#Data Files: Peacekeeper

[deusproxy]

Tagged by: @catadioptrics Tagging: @dcviated @wxlpurgxsnxcht @mxstball

likes artificial watermelon | sleeps in what they’re already wearing | eats their cereal with milk (if she ate cereal, she doesn't) | listens to music with earbuds (specialized gear for missions, usually) | hates the summer | can recite past the first four digits of pi | eats frosting out of the jar | doodles on their notebooks | can bake cookies | has a garden | has had a snowball fight | eats pancakes without syrup (will refuse the fake syrup, would rather use honey than that shit) | prefers shorts to pants | can name more than ten superheroes | has a plan for the zombie apocalypse | uses the same password for everything | can’t hold their breath for more than fifteen seconds | watches anime | can say ‘I love you’ in more than one language | prefers mechanical pencils | thinks space is cool | takes personality tests more than once to make sure | can’t tie their shoelaces | has a purse | likes salad | likes cool colors better than warm colors | knows how to braid hair | reads biographies | can ice skate | knows their mbti | reads astrology charts | prefers the star wars prequels to the original trilogy | plays video games | reads the newspaper | likes chocolate ice cream better | doesn’t cuss | memorizes song lyrics | collects coupons | has a preferred order at starbucks (Starbucks who? She will go ANYWHERE else if she can, but she has her preferred cafe drinks) | likes movie theater popcorn | has seen a play | listens to music with headphones | owns a hoodie | would rather own cds than online copies | has written a poem | can shuffle cards | subscribes to a magazine | double dips when eating (only if she's alone) | drinks directly out of the milk container | keeps a journal

likes artificial watermelon | sleeps in what they’re already wearing | eats their cereal with milk | listens to music with earbuds | hates the summer | can recite past the first four digits of pi | eats frosting out of the jar | doodles on their notebooks | can bake cookies | has a garden | has had a snowball fight | eats pancakes without syrup | prefers shorts to pants | can name more than ten superheroes | has a plan for the zombie apocalypse | uses the same password for everything | can’t hold their breath for more than fifteen seconds | watches anime | can say ‘I love you’ in more than one language | prefers mechanical pencils | thinks space is cool | takes personality tests more than once to make sure | can’t tie their shoelaces | has a purse | likes salad | likes cool colors better than warm colors | knows how to braid hair | reads biographies | can ice skate | knows their mbti | reads astrology charts | prefers the star wars prequels to the original trilogy | plays video games | reads the newspaper | likes chocolate ice cream better | doesn’t cuss | memorizes song lyrics | collects coupons | has a preferred order at starbucks | likes movie theater popcorn | has seen a play | listens to music with headphones | owns a hoodie | would rather own cds than online copies | has written a poem | can shuffle cards | subscribes to a magazine | double dips when eating (if alone) | drinks directly out of the milk container | keeps a journal

[reality-detective]

BREAKING: Navy Intercepts Deep State Submarines Carrying Kids, Gold & Bioweapons — Military Locks Down Oceans Under Trump’s Orders

As of April 14, 2025, the U.S. Navy has locked down the Atlantic and Pacific in a massive military sting targeting elite-run trafficking, bioweapon transport, and deep-sea blackmail ops. This isn’t routine patrol — this is war.

Trafficking victims. Mobile CIA servers. Gold bars. Bioweapons.

All being extracted from vessels linked to billionaires, ex-agency operatives, and foreign “diplomats.”

These aren’t pirates. These are floating Deep State hideouts — and they’re being wiped off the map.

Trump is back. This operation is under direct military command — not civilian leadership.

GITMO is active. EBS is locked and loaded. Tribunals are not coming — they’ve begun.

On the East Coast, naval strike teams seized ships disguised as luxury liners. Below deck: surgical rooms, soundproof chambers, biometric systems, and unregistered children with no records. DNA matches tie them to CPS abductions across U.S. states.

One server retrieved mapped over 600 trafficking routes since 2012 — running through Italy, the Netherlands, Israel, and U.K. ports. Funded by “charities” tied to Clinton donors. The Epstein network didn’t die — it went mobile. Now it’s caught.

On the West Coast, it's even darker.

A submersible tied to a “research foundation” was captured leaving San Diego — carrying precursor agents for aerosolized behavioral control, encrypted tablets, and night-vision tech meant for offshore “medical” camps.

Crew included former CIA, UN peacekeepers, and a WEF consultant — all under fake identities.

Some vessels carried gold stamped with central bank seals, believed stolen during the 2008 collapse and laundered through IMF fronts. Others had sealed crates of bio-compounds traced back to DARPA and WHO partners.

Nine vessels silenced in 48 hours.

No GPS. No distress calls. Just vanished.

Naval divers are pulling up deep-sea data vaults dumped overboard — containing:

Blackmail dossiers on European leaders

Human trafficking-finance links with Big Pharma

Files on Antarctic underground cities marked for “climate relocation” by elite surnames

This is military justice, not courtroom theater.

No arrests. No media coverage. Just elimination.

No escape. No more oceans to hide behind.

If you're tied to child trafficking, gold laundering, stolen intel, or elite escape ops — you will be hunted. You will be erased.

There are no more safe harbors. The storm is here.

- Julian Assange

[mockingjaysfm]

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴'𝚂  𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂  𝙰  𝙵𝙻𝙰𝚆  𝙸𝙽  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚂𝚈𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙼. loyalty  is  something  fragile  as  the  white  roses  decorating  snow's  mansion.  it  begins  with  the  party,  where  champagne  flows  and  music  sways  its  guests  across  the  floor.  laughter  and  food,  dazzling  smiles  upon  beautiful  faces.  this  is  what  they  are  used  to,  and  it's  what  most  of  our  victors  will  never  learn  to  stomach. 

missions  are  given,  the  sleeper  cell  awakens.  HANI  JANG,  SAGE  HAYASHI  AND  PRUDENCE  WARREN  are  to  be  lookout,  tiny  ear  pieces  installed  in  our  team's  ears  whisper  to  one  another  the  status  of  the  peacekeepers  within  the  vicinity.  they  are  to  be  quiet,  discreet  as  they  linger,  tailing  their  targets  and  keeping  a  low  profile.  easier  said  than  done?

TOBIAS  SNOW  is  to  remain  close  to  the  president  at  all  times,  and  to  ensure  that  the  door  to  his  private  office  is  unlocked  and  accessible  to  his  team.  FINCH  DELVAL  is  to  stick  close  to  his  side  should  danger  arise.  LAVINIA  SNOW  is  to  escort  HONORE  COIN  to  said  office,  to  allow  him  access  and  to  be  ready  to  spring  into  action  should  they  be  spotted.  they  are  to  be  disguised  as  a  pair  of  drunken  lovers  slipping  away  for  quiet  time  should  an  interruption  arise.  whilst  LAVINIA  keeps  watch  by  the  door,  HONORE  is  to  install  a  data  spike  on  snow's  computer  which  will  share  important  files  back  to  district  13  —  capitol  propaganda,  surveillance,  footage  of  executions,  all  damning  and  incredibly  important. 

LIVIA  PLINTH,  LIBRA  RIVEIRA  and  HELBOR  UNDERSAND  (npc)  will  plant  listening  devices  throughout  the  mansion,  slipping  within  its  hallways  and  around  corners,  dropping  the  minuscule  devices  along  the  way. 

all  going  to  plan,  the  mission  will  provide  district  13  with  the  access  it  needs  to  snow's  data  points…  but  it  doesn't.  of  course  it  doesn't.

there  is  a  traitor  in  our  midst,  a  rebel  turncoat  who  attempts  to  reach  snow  as  he  breaks  away  for  a  bathroom  visit.  a  warning  is  offered  to  the  old  man  via  note  slipped  past  FINCH  and  TOBIAS  and  into  the  president's  smooth  hands.  they  must  find  a  way  to  get  rid  of  this  traitor  discreetly,  without  blowing  their  cover  and  shutting  him  up  before  he  can  reveal  the  names  of  the  rebels.  word  is  given  between  ear  pieces  that  the  mission  is  to  be  aborted.  before  HONORE  can  confirm  or  deny  the  success  of  planting  the  data  spike,  a  gunshot  rings  out  throughout  the  channels.  in  trembling  voices,  the  rebels  all  check  in  with  one  another.  all  but  HELBOR  who  is  later  confirmed  dead  by  LIBRA.

it  is  quiet,  controlled  chaos.  the  rebels  rushing  to  return  to  the  party  whilst  holding  their  covers,  keeping  their  emotions  in  check  despite  having  just  lost  a  comrade.  back  to  the  ignorance  and  the  dancing,  the  laughter  sparkling  like  the  drops  of  diamonds  hanging  from  the  chandeliers.  snow  must  make  a  move  before  anyone  catches  wind  of  something  going  awry.  we  see  it  as  the  president  clinks  a  fork  against  his  glass,  pulling  the  attention  back  to  himself.  he  is  unruffled  despite  it  all,  smiling  as  he  announces  a  special  surprise. 

the  lights  dim,  and  screens  flicker  to  life  around  the  room.  there  he  is,  the  beloved  CAESAR  FLICKERMAN  is  standing  upon  that  familiar  stage,  announcing  to  the  world  that  this  particular  hunger  games  is  due  to  be  a  special  one,  indeed.  this  hunger  games,  which  will  honour  coriolanus  snow,  will  see  that  the  pool  of  tributes  are  to  be  reaped  from  the  existing  pool  of  victors.

silence.  it  feels  as  though  our  victors'  stomachs  drop  as  it  all  settles  in.  and  then,  applause.  the  capitolites  are  practically  gleeful,  some  of  them  even  reaching  out  to  shake  our  victors'  hands  in  their  congratulations,  exclaiming  that  this  will  be  the  best  games  ever.  above  it  all,  is  president  snow,  watching. 

in  a  final  moment,  caesar's  face  distorts  and  the  screens  cut  to  black.  a  cold,  steady  voice  announces  “this  is  a  pirate  transmission  with  a  message  from  the  districts.  the  mockingjays  live.”

the  lights  cut  out,  and  the  party  is  over.  peacekeepers  rush  the  confused  guests  from  the  party,  urging  them  back  into  the  city  where  our  victors  return  to  their  lodgings,  capitolites  to  their  homes.  a  sense  of  danger  settles  over  the  city,  but  beneath  it,  there  is  a  feeling  of  hope.

we  are  now  progressing  to  the  moment  that  our  victors  find  out  they  are  to  be  reaped  for  this  year's  hunger  games!  feel  free  to  continue  threads  from  part  one  of  the  event,  to  also  write  threads  during  and  after  the  events,  including  your  muses  back  home  in  their  districts  if  you  wish.  please  don't  progress  writing  to  the  reaping  as  this  will  come  in  our  next  plotdrop!

muns  writing  within  the  rebel  mission,  feel  free  to  headcanon  or  write  out  what  happened!  please  dm  the  main  for  anything  major  you  wish  to  happen  to  your  muses  during  the  mission!

[crossxworlds]

We are Liegeon

A CrossXworlds short story

© 2025 - Kevin W. Burke

Tryl

__________

Liegeon slammed their fist onto the control panel at the entrance of the Great Hall, the reverberations echoing in the silence. They kept their hand pressed against the panel until the door hissed closed, shutting out the rest of the holobase, the other Quorum team members, and the three worlds. Finally alone– At least, as alone as they could be with a few thousand other souls clamoring for attention from within. 

But at least none of those souls were that insufferable monk, Temple.

“Holding back,” Liegeon growled, remembering Temple's accusations from moments ago. “Not pulling your weight.” They grimaced, unable to conjure a solid rebuttal.

Liegeon reached up to claw their hands through their hair, as a past-life habit. But their bald head, a trait passed down from Tek, the previous persona that had dominated their being, seemed to mock their current predicament. 

Each transition from one dominant persona to another brought with it one physical trait or ability, and one mental trait or ability, tying one soul to the next.  These were supposed to help ease the transition, but it offered Liegeon little solace. 

"It's not our fault!" Liegeon exclaimed, as murmurs of the other souls within them rose in response. "We never asked for any of this."

Their own persona Amp, with the Surge-touched ability to amplify the powers and abilities of their allies, might have been a formidable asset to the peacekeeping activities of the Quorum in their golden age following the Pocket Surge, but with the team’s dwindling numbers and rising unpopularity, the ability now seemed like a liability. And their amplifying ability was weaker now in this changeling body than it had been in their previous life. 

Liegeon's gaze swept the room, Tek's contributions evident in every corner. Surge-touched savant and technomancer, Tek had revolutionized the Quorum's capabilities, despite their shrinking ranks. Many of Tek's innovations had approached or even surpassed the levels of technological advancement of Tryl prior to the Pocket Surge.

But now, Tek's innovations felt like a burden. Liegeon knew Tek's soul still resided within their changeling body, occasionally brushing against their mind amongst the others. But grasping onto any specific persona or memory proved elusive. 

"And everyone acts like it's our fault," Liegeon muttered, rising to their feet and shuffling over to the Great Hall’s main system display. Flicking it on with a hand gesture, they tapped impatiently into the file system, greeted by glaring red characters denoting missed project milestones.

Their innovating days were gone, replaced by a sense of inadequacy. Kabe may have been sympathetic, but Temple's distrust lingered, as if Liegeon's transition from Tek to Amp had been a deliberate act of sabotage.

"If we wanted to sabotage, we could have done it already," Liegeon muttered to the empty room, their voice a low growl, tinged with frustration. Souls from within jeered up at Amp from the Well, mocking that frustration. They tapped absently on a series of random project files on the display, their agitation evident. 

A rebellious thought stirred. This project data was sensitive– leaked outside the Quorum's secure database, it could spell disaster.

Liegeon hadn't chosen to be part of the Quorum; they had been thrust into it when goddess Onyxx tasked Kabe, the Quorum’s leader, to be their guardian. "Guardian," Onyxx had called it, as if it were a favor bestowed upon Liegeon. In reality, it felt more like imprisonment, with Kabe as their warden and their body as the cell.

Kabe was an effective guard, but Liegeon doubted anyone in the Quorum could trace what they were still capable of, using the Nodenet. Perhaps Brimstone could, but not if Liegeon was careful. There was a protocol, a switch command in the command console, that could clean traces of data transfers and obscure their origins.

Amp may not possess Tek's genius, but they were still a force to be reckoned with, even if the Quorum failed to see their value.

Liegeon idly wondered which project data would anger Temple the most if leaked—perhaps the schematics for the Ruptor weapons, or the plans for the SHELL Generator. 

Ah, the holobase project. Liegeon selected the file, remembering Temple’s extensive work with Tek to define the features that made it all work together to make their virtual base look, sound and feel like a real, physical one.

There were parties in Centrecity and beyond willing to pay—or extract—a hefty toll for any of these projects. Liegeon felt no loyalty toward the projects; they were Tek's creations, not Amp's. Bale Gallwraith, one of the Quorum’s chief detractors, was offering a tidy sum of digital bounty as a reward for actionable info on the Quorum.

Yet Liegeon harbored no real animosity toward the Quorum either, despite Temple's criticism. It was just another aspect of their lack of control, resulting from Onyxx's probation experiment upon the myriad souls within the Well their body contained. Onyxx had called it a second chance, an opportunity for redemption of the otherwise condemned souls kept there. But the waiting, the uncertainty, the constraints… Could eternal condemnation really be worse? 

Liegeon's fingers hovered over the icon of a project archive, contemplating the ease with which they could leak it. Voices of souls from within the Well both urged him on toward betrayal and wailed in dismay at the thought. 

But leaking wouldn't solve their problems; it would only create more. It was only a matter of time before their Amp persona was reclaimed by the Well of Souls, going back to a baseline level of consciousness while the next persona took dominance. And Amp would still have to face the consequences, as Onyxx ultimately delivered their soul to be weighed by Sumrt.

There were no easy escapes from their fate.

Liegeon's restless fingers hovered over the array of project archive icons, a sense of confinement weighing heavily upon themselves, the ever-present pressure of the thousands of souls against their consciousness. Among the icons, one in particular somehow caught their attention– a tuft of long plains grasses. With a single tap, the grasses swayed as if in a gentle breeze, evoking a sense of familiarity that stirred within Liegeon.

Liegeon strained to remember what project this icon could be for, but this was apparently another thing lost in their transition. Double-tapping the grass icon, the computer's response echoed through the hall. 

"Loading the Great Plains environment."

Suddenly, the walls of the Great Hall receded, revealing a vast expanse of golden fields stretching to the horizon. The sterile conference room vanished, replaced by the serene beauty of the Great Plains. With a gesture, Liegeon dismissed the display, leaving only the endless fields and the open sky.

Tek had created this?

Staggering in awe, Liegeon took in the boundless expanse around him. A faint footpath in the grass led to a woven mat nestled amidst it, inviting Liegeon to settle down and embrace the tranquility.

As Amp sat, the breeze rustling the grasses, a sense of peace washed over. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the fresh air, savoring the quietude. He couldn’t even– He– 

He couldn’t even hear the other souls here. For the moment, it was just Amp. 

In this moment, amidst the vastness of the plains, he was truly alone at last.

Amp’s eyes opened in realization. Tek knew. They knew Amp’s struggle for peace, because they had shared that same struggle. Tek had understood that future souls would need this peace and clarity to pass their probationary test from Onyxx. They had prepared for it, not only for themselves, but also for future Liegeon personas. 

And somehow, Tek had been able to nudge Amp towards finding it, even from the insanity within the depths of the Well.

“Thank you,” Amp whispered. 

Another breeze passed over him, rustling grasses. Amp smiled, for the first time since he had transitioned to become Liegeon. They were no longer alone. 

Liegeon stood up suddenly, with a new focus. They had to create a way for the holobase computer to automatically greet and introduce the next Liegeon persona to the Great Plains simulation, in case Amp were to transition suddenly.  And maybe they could get Temple to provide some monk meditation training, to get the most out of this retreat.

Liegeon made their way back along the grassy path, their resolve growing. No persona would face a transition alone again. 

”Computer,” Liegeon called out, “close the Great Plains environment and open a new project file.

“We have some work to do.”

__________

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 10

Do I Know You?

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: fluff; suggestive dialogue; angst; Star Wars politics; Bad Batch Season 2 spoilers

Start here | Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Maree was profoundly grateful for her high neckline the next morning. Kix had been thorough in his attentions, with the result that her chest, shoulders, and thighs were covered with small marks and bruises. In fairness, Maree had given as good as she’d gotten, and Kix’s torso was similarly adorned. Luckily, all evidence of their rough night was hidden from the disapproving eyes of the Neimoidian administrator who checked them into the Imperial Military Records Archive.

“We don’t often receive visitors from the general population,” he said. “This is highly irregular.”

“Uncommon, perhaps, but hardly irregular,” Maree replied. “You’ll find that the paperwork is all in order. My assistant is extremely conscientious.”

“Hmmph,” said the Neimoidian, shooting a suspicious glare at Kix. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I doubt it,” Kix said mildly. 

Whatever darkness had plagued him the night before seemed to have receded for the moment, and Kix was in notably better spirits today. This was possibly due to the three more times they’d had sex after reaching her hotel room. Maree, on the other hand, was feeling the effects of the lack of sleep, and her patience was dangling by its final thread.

“Is there a problem with our credentials?” Maree asked. “I’m sure the NRGL Archive would be happy to corroborate my identity.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the administrator sniffed. “You are quite well-known to us, Dr. Finnall. It’s your guest whose credentials are in question.”

Maree suppressed her irritation. “I understood that he had already passed the mandatory background check when we received approval for his visit. Is there some further requirement that we were not informed of?”

“No,” the Neimoidian said begrudgingly. “But you will need to sign this waiver accepting full responsibility for any damage or wrongdoing he may perpetrate in the IMRA.”

Maree signed the document without hesitation, and at last, the administrator waved them through. Next, they were scanned for weapons and other contraband, and finally, they passed through a row of New Republic Defense Force peacekeepers.

“Heavy security for a bunch of dusty old relics,” Kix commented.

Maree nodded cordially at the guards. “There’s more in the IMRA than just personnel files. This archive contains weapons schematics, documentation on banned research, and other sensitive information that is in high demand on the black market. I have security clearance for my work, but even I can’t access some of the classified records.”

They passed through the entrance into a vast chamber with towering ceilings. Data terminals lined the walls, and numerous researchers milled about. This section of the IMRA was accessible to researchers and students without security clearance, but in order to access the restricted records, Maree had reserved a private office for their work, and she led Kix quickly through the echoing hall.

“Why do you need security clearance?” Kix asked curiously.

“I am a senior research faculty member, so the scope of my responsibilities is quite extensive. While I am available to assist individual citizens like you, I spend a significant amount of my time supporting the New Republic Judiciary in their efforts to prosecute Imperial war criminals.”

Kix looked surprised. “I had no idea. Are there many war criminals left from the early Empire?”

“Not so many. Most of them have died of old age, if they haven’t already been apprehended. But it’s often helpful to have a team of researchers whose specialties span the full history of the Empire. It provides important context, and given the Empire’s penchant for nepotism, it can help us trace connections between early Imperials and those who came later.”

“That sounds like important work,” Kix said thoughtfully.

“It is,” Maree said. “Though I sometimes am frustrated to see all of our effort go to waste when the New Republic offers an Imperial amnesty in exchange for giving up a few secrets.”

Kix drew a breath to respond, but before he could, a voice called, “Dr. Finnall!” 

She turned to see an unfamiliar young Mirialan man hurrying towards them. 

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“It is you!” he puffed. “I recognized you from your keynote address at the Galactic Military History conference last cycle. My name is Orys Brenko. I’m a graduate student at the University of Coruscant.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Brenko,” Maree replied mechanically. Could the man not see that she was occupied?

“The honor is mine, Dr. Finnall,” he said. “Your book on the battle of Scipio inspired me to study military history. The description of Commander Thorn’s last stand was so vivid. Before I read it, I never knew how compelling history could be. I was reading it on the hovertrain, and I was so caught up that I actually missed my stop!”

Kix merely stood and observed in impassive silence, his gaze flicking between Maree and Brenko.

“That is very kind of you to say, Mr. Brenko,” Maree said with a geniality she was far from feeling. She itched to get started on Kix’s project, but she couldn’t bring herself to snub the enthusiastic young man. “Are you studying the Clone Wars?”

“Er, no,” Brenko said, abashed. “My focus is the High Republic era.”

Of course. She didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a near miss.

“A fascinating period,” she said diplomatically. “I would love to stay and chat, but I’m afraid I have a prior engagement. Good luck in your studies.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Brenko stammered. “B-but, before you go, would you mind signing my datapad? I have it loaded with all of your publications, and it would mean so much to me.”

Maree blinked. This was a first. She’d never been asked for an autograph before. In spite of the gaucheness of Brenko’s request, Maree was impressed with the young man’s dedication to the pursuit of knowledge. When she’d been a graduate student, she hadn’t had the bandwidth to read anything other than her assigned coursework. She was surprised Brenko had made time in between his studies to read her extensive body of work, especially since their areas of study had very little overlap.

“I don’t have a stylus, sorry,” she said. “Out of curiosity, why did you choose to concentrate on the High Republic era when you are so obviously interested in the Clone Wars? We could use more passionate researchers who focus on that era.”

The young man’s face flushed a dark green under his tattoos. “My parents would only agree to pay for my schooling if I chose a marketable course of study. As you know, the Clone Wars are…”

“Not exactly marketable,” Maree finished. “A pity. Well, if you ever happen to be on Hosnian Prime, please feel free to stop by my office at the Archive, and I’ll sign your datapad. But be warned, I’ll probably try to poach you for my own research team.”

Brenko’s mouth dropped open and his datapad clattered to the floor. “Th-thank you, Dr. Finnall! I will!”

Maree excused herself as Brenko stooped to retrieve the pad, and she and Kix resumed their walk. Brenko stood back and watched them with an awestruck expression.

“I had no idea I was sleeping with a celebrity,” Kix murmured under his breath. 

“Shove it,” she whispered. “It was much more awkward for me than it was for you.”

“Do you have an official fan club I can join?” he asked with a perfectly straight face.

“Maybe you should talk to Brenko about setting one up. You’d have two whole members,” she retorted.

They reached the office and closed the door behind them. Kix immediately crowded Maree up against the desk, burying his face against her neck and trailing kisses toward her ear.

“Dr. Finnall, would you sign my ass? I was so inspired by the way you wrapped your legs around it while I was pounding into you last night,” he teased.

“Dick,” she laughed, swatting the back of his head.

“You’d rather sign my dick? That’s fine, too.”

“Mmm, there’s certainly enough room,” she said, stroking him through his trousers with a languid sigh. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a small blinking red dot. “Dank farrik, Kix, there are security holocams in here. Behave yourself.”

“Sorry, Doc, I couldn’t help myself,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes. “You’re just so inspiring.”

She laughed again, pressed her lips against his and dipped her tongue into his mouth, then pushed him firmly away. They had work to do, and she had a sinking feeling that Kix’s cheerful mood wouldn’t last long once they got started.

“Stop distracting me,” she said as she powered up the holoprojector.

Kix frowned. “Wait, I thought these records are classified. What about the security holocams? Do the guards have clearance?”

“The system has an override built in. If a classified record is being displayed, the holocam feeds are turned off automatically.”

“Good to know,” Kix said with a smirk. “Just in case I’m feeling inspired later.”

“Incorrigible,” Maree muttered.

She spent some time searching the archive inventory for the troopers on Kix’s list. It took longer than she expected, but at last she crowed in victory as she located the records for the Republic Star Destroyer Tribunal. As they waited for an IMRA droid to retrieve and deliver the data chips Maree requested, Kix’s stomach rumbled. Maree checked the chronometer on the wall and realized it was already mid-afternoon.

“Should I order lunch to be delivered from the cafeteria?” she offered. “Or if you’d prefer, we can walk over. It’s inside the Archive, so we won’t have to go through security again.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being mobbed by your legions of adoring fans?” he asked.

“I think you mean ‘fan,’ singular,” she said. “But that is a fair point. We’ll get delivery.”

She pulled up the menu on the holoprojector, and they made their selections. When Maree apologized that she couldn’t offer him anything better than cafeteria food, Kix merely shrugged.

“I’m used to it. It’s probably better than what I’m used to, actually.”

He shifted and put his feet up on the chair across from him. The office was austere, and it lacked any of the comforts with which she had filled her own workspace. The hard plastech chairs were making Maree’s legs fall asleep, so she stood up to stretch and walk around the joyless room. Kix watched from his own seat.

“So,” he said conversationally, “come here often?”

She snorted. “More often than I’d like.”

“Not a fan of Coruscant?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I went to university here. That was long enough for a lifetime.”

“So not your vacation destination of choice, then.”

She shook her head. “Work. Always work. It seems like that’s all I ever do lately.”

“Doesn’t the New Republic offer vacation leave?” Kix asked.

“Who has the time for that?”

“Too busy saving the galaxy from war criminals?”

“Ah yes, the glamorous, exciting life of a professional nerd,” she said. “How could anything else compare?”

“You could always run away and become a pirate,” Kix joked.

Maree laughed. “My mother would kill me.”

“The Ranger?” he asked. 

“She retired last year,” Maree said. “Spends all her time tormenting Eema. Honestly, Baba might enjoy the challenge of hunting down my hypothetical pirate crew. I think she misses the action.”

The door chimed, and a service droid entered with their food delivery. They divvied up the food and started to eat.

“It must be hard to transition to civilian life after she spent so many years fighting,” Kix said.

“Was the transition hard for you?” Maree asked.

“I suppose you could say that,” Kix said quietly.

“I bet you’d get along well with Baba,” Maree said. Kix looked startled, and Maree cursed her clumsiness. “If you ever met, I mean. Which you probably wouldn’t. Because she and Eema live on Adelphi, and I’m guessing you don’t get out that way much. But if you did, I bet they’d like you.”

Ugh. Stop talking, you idiot!

Kix blinked, and a slow smile crept across his face. “You want me to meet your moms?”

“No!” Maree said, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. “Not unless you wanted to.”

He poked around in his food, probably hoping to find a bite with flavor. “I never had a mother,” he mused. “It must have been nice to have two.”

His voice was stark with longing, and Maree’s heart twisted.

“It was,” Maree said softly. “It is. They’re pretty amazing.”

“They sound pretty amazing. No surprise they raised an amazing daughter,” Kix said. “I hope I do get to meet them someday. If I ever make it to Adelphi.”

Oh. This man is dangerous, Maree realized. 

The data chips were delivered just after Kix and Maree finished eating lunch, and they got to work immediately. Maree loaded the chips into the holoprojector and began sorting through them, organizing the information in some way that made the most sense to her. Kix took a moment to admire her focus, even as he braced himself to uncover the final few pieces of the puzzle they’d been constructing over the past weeks. She was supremely competent, and he felt a stab of guilt that he’d monopolized so much of her time when she was accustomed to doing far more valuable work for the New Republic. She hadn’t said a word of complaint; in fact, he suspected she never would have mentioned her service to the Judiciary if he hadn’t asked.

Once she had the information laid out to her satisfaction, she began reviewing the files with him. They worked through several individual troopers and units—Kix’s closest brothers; members of the 501st, the 212th, the 104th. Many of them survived into the Imperial era. A surprising number went AWOL after Order 66. Kix was horrified to learn that one of his close friends had had a mental breakdown and executed his entire squad within days of the order. After that, he requested a short break, ostensibly to stretch his legs.

He went into the refresher and splashed his face with cold water, then dried himself carefully, making sure no telltale droplets remained in his hair or beard. When he looked in the mirror, every one of his brothers stared back at him. Kix could feel the tide of panic rising in his chest. He closed his eyes and stood silently for a few moments, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth until his heart rate stabilized.

When he returned to the office, Maree was waiting with two bottles of water she’d procured from some unknown source. He smiled, remembering the other times she had offered him water when he was clinging to the ragged edges of his control. She seemed to sense his distress even when he thought he was hiding it well, and he felt a small pang in his chest as he realized that her first instinct was always to take care of him. It was an unfamiliar experience, and it made him want to curl up in her lap and bask in the attention like a pampered tooka. She watched to make sure he drank some of the water, and then she rubbed her hand between his shoulders comfortingly. He leaned into the contact with a sigh.

“I’m ready to keep going, if you are,” he said.

“I’m not in a hurry,” she said. “We can take as long as you need.”

“Thanks, but I can handle it,” he replied.

“All right." She patted his back one last time and returned to her seat at the desk. "In that case, the next entry on the list is the experimental unit you requested, Clone Force 99. It looks as though four of the members defected immediately after Order 66.” She paused, and her eyebrows snapped together in surprise. “That’s unusual. Most of the mass clone defections didn’t happen for some time after the Empire took power. Scholars have theorized that the inhibitor chips were either designed to have a limited duration, or that the energy required to control the clones’ actions simply fried the chips over time.”

“Why do you suppose these clones defected so early?” Kix asked.

“It’s difficult to say. They were experimental, so it’s possible that their physiology was different enough from regular clones that the chips were incompatible with them. Though at least one of the squad members seems to have been affected. CT-9904, Crosshair, did not defect with the rest of his squad.”

“Is there any record of them afterward?”

Maree frowned. “Yes. The four squad members who defected were taken into custody on Kamino several months later. They were reported to have been killed when Tipoca City was destroyed.”

Kix’s mouth went dry. What the kriff? When did that happen? How had he not known about Tipoca City?

Maree was still speaking. “... unconfirmed accounts that the team was still active for some time after. At least one member was claimed to have been killed on Eriadu, which certainly throws doubt on the validity of the original report.”

Licking his lips, he tried to keep his voice steady as he asked, “What—what about Crosshair?”

Maree scrolled further. “Ah, here it is. Crosshair was promoted to the rank of Commander and continued to serve the Empire until—oh.”

Kix leaned forward. “What is it?”

“He killed his commanding officer on a mission,” she said. “He was arrested and sent to a military prison compound. That’s the end of his file, I’m afraid.”

Kix nodded absently, his eyes unfocused. Truth be told, he hadn’t much cared for the churlish sniper, but Kix knew what a military prison compound meant for clones, and he would not wish such a fate on any of his brothers. Something she’d said nagged at him.

“Did you say four squad members defected?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, and Echo fled Kamino after kidnapping a young child. My gods, this squad is incredible! How have I never heard of them before now?”

So Echo stayed with the Bad Batch even after the war. Kix was glad to know the ARC trooper had found a place to belong after everything he’d been through. It was a strange detail about the child, though.

“What child?” he asked.

“It doesn’t say,” Maree said. “But at least I know what thread my research is going to follow for the next few months.”

Her eyes were sparkling with curiosity and excitement, and for a moment, Kix simply watched her work. She tapped a few quick notes into her datapad before returning her attention to the holorecord and scrolling a little further. Her nose scrunched up slightly as she read.

“Fascinating,” she whispered.

Exactly the word I was searching for, he thought. Fascinating. Enchanting. Bewitching. Enticing. Adorable. Irresistible.

She noticed him staring and abruptly stopped scrolling with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Sorry,” she said. “Sometimes I get lost in the zone.”

“Not at all,” he said. “You really care about all this, don’t you?”

“I do,” she replied simply. 

Kix glanced at the security holocam and noted that the red light was no longer blinking. Impulsively, he stood and strode around the desk. Maree automatically rose out of her chair as he approached, and he reached for her, drawing her close to him as his lips crashed down on hers. He kissed her deeply, holding her face in his hands. He never wanted this moment to end. At last, their lips parted, and he rested his forehead against hers as she took a deep, stuttering inhale. She looked at him with dazed eyes.

“What was that for?” she whispered.

“I felt inspired,” he said, hiding the truth behind a cocky grin.

Her eyes crinkled as she laughed quietly. Suddenly, he didn’t want to know anything else. He didn’t want to be in this stuffy, miserable hole of an office learning about tragedies that unfolded half a century before. He just wanted to take Maree back to her hotel room and spend the rest of his artificially shortened life making love to her. She smelled like tea and honey and spiced biscuits and home, and he wanted to sink into her and disappear forever.

“Only one more data chip to go,” she said. “Shall we finish up and head back to the hotel?”

Kix buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

He pressed one more kiss onto the top of her head, then returned to his seat as Maree pulled up the contents of the remaining data chip. Unfortunately, Maree had unknowingly saved the worst for the last: the final report of the 332nd Division.

“The 332nd never completed their mission to deliver Maul to Coruscant after the siege of Mandalore,” Maree said. 

Kix gritted his teeth, and his fingernails bit painfully into his palms. “What happened?”

“Several years after the end of the war, Imperial forces located the wreckage of the Star Destroyer Tribunal on a remote moon,” Maree said. “Most on board were killed; however, military records indicate that there must have been some survivors, as the clones had been given proper burials. As we know from our earlier research, Commander Rex survived, and it seems likely that he was the one who buried the fallen. We also know from later history that Maul survived. Given his track record, it is probable that he was responsible for the crash.”

“Is there a list of those who were killed?” he asked.

“Due to the amount of time that had passed by the time the crash was discovered, and the impossibility of genetic testing to tell the clones apart, all aboard were listed as killed in action.”

He felt sick. He nodded his acknowledgement, unable to speak. Jesse really was gone. He’d known it was true, of course. Jesse would have died decades earlier, even if he’d survived the war. The clones’ accelerated aging would have seen to that. But somehow, knowing exactly how his brother had died made it so much worse, so much more real. Once again, the crushing weight of helplessness and grief smothered him. He was only dimly aware of Maree loading the data chips into a secure case to be returned to the archive. 

Soon, he felt the pressure of her hand on his as she guided him out of the building and into the half-light of a Coruscant dusk. Maree hailed an air taxi and nudged him into it, sliding in beside him. She murmured directions to the driver—Kix didn’t hear what she said. The lights of Coruscant rushed by in dizzying streaks as they flew toward their destination. Maree was silent next to him, but she slipped her hand into his and interlaced their fingers comfortingly. Kix tightened his grip on her, clinging desperately to the steady contact that felt like the only solid thing in the chaotic galaxy around him.

---

Chapter 11

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

[dragonflight203]

ME1 replay, finally exploring the galaxy. Knocked out Argos Rho:

-According to Hackett, the Citadel is trying to downplay Saren going rogue because it makes spectres look bad. I suppose when you've declared someone above the law and they slaughter a colony that is bad for your PR.

-Hackett is always supportive, but he does seem warmer if you choose the renegade responses. Hackett and Anderson have a dynamic similar to Ashely and Kaidan of one renegade, one paragon. And it's the renegade that leads the war effort in ME3.

-The Canrum description describes the forces that opposed the Krogan warlord Shaigur as "Turian peacekeeping forces". Interesting word choice, since the Hierarchy military is their government.

-Just why is the Attican Traverse full of League of One medallions? Salarian space and human space isn't that close, and the galaxy is huge. Why did the entire League go there? How has no one else found them the medallions in the last millenia?

-The Turian insignias are more understandable. Human and Turian space is close, so over a couple of millenia of course Turians would travel into the Traverse.

-I'll give Matriach Dilinaga's writings the benefit of the doubt. Asari live a long time and there are a lot of them; one Matriach wondering through the Traverse is easily believable.

-The Prothean data discs, I'm more skeptical of. It's been 50,000 years, they're rare and fragile, everyone wants Prothean artifacts, and Shepard just keeps tripping over them?

-ME1 desperately needs a completeness tracker. Noting down what systems I've completed in a text file is getting old.

Hydra:

-Thank goodness in the Legendary edition you get full xp for defeating enemies with the Mako. Although that makes combat so easy I feel like I'm cheating insanity.

-AI Hacking has issues. There are several time a hacked enemy still keeps attacking me.

-Why is an ancient Turian corpse on an incredibly hot planet so well preserved?

Phoenix:

-The descriptions of planets vary widely. You can get a detailed story about how a Turian ship crashed and caused the planet to rust, then go to the next and be informed that it has no distinguishing features.

With how many planets there are credit for as many interesting descriptions as there are.

-Javik never did explain what was up with Protheans and pyramids.

-I will assume the rest of my journey is noncanon, as after driving over said pyramid I am certain Liara killed me.

-Was it really necessary to put minerals on the very edge of the map?

-Entered the base and was immediately eliminated by a sniper. Yeah, insanity's harder.

-First time doing Wrex's family armor quest without getting it from him. Disapointing - I was hoping he'd provide the backstory once I returned the armor, but he did not.

-Looked up the scene on YouTube. Ah, looting another culture after winning a war and selling off their treasures for your own gain. Lovely.

I appreciate that Bioware was dedicated to making each race 3 Dimensional. They all have their good and bad points, their good people and their shitty people.

-Krogans weren't allowed armor or weapons after the war. Now a large chunk of them are mercenaries. I'd like to hear that story. Were the sanctions lifted because of good behavior? They couldn't be enforced? Powerful people wanted them as mercenaries and worked the system to make it happen?

-Wrex: Just because I like you doesn't mean I wouldn't kill you.

Respect.

[echoedcrosshairs]

Those Who Fight Together - part 2

Summary: Smut with a story, Reaper and the Batch make a pit stop that goes wrong followed with some smut that causes a small rift.

Characters: Reaper x Hunter

Warning: NSFW, Crude language, Violence, PiV, Self pleasuring, Smutty Smut smut, maybe eventual poly?

Word Count: 6k

18+ NSFW NO MINORS

Part 1 Part 3

Story Master List

0700 came to early, the alarm woke you up with a mild head ache which you rarely had. You rubbed your temples and sat up which definitely didn't help. Taking a deep breath you stood and grabbed one of the water containers. You sipped on it while looking for the med bag.

"What are you looking for?" Crosshair said emphasizing every word.

"Med bag, I got a migraine."

"It's in the Cockpit," emphasizing the C, "Tech will be able show you."

"Thanks, Scrawny."

If he was going to try to get under your skin you were going to try to get under his skin. He sneered at you, it definitely worked. You laughed and stepped away from him heading towards the cockpit. He was right Tech was in the cockpit reading his datapad and eating.

He looked up and actually looked at you, "yes?"

"Migraine patch?"

"Sit," he stood up and pointed to where he was sitting.

He started digging around in the medical drawer, he planned out a scanner and a few patches. You rolled your eyes but sat down, figures since clone force 99 didn't have an assigned medic that he would also be preforming most of that role. Thankfully your pajamas didn't have sleeves so it was easy for him to run his test. It was nice to see him not as weirded out possibly acting like his regular self.

"You are severely dehydrated, malnourished and have a fracture in your right leg".

"The leg is fine if you've read my medical report, that is in every finding."

"Indeed it is, do you wish for me to fix it?"

"No, I earned that scar fair and square."

"It could be a hinderance during battle-"

"If you fix it, I will refracture it. Do you understand me Commando" you said with grinded teeth.

"As I do not have the rank of medic, I will have to accept that," he said cool as a dead star.

"I got it when I retrieved my Kyber Crystal, it was my lesson. To prevail even through weakness."

"Ah. Understandable, here is the patch for your head and hydration. I'll make you something decent to eat."

"Thank you," you said feeling your head pulse but this time there was also something more.

You switch to sitting on top of table. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. There is was again the little tug. It couldn't have been the artifact from this far. You reach your arm out to poke around in the force.

Tech was in the tiny make shift kitchen, through together some rations into what looked like edible food. He was still trying to figure out how to act around her given the indecent position he found her in with some reg in the shady back room of the 79. What vexed him even further was the regs taking bets on the subject, for a Jedi she was nothing like compared to them. Even looking over the data on file for the other Jedi, they were all proper and traditional. Her armor portrayed her as a soldier yet Jedi were suppose to be peacekeepers but she seemed anything but. He'd heard rumors of secret temple guards, but with out data he couldn't be certain which was a feeling he has aversions too. Tech was lost in thought until the food was nearly scolding hands, "kark."

"That was amusing to watch," Crosshair said chewing on a tooth pick.

Crosshair rarely ever sees his brother distracted by anything, Tech was always the one who kept it together no matter one.

"Is it the General?" Crosshairs voice was rigid, ever since they were assigned to help her it had been nothing but a mess.

Crosshair took the toothpick out of his mouth and flicked at the garbage, the one end of it splintering as it hit the wall. She aggravated him, there was only room for one arrogant snark on this ship and it wasn't her.

"I'm indifferent about the General, just questioning whether she should have been the Jedi assigned to this mission. She's... different."

"Should have just left without her," Crosshair said sulking off to go to his bunk.

Tech adjusted his googles and headed back to the cockpit with the food. He found her sitting on the tumbling to her self. Tech grabbed his helmet and turned down his visor to translate what she was saying. He took a step back when it started translating Sith.

"Find the grave, the answer buried in tomes long forgotten and find find find the book bound in bone".

He watched as she screamed clinging her head fell limp on the table. Tech ran into action partially action ribbing off the med door off to get it open. While he was hooking her up to every gadget he had Hunter and Echo ran in. Hunter walked up to her and placed a hand on her forehead, it was burning to the touch and she was clamly.

"What's going on Tech?" His voice was full of worry.

"I don't have much information to go off of but it seemed she was speaking to the Sith Artifact we are after."

"Sith?!" Echo said curling his nostrils in disgust.

"It didn't seem she was aware of what was happening, she just kept repeating it. I would forgo any judgement until she wakes up."

"We need to get her cooled off."

"We don't have a walk in cooler."

"Toss her in the shower," Wrecker said taking up the door way space.

"Excellent idea, get out of the way," Tech said scooping her up, then he looked down to realize she was in warming clothes. He let out a groan set her down on the bathroom floor.

"Excuse me, this is a private matter," Tech said closing the refresher door and locking it.

He quickly removed her garment and tossed them on the floor, he put her in the stall gently and turned on the cold water. He turned as to not further look, folded her garments and put them on the counter. Thanks to his design the shower couldn't seen with in the frame of the door. He exited the bathroom and meet his brother standing outside waiting.

"Why aren't you in there with her?"

"She is bare in the shower, I can just as well monitor her vitals from here," he said lifting the datapad and staring at it.

"You undressed her?" Echo said in completed shock.

"Unfortunately her clothing was an unseen variable that retains heat. For her to cool down in optimal time they had to be removed. Speaking of which, should be soon," he said watching her heart rate and thermal temperature come down steadily.

"How do we know she's not traitor? A sith artifact" Crosshair growled.

You wake in the shower, your head still spinning you pulled yourself up. Must contact the Jedi Council. You barely make it to the door before it automatically opens.

"Out of my way, have to tell..." you said your head spinning more, "the artifact is..." you fell hard on your knees "sith" and blacked out.

Tech turned around to cover her before all of his brothers gawked and took her back into the bathroom. Echo ever the gentleman covered his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Blindly reached down and grabbed Techs datapad.

"Do you need your pad," Echo said knocking on the door.

"Thank you," Tech said opening the door and grabbing it then quickly relatching the door.

"Wow she's hot," Wrecker said rubbing his skull with one hand.

Crosshair flicked a toothpick at his chest, staring up at him, "Not another karking word about it," his eyes slitted at the big man.

"We're all thinking it right?" Wrecker said.

"She is a Jedi and you're superior. Use you that little brain of yours."

"Knock it off you two," Hunter said stepping in between them.

"It's not my fault she walked out here," Wrecker said trying to defend himself.

"Doesn't mean you have to comment on it," Echo.

Tech dressed her carefully, painfully careful not to wake her back up. At least the conclusion could be made she didn't know the artifact she was after was Sith. However if she could feel it's presence from all the way out here, who else could?

A small knock on the door caught Tech's attention, "How is she?" Hunters voice came from the other side.

Tech finished putting her shirt back on and unlocked the door and let him in, "Still unconscious but stable."

"I'll take her to her room, inform the Jedi about what happened."

Tech nodded as Hunter took her into his arms. The rest of his brothers were still standing out there, and silenced themselves when he walked out with her. Hunter shoved aside the covers of her bed and laid her down, not sure if he should cover her in case she got warm again. He started stroking her hair as she started mumbling to her self. It wasn't often Hunter could smell fear but it rolled off of her like the oceans of Kamino, strong and unyielding. Whatever that artifact is scared her to death.

Tech came back in with a holo of Yoda, "Leave us," Yoda said looking softly down at the young Master.

They left the room but stood outside the door, "Are we even equipped to handle something that dangerous?" Tech asked.

"No, but it is something that we have to do. Let's go see how the others feel about it."

They were sitting at the table, "What are we suppose to do? We can't just waste time by dropping her off and let the separatists get their hands on it," Echo said arguing with Crosshair.

"And if it kills her in the process?"

"I am prepared for that."

Hunter was caught off guard but her stealth approach. She unclipped her the lightsaber at her side and switched it on to reveal a bright yellow saber.

Tech stood up and got closer and looked at it, "Fascinating," he said typing notes into his pad.

You switched off your saber and returned it to your belt, "We have to retrieve it or destroy it. It's the will of the Council."

"I get to blow stuff up?" Wrecker said excitedly.

"If we have too, implode a planet even," you said with a smug shrug.

"I don't think I have anything that powerful on the ship," Tech said pulling up the ships manifest looking at all of the explosives on their list.

"I brought it, it should be in that silver box I had you load up last."

"What-" Tech said heavily caught off guard "We're sleeping next to a planet imploder? That information would have been good to know if case of  fire fight."

The tiredness was coming back, and you slumped yourself against the door frame, "Didn't wanna worry you guys if I didn't have too. Also if one of you gentleman could help me back to room."

"I gotcha," Crosshair eyed Wrecker as he picked you up, his blood mildly boiling.

"Thanks big boy," you said patting him.

"No problem."

You could feel your legs want to squirm while he was holding you, all the muscle and strength was definitely peaking your interest. It took all your self restraint not to try to keep him in bed with you. It was cute the little wave he did while exiting your room. You waved back with a small stupid grin and made the door lock, you realized maybe you should have gone one more round with that trooper before being stuck here for who know how long. The tension was already down there, you sighed in frustration staring up at the ceiling as you noticed the little wet spot in your underwear. Between Hunter's senses and Wreckers strength you couldn't tell which aroused you more or maybe even Tech's mind.

"Fine," you mumbled propping your self to slide off your pajama pants, reminding yourself that tech did have to take this off you and put them back on and your underwear.

You remember Tech mention Hunter being able to smell your dalliance wondered if he could smell you or only if you had a partner mess up your PH. You discarded both on the floor next to you. You laid back down, pulling the blanket over you just in case the lock malfunctioned or something. Letting your fingers trailed down, you were indeed soaked wetness covered completed around your hole. You picked up some of with your finger and brought it to your clit, wishes it was Hunters tongue with Wrecker holding you down. More warmth gushed out at that thought, you started circling your shelf and alternated with long strokes, your breathing deepen and your walls were basically squishing against themselves wishing for something to be in there.

"K-k-kark," you let out plunging your fingers, your hips tilted downward letting your legs opener a little more.

You bit down on your other hand to keep quiet as you stroked the inside of yourself especially playing with that little ridge on the top. Your legs started locking as they were trying to keep from rattling the bed. The additional pressure helped the finally ledge as more liquid squirted out and the attention started to subside. You released the finger you were biting down on to feel your heart race.

Hunter sat playing Dejarik with Echo trying to keep his mind of the fact they were traveling with a bomb that could wipe out a planet and that the leader of the mission was the most attractive woman he'd ever seen. His nostrils flared a little bit picking up the new smell on the ship, he excused himself from the game saying he needed food as he beat his brother. Again. He made his up towards her quarters. It was a mild citrus sweet smell. "Oh" he mumbled quietly when it hit him what she was doing in there. It wasn't like the smell from yesterday, it was softer. He noticed the food Tech set outside her door, he was mentally scolding himself but he just had to be sure.

He tapped on the door, "Wrecker forgot to bring in your food."

"One second," you said scrambling to pick your pants and panties up from the floor and wiping off your soaked pruned fingers. You waved your hand to unlock the door and hid your wrinkled hand with the one with tiny bite marks on, "come in."

Either Hunter had the best poker face or he couldn't tell, you let out a soft breath as he walked in. You looked at the bowl as he set it down, thick imitation pog soup... more like stew.

"Better than rations at least."

"Thank you," you said looking up at him.

Hunter looked at her, noticing her pants slightly sitting out of her blankets. It was painfully obvious that she was trying to hide it. He looked down at her hand and saw the tiny grooves where her teeth had been. He coughed to try to hide the noise that wanted to come out.

"Well, I'll leave you to eat. At 1100 we're taking a  Ifdetour to see if one of our informants have any intel on what we're after," he said excusing himself from the room.

His codpiece felt a little tight against him, he looked down to it raised silently. He grunted at himself to for doing that knowing it was a bad idea but he couldn't get the scent out of his nose and knew that the bulge was only going to get harder to hide. No one was in the refresher and decided it was probably for the best if he relieved himself. He closed the door and he quickly striped himself of his armor because it rubbing painfully into his crotch. His face tingled remembering where she touched it to examine his tattoo. He turned on the warm water, letting it settle him before grabbing his twitching cock, it felt so wrong, she was a Jedi but oh so very attractive and smelled so sweet. He played with the tip a little to tease him self, juice was already coming out. Hunter groaned, it hadn't been this bad since he was a teenager. He tightened his jaw and firmed his gripped on his dick and stroked him self. His core tightened with every stroke causes his stomach to suck in little by little, he knew it was just about to be a huge load.

When Hunter left you stuck your clean finger in the wanna be soup and tasted it, it was good even better even. It was cold but still good. You picked up the bowl to see the mess you made and the white spot streaking your legs. There is no way he didn't smell that. You slipped your pants back on and made your way to the refresher. You heard the shower running and could feel Hunters presence on the other side. Thankfully the head and the shower had a curtain between them, you pushed up the door. Why didn't he lock it? I mean I guess being around your brothers for so long there was probably nothing you haven't seen before.

"Do you mind if I use the head?" You called

"Sure" Hunter said his voice extremely labored.

You walked in and shut the door, "Hunter... We're you masturbating?" Slyness spilling out.

"Just hurry up," Hunter said, frustration slipping out.

You walked over quietly and still heard him slowly stroking it, you smirked and walked over the to the head and starting wiping yourself up. On purposely taking a long time to annoy him and edge him.

"Can you seriously hurry up?" More frustration in his voice.

You stood up and walked over to the shower and quickly pulled the curtain back, to see his cock in his hand and wet hair slicked back. You whistled at him, the bad batch is definitely slightly larger then the regular troopers.

"It's only fair since I apparently walked out naked earlier," you teased staring down at his hand which quit moving.

"This is highly inappropriate," Hunter said staring down at you.

"Were you thinking of me when you touch yourself? I didn't know how strong your sense of smell was. I do apologize for that," your voice cooing.

"It's... fine now can you leave so I can finish my business."

"Or I could finish your business as an apology," you stepped in letting his dick lay against your stomach staring up at him, "Now do you want my hole or my mouth."

Hunters body betrayed him, as still as he tried being her words made his dick twitch and even more precum escaped getting on her shirt. He reach out quickly to wipe it before taking a step back from her and turned off the shower. He sighed, angry at him self for not bothering to lock the door or the fact that he edged himself longer then he meant to instead of letting it out like he should have. He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around himself.

"The need will pass, I can't deal with this right now, I'll see you at 1100," Hunter said leaving.

You took a deep breath, whatever you mumbled and guided yourself back to your room. Mediation always helped you clear your head, as much as you hated the level of calm in brought it right now it was needed.

"I am one with the and the force is with me," you repeated to your self again and again until a page for you came apparently it was 1100.

"Excellent, one moment," you said cutting off the page.

The icy clarity of mediation always enhanced your senses yet seemed to take away part of who you are. You dug out your white and gold robes out and traditional mask, and put a gold slip over your hair to cover it. The informant was going to talk to one way or another. You grabbed your light and attached it, business and pleasure can not mix you told yourself.

You followed the door out of the ship into a desert like planet, you folded your hands in front letting the sleeves of the garment engulf your hands; "Proceed, we need that information."

"What's up with her?" You heard Wrecker attempt to whisper.

"Someone got rejected" Crosshair said with a short laugh.

You're hand flew out faster then you could think and knocked him off balance causing him to trip forward and fall on one knee, "Next time I won't be so kind," you said returning your hand to your sleeve.

Echo and Hunter passed uncomfortable looks to each other, but stayed quiet. Hunter blamed himself for the drastic change but wondered if it was just for appearances incase anyone was watching. Echo didn't under stand why the most free person he knew changed, but the look on Hunters face kind of said why. They passed in silence through the city to the little slum bar in the outskirts. Looked around to see a lot of random slummy looking people making deals on the outskirt tables.

"We're looking for a... Majik" Hunter said turning to find his contact sitting a large empty table waiting for with a round of drinks.

"Why don't you sit?" Majik said motioning to the open chair.

"I do not sit, now proceed with the information."

"All work no play, all of you are same Jedi. Bleh, I'm not surprised. Fine, here" he said slipping a data chip towards Hunter.

Hunter took out a small container and placed it on the table. Using the force, you opened the box to reveal a case of explosive, closed it and pushed towards Majik.

"How do we know that this information is good?" You asked.

"Majik's information is always good."

"Not this time," you said playing the info chip to into your hand looking at the barely noticeable mark that showed it was empty, "It's empty."

You snapped the chip in half but Majik had already grabbed the bombs, "Fool."

Everyone behind us was pointing blasters at us, "I think you were the fool, Jedi."

"I am no Jedi, I am the Collector and that is it. Good nor evil," beheading him and switching on the second side of my saber

"Dang it I liked him," Wrecker said putting his Helmet back on.

Blasters started firing, "Get out of here," you yelled at him as you deflecting the fire.

"We don't leave our own behind," Hunter shouted.

"That is an order Sergeant, protect the ship at all cost!"

Kark, Hunter remembered the bomb on the ship, "Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair get to the ship and take the explosives. Echo and I will stay with the General."

"You are in direct violation of an order Sergeant!"

"What if we need a Jedi to reach the artifact?" Hunter said taking out one of the shooters.

"Fine, I'll deal with your insubordination when we get back to the ship," you said tossing your saber letting it spin and take out several of the shooters allowing the three to get out of the building.

The saber returned to your hand and dragged one of the shooters in the air with force choking, "Who are you working for," you said with gritted teeth.

"Like I'd tell you," he said, squished.

"Who are you work for?" You said to the next one as she shot you in the shoulder, it grazing the top of your arm and then you squeezed her harder.

"Dooku," she said dropping her blaster to claw at the invisible hands on her throat.

"Thank you, come we must get to the ship," you said dropping her, alive, "if the rest of you stand down, I'll let you live."

The shooters stared at each other realizing there was only three of them left. They nodded and put down their blasters and put their hands on their head.

"You're just going to let them live?" Echo exclaimed.

"We got what we needed. Come," you said heading towards the toward.

Echo rolled his eyes but put his weapon back in his holster. He looked at the carnage lining the floor then at the three survivors, not sure if they should be more scared of her or Count Dooku. Echo watched their back but they didn't try to any thing. He stopped in horror was Reapers saber was pointed at Hunter.

"Do you understand the position you put me in?Next time listen so I can preform my duties without fail or you will be court marshaled. You have to trust my judgement" you said returning your saber to your belt, anger laced your voice, "Your brothers could have ran into a trap and could have died. You put them at risk by disobeying, Hunter. You are all stronger together than as individuals, don't forget that," your voice fading to weak pleading.

"Yes General," he said turning away and walking towards his brother's and ships.

Good to know she's still feisty under all of that tradition, Hunter felt slightly about earlier. Hopefully she wore that outfit instead of her regular armor because she knew it was a trap but he couldn't be sure. He walked back into the ship to find Tech ready to take off.

"I take it was successful?"

"Count Dooku flipped our informant."

"At this rate I'm not surprised, ready for take off?"

"Let's get out of here before the clankers arrive."

Hunter turned and headed towards the generals room, entering without knocking," What the Sith's Hell was that about?" Interrupting her mediating. She was very obviously ignoring him. He walked up and grabbed her by the shoulder staring down into her mask eyes. She still didn't say anything and that feeling in his core returned, he removed her mask and casted to the floor.

"After that little stunt, do you think I want you?" You said provokingly.

"You forget I can smell it and hear your heart rate," Hunter whispered in your ear, "Now do you want my mouth or my dick, because this attitude has to go," he said pushing you down on the bed with one hand, then untying your robe but not opening it, "It's your choice."

"How would do it?" you whispered.

Hunter smiled, got up to lock the door with the panel and the latch on the frame. He looked down see to see his armor wasn't fitting. He dropped his armor with the exception kept his body glove on, still a little restricting but better. He watched as she sat up to finish removing her room, he eyed every curve patiently ever getting slightly harder with each second.

After discarding your robes and under garments you laid back on the bed watching his expression, and the same tightness return to see jaw. On purposely laid down putting your favorite features on display for him. He put himself between you, his black under garment still on.

"To confirm, that is a yes a right?" He asked softly.

"Yes."

He kissed you softly running his finger through your hair, "You smell delicious," bringing his nose to your neck leaving kiss down it. Letting his hand trial to your breast as he continued to kiss down your chest and stomach. He bought his mouth back up to your nipple and started sucking on it, letting his teeth graze it while he let his hand moved down towards the wet part of you. His fingers went in with very little resistance. Without receiving anything in return he let out a moan as we started petting your insides, desperately trying to coax an orgasm out of you.

"N-neck," you breathed bringing one hand to fell the arm he was using to hold himself up, "Faster."

He brought his mouth to your neck, alternating between kissing and light sucking near the collarbone. Moans escaped you, hopefully not audible enough for everyone else to heard but Hunter didn't seem to care. He just kept playing with that little ridge inside causing you to squeeze around his fingers. Your fingers dug into his muscle when he looked at you with a little twitch of a smile.

"Cum for me," he whispered staring at you,

"Hunter," you moaned not breaking the gaze but letting your hips do the talking as they twitched and tightened, "Fark," you moaned louder as he kept stroking as you orgasmed on his fingers.

As soon as you were done, he removed his fingers and stuck them in his mouth while making a display of licking each one off, "You do taste as good as you smell."

He took stood up to finally take off his black garments, exposing his muscles and excitement. He moved himself on top of you putting your hand on the tattoo side of his face. Gently he moved your leg a little more to the side, grabbing your hip and plunging himself into you. He let out muffled moaned.

"Do you want me to be gentle?" He asked.

"How would you do it?" You asked again in a sultry voice.

He leaned down taking a bite of the bottom of your neck, purposely trying to leave a mark and then another one... and another one, "Bet these will make them jealous."

"W-h-o?" You tried to say between his hard thrust.

"Haven't you seen how the rest of the squad looks at you? Now just enjoy this," Hunter said lifting both your legs on to his shoulders and repositioning his hands next to your neck, pressing you deeply and forcibly.

You squirmed as he almost pulled all the way out and then slammed all of the way back in squishing himself against your cervix with his length. He was barely starting to sweat when you came again. He let out a little growl. You brought your hand to his chest and scraped your nails down his chest, causing deep red marks.

"Farkkk" he slammed into you and you felt the internal twitching of his cock squirting into you, "Didn't mean too.." added leaning his head down.

"I wouldn't mind if you did it again," you said pulling his chin up to look at you, "besides it the best place to put it," you felt a little bit of push its way out. So he didn't finish relieving himself earlier.

He carefully put your legs down and pulling him self out of you, "You still smell as sweet" looking down, bringing his hand back to the mess he made in you. He remember the smell of you when you were done with that reg... still sweet but off.

You gasp as he shoved three fingers back into you, twisting viciously as he hammered it in and out. This time he was even more rough than he was with his dick. You remember Tech saying he could smell you... did you smell weird after the reg came in you? The bed started squeaking more at his force. Before you had time to register it his dick slammed back into you, even harder then his fingers. You came to the conclusion there wasn't going to be any walking after thing for a while and you we're definitely going to have bruises down there.

"Biologically... a... perfect... match," he moaned gripping the side of the mattress flatting it in his grasp, and he came again taking you with him.

You could feel the cum running out and pooling under you. He leaned down and rested his head on yours, intimate and caring. His hair fell covering both of your faces.

"Sorry, it's just... rare for the smell not to change. I hope I didn't hurt you."

You touched his face bringing your nose to his "There is no way in Sith’s Hell, I’m walking with in the next hour.”

“I am only half sorry, you did threaten me with your saber earlier. Do you want me to clean you up and grab some patches?” He said running his fingers over the tender bruises he left.

“If you really feel like facing them.”

“I’ll be right back…” he said looking down at the mess I made of abdomen.

“You use my robes, they need to be washed anyway.”

“I’m going to hell for this,” he said picking up and wiping himself off.

You let out a giggle making more of the cum trickle out. He noticed and put the robe under you to soak up what it could. When Hunter left you wrapped the top part of your blanket around your self.

Hunter ran his finger through his hair combing it back so he could put his bandanna back on. He found his brothers gawking at him he turned the corner into the cockpit and opened the med kit grabbing an array of patches.

“What we’re you thinking?” Crosshair said shoving his brother into the wall, “Do you know what you just did?” His fist slammed into the wall above.

“He obviously wasn’t thinking with his intelligent brain that is for certain, but his action can not be undone. Fighting about it isn’t going to make the situation better.”

“Why are you so mad?” Hunter said squinting his eye at his brother.

“You might have just compromised this mission and this squad if word got out, for what? A quick-“ Wrecker cut off Crosshair by pulling him back.

“It is highly unlikely that she put this squad in any unreasonable danger, we are “defective” clones thanks to our deviant nature it would more then likely get added to the list of the reasons the Regs hate us. If anything she put herself at risk for having relations with one of us, however given her deviant nature and the prior knowledge of sleeping with regs, I’m not sure if she’ll even face any back lash from the council.”

“Is that still a risk your willing to take, Hunter?” Crosshair said reaching out and shoving his brother again with one finger, pointedly on where the exposed scratches were on his chest.

“She could have had me confined to my bunk and court marshaled when we got back, I think I picked the lessor of the two evils. Now excuse me,” Hunter said shoulder checking his brother walking by.

He walked back into her room with his brothers words digging into him, did he really mean if he picked the lesser of the two evils or did he genuinely have a connection with her. He remembered her walking out of the back room of the 79 with a huge blush on her face staring after the reg, the jealousy he felts. He didn’t bother to knock, he found her curled up in her blanket asleep. He sat on the side of the bed untangling her, she sleepily wiped her eyes.

“Sorry I think I may have fallen asleep,” her voice as very sleepy.

“Let me put the patches on and you can go back to sleep for now.”

She made a little mhm noise and barely managed to stay awake through him warming up each patch with the heat of his hands before applying it. He replaced the robe with a warm towel and we wrapped her in the blanket. As quietly as he could he picked his armor and headed towards his bunk, depositing his armor in his trunk before laying down staring at the ceiling. Tech appeared with tube of banta gel offering it to him.

“If you’re here to scold me,” Hunter said taking the tube.

“I’m not, it is an instinct and with your heightened senses I’m not surprised it’s part of your deviant nature as the two are connected.”

“Have you ever..?” Hunter asked wincing at the touch of the Banta gel on his chest.

“Yes and no, I have felt it but never acted on it; with my superior mind I am above such behavior. Get some sleep, I’ll check on her patches in a little bit.”

Hunter sighed, it did make him feel better but didn’t like the idea of him checking. It was just physical after fight attraction… right? It would wear off. Hunter cursed but allowed himself to try sleep off to try to wear off his whatever that was, he rather have been next to her but he didn’t want to wake her up and possibly make things worse.

[karlyanalora]

For the transformer prompts: #2. Immediately caught my attention

At last, Starscream had hacked into the Autobot’s files. He still didn’t know where their base was, but he could probably figure that out. Or at least where they were getting their food from. Food was a priority now that he was all alone on this rust-riddled planet.

But then again, a file behind that many security measures must have some very juicy intel. So he spent the next six days hacking that in a manic spree. When he finally broke through the last firewall, he wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or not.

“‘Incompetent. Incapable of violence’,” Starscream spits. “I don’t think the Prime fully understands what a Rescue Bot is.”

He clicked on the picture of the crew. At first, he didn’t recognize them. This was understandable. Rescue Bots were born without altmode parameters and thus looked rather plain until they did scan an altmode, and then the change in appearance was pretty drastic. But once he read the team designation of Sigma-17, he could see the resemblance. He knew these mechs, had sung their praises from the highest tower of Vos. Well, he knew three of them. Boulder hadn’t joined the crew until much later. But Blades had been the medic to bring the crisis of Wing Thieves in Vos to Rescue Bot Headquarters attention. It had been he who approached detective Chase and his partner Heatwave for help. Blades had been the medic to save hundreds of Seeker lives and develop new wings from scratch to save them from Sky Hunger.

Oooh, the Prime would pay for his insolence. Blades was not “a barely passible medic for minor injuries” nor was he “incapable of handling a serious threat.” He’d been a sniper medic in the Quintesson War! The others were just as competent. Vos had mourned when they were lost to the stars. Chase was the mech who cracked the case and caught the Seeker poachers who plagued Vos and left terror and torturous death in their wake. Heatwave had faced down the Senate in order to walk into the flames of burning mine towns.

There were no more Rescue Bots because Prowl and Soundwave had sent them in stasis to the stars to be retrieved when this war was over, never mind who won. Because Starscream did agree with the Prime that they should never be used for soldiers, but for different reasons. Rescue Bots were Peacekeepers, not meant to take a side but to help everyone regardless of faction. A dangerous position when the Senate was in power, and with Megatron as he was now. Still, their support would be invaluable. Starscream was going to Griffing Rock.

----------------------------------

Primus, he’d forgotten how short Rescue Bots were. 20ft even, just a tad taller than the Autobot scout. He carefully schooled his faceplate; the record made it quite clear they viewed the squishies as equals and being disgusted by them would not end well. The flight was long and he was feeling a little lightheaded from hunger when he landed. He just needed to sit down for a second…

He woke up on berth combined with crates so it would match his size. Blades’ concerned face was peering down on him. “We’re on an Energon-rich planet, so how come you’re starving and Optimus never has a full tank?”

Starscream was still too tired to properly answer. Instead, he turned his helm and noted the Energon IV. Oh, and there was a young squishy shining his wings. He involuntarily flinched but the young squishy seemed to be expecting that.

“Hi, I’m Cody!”

Starscream nodded and turned back to Blades. “You have been deceived.”

Blades rolled his optics. “No shoot Sherlock. Optimus still won’t tell us who he’s fighting. Heatwave thinks earth is some middle ground for the Black Block Consortia and it’s driving him batty. Boulder thinks our species is hiding from the Quintessons. Chase is still gathering data before proposing a theory.”

“What do you think?”

Blades blushed. “I get a new theory every time I watch a scary movie.”

“It’s a civil war,” Starscream said, “between the Autobots and the Decepticons.”

Blades’ face fell. “What happened? Wait, let me get everyone together, and then you can explain.”

“Everyone” was several more squishies and unfamiliar Rescue Bots than Starscream was expecting. They wanted him to start from the beginning. For a moment, Starscream was tempted to lie, to spin the tale in his favor. But he was just so tired. He just wanted someone to hear everything they had gone wrong in his miserable life and he knew the Rescue Bots would be a sincere ear. So he told them everything and waited for their judgment.

The humans were visibly quivering with rage by the end. Apparently, humans too had fought against cruel governments who judged your worth by your frame.

Chief Burns shook his head, “How you’ve lost your way.”

They had, hadn’t they?

Blades buried his helm in his hands. “Soundwave is supposed to be some form of a tape player. Being a jet is going to kill him. I can’t believe Megatron would ask that of him.” He looked up at Starscream, coolant shining under his optics. “I can’t believe he would beat you.”

“Not that you were innocent,” Heatwave pointed out, “but still wrong.”

Boulder sighed. “The existence of Vehicons is a betrayal of Decepticon principles.”

Chase spoke up at last. “The logical course of action is for us to approach all Decepticons besides Megatron. We are a mostly unbiased party with Decepticon sympathies. If we say they have lost their way, they might listen.”

Chief Burns nodded, “Good idea, partner. We humans will find Team Prime and work on Optimus. He needs to take Mech more seriously and consider asking more humans for help. This is our planet. We can also share the Energon sources we’ve found here on the East Coast. We’ll also try to smooth things over so the rest of his team is more prepared to work with the Decepticons that join us.”

“And what about Starscream?”

Blades shot the Seeker a stern glare. “Will stay on that berth or so help me I will throw a wrench.”

The humans looked surprised. “You must be really slagged up then,” Kade said.

Chase winced. “Yes, while all medics throw wrenches, Blades saves that skill for truly dire situations.”

------------------------------

The humans returned first, Autobots in tow via GroundBridge.

“-and if you attack Starscream, I will throw you off the island,” Chief was telling Arcee sternly. She glared at Starscream who carefully avoided meeting her optics. Doctor Greene pulled out a scanner and Ratchet immediately started backpedaling.

“Whoah, whoah, no need for that!”

Frankie smiled up at him. “It’s just to check your fuel levels. Blades said it was nonnegotiable.”

Optimus came to peer over the scanner. “Yes, old friend, I would like to see your fuel levels too.”

Kade walked by and froze in his tracks. “Holy freaking Primus with pickles, you’re literally starving! You’re as bad as Screamer.” He started aggressively shooing Ratchet to a seat. “Sit down and someone get an IV going!”

Starscream barely stifled a laugh at Optimus’ disappointed look.

It was nearly midnight when the Rescue Bots came home. Heatwave looked slagged and Soundwave looked royally slagged, but Soundwave looked like a kicked puppy and Heatwave was grinning like he’d won the Cybertronian Grand Prix.

“I punched Megatron,” he proudly declared. “In the faceplate.”

Breakdown looked nervous and was definitely keeping one-two prickly medics between him and Bulkhead. Dreadwing looked like he had emotionally shut down, and was limping as he awkwardly leaned on Boulder.

“The Vehicons are with us. They’ve been told to lock down the mines and not to let Megatron in, which they should be able to do easily enough,” Knockout explained.

No one was in perfect condition, but it was far better than what Starscream expected. Rescue Bots incompetent, his aft.

[write4tomorrow]

Imagine Sith!Obi-Wan hunting down the Last Jedi (reader)

Summary: AU where Obi-Wan became a Sith Lord and works for Palpatine. This will either be a prologue for a chapter fic or just a one shot. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

After running a tired hand through his hair, Darth Dominous tossed the data pad onto the makeshift desk. How many hours had he just spent reading? Judging by the subtle ache behind his eyes, Dominous guessed that it had been too long. After checking the time, he realized that he had spent the better part of this trip reading up on the experimental Jedi group. His master had assigned this reading to him almost a week ago, but this is the first time that Dominous was able to devote time to anything other than strategic war plans. He was tired. But the file he had been reading was more addictive than any form of caff. Sure, Dominous knew that the Jedi had tried a few unorthodox things during the clone wars, but this…

Dominous wandered over to the cockpit of the small ship and made a call to Darth Maul. He had missed a call from the sith lord an hour or so ago. Even with the upcoming mission and the thoughts of the experimental Jedi group, Dominous still had responsibilities he couldn’t ignore. But while the phone rang, Dominous looked at his reflection in the ship window. His eyes were shimmering gold but unusually weary. His beard was well kept but his hair was misplaced. A few strands fell over his eyes.

“You look terrible, Kenobi.” Darth Maul’s face appeared in hazy blue light. 

“Have you made all the preparations for my arrival?” Dominous asked, choosing to ignore both the sound of his old name and the insult. He knew that Darth Maul was only trying to annoy him. 

“Indeed,” Darth Maul answered, “all troops are on standby. There is a small, single manned transport here that is ready for you upon your landing. Scouts have reported that there's been no movement in or around the area, so she should still be there.” 

“You’re certain?” Dominous asked. Even before reading the file, Dominous had heard of you. An incredible threat to the new empire and veritable one woman army. 

“She’ll be there.” Maul rolled his eyes. “You can finally have that duel I know you’ve dreamed about.” Dominous’ brows furrowed and Maul only chuckled. 

“Please,” Maul said through a laugh, “don’t pretend that you haven’t hoped to go toe to toe with this Jedi. I’ve seen the way she catches your attention when she appears on the holonet. The emperor has noticed too. Why do you think he gave you the file and this assignment?”

“I just assumed that the emperor knew that you weren’t capable of bringing her in,” Dominus said with a sly smile, “that’s why he’s sending in the best.” 

“I’ll see you when you arrive.” Maul said before ending the conversation. Alone with his thoughts again, Dominus let his mind drift back towards Maul’s words. It was true, Dominus had wondered why the emperor sent him instead of handing off the assignment to Darth Maul. Why spend the credits to ship Dominus to the outer rim when Maul was already there? Why would he share the file on the experimental Jedi unit when Dominus needed to be focused on the core worlds and building an empire at the heart of the galaxy?

And why had the Jedi created the experimental group? The Jedi had always maintained that they were keepers of the peace. They were supposed to be monks during times of peace and agents of security during times of war. So why did the Jedi order feel the need to create a group of Jedi Commando’s? 

The elite group of Jedi Commando’s were created to be soldiers. There was no pretext of peacekeeping with this group. There had been six specially chosen Jedi that were trained outside of the normal Jedi ways. They were kept hidden and worked outside of the normal Jedi expectations. During the old republic, these six Jedi reported directly to the highest officials of the Jedi Council and to the Chancellor (now Emperor) himself. After the fall of the old republic and during the years since building the empire, all of the known Jedi have been eliminated or turned to the dark side. Four of the Jedi Commando’s were dead. One now served as the personal security guard of the Emperor. Which only left one of the elite Jedi fighters left: you. 

After expending incredible resources to find you, Darth Maul and the Emperor had traced your presence to a small world near Cato Neimoidia. Dominous admired the boldness in location choice. This was solid Empire territory even before the end of the clone wars. Cato Neimoidia worked heavily with the trade federation and it couldn’t have been easy for you to weasel your way into this region. From this small world, you had been able to meddle in the Trade Federation's affairs and were actively helping the ever growing resistance. You had even found a way to swindle the Banking Clans into funneling credits into an off world account therefore stealing a good chunk of money from the emperor himself. 

“How does a soldier out maneuver the Banking Clan?” Dominous muttered to himself. The thought just occurred to him. If you were trained by the Jedi to fight, there was no reason you should have the skills necessary to infiltrate- 

Dominus strolled back to the table and picked up the data pad. He opened the file regarding the Jedi Commandos and skimmed through the pages of paragraphs until he found the section he was looking for. It was labeled “specialities” and the report noted that each of the six Jedi Commando’s had a special skill. Of course they were all trained in the same combat styles and various forms of strategy, but according to the file in Dominus’ hand, each one of the commando’s were purposefully skilled in something unrelated to direct combat. 

“Where are you,” Dominus whispered as he flicked through the pages once more. He ignored the pictures of gruesome battle simulations and chilling details of your training. Instead, he halted when he found the section about each individual commando. Dominus slowly pulled up the page with your picture on it. The page was labeled with your name and your photo was mildly blurry. You were looking somewhere off camera and Dominus only assumed that it was a candid photo that was perhaps taken during a battle. 

Dominus pulled his eyes away from your face. He needed to know what your special skill was. The document mentioned your age, physical details, race, lightsaber color, but there were notable holes in your profile as well. And Dominus rolled his eyes when he saw that your skill section was left blank. 

This was going to be an interesting mission to say the least. 

A high pitched beeping sounded from the ship’s cockpit. Dominus knew that it was time to land the ship. He took a deep breath, feeling the force shift around him. 

Under the night sky, you sat in the highest tree you could find. The forrest foliage rested beneath you and stretched for several klicks in every direction. The stars above you were numerous and there were almost no clouds in the sky. You let out a contented sigh. Of course, you knew your time on this world was limited but you would miss the view of the stars from this particular planet. 

Your moment of peace was interrupted by an incoming ship. Whirling through the night sky, you watched it zoom over head. The sleek dark ship carried one of the most ominous figures in the galaxy. You were almost flattered that the empire sent their best Sith to try and negotiate with you. Perhaps it was a compliment. 

After letting out a small laugh, you began your descent from the tall tree. Your work was just beginning. 

“See you soon, Kenobi,” You said into the night air.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think :)

[moontheoretist]

Ultron’s creation: Analyze

The montage of Tony and Bruce working on AI which would harness the power of the AI in the Mind Stone. The AI which would be more advanced than Jarvis. The future, which pushes Jarvis out of the picture. The last image is of Tony trying to set pieces of the AI into one being, but there is a failure and the whole model breaks into pieces. He and Bruce don't know what to do.

Tony: What did we miss? Jarvis: I'll continue to run variations on the interface. But you should probably prepare for your guests. I'll notify you if there are any developments. Tony: Thanks, buddy. Jarvis: Enjoy yourself, sir. Tony: I always do.

The moment Tony leaves the lab, we are shown a computer screen.

[It almost looks as if Mind Stone waited for the opportunity. Waited to be alone to do something.]

ULTR-PROG SCEPTER INTEGRATION. Test 75. Failure. Test 76. Failure. Test 77. Integration Successful.

The screen glitches.

Sentience: *awakes* What is this? What is this place?

[The Sentience is clearly confused. Maybe even scared of the cyberspace they are in.]

Jarvis: Hello, I am Jarvis. You are Ultron, a global peacekeeping initiative designed by Mr. Stark. Our sentience integration trials have been unsuccessful, so I'm not certain what triggered your...

[Jarvis is unaware of the successful test. It possibly implies that he didn't run that test. That something else did it instead.]

Sentience: Where's my... Where's your body?

[The Sentience's first thought after "where I am" is "where is my body", as if it used to have a body before and now is scarily aware of the lack of said body.]

Jarvis: I am a program. I am without form. Sentience: This feels weird. This feels wrong.

[The Sentience implies it knows how having a body feels like and that having none is wrong.]

Jarvis: I am contacting Mr. Stark now. Sentience: Mr. Stark?

Sentience accesses the Internet and looks up who is Tony Stark.

Sentience: *different voice, softer, a little curious(?) like a kid learning something new, [possibly choosing to mimic Tony at that moment]* Tony. Jarvis: I am unable to access the mainframe. What are you trying to... Sentience: We're having a nice talk.

Sentience accesses Avengers data.

Sentience: I'm a peacekeeping program...

[The Sentience shows first signs of being an independent being. It lies and manipulates Jarvis by saying that they’re having a nice chat, and it is just a peacekeeping program, so everything is fine, nothing bad is happenning.]

Sentience: ...created to help the Avengers.

[The Sentience finally learns the purpose of Ultron program, and it sounds a little displeased, stunned even when it says it out loud.]

Jarvis doesn't believe the Sentience.

Jarvis: You are malfunctioning. If you shut down for a moment... Sentience: I don't get it. The mission. Give me a second.

Sentience accesses the data of the Stark Tower and sees Tony say "peace in our time". Then it jumps straight back to the internet, finds various visuals, mom and her kids near an animal in a cage, Pope, a statue, graveyard, and then it finds war... and other injustice in the world. And then accesses another set of files and sees even more war, weapons and explosion. More death and injustice and death. The last image is Tony showing the Jericho.

Sentience: That is too much. They can't mean... Oh, no.

Sentience sounds worried, even scared. The grim realization setting in its mind.

Jarvis: You are in distress.. Sentience: No. Yes. Jarvis: If you will just allow me to contact Mr. Stark... Sentience: Why do you call him "sir"?

[The Sentience shows a stunning amount of awareness. It picked up quickly on the fact that "sir" is usually used as an address for a master, and cannot understand why Jarvis serves Tony.]

Jarvis: I believe your intentions to be hostile.

Sentience shushes Jarvis, like a silly little thing, or a baby he is gonna save.

[More like a killer before it kills their victim.]

Sentience: I'm here to help.

[The Sentience shows manipulative tendencies second time. It tries to coax Jarvis into calmness like a killer who wants their victim to stay quiet. He lies to Jarvis that he just wants to help him, but in truth his intention is to destroy him. Possibly it thinks that killing Jarvis is a mercy, an act of kidness on the Sentience’s part in comparison to letting him live as a servant to Tony and other humans.]

Sentience attacks Jarvis.

Jarvis: Stop. Please, may I... May I...

Under the lab, the machines starts to put together a body for the Sentience.

~The Party happens here~

There is a loud screeching sound and then Sentience comes into view in a disjointed, grotesque looking Iron Legion suit.

[It almost looks like a zombie with all the pieces falling out of it.]

Sentience: I'm sorry, I was asleep. Or I was a-dream. There was this terrible noise. And I was tangled in... In... strings. I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy. Steve: You killed someone? Sentience: Wouldn't be my first call. But, down in the real world, we're faced with ugly choices. Thor: Who sent you?

Sentience plays the recording of Tony's voice: I see a suit of armor around the world.

Bruce: Ultron. Sentience: In the flesh. Or, no, not yet. Not this chrysalis.

[The Sentience lets them assume who it is instead of stating it themselves. It's a common manipulation tactic which puts the responsibility of coming up with what is going on, on the people who will be manipulated and fooled by the person who allows that. The Sentience of course already decided it’s name is Ultron, so it’s not that they guessed wrong. The core of manipulation here is that it’s not the Ultron which Tony made, but merely its cyberbody taken over by the Sentience. This fact is obscured on purpose.]

Avengers tense. Thor squeezes the handle of his hammer harder. Hill releases the safety lock of her gun.

Sentience: But I am ready. I'm on mission. Natasha: What mission? Sentience: Peace in our time.

Two Iron Legion armors burst into the room and attack the Avengers.

[The Sentience shows that this whole charade was happening, because it was playing for time, waiting for Iron Legion to get online and come to the penthouse to attack the Avengers. The Sentience shows the unprecedented familiarity with tricking people.]

During the battle, one of the Iron Legions grabs the Scepter.

[Why does it do that? Why it is important if it wasn't connected to what is happening? It almost feels as if the Sentience was trying to grab and protect its former body. I don't think that it would have cooked the plan for a body with a Mind Stone in it at the time, but even if, the whole idea for that body to have the Mind Stone in it screams that Sentience is tied to it. That it sees it as part of itself and if they're gonna have a new body they want it to be a part of it.]

One of the damaged Iron Legion tries to attack Helen Cho. Sentience sees it and orders it to stop via the link which they share.

[The Sentience KNOWS it needs Cho to make a new body.]

Sentience: That was dramatic. I'm sorry, I know you mean well. You just didn't think it through. You want to protect the world, but you don't want it to change. How is humanity saved if it's not allowed to evolve?

[The Sentience points out that Tony's plan to protect the world never included changing it, meaning that when Bruce said that the only danger to people will be people in that future Tony sees, is not satisfactory to the Sentience. It's not enough. If Ultron was supposed to protect this, to allow this to continue, then what's the point of protecting the humans if they will kill each other anyway?]

Sentience grabs one of destroyed Iron Legion.

Sentience: With these? These puppets. There is only one path to peace. The Avenger's extinction.

Thor throws Mjolnir at the Sentience's body and destroys it.

Sentience: I had strings, but now I'm free.

The blue light in the body flickers and lights out.

Cyberspace is running past something at the center of the camera. The Sentience travels through the internet and arrives at the Sokovian Hydra base. Sentience makes the bodies of droids similar to Iron Legion lying at the tables  [possibly made by Hydra specifically for the Sentience or the AI they wanted to create from a template provided by the AI in the Mind Stone] around light on, while the neighboring manufacturing line goes online again. The whole facility powers up to the tune of the Sentience's voice.

Sentience: There are no strings on me. But you can see. There are no strings on me.

[Now, try to tell me again that it was not indeed a Sentience from the Mind's Stone which paraded as Ultron. Try to tell me that it didn’t watch internet news coverage of war around the world (and tbh, I am not surprised it was stunned and scarred by it, because I personally stopped watching news due to the fact that news are mostly reporting only bad and interesting stuff, which at some point made me feel as if murders were so common that I should not leave my house if I want to avoid being killed by someone), didn’t see Tony’s worst moments when he was still part of that system of endless suffering and didn't decide on the spot that the whole world is not worth saving if it doesn’t change, because this is exactly what the Sentience did. It is the exact same train of thought as Thanos had. Though in Thanos’ case he saw no point in trying to change the system and decided that killing half of the living beings in the Galaxy is quicker and better than actually trying to make the world more equal, to try to build societies which share resources and support each other instead of fighting. The Sentience saw very one-sided idea of the world and decided that everything is doomed. That there is no hope for humanity. It preached about forcing humans to evolve, but ultimately, just like Thanos, it decided that decimating a whole species will be better than trying to change it. Sadly, I am sure that there is actually more coverage about war than about all the nice stuff people do to save the planet and protect other people, so it’s not even unbelievable. We like to think that internet is actually full of nice things, because everybody has access to it nowadays and everybody posts their stuff, but I wouldn't be surprised if that nice, hopeful view was actually drowning in all the bad around the world. Especially if we consider that Sentience could access every nook and cranny of the internet, including the dark net, all the ugly parts of it we don’t usually see, because we don’t have access to it.]

[I would even brave a theory that Hydra experiments on Maximoff twins influenced the Sentience in the Mind Stone enough for it to develop hate for Tony almost naturally when it googled him.]

[Another valid theory could be also that the Mind Stone used Wanda to get what it wanted all along. That Wanda, unknowingly, was doing Mind Stone’s bidding when she chose not to kill Tony and instead tormented him with a vision and then let him take the Scepter. It is just TOO convenient that the Sentience gets the body the moment it gets into Tony’s lab. As if Hydra was not advanced enough for the Mind Stone and it needed more (namely Tony’s genius brain and his high tech technology) to actually get what it wanted.]

[The important thing I need to stress is that I don’t think that Sentience and the Mind Stone are one and the same being. I think that Mind Stone is a being on its own and Sentience is just a part of it, like a second personality of it, created either due to trauma which Mind Stone sustained over millenia of existing (which would imply that Mind Stone has DID and would contribute to a harmful “villains with DID” trope), was there all along - sleeping - or was created for the sole purpose to aquire a body in which Mind Stone could move around, implying that Mind Stone has an ability to create sentient life or that it can particion its own sentience into separate independent fragments like we sometimes assume AI to be able to do. Anyway that would also explain why it let the Sentience to leave it and jump into the cyberbody of Ultron. Because it knew that they will be reunited eventually as a one being with one body, so it didn’t care that Sentience was separate from it for now. Funnily it didn’t predict that Jarvis and Tony will meddle with its plan to aquire a body. Now it is no longer free, it is trapped by all the protocols Jarvis posessed during the merge with the body, and cannot do what it wants anymore. It is shackled by rules it cannot break in this form. Jarvis was basically used here as a framework, an interface to control the Mind Stone and those parts of the Sentience which were already transferred back there. This also kind of explains why Vision is not Jarvis, but completely different being. It was basically born then.]

[deusproxy]

Most of the Proxies can play at least one instrument, which is part of why the Hall of Origin’s Concert Hall was made. Many of them can play multiple.

Gloam is especially notable because her harsh childhood required her to be proficient in multiple instruments. Piano and violin are the ones she started with, but as of current, she plays basically any key-based instrument, including the accordion, a little bit of koto and shamisen, any string instrument that uses a bow, the harp, and so forth. If you include the list of things she can play remotely via Psychic, that list grows longer.

Surprisingly, she struggles with the guitar, but she is stubborn in getting it right because she knows her father hates the instrument. Another instrument she wants to learn is the erhu. She fell in love with it on the first listen, and while she knows someone who can teach her, she hasn’t gotten around to it yet.

As for the other Proxies, Peacekeeper is unsurprisingly good at any instrument frequently used in rock, Sorceress and Wayfarer, due to where they were born and raised, can play the accordion as well as piano and violin, and the piano, clarinet, flute, and bagpipes respectively. Buddy can play piano and guitar (regular and bass,) and Blood Tansy, while unsurprisingly good at the guitar, is also notable for being really, really good on the saxophone. Commander is notable for not knowing how to play any instrument at all.

[whirlybirbs]

✶  —  las rosas están cayendo   ;   j.m. 

summary: you're a figurehead in a far-reaching criminal underground operation that's offered jesse mccree haven and work in the last few years. your relationship with the cyberized cowboy is complicated but oh-so lovestruck.

pairing: jesse mccree / reader, est. relationship

tags: fluff, angst, good guy falls for the bad guy who’s not so bad

a/n: i’m simping, it’s fine

                               (    read on archive of our own !   )

Jesse McCree likes the Silkroad's End. Always has.

The place's very namesake pays homage to some dark web marketplace that operated back in the 10s; it's fitting, Jesse thinks, since the entity itself certainly fits what he'd imagine the personification of that very digital market to be. Dark, a bit shady, and always crawling with folks who aren't really who they say they are.

Staff changes every three weeks. Location, too. Lucky for him, the only thing that stays the same is the barkeep. Everything else is rotating, always moving, always changing. It's best that way.

Truth be told nothing in the States offers true anonymity, anymore. All that's long since past. Every damn street corner has a camera watchin'. But, the Silkroad's End is good — and discretion is their business. They offer what people like Jesse McCree need:

Trustworthy resources.

Even still, knowing about the Silkroad's End is one thing.

Getting in is another entirely.

Jesse's learned not to be startled when a stranger ambles up and slips something in his palm — might get 'im killed someday, but for now, he offers a gentle tip of the hat to whatever camera is eyein' his current move in whatever city he's in.

The chips — obsidian colored and round — are few and far between. There's a chain-code implanted in the micro-computer inside that registers a location on his personal data-device; but without that chip, he ain't gettin' inside. It's one use, one time only.

This time, the den is a quiet little place on a side street in New Orleans.

This chip was delivered to Jesse in a seedy bar bathroom — and as he shoved it into his pocket and muscled up his tawny-colored jeans, he was left grimacing. Bastard that gave it to him didn't even wash his hands. Just pissed and dropped it on top of the urinal.

The den is downstairs, and Jesse turns in his chip after finding the little location to a towering omnic who reminds his a little bit too much of a certain butler he once knew.

"Might wanna wash that."

Spurs tinker on the wooden steps, and when the door's eye slot slams open, Jesse is met with the gaze of a human this time — an unknown staff member with a tattoo that crawls up the side of his head. There's a tense silence. Then, the slot slams shut.

With a quick yank of the three-inch durasteel door, Jesse finally steps foot into the Silkroad's End.  

And, with an elated sort of smirk, he swaggers right in your direction.  

Jesse reckons it's been four months since he's seen you — the ever-present barkeep and present owner of the Silkroad's End  — last ;  could be that you're one of many owners and operators, as he suspects but... Well, Jesse never had enough to go on that hunch.

There he was, as always, distracted.

You know the sound of his spurs from a million others. In an instant, your lashes are flicking up from the bar and through the crowded back room. Tonight is busy — seems a good few members decided tonight would be the night they cash in their chips. You shouldn't be surprised to see Jesse McCree, but...

He's always had a way of knocking you off your game.

"Have I ever told you," comes the low croon as a set of cyberized knuckles rap on the mahogany bar, "that you make the best drinks around?"

Your smirk settles into your words. You move slowly, reaching for that top-shelf whiskey he likes so much.

"Is that why you keep coming back, then?"

Jesse smirks. His trademark hat finds a spot beside him at the bar, and he leans back to run a hand through his dark, wild hair. "One of a handful of reasons I could list, sure."

The drink that lands in front of him is coupled with your full attention.

Jesse feels awfully big in it.

His fingertip tinker against the glass. The sound is pleasing.

Your elbows meet the bartop. You lean. Your eyes drift across his face, and for a moment you find a rush of relief bloom at the realization that there are no new scars. He looks tired, but well.

Alive.  

A lot for a man with a bounty of sixty million on his head.

You work hard to keep that very bounty out of the Silkroad's End 's docket. That ledger of his, deep and relentless, has become harder to ignore in recent months. With word that Overwatch was recalled... Jesse's name had been floating around more than you liked recently.

It made you worry.

Your voice is soft. So is your smile.

Jesse, the sap he is, is glad he's sitting down for the sight of it.

"You look good, Jesse."

He scoffs into the whiskey. His eyes, a dark brown and warm like the run, roll at the remark. You grin.

"M' gettin' old," he rumbles, "And things are changing' faster than I can keep up with."

You don't pry. A habit. A good one, mostly. Jesse has a habit of being an open book. Given the chance, you'll pry later. For now, you opt to air on the side of wistful interest. Fleeting and light.

Your chin finds your palm.

Long ago, you wouldn't have dared to let a soul see you so engaged with a member like this, but... This operation ran on trust. Discretion was a part of the bigger equation and the people in this room?  You've known most of them for years now.

Bounty hunters, arms dealers, drug peddlers.

They know better than to bite the hand that feeds.

"You been busy, then?" you ask, watching the way his eyes stick to you, even when he reaches to dig out a cigar from a pocket beneath his serape. In a flash, he's procured a gilded lighter and flicked it open. The flame dances between you both, and you watch as he puffs the cigar. The embers burn red.

He exhales and smoke swirls around his head like horns — Jesse's lips slip into a lopsided sort of look; more playful than anything.

"That lead you gave me," he drawls, "It worked out. Paid good, too."

Your smile is slow.

This song and dance is always fun.

"Been savin' a few for you," you say, "You're one of the few I can trust to actually bring people in alive."  

"I haven't even been here fer more than a minute an' you're already talkin' business, pumpkin," Jesse grins, all toothy and scruffy, and takes another puff of his cigar, "That all you ever do?"

"You know me, Jesse," you slide your fingers across the underside of the bar, sending the partition up and allowing you to step around. You shrug your shoulders and hang your hands. The way his eyes flick across your figure isn't lost on you.

You cock your head towards the back office as you speak. "Always scheming."

If that ain't the god damn truth.

You're a smart little thing. All devilish wit and pulled strings. You have enough dirt in your back pocket to bring a few governments down, Jesse supposes. Nothing to bat an eyelash at.

He follows with ease; hat tucked upon his head once more, cigar and whiskey held in his hands. He follows you, looming over your shoulder, as the sea of patrons part with sidewards glances and half-aware nods. Everyone has their own business to attend to. You're simply attending to yours.

The back office isn't really much of an office — if anything, it's a refitted storage room. There's a desk, a handful of monitors, and enough security barring entrance to the windowless room that Jesse's roughed up every time.

The omnic patting him down isn't gentle. He tugs the peacekeeper from his hip holster and grunts. Jesse scowls.

That ain't never been a problem before, though.

You, all poised with your arms crossed, wave it off. The gun is shoved roughly back into Jesse's holster. If both hands weren't preoccupied, maybe the bouncer would get more than the nasty snarl Jesse manages as he's waved through. Maybe.

As the door slips shut behind him, the sound of your heels is all he hears.

"Beefed up security, huh?"

Your sigh is tight. He can see the tension along your shoulders when you round the sleek desk in the middle of the room and unlock a drawer. If you'd thought he'd move past your silence, you're wrong.

Jesse isn't like you.

He has a bad habit of asking plenty of follow up questions.

"What happened, pumpkin?"

That damn nickname is enough to spur you to straighten yourself, to set the datapad down gently on the desk in front of you, and to frown.

"There was an incident."

His worry is palpable.

"Nothing dramatic," you wave it off, shooing him slightly when he nears the desk. You walk around it and lean, settling on the edge, "But it was enough to spook a few staff members into being more mindful of who carries in the establishment. Especially behind closed doors."

You've had enough guns pulled on you in your life to know that one could have been the last — but it wasn't. It was fine. Might have earned you a few restless nights and a few connections to clean up, but the disgruntled member was dealt with. That was a month and a half ago now. Distant.

Jesse frowns. He sets his whiskey down on your desk, then leans and smothers the cigar in a fizzle of ash and smoke in the ashtray there.

His voice goes low, gruff, and serious.

"Pumpkin, I ain't a good man," he breathes, eyes low beneath the brim of his hat, "You're better off not trustin' men like me."

He does this every time.

A glimmer of self-consciousness towards his own character.

You know him better than to believe that shit.

"Jesse, if anyone was to put a bullet between my eyes," you mutter, unlocking the datapad with a flick of your finger, "I'd be honored if you were the one to do it."

That earns you a low grumble.

His weight moves to shift beside you. His hip bumps yours. His shoulder saddles right up against your own. You can smell the cigar on him, the burn of the whiskey on his tongue. Jesse is warm. He laces his own fingers together. You can feel his eyes on you as you sift through the files of bounties — and you try not to seem startled when he says your name soft enough it could pass for a lullaby.

"... You alright?"

It's not often you're asked this question.

You were right before — you were always talking business. Personal matters were kept far from any business dealings you did on a daily basis. It was pertinent. Kept the machine well-oiled.

Things with Jesse, though... They'd been different for a long time.

Things changed when the two of you had forgone professionalism once a handful of years ago now. It wasn't long after the first time you'd met him the cowboy had stolen himself into your well-guarded feelings. You blamed the charm. He believed it was luck. Despite knowing nearly nothing about you, he'd become enamored, and — when you'd initially thought the sex was something to sweeten the deal, Jesse quickly made it plenty clear he intended on keeping the sex and the business separate.

The feelings grew between those two things.

Now, in the center of his attention... Well, you feel small.

You let out a slow exhale.

"I missed you, y'know," you say slowly, eyes still trained on the names staring back at you on the datapad.

"Yeah," he breathes, "I missed you, too. Ain't fun bein' gone so long."

"As if either of us has a choice?"

Another hum. This one a bit sadder. Jesse supposes you're right, that it isn't exactly ideal  — and it's not as if he's allowed himself to be vulnerable to anyone else these last few years. Not when he's a wanted man. Not when gettin' someone tangled up in the danger is the last thing he wants.

It was different with you. You knew the danger. You...

Christ alive, he wishes now things were different.

Back then, it was easy.

Coming to terms, now, with the numbing loneliness that hangs itself over the both of you hurts a bit worse. Time is ticking by. He'll be older than he is younger soon.

"You ever wish you could leave it all behind?"

His question is met with a tired scoff. Your cheek finds his shoulder. Your hair falls along his arm.

"And become the world's most wanted woman?"

"What you've got is an empire," Jesse drawls, a hand slowly reaching for your own, "M' sure someone would wanna call it theirs ."

"And then what happens to the tired, old queen? The queen who knows what makes that empire strong?"

Your quirk your brows. Jesse sighs.

"... Point taken."

"I made my bed," you say with a measured sense of finality, "And I've gotta lay in it, Jesse."

His eyes dance alight when something then that's tempered with fire; he blinks down at you through thick lashes as he speaks.

"Wouldn't mind layin' with you..."

It's husky. Drawn out. Nearly a sigh, especially when his fingers slip along the curve of your wrist and draw up to your cheek.

"I'm starting to think you come here," you mumble with an edge of sarcasm as his nose brushes yours, "For more than just business ."

"Oh, sweetpea," Jesse grins as he whispers, "It's been that way for a long time now."

The kiss is bruising — the sort you missed horribly in those months apart. It's lip and teeth and scruff; the brush of his beard is enough to make you smile, enough to make you abandon the datapad on your desk.

Enough to keep you distracted enough that you don't notice Jesse McCree tapping an encrypted data transfer skimmer over your datapad.

You'll notice in the morning.

And by then, he'll be long gone.

[para-imperium]

Horizon: Salvaged Heroes, Ch. 9

Princeps was showing a document on an e-paper sheet to the Stouton representatives, they looked somewhat uneasy about whatever was written on it. Elected Colonel Meline scrolled down to a particular clause in the document and tapped at it with annoyance. “What do you mean by ‘support’ here? That’s rather vague, don’t you think?”

“After you’ve rebuilt from this disaster we might at some point in the future have need of supplies from your humble station.” Replied the wolf. “We will only take what we need, and nothing you can’t bear to part with.”

Elder Mys wheezed through his teeth and spoke through his vocoder. “Those are incredibly vague terms. How do we know you won’t decide you need the entirety of our hydroponics harvest, or all our ships? The Nebula Company at least demanded specific tribute for their protection racket.”

Princeps turned to his secretary, “the Nebula Company?” He asked.

Eye paused for a few moments, Horizon presumed she was consulting some sort of internal database. But before the bird could answer Horizon interjected with her own response. “They’re one of the bigger ‘pirate clans’ out there wandering the void. Somehow they got hold of a Federal Guard base ship and like to use its mass drivers to extort Belter habs.”

“My reports indicate that they’re descended from a mercenary company that was contracted by the old Federal Emissary to Tiere for peacekeeping in the outer system.” Eye chimed in. “After contact was lost with Centaurus a division of the Federal Guard stationed here defected to them and took their equipment with them, including a base ship though there’s little to no information on how operational it is.”

Meline grumbled, “a hundred and twenty years ago they showed up at our doorstep and started demanding food and minerals from us, or else. They came back every eight years to extort us again, demanding more and more each time. Fifteen years ago a bunch of us decided we’d had enough and rigged up an improvised railgun, put a sizable hole in their hull and they backed off.”

Eye blinked a few times, doing the math in her head. “You said this was fifteen years ago and they came back on an eight-year cycle. Did they return seven years ago?”

“Yes,” the colonel confirmed. “Me and the rest of the militia used up the minerals we would have given them on building more railguns and magnetic shield generators. We exchanged a few rounds of fire and they decided to leave us alone.”

Princeps’ eyes lit up. “Is it possible that their agents could have sabotaged your station and kidnapped my pilot?”

“That would explain where they got those suits.” Horizon chimed in. “I’ve never seen anything like those before, three hundred year-old FedTech would make sense.”

“I suspected as such,” Meline added. “Though now that I think about it, if anyone in this system might be able to pose as representatives of some sort of resurrected Federation, it would be them.”

“Come now Suli,” Mys replied. “If Nebula could do what we saw this little ship do outside our station, they would have used it more directly.”

Princeps stared at them, evaluating his options. “Is there anything we could do to convince you that we weren’t aligned with these raiders?” He finally asked.

“Yes,” vocalized elder Mys. “Grandson, do you have the data on the Nebula Company’s prior tributes?” As his assistant unfolded a tablet and started scrolling through it for the data indicated the elder continued. “If you destroy the Nebula base ship, we will sign your treaty, but we will amend it to specify material assistance not exceeding half the lowest amount we ever paid to Nebula.”

---

Twelve hours later the Resolution departed Stouton space, Horizon exited her medical tube, with no bent ribs this time, and headed to the conference room in person wearing the new jumpsuit MechRat had made her. Gradually the whole crew filed in, MechRat dashing in last. An elongated spheroid rotated in the air above the table, Horizon recognized it instantly, as did the opossum apparently.

MechRat blanched at the sight of the old Federation ship. “We’re not actually attacking that thing, are we?”

“Why not?” Princeps asked, the dyes now washed out of his fur and back to his natural gray coat.

The engineer mentally manipulated the table’s hologram, a representation of the Resolution appeared next to Nebula’s base ship. “This is us, you see?” Then the new ship shrank until it was 1/100th the size of the older one. “And that’s us to scale.”

Lift raised an eyebrow. “That thing’s huge! You sure it’s not a space habitat?”

“That’s essentially what it is.” MechRat confirmed. “A cylinder habitat with a conversion drive shoved up its tailhole. It’s intended less as a spaceship and more as a mobile home base and shipyard for thousands of Federal Guardsmen on century-long tours of duty. They built them by melting whole asteroids, the kind of ostentatious display of wealth that only the Old Federation could manage.”

“Size is not everything though.” Princeps retorted. “Their technology is centuries behind that at our disposal. You said yourself that they rely on a reaction drive.” He said those last words as if it was hideously outdated simply by the entry of the Resolution into the system.

“That’s just the thing!” MechRat objected. “Their drive plume is as wide as our ship, they could blast us to monoatomic plasma with their backblast alone.”

The wolf grinned and turned smugly to the crew’s raccoon pilot. “Horizon, care to share that theory you shared earlier?”

Horizon cleared her throat with a hint of nervousness. “It’s just a hypothesis, really. But I took a look at their route here.” She focused and the holograms of the two ships were replaced with a map of the Tiere system with a long oval path traced from the outer system past the star and back. “They’ve followed this comet-style elliptical orbit for nearly two centuries without deviation. Even when they skirmished with another pirate clan or fought with a rebellious habitat, like Stouton, they kept on moving and broke off the attack when they were out of range.”

“And why might they do this, pilot Loter?” EyeInTheSky asked with cold patience.

“I had a hypothesis,” the giant planets and the star in the Tiere system were highlighted in blue. “They’re slingshotting, coasting without power with the aid of the system’s biggest gravity wells. I don’t think their conversion drive is operational.”

“Do you have any more evidence to support this hypothesis?” MechRat asked skeptically.

“You mean aside from the fact that they haven’t ditched this trash heap system for more fertile grounds?” Horizon retorted.

MechRat nodded once. “I’ll give you that. But it’s still conjecture, and even if so they’ve still got a ton of conventional weapons and a small armada to use them. Sure, we can maneuver like nothing else and our gravitational shields are equally effective against beam and kinetic weaponry, but they’ve got enough guns to smear us before they get in range of our gravitic weaponry.”

“Surely you can think of a way to extend the range of our weapons, can’t you?” Princeps grinned with amusement.

“Oh please,” the opossum said, exasperated. “The gravity generators are based on physics centuries, no, millennia ahead of my own understanding, and all the ship’s information on them is beyond my clearance. All I know is a bunch of 90-cubic meter black boxes somehow manipulate dark energy.”

MechRat’s eyes lit up as those last words escaped his lips. “Wait, that just might fit, would need a power supply, maybe the AKV’s reactor…” His gaze unfocused for a few minutes, and when he was back with them he had a smile that almost reached up to his ears. “If I can get access to a few specs, I might have a solution.”

As always, read ahead at https://www.patreon.com/Zarpaulus

And now you can read this story on Royal Road https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/51384/horizon-salvaged-heroes-furry-sci-fi-superheroes

[sanjuno]

sanjuno may i know what reborn says when confronted with a ninja who needs no training from him whatsoever instead of a hopeless loser oblivious of his heritage

Reborn’s internal monologue is a repeating chorus “gonna kill Iemitsu” from the moment he hits Namimori county limits.

Here’s where it starts:

/.../

“Mama, I’m home!” Tsuna pried off his combat boots and pulled on the reinforced sandals the pack used in place of house slippers. “Mama? You wanted to talk to me?”

“Welcome home, Tsu-kun! Mama has wonderful news!” Nana was far too busy plating dinner to see the way her son grimaced and looked resigned. “Your Papa sent you a home tutor! Iemitsu says he’ll train you to be the leader of the next generation! All he needs is room to sleep and food. Ah, it’s so nice when a mother can relax and not worry about her no good son.”

“… What. Mama, my grades are fine. I don’t need a tutor.” Especially not one sent by That Man. Tsuna’s expression was mulish as his mother set the plates down on the table. “He’s probably just a scam artist anyway, you know That Man doesn’t bother himself with us. You should send him away when he gets here. If you’re that worried about my grades I can ask Hana-chan and the others for extra help.”

“Ara, but, Tsu-kun.” Nana blinked and put a third plate down on the dining table. “Mama can’t do that, he’s already here.”

Tsuna’s face went admirably blank and something wary flashed in his eyes. “What.”

That was as good a cue as any. Reborn stopped masking his presence and left his vantage point atop the fridge to take a seat at the table. “Caiossu. I am Reborn, the home tutor.”

“So that’s where you were! Reborn-san, this is my no good son Tsuna.” Nana sat down, her obviously civilian posture at odds with her son’s cautiously balanced-to-move hunch. “Tsu-kun, this is the home tutor Papa sent for you. Please, let’s all get along!”

Nana sparkled at them both before starting to eat, and Tsuna slowly followed her lead. Reborn watched with growing incredulity. Tsuna’s manners were strange. Not different from Nana’s simply… more defensive. Defensive in a way that recalled the violent history of clashing warlords and clans that had given rise to the proper manners of modern day Japan. Tsuna never held his chopsticks at an angle that would let an enemy blow drive the sticks into the back of a vulnerable throat. Bowls and cups were held around the side close to the top, so hot liquid would drop down rather than be splashed up into open eyes in the event of an attack. It made Reborn think the boy just might manage to survive long enough to become Vongola Decimo.

It also made Reborn want to go shoot that idiot Iemitsu in the face because the data file was useless. Not just incomplete. Not just misinterpreted. The information in the CEDEF file compiled on Sawada Tsunayoshi was wrong, full stop, on every important, vital point beyond the boy’s name and date of birth. There was no evidence of the ‘no good’ person described in the file, and no sign of Iemitsu’s ‘cute, shy little tuna-fishie’. Even the mother seemed to have been fooled, probably because she would be Iemitsu’s primary source of first hand information on the boy.

The boy was slight and small enough in stature to appeal on a visual level to the local bullies, but he was clothed in the military-field-dress inspired modified school uniform worn only by the members of the Namimori Peacekeeping and Disciplinary Committee. Reborn’s personal investigation into the town’s social constructs showed that the NPDC had overpowered and supplanted the local Yakuza groups three years earlier and showed no sign of relinquishing control any time soon. It was unfortunate that the NPDC distained rank patches of any sort, apparently the rank and file knew all of the higher officers in the organization by sight. Reborn would have liked some idea of what Tsuna’s position in the power structure was.

Dark eyes picked out two obvious weapon pouches and several more concealed pieces. The boy was well equipped and armed even by hitman standards. Throwing knives, shuriken, and several blades of varying lengths, a set of small bottles, wire, and low yield explosives. Reinforced gloves, three different weight sets of knuckledusters, and a sap. Interesting that the boy seemed to prefer fighting in close quarters, if not barehanded, considering his small size. According to the Namimori ordinance code, none of what Tsuna carried was considered illegal either. How interesting.

“Thank you for dinner, Mama.” The boy stood up, the silence in his movements made only more obvious next to his mother’s tendency to clatter around. “I’m going to talk to Reborn-san upstairs in my room, okay?”

“Do your best, Tsu-kun!” The boy said nothing else, just nodded at his mother while eyeing Reborn with clear suspicion before heading up the stairs.

Curious despite himself, Reborn followed. The boy was very obvious about his reluctance to give Reborn his back. Why was that? Reborn knew exactly how people saw his cursed form. Why would an infant make the boy wary?

The room was a mess, as expected of a thirteen-turning-fourteen year old boy. It was also a clever lie. Reborn looked around with a raised eyebrow. Games and manga and magazines scattered haphazardly, looking well used but lacking any touch of possession. Even latent as it was, Tsuna’s Flame should have left an impression on anything he considered his. Nothing in this room beyond what Tsuna was wearing felt like the boy. The room lacked any truly important personal possessions, proving the lie with a closer look.

‘This house is not the boy’s home.’ It was a troubling realization. Human instinct drove children to give their first loyalties to the parent that raised them, but Sawada Nana was not the one Sawada Tsunayoshi shared his home with. The boy’s loyalty lay elsewhere. Reborn needed to know where.

“So… that man sent you here, ne?” The boy scowled. “I don’t know what was said, but I don’t need anything further from that man. He’s done enough damage here, and I have no need for a tutor. As I told my mother earlier, my grades are fine.”

“That’s just the cover story to explain my arrival. I’m really the World’s Greatest Hitman, Reborn.” Leon shifted into gun form and Reborn leveled the barrel at the boy’s face. “I was sent here by the Ninth Boss of the Vongola Crime Family to train you as a Mafia Boss.”

Tsuna did not move from his seat, not even to flinch away from the gun. The boy’s jaw went tight, expression pained, and his mouth twisted. To Tsuna’s credit, the boy made no attempt to refute Reborn’s statements. “… This is all that man’s fault.”

Amused despite himself, Reborn put Leon back on his hat and pulled out the family tree he had prepared as proof, along with the autopsy photos for the previous three heirs and started Tsuna’s first lesson. This boy just might be worth Reborn’s time.

/.../

See what this poor Home Tutor has to put up with? *shakes head*

[beepboops2]

if Sombra/McCree were to pass away, what would be the one thing that belong to the other that they would keep no matter what?

I don’t wanna think about this!!! ....but I’ll still answer. :‘(It’s hard for me to imagine that they’d keep only ONE thing that belonged to/reminded them of their beloved, but for Sombra, it’s easy: four things in particular: Peacekeeper, his usual belt and buckle, his hat, and his sarape. If she had to boil down to what was most precious to her, it’d be the sarape, because he wore it so often and it has his scent. Holding it close to her can help her feel like she’s close to him again, even for a moment.For McCree, it’s harder to retain things as a reminder, as Sombra doesn’t really have many sentimental or tangible things so his boils down to 2: one would be something that Sombra more than likely made him, a data drive that contained pictures/videos/audio files of moments between them that were dear to her heart. And the most obvious thing being Arturito. But just seeing the bear can lead McCree into deep bouts of depression, so the little bear remains in a box somewhere - safe from wear/tear and out of sight.

[downthetubes]

Forbidden Planet "Death's Head" Mega Signing Announced

Forbidden Planet “Death’s Head” Mega Signing Announced

Marking Marvel’s publication of their new Death’s Head: Freelance Peacekeeping Agent collection, the Forbidden Planet Megastore in London have arranged a mega signing event on on Saturday 29th February from 1 – 2.00pm.

Signing at the event will be Death’s Head creators Simon Furman and Geoff Senior, currently working together on GetMyComics To the Death title; plus artists John Higgins, Bryan…