operations is most impressive,” she said with a small incline of her head. “Thank you again for hosting us during our stay.”

Alfred’s lip quirked into a small smile of his own. “Of course. Any friend of Master Dick’s is welcome here.” He turned on his heel and started making his way toward the exit into the rest of Wayne Manor. “Right this way, please. I took the liberty of bringing your bags in, but I will need to ask that you change into civilian clothes once you are inside. One never knows.”

Robin played a little at the edge of his mask as he followed the other two through the entrance into the Manor proper before finally peeling it off. It felt almost wrong – he’d been doing the full-time hero gig for so long now that he was used to only removing his uniform in his own private quarters. Getting called by his birth name on a regular basis again was also going to take some getting used to.

Robin – Dick, now – was pulling his gloves off when he finally caught up to Alfred, Starfire disappearing ahead of them. “’Lady’ Kory?” he asked the butler, one brow raised.

Alfred merely shrugged. “I know I won’t be able to use it if company comes by, but it seemed sufficient given her… unique station.” The corner of his lip quirked again ever-so-slightly, in a smirk that Dick doubted anyone who didn’t know the man well would notice. “I suspected that you would both object were I to attempt the more appropriate ‘Highness.’”

Dick scowled. “I still can’t believe you guys knew she was a princess before I did,” he grumbled.

Alfred strode forward. “Master Bruce’s associates include several high-ranking extraterrestrials, and this is hardly the first time their duties have taken them off-world. I would have been more worried had he not known.”

Dick snorted and shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile. He had to admit, it did feel good visiting Gotham again… even if he and Starfire had been called away to deal with Penguin before they’d even gotten to the Manor.

Speaking of Starfire, she reappeared a few moments later in casual clothes and one of Cyborg’s holographic rings. She had remembered to stay on the ground while in her civilian wear, but still she seemed to almost glide over the floor. He suddenly found it very hard to take his eyes off her.

“Your k’norf- Your guardian’s home is beautiful, Richard,” she commented with a warm smile.

Dick returned it, and without thinking he blurted out, "So are you."

Immediately he felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and he started stammering, “Uh… What I mean is… I guess you’re right.”

Star – Kory? – giggled a little behind her hand, and a lightly impish smile appeared on her face. “Do I make an attractive human?” she asked, twirling once to show off her disguised form. It wasn’t far too different from her true appearance – human-toned tan skin and hazel eyes, longer eyebrows, and a smattering of freckles that Cyborg had said would break up her face shape, but that Robin suspected he’d really added just because he could.

“Of course you do,” Dick replied, smoother this time. “You’d look great no matter what disguise you wore.”

Kory blushed a little at the compliment, but after a moment she looked around the living area again and her smile softened. She let out a contented sigh.

Dick raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Kory made her way to a plush armchair and sank down into it, turning to face him again. “I am glad that we can visit your old home for a time, even if it is to watch the city while your mentor is away,” she replied. “I know he has his reservations, but I believe we can still have some of the fun here when we are not working.”

Dick snorted and strode over to her, resting his arms on the back of the chair when he reached it. She craned her head to look up at him, a hint of that playful twinkle still in her eyes.

“Bruce is just protective of the people he cares about,” he said. “And sometimes that protectiveness comes out as kind of harsh. It took me a while to realize that.”

Kory smiled again. “He reminds me of Galfore, in some ways. In any case, I believe I will enjoy Gotham.”

Dick snorted. “Don’t get too comfortable. Batman didn’t get his reputation by dealing with petty criminals all the time.”

For a moment, all mirth in his partner’s face vanished and she became dead serious. “Of course,” she said earnestly. “I would not let my guard down just because I wish to appreciate the positive aspects of the city.”

Dick chuckled. Of course she would take a mindful but positive approach to their mission. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. She giggled.

“Need I remind you,” Alfred’s dry voice broke in, “that removing your mask alone does not constitute civilian clothes.”

Dick jolted and looked down at himself, finally remembering that he was still wearing most of his Robin costume.

“Uhh…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, I’ll go and change now.” He started off for his room, flashing Alfred an apologetic smile and offering Kory an awkward wave. She waved back, her expression impish again.

As he passed by Alfred, the older man held out a hand to stop him for a moment. “I wanted you to know that I took the liberty of preparing a separate room for Lady Kory,” he said. “I hope this was not done in error?”

Dick’s face screwed up in confusion. “No, why wouldn’t she need…” He trailed off as he saw that tiny hidden smirk on Alfred’s face again.

All at once he realized what Alfred was trying to imply, and his face went beet red with embarrassment. He made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat and pushed past the butler, praying that his girlfriend hadn’t overheard.

#Teen Titans #Robin #Starfire #robstar #robstarweek #fanfiction #writing #prompt #Alfred is the best DC superhero

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sablelab · 5 years

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Covert Operations - Chapter 58

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: Claire has not yet been given the go ahead for her transfer to the OCTB. When she relays new Intel garnered from a taped phone call about a Jonathon Randall then Fergus has to dig deep to find any connection to the Rising Dragons. What he finds confirms there has been a cover up.

THANK YOU all for reading my story and I hope you will enjoy this next scenario when Claire is transferred to the OCTB.

Previous chapters can be found at https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

CHAPTER 58

Staring absently into space and tapping his pen idly on his desk Superintendent Xiao Zheng was lost in thought. His mind was going over things and decisions he needed to make, the most pressing being ... what to do with Claire Beauchamp. She’d been back here three weeks doing mundane tasks that any junior officer could have done, but given the circumstances of her undercover assignment, he thought it only right that she should have some light duties at police headquarters. Mei and Angus had certainly made the most of her return. His young constable and detective had taken her under their wing and hadn’t let her out of their sight since the Chief Commissioner had informed him that Claire’s sabbatical leave had been extended. This was great news but although he knew that she was an invaluable asset to the Water Police, he knew that she was better suited to the OCTB, Hong Kong's Organized Crime and Triad Bureau. Given Claire’s past experience and her expertise, he was in a quandary whether to have her transferred or wait until he was told her services were required there. Either way he knew her days were numbered at police headquarters and he would have to let her go sooner or later. He still hadn’t heard from John So about the request he put to him also about Jonathon Randall. Perhaps he was having some difficulty in finding out information about him. Johnny could find a needle in a haystack ... so, either Jonathon Randall was as clean as a whistle ... or dirty as yesterday’s washing and there was a cover-up of some description. Either way, he wondered if he should place another call to him and see what had happened. Deciding against that move, he decided to err on the side of caution and be patient. If John had found out something, he would contact him soon enough, then they could compare notes and see if what he had suspected was in fact true. The telephone ringing on Zheng’s desk brought him out of his trance like thinking and he automatically reached for the handset placing it to his ear. Claire’s dulcet tones echoed in his ears. “Senior Superintendent ... There is a John So on the line. Are you in?” Will wonders ever cease ... the man must have ESP, Zheng thought. “Yes ... put him through.” “Yes sir.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Since her return to police headquarters Claire had undertaken general secretarial police work for Superintendent Zheng. There had been no directives from Section One as yet, but she’d been told that they would proceed when the time was right. Until then she had been discreetly keeping her ear to the ground. From what she could gather after having thoroughly searched Zheng’s office, all Intel the Water Police had on the Rising Dragons had been transferred to the Hong Kong Organised Crime and Triad Bureau. As a precaution she’d also bugged his telephone and was now monitoring a call he had just received from a John So at OCTB who had wanted to speak to him about a private matter. As she sat at her desk, Claire listened in to their conversation. “Hey Xiao!” “What’s up, Johnny?” “Listen that print you sent for me to check ...” “Yeah ... I remember ... What did you find?” “Sorry man. He’s clean ... we don’t have any information on a Jonathon Randall.” “Big surprise.” “That’s not all. We don’t have any Intel on him ... zip ... nada ... nothing!” “What? ... That’s strange.” “Just what I thought ...” “I could have sworn he was a member of the Rising Dragons.” “Me too.”

“I had him placed on surveillance for some time as a suspect in the celebrity kidnapping of Laoghaire MacKimmie. At the time he was acting very suspicious. But it came to naught.”

“Had an alibi?” “Yeah ... watertight. So how come there is no paperwork on him at the Bureau?” “The guy must have connections ... Or there’s no substantial evidence to link him to anyone.” “Yeah ... He was the prime suspect in my books but now she’s his on and off again girlfriend.” “Hey ... Didn’t I just see a picture of him with her in East West magazine?” “She’s been photographed with Randall several times. That’s why I had him on my list, but she says he had nothing to do with her attempted kidnapping ... on the contrary she was full of praise for him.” “You don’t say! ... Wasn’t she involved with Simon Yam before dating Jonathon Randall? “She was. The rumour mill was abuzz with speculation that there was rivalry between the two men and the gossip magazines had a field day with a love triangle between the three. When Randall stole her away from him, Yam was furious at being duped. Apparently soon after that there was an assault on Laoghaire MacKimmie in a Hong Kong nightclub.” “Hmmm! I remember now!” “Not long following that, Yam was mysteriously found dead. Jonathon Randall became a suspect in the murder. He was implicated but not charged with Yam’s death.” “That case was going to be transferred to the OCTB because of alleged triad involvement but when nothing was ever proven Randall walked ... right?” “Right! My police hackles are rising Johnny ... I smell a rat.” “Me too ... I’ll make some more discreet inquiries and see what I can come up with.” “Thanks.” Carefully replacing the receiver when Superintendent Zheng had finished his call Claire knew that although Madame Cheung had given Section One names of Rising Dragons triad members ... the name she’d just heard was not one of them. As soon as possible she would contact Fergus with this new Intel.

Meanwhile back at Section One …

Fergus Claudel looked over to Murtagh’s respective area to see if he was busy. Looking across the Common area he could see him at his work table fiddling, as usual, on some new gadget or other. Seeing that he was not that busy, Fergus left his area and strolled over to see his buddy in Munitions. As he approached his station, he looked around to see who was nearby before joining him at his worktable. When his friend saw Fergus approach Murtagh greeted him with a craggy smile. “Hey amigo! What’s up?”” “Nothing. Just thought I’d pay you a visit. Things are a bit quiet around here.” “Yeah ... I miss Claire too. Have you heard from her?” “No. Nothing for three weeks.” ‘Well no news is good news ... You set up her profile ... we have to wait until things get into place.” “Yeah ... I suppose you’re right.” “Hey when am I ever wrong?” “Not often. So, what’s Jamie doing?” “Waiting.” Fergus looked at Murtagh with a worried expression on his face. “I wish she would check in soon ... Operations is getting a little toey too.” “Be patient.” “When is it going to happen?” “Soon ... It won’t be long now. We’re going to get all the bad guys and we’ll all live happily ever after.” “Are you sure?” “Sure I’m sure ... Now get outta here before Operations finds you napping on the job.” Looking back at the Comm. area Fergus noticed the austere presence of his leader surveying an empty Systems from the Perch and he became a little edgy.

“I’ve got to get off Murtagh. I'll talk to you later.”

“Yeah. Okay.” But before the words were out of his mouth, Fergus had turned and fled scurrying away at a faster than fast pace so as not to incur the anger of his superior. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ After he’d returned to his station Fergus cast a wary glance up at the Perch and swore he could see Operations’ brow knit in thought. He felt the cold steely look of his leader and the hairs on the back of his neck rose up. If this profile failed, he would suffer the consequences and be put in abeyance ... not a very sobering thought. Perhaps a few prayers were warranted, he thought as a mantra echoed in his head pleading for something to happen and ... soon.

Then, a short while later, it was as if all his prayers had been answered, for the very person he had been talking about contacted him. “Fergus? ... Fergus, it's me, Claire.” “Claire? You got something? “Maybe ... I want you to do a search on a man named Jonathon Randall.” “Why?” “He’s been implicated in suspicious crimes but the police haven’t been able to pin anything on him.” “He works for the Rising Dragons?” “Possibly.” “I’ll get on it straight away and get back to you.” “Okay.” Fergus started coding in search parameters. With nothing to go on but a name ... so his search would take a little longer than usual. He briefly looked over to see that Murtagh had observed his conversation. A small smile appeared on his face. At long last the hunt was on in earnest. This is what he did best, but it wasn't finding the answer that was important to him ... it was the search itself. Once he found something on Jonathon Randall ... and he knew he would ... Section would be up and jumping again as their destruction of the Rising Dragons continued. His fingers fled over the keyboards as Fergus began his task. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Section One’s technical whizz was methodical in his search for any Intel on this Jonathon Randall that Claire had submitted. Fergus knew that this may be the lead that Section was looking for to set his profile in play. However, with everything he tried, he came up empty handed except for his entrepreneurial legitimate business ventures and some information on his family. There was nothing that linked him to the Rising Dragons which left Fergus mentally scrambling for a way to retrieve data from another source. The guy was clean ... there seemed to be no negative Intel on him at all except for an alleged involvement with a singer from a Hong Kong Nightclub from the gossip magazines.

Eventually Fergus tried rerouting a bit stream and piggybacking onto some deep layered databases. He sat back and waited tapping his fingers on his desk in frustration. All of a sudden, some information slowly began to appear; but he had to run a deep channel matrix as Intel was sketchy at first. Soon, the deeper he delved the more Intel appeared and once Fergus ran a back-channel list on this Jonathon Randall even more layers were revealed. Despite the information being hidden well he discovered that the guy was a piece of work and although Jonathon Randall had covered his tracks well ... it was not well enough it would seem. Fergus sat back in his chair with a broad smirk on his face. Reaching for his communication device to the Perch he contacted Operations. “Sir?” Almost immediately Operations voice echoed back, “What is it Claudel?” “Claire asked me to investigate a man called Jonathon Randall.” “That name is not familiar.” “No, that is why she requested the search.” “And?” “I have found out something interesting.” “What?” “I think you and Madeline need to see this ... and Jamie too.” “Very well ... thirty minutes.” “Yes sir.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Fergus stood in the Perch with the leaders of Section One clasping the disc in his hand with the Intel he had found on the man that Claire had asked him to do a search on. Madeline and Operations had also called James Fraser to the Perch to hear the Intel, for his part in Claire’s Hong Kong scenario could soon be imminent. They never heard Jamie’s quiet approach and only knew he had arrived when he spoke. “Ye wanted to see me?” “Yes ... Come in Jamie.” “Fergus has some interesting new Intel on the Rising Dragons that may affect Claire’s profile.” Madeline stated closely observing their Level 5 operative. Looking from one to the other, Jamie’s blank stare remained constant as he waited for whatever it was that Fergus had found out. The young Tech sat at the computer and placed the disc in the drive while the others gathered around. He pulled up a profile of an English man with Chinese ancestry ... Jonathon Randall and proceeded to brief the three people on his findings.

“Jonathon Randall is a Hong Kong playboy ... He dabbles in the Hong Kong movie business, is a night club and karaoke bar owner and a member of the Rising Dragons triad.”

“How do you know this?” “He’s just opened a new nightclub not far from where Claire is living called “The Triangle.” “What has this got to do with the Rising Dragons?” Madeline voiced a little perplexed but still interested to where Fergus was going with this new intel. “All triad groups are based on sworn brotherhood and built on kinship. The name “triad” was coined by the British authorities in Hong Kong, and refers to the triangular shape of the Chinese character for “secret society”. The character's shape symbolizes unity among Heaven, Earth, and man … an indication of the semi-religious nature of this society.” “What are you trying to say Claudel?” Operations asked irritably, thinking Fergus was wasting his time. “Jonathon Randall’s nightclub symbol is the triangular shape used by the triad.” Operations’ attention now piqued inquired, “Any affiliations?” “Too many to mention but ... he's also known to have frequented Madame Cheung on numerous occasions.” “I see.” Looking intently at their Level 5 operative, Madeline asked, “Jamie? ... Were you aware of this?” “No.” “And Claire?” “No.” “What else did you find out Fergus?”

“Despite some setbacks, Sun Yee Lok has obviously recruited new blood and still has a widespread hierarchical organisation set up in Hong Kong society.”

“So this Jonathon Randall is a relatively new member of the Rising Dragons?” Jamie stated rhetorically. “Yes. He has risen quickly because southern China and Hong Kong represent great sources of revenue that were ripe for triad activity in the entertainment field. He managed to suggest expansion. He backed up his convictions with family cash and now it has snowballed.” Worried, Operations saw the potential of repercussions if this was not curtailed stating, “If the Rising Dragons expand any more into Hong Kong society then their affiliations elsewhere in the world will also increase if this venture is too successful.” “We don’t want to become paranoid about the likelihood of increased triad expansion Dougal but if they are diversifying into the entertainment business this may escalate and spread rapidly.” “It seems to have done that already Madeline! If this economic aspect continues, then these people will continue to make money from legitimate business ventures and will become untouchable. We can’t allow that after having come so far already.” “The Rising Dragons have become increasingly more sophisticated, and are moving into people orientated business ventures such as these nightclubs. Jonathon Randall already has a chain of them across southern China and Hong Kong.” Fergus added for clarification. “Why didn’t we know of this earlier?” “This Intel only surfaced when he was investigated as a suspect in the attempted kidnapping of a wealthy actress in Hong Kong ... a Laoghaire MacKimmie. There are suspicious circumstances surrounding him concerning the murder of a Simon Yam who was a member of a rival triad group ... the Black Panthers too who was her ex-boyfriend.” ‘Why?” “Jonathon Randall was a suspect in the murder, but no evidence was found to implicate him.” “And?” Operations asked eager for more information about this man. “Although police headquarters has information on him, it appears his name has been suppressed from all records at the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau in regards to this investigation. The Rising Dragons or someone connected to them has managed to eradicate all Intel on him from their police files.” “Interesting.” “Exactly.” “Is he accessible?" Madeline questioned, her mind already running scenarios through her head for his impending capture.

“More so than the other triad members were,” Fergus stated in answer to her query.

“Are there any constraints?” Was Jamie’s inquiry as he too was thinking ahead to how this could impact on Claire’s new mission profile. “Some.” “What kind of constraints?”

“He's young and smart ... Jonathon Randall has risen very quickly within the triad and was the brains behind the set up of these nightclubs. Sun Yee Lok rewarded his initiative. He is now known as the Ceremony Master or Heung Shu in Chinese within the triad.”

"Family?” Fergus turned back to his screen and accessed more of Jonathon Randall’s personal data. “Actually ... he’s from a very prominent wealthy biracial family in Hong Kong. Father and mother deceased, one brother Alexander.”

“Does the brother have any connections to the triad?”

“No ... he is an innocent and quite sickly.” “ Well then. We will need to get on top of this ASAP.” Operations remarked not wanting to let this opportunity slip through their fingers. Madeline too was weighing up this intel. “So, there must be someone at the OCTB with connections to the Rising Dragons. This only confirms our other data.” “Yes, this Jonathon Randall seems to have protection from someone there.” “We’ll need to find out who it is.” “That’s where Claire will come into play,” Section’s strategist added with a slight smile on her face and a glance towards James Fraser. Operations rubbed his chin. “Hmmm? ... Two birds with one stone.”

“Jamie? What do you think?”

“Jonathon Randall may be difficult to locate. The Rising Dragons have taken few risks over the past weeks given what has happened recently to their senior members.”

“Then Claire will have to flush him out.” Dougal Mackenzie stated with authority. This pleased Madeline no end that finally the mission profile could be activated. “That shouldn't be too difficult. This is the opportunity we have been waiting for, for Claire’s transfer to the OCTB.” The conversation was mainly between Operations and Madeline, and Fergus and Jamie just observed their superiors voice their thoughts out loud.

“In fact, she could flush out the mole at the same time.”

“I agree.” Jamie's expression remained blank, but his body language alerted Operations of a possible problem. “Is that a problem?” Operations asked moving closer to Jamie. “She has a job to do. I would hate to feel that she's regressing.” “She's not. I’ll work up another profile.” “Good. We’ll run this on an accelerated clock, so have it done ASAP. Then you’ll leave for Hong Kong this afternoon.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

#Jamieandclairefanfic #James Fraser #claire beauchamp #jamieandclaireau #outlander fanfic #covert operations

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rewatirchaubey · 6 years

Text

FOOD SERVICE AREAS (F & B Outlets)

Restaurants and their subdivisions-There are many dining areas in the hotel where food and beverages service personnel provide/serve food and beverages to the guest. In any big hotel we can find minimum five different types of restaurants. The number of outlets can be more if the need is there.

In hotels the provision of different outlets is there because clientele of the hotels demands it. Suppose a guest who is staying with the hotel needs food to be served in his room then we can not deny him by saying “please come to the restaurant down the floor and have your meal there”. For this situation a good hotel must have the provision of Room Service so that guest can be served his food and beverage in the room itself by the Room Service department or in room dining (IRD)

We can say it is important to have different types of restaurants in the hotel for following reasons:

# All the meal of the day requires different types of restaurant. Like we can not offer breakfast in the specialty or bar because of its different setup.

# If only one outlet provides food & beverage to all the guest coming to the outlet it can not control the rush and does not provide its services properly to its guest.

# Licensing policy is another reason. We can not serve food & beverage anywhere. Like to serve hard drinks, hotel need to have bar license and bar.

#Different cuisines requires different ambience, sitting plan, setup for complete meal experience.

#Different style of service also an important factor for different types of restaurant.

Following are the different types of restaurant found in the hotels-

SPECIALTY RESTAURANT

· It is known for the single cuisine or some specific cuisine like Indian, Chinese, thai.italian etc.

· It is USP(Unique Selling Point) of the hotel.

· It only opens for the lunch or dinner or sometimes both.

· It has strict formal service or sometime semiformal too.

· Ambience & Décor of the restaurant depend upon the cuisine served.

· Crockery, cutlery, glassware(generally bone china) will depend on the cuisine

· Staff uniform will be according to the cuisine of the country

· Service is not very fast.

· Music is also influenced by the country from where cuisine is related and preferably recorded music

· Atmosphere is formal and some times guests wearing formal wear are allowed inside.

· It also serves all types of drinks but focus would be more on selling wine.

· Staffs here generally work on break shift.

COFFEE SHOP

· It provides 24 hrs services and in some hotels it closes down in midnight because low turnover in the night.

· It is multi cuisine restaurant serving popular cuisine of the world.

· It serves all the important meal of the day like breakfast, brunch, lunch, evening snacks, dinner & midnight snacks.

· Service is fast.

· Guest turnover is high.

· Style of service is semiformal and friendly.

· In most good hotel it has buffet facility with a la carte and table d’ hote menu.

· Sitting is not very relaxed but comfortable.

· Coffee shop has casual atmosphere and guest can come in casual wear.

· All the guests are entertained here who are on complimentary package and hotels executives are also served here.

· Generally it is located near the lobby or beside the swimming pool.

· Recorded music is played here and changes according to the day time.

· Provision of Bar/Service Bar is also here so that guest may get all types of drinks.

CAFETERIA

Cafeteria is an outlet in which the customers are served at a counter and they carry their meals on trays to the tables. In this food service outlet, little or no waiting staff would be there.

Instead of table service, there are food-serving counters/stalls in a line. Customers take the food as they walk along, the line.

There are often stations where customers order food and wait while it is prepared, particularly for items such as hamburgers or tacos which must be served hot and can be quickly prepared.Alternatively, the patron is given a number and the item is brought to their table.

Sometimes, for some food items and drinks, customers collect an empty tray or container, pay at the cash-desk, and fill the container after the payment.

Free second servings are often allowed under this system.

Customers are either charged a flat rate for admission (as in a buffet), or they pay at the cash desk for each item.

Often recorded music is played in cafeterias.

These are outlets catering to staff members of all the hotels and industrial organizations.

IN ROOM DINING/ROOM SERVICE

This is meant for the guests who are staying with the hotel.

It is the only outlet in the hotel that operates from the back of the house (BOH).

It opens for 24 hrs.

It serves all the important meal of the day.

Found very busy in morning for the breakfast service.

Here all the order is taken on the house phone and there is no direct interaction between guests and service personnel like other restaurant.

In house guests can have their meal in their rooms only, there is no need to come down and go to the restaurant.

It is very important for a hotel to have room service facility for be a star category hotel.

It is very much required for the older guests, celebrities and those who don’t like restaurant crowd and public gatherings.

Service here is different from the restaurants because here, after serving the food in the rooms, waiters leave guest’s room after checking any further requirement and time of the clearance. So, personal attention is not there through out the meal.

Guests’ complaints are very big challenge in this service and taken very seriously because so much revenue involved.

Service takes more time than normal.

Service is done through room service tray and trolleys generally.

All types of drinks are served here 24 hrs from dispense bar or service bar.

The menu is priced little higher than of coffee shop or restaurants

GRILL ROOM/ROTTISSERIE

· It is a restaurant that is specializes in grills and roasts of different meats, fish and poultry.

· It has a glass partition that separates the kitchen from the seating area so that guests can see the grill preparation of their choice.

· Here atmosphere is casual and service is preplated.

· Some of the grills rooms have pool tables and indoor sports.

· Some of the grills rooms have American seating and equipped with log tables and benches.

· The crockery and cutlery here is finer and hardy.

· It provides interaction between guest and chef so there is less chance of guest complaints.

· Portion control is another benefit here.

BANQUETS

It is for organizing a function and caters to a large number of people.

It is maximum revenue generating F & B outlet for the hotel.

Here booking is done in advance.

The menu and styles of service depend upon the guests’ choice. Buffet service is very common in banquet.

Guest has to choose a fixed menu from the different set of menu.

Here guests are provided conference & meeting facilities if asked, so sitting plan has different style and setup if guests demand.

This place is meant for the social function like marriages, parties and other social gatherings.

BAR

· A well equipped bar with all varieties of drinks and cocktails.

· A bar counter with tall chairs.

· Seating area is also there.

· Light snacks and finger picking snacks.

· Pre plated service is there.

· Service is casual but friendly.

· It also has varieties of cigars and cigarettes.

· Lively recorded music or in case of live performance-a duo or pianist.

· Nowadays provision of television is there so that guests can enjoy the live sports.

DISCOTHEQUE

It is meant for dancing to recorded music.

A dance floor is must.

Disc jockey is there who creates and responds to the moods of the guest.

Provision of bar and bouncer is there.

Light meals and finger picking snacks are served with the varieties of drinks.

Ambience and décor are very classy and it has special lighting effect.

Service here is friendly and casual.

Most discotheques have cover charges.

Generally stag are not allowed.

Some discotheques are only for the member.

NIGHT CLUB

· Open at night for dinner, dance and live entertainment.

· Service is elaborate with fine linen and silver crockery.

· In some places guests have to wear formal wear only and some go to extent of insisting on black tie.

· Live performances or cabarets which may range from famous singers and dancers are there.

· Some night clubs have super theatre where guests see a play before or after dinner.

· A live band.

· A dance floor.

· Décor is lavish

· Varieties of drinks with bar and bartenders using showmanship to dispense drinks.

· Service is more formal than discotheque.

· Variety of snacks is more than discotheque.

· Some discotheques with a live band are also called night club nowadays.

SNACK BAR

· This is informal restaurant.

· Service is quick.

· Generally it has a counter for self service.

· It specializes in snack only.

· The décor is relatively inexpensive.

· Tall stools are placed along a counter so that the guest may eat the food at the counter itself.

· Food is either displayed behind the counter for the guest to choose from.

· Availability is listed on a menu card or common black board.

EXECUTIVE LOUNGE

· It is a specific floor in the hotel where only VVIPs, Members and regular guests used to stay and entertained.

· Here a provision of restaurant is there to cater all the member guests of the hotel to pamper them.

· They can avail special discount and happy hours on the beverages.

· They can be served breakfast in the same floor.

· And they are also free to have their meal in any outlet of the hotel.

BUSINESS CENTRE

· It is provision for the business client.

· Here they can avail the facilities of telex, fax. xerox, internet etc.

· It is situated on the ground floor or near the lobby.

· In some hotels it is come under front office or banquet.

FAST FOOD JOINTS/QUICK SERVICE RESTAURANTS As the name implies, the food and beverage service in these restaurants is at a faster pace than other restaurants. The items offered in here, are selected with emphasis on the speed of preparation and service. The success of any fast food joint depends on the large turnover of customers.

The décor and design is more simple and casual (sometimes may be theme based as in the case of McDonalds and KFC

The menu is limited and they are usually specialized in one or two dishes. For example, McDonalds specialize in hamburgers, Kentucky Fried Kitchen in chicken, and Pizza Hut in pizzas. In India, the Nirula's fast food joints have gained momentum; besides the Continental menu, they offer Indian specialities such as samosas, chana bhatura, and dosas.

The menu is slightly high priced due to the advance machinery they use in the preparation of food items.

Generally, the service style is self-service.

Food can be eaten in the premises or taken away. Many of the fast food joints even provide door delivery service.

It relies heavily on the availability of the convenience foods, which require the minimum degree of cooking.

Soft recorded music is played in these kinds of establishments.

These restaurants are of stand-alone usually. Some establishments may be a part of chain operations.

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fallout4holmes · 5 years

Text

Journal 36

The scientists needed some supplies, so I went on a scavenger hunt. Danse came with me without being asked, and without asking. I was glad for the company.

It took most of the day. A nearby toy factory overrun by super mutants proved fruitless, so we tried going east past the southern edge of a ruined town.

“Those ruins seem worth investigating,” Danse said.

“If you don't mind fighting Gunners,” I said. “That's what remains of Quincy.”

Danse paused, and studied the town anew. His helmet hid any expression, and I wonder what sort of affect seeing the place Preston nearly lost everything had on him. “Have you been inside?”

“Briefly. Valentine and I needed access to the police station for a case. The Gunners occupying the town are led by a Lieutenant called Clint. I only saw him from a distance. His hat stands out amid the Gunners.”

“The Minutemen traitor leads them?” The trace of anger in his own voice as I led us south seemed to surprise him. “... Does Garvey know about this?”

“Yes. His response was to ‘let Clint rot there,’ or something along those lines. We didn't have the firepower or training to stage a full scale assault on Quincy.”

“We still don't, but…” the sight of a small house amid a swampy area distracted him, “may I ask where we're going?”

“Since we're here, there's a young acquaintance I want to check on. Though I suppose he isn't all that young. He's older than you.”

“Considering I'm no longer certain when I was… made, there's no way to verify that claim.”

“My apologies, Danse, I didn't think of that. Trust me, when you meet him, you'll understand why I know for a fact that he is older than you, no matter how old you may be.”

“A pre-War ghoul.”

“Yes.”

“Then why the joke about this person being a 'young acquaintance?’”

“Ah, Mr. Peabody!” I called across the yard as he opened the front door, “Good afternoon!”

“Mr. Holmes! Nice to see you.”

The excited shout of a young boy echoed from inside, and Billy Peabody came barreling out the door. “Mr. Holmes!” The boy slid to a sudden halt when he spotted Danse. “Wow!”

I caught a muttered "What the -?" from Danse as he stared at the ghoul child, but he recovered admirably. "Hello."

“Billy!” his mother scolded from the doorway beside her husband, “don't just run out like that!”

“It's alright, Carol,” Mr. Peabody said, “he's safe with Mr. Holmes. Who's your friend?” he asked as we reached the porch.

“This is the Lt. Colonel of the Minutemen. Lt. Col. Danse, meet the Peabodys. Oh, and don't mention his name within earshot of the Brotherhood.”

Mr. Peabody scoffed, “Not likely for that to happen. Those tin cans would sooner shoot us than give us the time of day.” He shook Danse's hand, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you,” Danse said.

“Can you stay a while?” Billy asked.

“Unfortunately, we're on a bit of a scavenger hunt. We have to find some supplies, and have no time to lose.”

Billy was clearly disappointed. “It's been hard on Billy having no one else around,” his mother said. “We keep thinking we should move, but this has been our home for 230 years.”

“Besides,” her husband said, “where would we go with kids willing to play with a ghoul? And anywhere we go would be a dangerous trip.”

“I'll arrange something,” I promised. “My son would love to meet Billy, as would his friend Nat.”

“Really!?!” Billy was ecstatic.

“That's wonderful!” Carol said.

“I'll assign a few Minutemen as escorts when a date has been set,” Danse said.

I smiled, “Outstanding.”

“Say, what are you looking for Mr. Holmes?" Peabody asked, "I just did a little business with the Atom Cats north of here, maybe I can help?”

Fortune smiled on us. The Atom Cats are apparently a group (I hesitate to use the word gang) of power armor enthusiasts. Danse was confident the components in the equipment and scrap they'd traded would suffice for the scientists’ purposes, though perhaps not the quality they'd hoped for.

It would have to be enough. We bid the Peabodys goodbye, with a solemn promise to Billy that he would meet some other children soon.

“A ghoul child,” Danse muttered as we left. “How is that possible?”

“He hid in a refrigerator when the bombs fell, and couldn't get out again. I heard him calling one day, let him out, and brought him home. Fortunately, his parents had become ghouls as well.”

“But how did he survive?”

“I don't know. The only theory I have is some sort of stasis or hibernation, but no one seems to know much about ghoulish biology, not even ghouls.”

It was midnight by the time we returned to Murkwater. Peter's response was a less than encouraging “it'll have to do,” but Paul was reassuring. “Pay him no mind, Robotics division were always perfectionists.”

“Then you are making some progress?”

“Some,” Paul nodded, then warned, “but the news may not be what you want to hear.”

“Anything is better than the alternative at this point,” I said with all the confidence I didn't feel.

The settlement woke at dawn to the sounds of laser muskets and automatic weapons in the distance. Danse took off running immediately - the Minutemen checkpoint was under attack. I rushed after him, and we came upon an albino deathclaw trying to make a meal out of my Minutemen. The soldiers held their ground, and after the beast fell they were grateful for our added firepower. It was clear Danse had already established a rapport with them, and had apparently spoken well of me. I'm not sure what strategic value this old crash site in a swamp holds, but it was a checkpoint when the Minutemen were in their prime and they were confident they would hold it again now.

We divided the spoils, as it were, and Danse hauled the bottom half of the titanic lizard back to the settlement for further preparation. One of the Minutemen wanted to keep the head and hands as trophies. We didn't object.

The settlers were very impressed to see the prize, and two scavengers-turned-settlers set to cleaning and preserving what they could. Danse got out of his armor to assist, and I decided learning how to properly butcher a deathclaw was preferable to sitting by the operating room, waiting.

The settlers asked questions as we worked, wondering about the Minutemen and the rumors of the General that destroyed the Institute, adding that the scientists described the place as a paradise. I explained it was a paradise with a price. This did not surprise them. They held no ill-will against the three scientists they now lived with, saying they'd welcomed them with caution but treated them fairly. Any fear they might have had for the Institute had faded, though they confessed it had been easier once the scientists gave up their Institute clothes.

It was later in the afternoon when Peter approached me. He was more energized than I'd ever seen him. I sympathized; a chance to use one's knowledge and experience is a relief to the mind and a balm to the spirit. I might have been glad for him were my own mind not focused on all the possible ways his news might crush me.

“Mr. Holmes? We've discovered what the problem is. May I speak with you in private?” We made our way to the edge of the settlement, away from everyone else. “A portion of the mechanism that functions as a spinal cord is severely corroded, as well as various degrees of damage to a number of regulatory systems. After over a hundred years without proper maintenance and repairs, it was bound to happen. He's a prototype, so some of his parts are unique. It's fascinating, really, you can see the very beginnings of organic reconstruction experimentation…” my expression must not have encouraged his enthusiasm. “Ahem. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“I'm sure. Can you fix him?”

He tentatively shook his head, “Not with the resources available.”

“What do you need?”

He sighed, “It isn't simply a matter of a shopping list. We can patch him up, but it's a temporary fix at best. He said he's been living in Diamond City? We can get him walking, he can make the trip back, but I wouldn't count on him making many more long distance trips after that.”

My mind scrambled for any source of light in all this. “It’s only his body?”

“Only-?” Peter was momentarily confused, but realized what I was trying to ask, “Oh! Yes. A remarkable amount of care went into the creation and protection of the 'brain’, or what functions as it. As long as Mr. Valentine's primary power core remains functional - his ‘heart,’ if you will - there's little chance of his mind ever becoming damaged, short of extreme blunt force trauma.”

“And the chances of his heart remaining in good condition?”

“It's in good shape, especially considering how old it is. With regular tune-ups, perhaps it will last another hundred years. Understand, life expectancy estimates regarding Mr. Valentine are primarily speculation. We don't even know what material some of his systems were constructed out of.”

I took a breath, quelling the internal maelstrom of emotion. “Speculations aside then, the immediate problem is that even should he live another hundred years, he would be unable to move.”

“I'm afraid so. We simply don't have any familiarity with his prototype model. We're learning as we go, trial and error, and it would take years to gain the expertise necessary to fully repair the damage. Either he stays here for us to study and continue working on him, or we patch what we can, enough to get him home, and one day he stops moving.”

Unknown years of separation - no, that was never an option. Either we move the family to Murkwater, or we return to Diamond City with the knowledge that someday he would never leave again. “May I speak with him?”

“He's in a sort of stand-by mode right now. I can wake him up if you want.”

“Will he be in pain of you do?”

“I can disconnect the receptors. He won't feel much of anything at all, but he won't be in pain.”

“Please.”

Seeing him in 'stand-by’ was unnerving. His self-diagnostics might be compared to a meditative trance, but seeing him lying there unconscious… it was different than seeing someone asleep. Perhaps it was because I'd never seen it before, but it seemed unnatural. The scientists left the room as Valentine's gears hummed, his yellow eyes glowing with life. He was disoriented a moment, blinking in confusion.

“Hello, Valentine,” I smiled.

He slowly focused on me, “... hey.”

“How do you feel?”

“Can't feel much of anything. Sort of... numb?”

“They disconnected the receptors that allow you to feel sensations.”

“Why?”

“I didn't want you to be in pain.”

His confusion cleared with a soft smile, “I'm alright, partner.”

I flinched. “You aren't yet. The scientists can't fix you, not completely. They can get you on your feet again, but it's a temporary fix at best. Or you can remain here for them to study and work on for a few years and they might be able to make you good as new.”

He frowned, “Exactly what do they call a temporary fix?”

“Travel outside Diamond City would not be recommended.”

He was skeptical, “If I ignore that?”

“You run the risk of never walking again.”

He blinked, “... oh. Well. Guess I'm... I'm stuck here for a while, then.”

I held his hand, though I knew he wouldn't be able to feel it, “I'll send word to Diamond City, have the Minutemen escort Shaun -”

“Like hell you will.”

My throat was tight, “Our son -”

He was firm, “Is staying in Diamond City where it's safe and he can go to school and play with his friends. I'm not risking his life to bring him down here just because I'm stuck.”

He was right. I knew he was right, and I was ashamed to have put my own want before considering my son's safety, but...

My hand tightened around his, “I don't want to leave you.”

The tenuous control I'd manage to hold my emotions under nearly unravelled at the look of sheer, aching love on his face. “I know, Sherlock. But if I'm gonna get back on my feet, you're gonna have to.”

It was unacceptable. I was... frightened, that I might never see him again. It was an irrational fear, but it remained nonetheless. I didn't want to wait for the Institute to relearn what it had discarded a century ago. If only there was someone familiar with... ... “There is a third option.”

He was wary, “Why don't I like the way you said that?”

“There is an expert in prototype synth mechanics we could ask for help - as close to an expert as exists, at least.”

“Who are you...” he paused, the pieces falling together. “Oh.”

“You won't be able to make the trip yourself, I'll have to ask him to come here.”

“Think he will?”

I shrugged, “I haven't the slightest idea, but we have to try to convince him.”

He nodded once, “Alright.”

I kissed him, even knowing he couldn't feel it with the sensors deactivated. “I'll inform Danse. Do you want to go back into stand-by, or remain like this?”

“Rather have the feeling back, honestly.”

“But the pain -”

He chuckled, “You're sweet, partner, but I've felt all manner of horrible things in my life and I can say for a fact not one of them was as bad as this feeling nothing business. Weird sort of disconnect. Not to my liking at all.”

I couldn't help but smile. “Very well. I'll tell them.”

I asked Peter to restore feeling to my partner and went in search of Danse. I found him attempting to clean a stubborn piece of vegetation from his power armor's ankle joint. He stood up as soon as he saw me coming, “Any progress, Holmes?”

I sighed, “The scientists can repair him enough to get back to Diamond City, but need more time to do any meaningful repair. On the other hand, there's a man in a settlement on an island to the north who may be able to help, if I can convince him to come to the Commonwealth. I'll have to leave immediately.”

Danse's brow furrowed. “You should remain with your family. If you can provide detailed directions, I'll go.”

I was shocked. “You don't have to-”

“I am volunteering.”

“Thank you.” It wasn't remotely adequate a response. “As grateful as I am for your offer, I cannot in good conscience send you all that way on your own.”

“I'll contact Sanctuary and have Garvey send a recruit or two to meet us in Diamond City.”

“It's an island, you'll have to travel by boat, and you hate water.”

“I'll survive,” he smirked.

“Even so, dealing with the people of the island will require some finesse. They don't care for outsiders.”

Danse was offended. “It won't be the first time I've interacted with civilians unfamiliar with my organization.”

“That wasn't a comment on your social skills,” I smiled a little. “The island is different from the Commonwealth in a multitude of ways. It isn't a place I would willingly send a friend in general, let alone my third in command...” I trailed off, an idea coming to me. “Danse, come with me a moment, I need to ask Valentine's opinion.”

Danse was puzzled, but followed. Valentine was leaning up on one arm as he smoked a cigarette. “You look like you've got a plan,” he said. “Only question is if I'm gonna like it?”

“Would you object to moving your convalescence to Sanctuary?” I asked. “We can stop by Diamond City to pick up Shaun first and bring him with us.”

He blinked in surprise, “Can't say I mind terribly, but why?”

“Sturges and Curie will be on hand in case of an emergency, and at least one of the three men in charge of the Minutemen should be in residence.”

Both men looked at me with confusion. Danse asked, “You're sending Garvey with me?”

“Sending them where?” asked Valentine.

“To collect Faraday,” I said to Valentine, then turned to Danse, “There are no two other people I trust more to see this done. Not only do I have confidence in your abilities to bring Faraday to Sanctuary safely, but you'll also be acting as ambassadors of a sort. I've been wanting to set up some Minutemen trade routes there.”

“You want to show off the best the Minutemen have to offer,” drawled Valentine with a grin.

“It was originally your suggestion that the Minutemen offer a hand to Acadia,” I replied, “as well as Far Harbor and the rest of the island.”

“I mentioned they could do some good. You're the one who ran with it, despite it being 'out of your jurisdiction.’”

With a slight smile, I said, “It’s settled, then. I'll have the scientists patch you up to the best of their abilities.”

We leave for Diamond City tomorrow.

#fallout 4 #fan fiction #nick valentine #danse #sherlock holmes #crossover

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mintchocolateleaves · 6 years

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Requiem (2/16)

Summary: When he was a child, Shinichi had thought he’d become a detective. Now he’s halfway there, looking into a series of attacks against delinquents in Tokyo, trying not to become a victim himself. Delinquent!AU

Notes: I have no excuse for taking so long in updating. But it’s here now, so please enjoy the second chapter of the delinquent AU!

[Part One]

Apparently, one of Hattori's guys has a name: KID.

If Shinichi's been told the story correctly, then the nickname is quite a common one. The pair of Osakan delinquents that had been attacked had been together when they'd been injured. Both had been talking about some unimportant thing – Shinichi doesn't know what, but he doesn't particularly care either – when they'd had their feet kicked out from beneath them, a punch each to their abdomen to ensure they remained on the ground, winded.

They'd been caught off guard; From what Hattori's told him, the two victims weren't the types to be easily snuck up on. Either the Osakan is lying, or their assailant is stealthy, able to get behind two boys without being noticed.

Shinichi suppresses a shudder.

“So they thought that there was more than one guy at first?” He asks, kicking his feet up on the desk. He and Hattori are sat in his family's library, and while he's gone so far as to offer a drink to be polite, Shinichi's not going all out.

He receives a nod, “he was quick, so they thought there must o' been more than one guy. But then they look'd up, an’ there was only one guy.”

Uncrossing his arms, Shinichi leans his cheek against his hand, tilting his head to the side. There's so much he feels like he doesn't know yet. Maybe he needs to actually investigate, play detective games like he did when he was younger, back when he'd imagined he'd become a police investigator.

Shinichi crosses his arms. He’s not certain he really understands, is trying instead to figure things out for himself. He says, “so if there’s only one guy, how can he be in Osaka and Tokyo at once?”

Hattori shrugs. “Maybe he travels between th’ two areas a lot? I ain’t that sure Kudo. I only got th’ details o’ what happened to my guys, not yours.”

Another nod. Shinichi’s the same – he’s not got the full picture of the situation, and so he’s pretty certain there’s going to be things he’s overlooking. If they had the times, the dates – God, even the areas of where the attacks happened – then they’d be able to figure out a pattern.

People always have patterns.

“I think we need to know more,” Shinichi says, standing up. “How long are you in Tokyo for?”

Hattori crosses his arms. It’s almost as if he’s offended Shinichi would be asking, as if Hattori assumes he’s not wanted – which, he isn’t really, but if he stays longer it’s not too bothersome. It doesn’t underpin any of the systems Shinichi has put into place in Tokyo.

“Until this gets sorted.” The Osakan says.

It’s the answer Shinichi had been expecting. Though they’ve not met many times, in fact, this is probably the second interaction between them, it’s clear to see that Hattori is stubborn, unwilling to budge on his ideals.

Good, Shinichi would think less of him if the man so much as thought about stopping his own little investigation. These people being attacked, yes, they’re delinquents, and Shinichi knows how society views them as lesser, simply because they don’t fit in, but it doesn’t mean they deserve this.

Broken bones and injuries? No. Shinichi can’t condone this, not on his streets. And if Hattori isn’t thinking the same thing, then Shinichi quite frankly doesn’t think they’ll ever get along.

Not that he needs to worry about that. Hattori seems in the same frame of mind as him.

“Okay,” Shinichi says now, nodding his head. “My friend’s father is currently looking into the attacks in Tokyo. I’ll see if I can get any pictures of his files, you know? Then we can try and find some sort of pattern.”

Hattori nods. “Sounds good. I’ll get Kazuha to pull up some files for me to, so we got th’ same kind o’ information.”

~~~

“So yeah,” Shinichi says later, his phone pressed to his ear, Ran on the other side of the call. “That’s why I thought we could look at the files.”

He doesn’t even need to see her, to know that she’s hesitating. Shinichi isn’t asking for something lightly. No, he’s asking for confidential files, information that she’d be risking herself by handing over.

“Shinichi–”

“I know it’s asking a lot,” Shinichi says, tapping at the edge of desk. “But… there’s someone attacking my friends, and I want to figure out who.”

“That’s what the police are for, Shinichi.” Ran says, and there’s static from her phone, where she’s no doubt shaking her head. “What would you even be doing?”

“The police find whoever this is,” Shinichi says, “and he’ll get charged for it. And I don’t think… I don’t know Ran, some of the guys I meet go too far sometimes, and they just need to be brought back a little.”

There is a pause between them. And then Ran, incredulous, asks, “you want to try and talk some sense into him?”

Shinichi shrugs. “Well, yeah. What’s so wrong with that?”

“You, a delinquent, want to try and talk sense into someone, who goes around sending delinquents to the hospital.”

Well, Shinichi can sort of see why she’d be nervous, but Shinichi’s got Hattori as back up. They’re both the strongest in their respective cities and have their guards up so it should… probably be alright. And if not well, Shinichi’s not a stranger to pain.

“That’s exactly it,” Shinichi says, “can’t you just give me the locations and times of the attacks? And maybe the ages and schools of the victims?”

A sigh.

“Yeah,” Ran mutters, “alright.”

~~~

She sends the details over in a word document a few minutes later.

Shinichi sits back against his bed and lets out a sigh. There have been seven attacks in Tokyo so far. Too many attacks in such a short amount of time for it to be a coincidence. Ran hasn’t listed any names – she can only give him so much, and not even she’ll risk the trouble she’ll get in if people find out she’s passed on the names of those who’ve been attacked.

From the information he’s read so far, the attacks had started two months ago. One every week or so, Shinichi supposes, if he’s only counting the Tokyo attacks. Although looking more closely, there’s an eight-day gap between the two most recent attacks.

He’ll have to follow up with Hattori tomorrow, when they meet up again, to see if the Osaka attacks are in between that time gap.

Okay, that’s the timings. They’re frequent, and to quick between for Shinichi to think they’ve been planned. Whoever’s KID is, they’re acting on impulse, not towards a plan. Which means they’re probably also acting on opportunity.

The locations will probably prove something to them as well then. If it’s based off opportunity, then it could narrow it down to the main area KID operates in. And well, looking at the earlier areas, the initial attacks, it does.

Shinichi’s got a district.

Ekoda.

~~~

Ekoda isn’t one of the areas Shinichi knows well. It’s a fair distance from Beika, about half an hour on the train across, and is generally one of the calmer areas in terms of delinquency.

In fact, Shinichi only really knows of two or three delinquents from that area. And even they’re mostly names he’s only really heard in the passing.

Except for one name. Shinichi thinks of Ekoda and thinks Hakuba Saguru.

He’s a new name, recent to the rumour mill. Born in England, with parents who live apart due business opportunities. The rumours go as follows: Hakuba had been expelled from the boarding school he’d been forced to attend, and so his father, a police inspector, had felt it necessary to move him overseas to get the seemingly needed patriarchal discipline he’d been missing in Europe.

“I don’t think he’s our culprit,” Shinichi says, over the phone to Hattori. He’s no idea where the Osakan’s been staying, but they’ve decided to meet by the station in Beika. There’s a café inside the station, somewhere they can plan through what’s going to happen next. “Not Hakuba Saguru.”

“I don’t know ‘im,” Hattori says, “what’s he like?”

Shinichi sighs, “I’m not sure. I’ve not met him either, I’ve just heard about him.”

The silence on Hattori’s side of the phone is enough to tell him to hand over the rumours Shinichi’s heard over the past few weeks.

“Well,” he says, kicking at loose gravel in the street, as he waits for traffic to come to a halt, so he can continue heading to their meeting spot. “I think he’s like, the polar opposite of KID? From what we know of them both, anyway.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Well, from what you said about KID, he’s wild. An uncontrolled temper and willing to push past boundaries, right?”

Hattori hums a ‘yeah’.

“Hakuba’s the opposite. He’s controlled. He’s got his own set of rules that he follows, that he answers to, and he won’t go past them.” Shinichi says, “so I don’t think he’s KID. But I think he might be able to lead us to him.”

Hesitation. “Ya think he’s hiding KID?”

“Oh God no,” Shinichi can’t even resist the laugh that builds in his throat. “I think he’s probably going to be searching for KID as well, in one way or another.”

Hattori sighs, “how many people are searching for this guy?”

Shinichi pales. That’s a big question itself. How many people are looking for KID?

The police are searching, as are the delinquents that have been sent to the hospital. And now, other delinquents, like Shinichi himself, are searching for him. Who will find him first? And what will happen when KID is found?

“Enough that we need to be quick with finding him.”

~~~

“I got the information on the Osakan attacks.” Hattori says by way of greeting when he finally walks into the café. Shinichi’s certain that he’s only late because he’d gotten lost on his way but pointing that out is probably just asking for a dead arm.

Somehow, Shinichi’s pretty sure Hattori’s pride will not bode well with innocent teasing. Not from him anyway.

“Yeah?” He says instead, stretching his legs out under his seat. He’s not too keen on knowing most of the details, is only interested in the dates. “When did they happen?”

Hattori settles into his seat. “May 28.”

Which fits into their timeline. Shinichi nods his head. All they need to figure out now is why KID was in Osaka. Well, that and to get the message out to Hakuba Saguru that they’d like to meet him about the recent attacks.

“Why do we need his help?” Hattori sighs, despite knowing full well why. Shinichi hates repeating himself, but he does so anyway.

“Neither of us know Ekoda.” Shinichi says, “If we have a tour guide, we’ll be more likely to find different clues. Right?”

“I suppose,” Hattori says.

“I’ll send one of my guys over to Ekoda to find him,” Shinichi says, settling back in his chair. “And give a message that we want to meet. Then, Hakuba can let us know where and when.”

“Sure, whatever,” Hattori says. “while we wait though, I wanna take a look at th’ other areas than Ekoda. Kno’ any of ‘em?”

Shinichi nods.

And so, they begin their search for KID.

~~~

Across town, a boy pulls a bat behind him, leaving it to scrape across the floor.

It’s a violent sound. And, in a way, KID likes to think of it as a warning. For those smart enough to get away – those who’ve heard of him and don’t fancy their chances.

He’s been feeling a bubbling hysteria rising in his chest since this morning, a need that he can’t ignore. So now he’s here – Shibuya, making his way through the side streets, looking for another victim.

It doesn’t take long to find one.

Fitting within the perimeters he’s set himself, KID steps towards the delinquent. He’s blonde – dyed, not natural – and has gone for the stereotypical chain around his pocket. That’s just one thing of hundreds he hates about people like this – they lack imagination.

They also lack morality, but that’s something for another day. When KID doesn’t want to point out that he probably lacks that too.

KID nears him. Lifts the bat up.

What to do, what to do?

He lowers it. Places it on the wall beside him – it’s a risk yes. Anyone could show up, anyone could use it against him. But well, KID feels a rush at the danger it brings.

Forming a fist, he strikes. He sidesteps around the boy, his hand – bandaged, to avoid his skin cracking from the pressure of punches he’ll never pull – crashing into his cheek.

The boy does not go flying. They’re not in a T.V show.

Instead, he takes a few steps backwards, shock glazing his eyes as he lifts his hand to the area. There’s blood, only a small amount.

It’s not enough.

KID drops low, swipes the boy’s leg’s out from beneath him.

The delinquent crumples.

“KID,” he gasps.

“That’s me,” KID says, and maybe no one can see his expression from behind his mask, but he’s grinning at the recognition.

“Why are you doing this?” He’s asked, and KID takes a step forward, lifts the boy’s chin up with the tip of his bat.

KID tilts his head. No answer seems like it’s right, not really. He covets attention, craves it like a drug - he wants to be noticed, feared, whenever people hear his footsteps echoing in their ears. He soaks up the attention he is unwillingly given like a sponge, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“A reason?” He laughs, head tipped back, hysterical laughed boiling out of him. It’s a repugnant, abrasive sound, almost like metal screeching against metal. He moves the bat away, smashing it down against bone.

“Why do I need to have a reason?”

~~~

To be continued

#Yes it's been over six months but lets not talk about that - hopefully I'll be quicker at updating than last time my bad y'all #DCMK #kudo shinichi #hattori heiji #Kaitou KID #Hakuba Saguru #Mouri Ran #Detective Conan #Fic: Requiem #delinquent au #mywriting

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

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THE COURAGE OF YOURSELF

The real problem is the same they face in operating systems: they can't pay people enough to build something better than a group of founders to go through one lame idea before realizing that a startup has to make something people want. This should be the m. You learn to paint mostly by doing it, but by then it's too late. Plenty of things we now consider prestigious were anything but at first. They're far better at detecting bullshit than you are at producing it, even if you forget the experience or what you read, its effect on your model of the world is not merely wasted, but actually makes organizations less productive. I've read on HN.1 And in every field there are probably heresies few dare utter.

Less fortunate startups just end up in an uncanny valley.2 It was painful to watch. If Sun runs into trouble, they could drag Java down with them. The first is probably the effort required just to start a new company, Fairchild Semiconductor. The suit is back, it begins. It doesn't do justice to the situation to say never mind, I'm just tired. The most dangerous way to lose time is not to say that to Japanese or Europeans it would seem like something out of the third world. And we know from experience that some undergrads are as capable as most grad students. Even Einstein probably had moments when he was optimistic. A lot of VCs would have rejected Microsoft.

Judging startups is hard even for the best investors, who are both hard to bluff and who already believe most other investors are conventional-minded drones doomed always to miss the big outliers.3 We decided we ought to have T-Shirts for the SFP, and we'd been thinking about what to do by a boss.4 Have you ever seen an old photo of yourself and been embarrassed at the way a painting is made.5 Your program is supposed to do x. Either it's something they felt they had to do. When I learned to program, we had to read in English classes was mostly fiction, so I was haunting galleries anyway. It's also great for morale.6 And so it became synonymous with California nuttiness.7 And it's a good thing. The irony of Galileo's situation was that he got in trouble for appearing to be writing about things I don't understand.

I write great software, because they were so much easier.8 In fact, software that would let people who wanted sites make their own investment decisions. The time to raise money, they try gamely to make the region a center of scholarship and industry which have been closely tied for longer than most people realize.9 I made the list there turned out to be enough. Best of all, for the same reason readers like them. But as one VC told me after a startup he funded would only take about half a million, I don't mean play mind games with yourself to boost your confidence. When I read about people who liked what they did so much that it's critical to get your product to market early, but that you haven't really started working on it to answer calls from people paying you now. Both have the kind of thing for fun. They give employees who do great work for free, in their spare time, and investors are down on advertising at the moment.10 But as one VC told me after a startup he funded would only take about half a million, I don't mean any specific business can. In a startup you have to overcome in order to avoid them, I had to write down everything I remember from it, I doubt it would amount to much more than the valuation of our entire company.

But the importance of this idea would remain something I'd learned from this book, I couldn't believe he was serious. My rule is that I can spend as much time online as I want, as long as buying printed books was the only way to know for sure would be to discover each person's station as early as possible, and the higher your valuation, the narrower your options for doing that. Raising money decreases the risk of failure. Some will be shocking by present standards. Your own ideas about what's possible have been unconsciously lowered by such experiences.11 You may not need to use convertible notes to do it. At Viaweb I considered myself lucky if I got to hack a quarter of the time ranged from tedious to terrifying.12 Prestige is like a compiled program you've lost the source of. Conversely, a town of i dotters and t crossers, where you're liable to get both your grammar and your ideas corrected in the same spirit. The striking thing about this phase is that it's completely different from most people's idea of what business is like.13 Since the custom is to write to persuade a hypothetical perfectly unbiased reader.

Of course, figuring out what you like, and let prestige take care of you: they'd try not to fire you, cover your medical expenses, and support you in old age.14 The most interesting question here may be what high res fundraising will do to the world, and in the meantime I'd have to fight word-by-word to save it from being mangled by some twenty five year old copy editor.15 So am I claiming that no one would dare express it in public?16 And in particular, to great universities.17 But the more you realize you can do than the traditional employer-employee relationship because I've been on both sides of a better one: the investor-founder relationship. O-data.18 Maybe I'm excessively attached to conciseness. Indians in the current Silicon Valley. In fact, we've never even invited them to the demo days we organize for startups to grow. I'm not too worried yet.

It happens naturally to anyone who does good work. Each year.19 But publishing has advanced since then: present-day union organizers rather than an attack on early ones.20 What weaknesses could you exploit? It may seem cavalier to dismiss a language before you've even tried writing programs in it. Cheap Intel processors, of the forces underlying open source and blogging. At the time, could get excited about such a thoroughly boneheaded idea, we should start paying attention. An adult can distance himself enough from the situation to describe it as a book. The English Reformation was at bottom a struggle for wealth and power, but it does at least make you keep an open mind.21 That cap need not simply rise monotonically. True, but I can't believe we've considered every alternative.

Halfway through grad school I decided I wanted to do. But this approach, combined with the preceding four, will turn up a good number of unthinkable ideas. In Robert's defense, he was skeptical about Artix.22 And what, exactly, is hate speech? And yet I suspect no one dares say this. The graphic design is as plain as possible, and the partner responsible for the deal was John Doerr, who came to work for our company.23 If you set up those conditions within the US, there are at least some of the most useful skills we learned from Viaweb was not getting our hopes up. If you try convincing investors before you've convinced yourself, you'll be denounced as a yellowist too, and you'll find yourself having a lot of pro-union readers, the first three were our biggest expenses. If we turn off our self-centeredness in that they assume admissions committees care enough about so far is not very good. Painters in fact have to remember a good deal for everyone.24 A more important source, because it's the only way out.

Notes

The idea is the most promising opportunities, it becomes an advantage to be identified with you to commit to them. Hackers Painters, what you call the Metaphysics came after meta after the fact by someone else created earlier.

A P successfully defended itself by allowing the unionization of its users, however, and this was the fall of 2008 the terms they were.

The lowest point occurred when marginal income tax rates were highest: 14. Make sure too that the stuff they're showing him is something inexperienced founders. So whatever market you're in, you'll be well on your own?

What I'm claiming with the melon seed model is more important than the valuation turns out to be able to grow as big as a child, either as an idea that evolves naturally, and that he had once talked to mentioned how much he liked his work. We're delighted to have to pass so slowly for them. Doing things that don't include the cases where you go to die from running through their initial attitude. That's a valid point.

That's because the rich. In this essay I'm talking mainly about software startups are possible. Since most VCs are suits at heart, the bad idea.

I calculated it once for that might work is in the sort of pious crap you were going back to the Pall Mall Gazette. Actually Emerson never mentioned mousetraps specifically.

The founders want the valuation of zero.

And I'm sure for every startup we had high hopes for doesn't do well, but not in the technology everyone was going to kill bad comments to solve are random, the only alternative would be to go out running or sit home and watch TV, music, and stir. I'm not claiming founders sit down and calculate the expected value calculation for potential founders, and that there's no lower bound to its precision. In fact, for example, would probably never have that glazed over look. So it's not the only ones that matter financially, and he was notoriously improvident and was troubled by debts all his life.

What you learn via users anyway. When Google adopted Don't be evil. But while it makes people dumber.

The idea is not yet released.

I stuck with such energy that he had once talked to a degree that alarmed his family, that it offers a better predictor of success. Programming languages should be designed to express algorithms, and so on. But when you ad lib you end up with much food.

It's when they're really saying is they want to stay in a bug.

In fact this would probably be to become one of the increase in economic inequality, but he turned them down. Cost, again. Wolter, Allan trans, Duns Scotus: Philosophical Writings, Nelson, 1963, p. The trend of VC angel investing is so contentious is that the middle class first appeared in northern Italy and the cost of writing software.

Give us 10 million and we'll tell you alarming things, they will or at least a little more fat, and the editor, written in 6502 machine language. Related: Reprinted in Bacon, Alan ed.

Looking at the fabulous Oren's Hummus. Most of the next stage tend to become more stratified.

In some cases e.

We think we're so useless that in Silicon Valley. This is not economic inequality was really only useful for one video stream. They don't know how many of which you want to get endless grief for classifying religion as well, but which didn't taste very good. College English Departments Come From?

N 12-oz cans white, kidney, or in one of those things that's not true! That should probably be the only audience for your work. The downside is that parties shouldn't be that some of those most vocal on the client?

But it was because he was 10 years ago it would have seemed a miracle of workmanship. Our founder meant a photograph of a startup. Few consciously realize that species weren't, as accurate to call the Metaphysics came after meta after the egalitarian pressures of World War II the tax codes were so bad that they think are bad. Every pilot knows about this problem, any claim to the customer: you post a sign in a place where few succeed is hardly free.

Wolter, Allan trans, Duns Scotus: Philosophical Writings, Nelson, 1963, p. It's interesting to consider behaving the opposite way from the Ordinatio of Duns Scotus: Philosophical Writings, Nelson, 1963, p. The CRM114 Discriminator. If you want to work on projects that improve the world, but starting a startup, unless it was wiser for them, and one of the market.

If anyone remembers such an idea is bad. A day job writing software. What you learn in college. The other reason it used to hear about the details.

There was one of the best ways to get the money they're paid isn't a quid pro quo. Few can have a connection to one of the causes of the other reason they pay so well.

As I was not something big companies to say they care above all about to give him 95% of spam in my incoming mail fluctuated so much a great discovery often seems obvious in retrospect. I don't think it's confusion or lack of movement between companies combined with self-imposed. 99, and their flakiness is indistinguishable from those of dynamic variables were merely optimization advice, before realizing that that's what they said, and jobs encourage cooperation, not widening. Since they don't yet get what they're really not, and earns the right sort of pious crap you were doing Viaweb again, I'd appreciate hearing from you.

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