#and then I went in search of other memories only to find massive chunks of void that only appear when looking for specific things

[songsofsoot]

Damn, here I was thinking “eh we don’t really have amnesia” then someone else goes “well yesterday’s shopping went well. Got you those pants that you wanted. Made sure they were good fabric feel too.”

Chat, I think we’ve got the amnesia.

[tallstars-rewrite]

Chapter 32

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A bright ginger tom padded confidently along the narrow fence, taking in the scents of the morning. Dawn was cloudy and gray, but there were small streaks of yellow and orange poking through the gloomy cover. It wouldn’t take long for them to dissipate and give way to scorching clear skies. Jake normally wouldn’t bother being awake so early, as his housefolk wouldn’t be up to feed him until well after sunrise, but this morning felt different. 

Jake had looped the neighborhood twice already looking for...something. He didn’t know what, but he figured he would know when he found it. So far everything was quiet. But he knew when his gut told him that it was a day for going out, he should listen. It had always been right so far--well, ok, it was right at least half the time, but that was a good enough ratio for Jake to take seriously. So, he kept his ears and nose open and searched for anything and everything slightly out of the ordinary.

A pretty gray molly bounded up onto the fence when he walked by her yard.

“Good morning Quince,” Jake greeted her. 

She purred and rubbed her cheek against his. “You're up early,” she purred in a honey sweet voice. “Are you going to watch the sunrise with me after all?”

“Sorry, I was just going to walk by the woods today.”

She rolled her eyes “There’s nothing interesting in the woods! What do you want to go there for?”

“There’s plenty interesting in the woods! Don’t you remember that story I told you before?”

“Oh yes, yes, the monster cats. You’re still going on about that?”

“They’re not monster cats Quince! They’re called warriors.” Jake said indignantly. “Well don’t let Nutmeg hear you talking about it again, you know how worked up she gets about it.”

Jake knew his friends didn’t care as much for his stories of the wild cats that prowled in the woods and beyond. And they didn’t believe him about the one he’d met once either. Sometimes even he wondered if he was just manufacturing the memory of that cat. It felt like it had been an eternity since he lived on the farm at the edge of the moorland; the world around him sprawling in every direction, massive and wondrous if his legs had only been long enough to run it. It certainly felt a bit like a dream when he described it, especially to cats who had always lived in a smaller world where you couldn’t see very far without a house or tree in the way. 

Not that Jake didn’t like living with Cris and Dusty, he loved them both dearly. His housefolk had always been in his life, though he never really understood what made him suddenly want to take all of their things and leave the farmhouse behind. Jake was happy to go with him, but he couldn’t help wishing he’d had just a little bit longer at the barn near the moors. But as his mother always said, life for a cat simply goes on. Everything changes eventually. His paws would be swept in a new direction, with him simply carried along and adapting with it. Family goes separate ways, one day you only know a few fields and a shed, the next you’re whisked to somewhere completely strange, and so it went. It was bewildering, but also exciting in a way. 

Jake had lived in his new home here for moons  He’d explored every nearby inch, including the farther town, and got lost only a few times. It was nice, but it had started to grow a tad...monotonous. And, sure enough, there came an itch in his paws and a tug in his gut that insisted...maybe it’s time to get swept along again. He was restless with the waiting, so he made a point of following the impulse every time. Usually it led him places he wasn’t supposed to be, angering housefolk and strays as he went, but...maybe this time was different.

Jake’s friends didn’t really understand his fancies, but he still tried to goad them into joining him anyway.

“There are lots of birds in the woods this time of day, Quince,” Jake pressed. “You like watching birds don’t you?”

“I like watching birds from my garden, where it’s safe,” she replied, pointedly.

He had promised not to try exploring the woods because it made Quince and Nutmeg uneasy, but it was the only place he hadn’t checked yet. Quince continued giving him a hard look.

“I’m not going in or anything!” Jake insisted.

She narrowed her clear blue eyes a bit, clearly having doubts about that.

As they walked, eventually they heard a rustling below. Someone hissed up at them. Jake and Quince looked down to see a disheveled looking tortoiseshell who walked with a bit of a limp.

“Good morning Nutmeg!” Quince chirped. “You’re not hurting your leg more are you?”

“No, mom I’m not doing any jumping,” Nutmeg rolled her eyes. She carefully clambered up onto a stool, and then a table, to poke her head over the fence.

“You look more ruffled than usual. Anything different go by?” Jake asked.

 Nutmeg broke her leg some time ago tumbling off a roof. She’d gotten frightened by a large bird when she was trying to peek into a new neighbor's garden, but the accident hadn’t stopped her from keeping up her favorite hobby: spying on all of their neighbors. Keeping a defensive lookout, she called it. Or perhaps just being very very nosy.

“Listen, I squeezed through the fence into Tyr’s yard earlier,” Nutmeg said in a hushed urgent voice, “and there’s this dangerous cat walking around!”

“Is this like the dangerous cat that actually turned out to be a little lost terrier?” Jake asked.

“Shut up Jake, that was one time!” Nutmeg hissed. “And yes, I’m sure, Tyr saw it too! It was a big lanky freak all covered in blood. It had probably just killed, and I bet it would do it again! It tried to attack both of us, but we managed to get away. Tyr just left me to scramble down the ladder like the coward he is, and I almost bent my other hind leg in the process.”

“So you have been hurting your leg more,” Quince tutted. “You're never going to get rid of that limp at this rate.”

“Are you even listening? That dangerous cat is still out there! You should both go back to your gardens and get inside.”

Jake couldn’t hide the spark of excitement. This was certainly different.

 Nutmeg glared at him with flattened ears. “I know that look Jake, and don’t you dare even think about it. You can’t go messing with dangerous strays! Last time you did that you almost lost an ear to a mangy old brute.”

“We came to an understanding eventually,” Jake said simply. “I just surprised him is all.”

“Well this isn’t just any stray! This cat wasn’t normal, it was long and gangly and bony, and its claws were huge. A mistake of nature if ever I saw one! So whatever you're thinking, you’d better not.”

Jake blinked at her innocently. “I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

“He was just thinking of strolling by the woods.” Quince chirped.

“Tattle-tail,” he grumbled.

“No!” Nutmeg yowled, digging her claws into the fence in exasperation. “It was right by the woods where we saw it! Just go later! Or better, not at all! Do you have fluff in your brain?”

“It would be a better idea to go home, I think,” Quince said nervously. “I certainly don’t want to meet any aggressive strays.”

Jake sighed. “Alright, alright. Since everyone’s so worked up about it.”

“Thank you.” Nutmeg huffed, “Now get out of my garden, you're going to attract attention.”

Jake waved goodbye to both his friends as Quince quickly made her way back to her own house. He padded onward down the fence. His home was nearby, since he’d already made a full loop of the neighborhood. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to keep his promise about going inside. What kind of cat could Nutmeg have been talking about? She had a tendency to exaggerate, but she did seem very worked up. He could go to Tyr and ask him, but Tyr was...well, Jake didn’t want to call him “stuck up” because that would be rude, but he was sometimes... difficult to talk to. And more prone to exaggerating than even Nutmeg. Whatever this mystery was, he’d have to find clues himself.

Jake always believed his paws would take him where he needed to be even if the path there was bumpy, and that destiny was something that had funny and unexpected ways of finding you. Maybe it was an overly colorful way to look at life or even a little naive, he knew that, but Jake figured he would rather be a little naive then miserable and bored. And as he approached his garden, he became all the more certain his gut was right about today after all. 

A sharp scent hit the roof of his mouth and he opened his jaws to get a better taste. Was that...blood on the grass? Jake couldn’t help his curiosity. How could he possibly not follow it? So follow it he did, and to his surprise, the trail led him right into his own yard. Cris would still be asleep. Housefolk hated when Jake woke them up, but he would do it if he had to, in case there really was some sort of danger.

His other housemate, Dusty, had broken off a small bottom chunk of the wooden fence trying to dig his way out (and maybe Jake had encouraged it a bit), and it looked like someone else had squeezed their way through the hole. Slipping through after it, Jake could scarcely believe his eyes. 

There was a long, stretched out form sprawled out awkwardly in the freshly cut grass. Skinny, bloody, and scratched up badly. There was dark wet spots on the ground where it smelled like they'd been sick. It was certainly a cat by the looks of it, though for sure an odd looking one. They were rather big, with an impossibly long tail and the biggest ears Jake had ever seen. 

A series of memories came flooding to the surface of his mind. The sprawling moors, the scraggly border of the woods, a bewildered black and white face blinking down at him with eyes the most beautiful shade of orange and copper Jake had ever seen, like a brilliant setting sun. Memories from a different world that almost felt like dreams these days.

Jake sniffed the limp form. He was definitely passed out cold. It couldn’t really be him could it? It was too perfect a coincidence. It was absurd! And yet...Tallpaw was there. Of course, it all made sense now, that “lanky freak” couldn’t possibly be any cat else.

 And he was an absolute mess. 

“By all the stars!” Jake breathed “What happened to you?”

***

Nutmeg was the last to pull herself up onto Jake’s windowsill. 

“Be careful not to put weight on your leg,” Quince warned. Nutmeg huffed in annoyance for the mollys fussing. 

“Be quick! You won’t believe it,” Jake chirped. He could hardly keep the excitement out of his voice.

“I hope it’s good, because you’re right, so far I don’t believe it.” Tyr scoffed. Jake hadn’t actually invited him, but the pampered old tom had just invited himself as usual, and Jake was too nice to tell him to go away. The windowsill barely fit all four cats. Jake ignored Tyr’s comment and peered in, eyes bright with excitement.

“I’m telling you, it’s the same cat I talked about that I met when I was younger, I’d know those ears anywhere!”

Nutmeg narrowed her eyes. “And he’s in your house now because…?”

“Well, yesterday he passed out outside and I got Cris’s attention because I knew he would help any hurt cat, and then he took him away and brought him back, and now he’s in this room!”

“I cannot believe your housefolk just brought a strange stray into your house! Neither of you know if he’s dangerous. Jake, your housefolk’s head is as full of fluff as yours is,” Nutmeg exclaimed.

Jake turned up his nose. “He cares about everyone, I like that about him! Now wait here, I heard mumbling earlier, so I bet my friend is awake.”

Nutmeg’s short mottled fur stood on end “Wait, don’t go into that room! What are you thinking?”

“Everything’s perfectly under control, Nutmeg,” Jake assured her as he squeezed through the narrow gap in the open window. This window luckily never closed all the way and it was easy to shove a paw under and get open. Jake leaped down into the room and padded over to the carrier. It was covered in a shabby towel. 

Poking his head underneath the cloth, he said as gently as he could “Hey, how are ya feeling? Any better?”

A garbled growl was his response. Well he was sort of awake at least. The carrier suddenly shook violently. Alright, he was definitely awake. Jake scooted back as a long, clumsy white forepaw shot out between the bars and swiped blindly at the air. When the paw got tired and drooped onto the floor, Jake patted it gently with his own paw, and promptly dodged another swipe in response. 

He looked back at his bristling friends on the windowsill. “See, perfectly under control. He’ll feel better when he’s not stuck in that box. Hey Nutmeg, what was the trick you figured out about opening these carriers again?”

“I’m not telling you!” Nutmeg's growl was very high pitched. “You can’t let that thing out Jake, you don’t have any idea what you’re doing!”

“Maybe it would be best to be careful, Jake.” Quince agreed.

“Oh nevermind, I remember now.” Jake pawed at the silver lock. It had to slide in some direction...He batted at it, and the cat inside growled in alarm. “Don’t be afraid! I just have to paw at this until it moves.”

At last it slid, now if he could just get a claw around the door….

It turned out he didn’t have to, as a blur of black and white barreled into the door and it flung open, forcing Jake to spring back. A bristling ball of fur and bandages rocketed across the room until it tumbled into a pile of spare towels tossed on the floor. Cris was never very good at cleaning the house. He heard his friends on the window cry out in alarm, and Jake instinctively jumped back up on the tall windowsill, needing a bit of help from Quince to haul himself all the way up.

“There, everything’s fine,” Jake gasped. “Just want to give him a moment to calm down, being trapped in those little boxes is the worst.”

“That’s...really a genuine real life wild cat then?” Even Nutmeg sounded a bit amazed.

“Yep! He’s from the huge field I told you about, he’s the fastest cat who ever lived.”

“You don’t know that,” Tyr sniffed. He hated any cat that was more impressive than himself, with his “purebred bloodline” whatever that meant.

“I do so know it,” Jake argued, “They’re all really big, and they have a whole society with no housefolk to take food from. And we were friends, and he helped me get home when I was lost once!” 

An angry pair of blazing orange eyes glared at them, hissing as he tried to stand up, but wobbling badly on his feet and falling over soon after. The vet’s medicine had obviously not worn off as Tallpaw stumbled around the room. Jake heard Quince giggle.

“He’s really as noble as you described,” she purred.

“Be nice!” Jake said. “We all saw how bad Nutmeg was when she came back from the vet after her leg got hurt. They make your head all funny.”

Down below, Tallpaw had gotten frightened by a mirror, tried to claw it, hurt his paw and scampered awkwardly away. “Who’s there?” he slurred. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of anyone.” He smacked a stray piece of trash on the floor, but the noise it made when it clattered into the wall clearly startled him. He arched his back and snarled.

“He’s snarling at a piece of plastic.” Nutmeg said.

“He’s just confused, I’m sure I can calm him down.” Jake mewed.

Suddenly, Tallpaw whipped around at the sound of their voices and launched himself at them, attempting to leap up onto a shelf near the window. Nutmeg cried out in alarm. Tallpaw’s aim was unsurprisingly poor as he missed the high shelf and tumbled back to the ground. At last he lay still on the carpet, panting.

“W-well he is...something, isn’t he?” Quince stuttered.

Jake winced. “I’ll er...I’ll go see how he’s doing.”

“Wait, that is that same cat from yesterday, I know it!” Nutmeg called, claws digging anxiously into the old wood. “Jake, he’s dangerous and clearly insane, you can’t just walk up to strays like that!”.

“Well, I’m gonna,” Jake said over his shoulder. “I told you, I know him! His name is Tallpaw.”

“I thought its name was Tal.” Tyr muttered.

Tallpaw was breathing heavily on his side, clearly having exhausted himself from his drunken run around the room. Jake padded up and tentatively touched him on the side. Tallpaw’s head shot up, lurching back to his paws again and barring his teeth, but his gaze was blurry and unfocused. “Don’t sneak up’n me, intruder!” he slurred.

“Oh you're not on about that again, are you?” Jake laughed. “Come on Tallpaw, don’t you remember me? It’s me! It's Jake!”

“W-wh....Jake?” Tallpaw blinked at him blearily, as if he was trying to focus. He swayed back and forth on his paws like a tree in the wind.

“Yes, Jake. You're in my house.” Jake mewed slowly.

Tallpaw looked around again, his eyes focused on the three kittypets muttering to each other outside the window. “They’re laughing at me,” he growled. “I’m getting outside.”

 Before Jake could stop him, Tallpaw crouched and leapt straight at the window. Tyr yowled in fear and promptly fell off his perch. Of course, Tallpaw smacked hard into the glass and fell back down again with a loud thump that shook the windowpane, but obviously didn’t budge it. Nutmeg and Quince were bristling in surprise, but Quince was clearly trying very hard to suppress a giggle. 

Nutmeg was less amused. “What is wrong with that cat?” she hissed.

“It’s ok! It’s ok, no one is laughing at you!” Jake said quickly. 

Tallpaw covered his eyes and groaned.

Jake pressed his nose against his head. “It’s all ok, maybe just stay on the ground ‘til you're feeling a little less dizzy, yeah?”

Tallpaw’s sunset colored eyes widened again as he looked up. “Jake?” he wheezed, as if he’d only just seen him.

“That’s it!” Jake purred. The wild cat remembered after all.

 “But...but you got eaten by a monster. Where am I?”

Jake cocked his head in confusion. “Huh? I didn’t get eaten by anything, I just moved away.” 

“You’re not real. I’m dead, this is just part of the punishment...” Tallpaw moaned and flopped back down, burying his face in his paws.

Jake licked his head. “I’ll give you a moment to rest until your head clears.” 

“It’s so bright and loud,” Tallpaw mumbled. “I know buddy, here this will help.” Jake tugged the towel off the carrier and went to awkwardly drape it over the shaking WindClan cat. “There, if you can’t see it, it can’t hurt you.”

Tallpaw only groaned again, but eventually grew quiet and still. Jake looked sheepishly up at his friends while they stared in complete bafflement at the bundle beneath a towel.

Well alright, so this wasn’t the best of introductions. 

Eventually the others were shooed away, but they were obviously very hesitant. Jake couldn’t help being a bit frustrated. Sure there had been one or two times….or maybe several times where he assured his friends that he knew what he was doing, only to come home with new angry bite wounds from adventures gone awry, but couldn’t they give him the benefit of the doubt?

 The house cat sat contentedly next to the wild cat trapped in his house, who was still halfway hidden under a towel and making the occasional whimpering sound. Jake blinked fondly at him and sharpened his claws on the carpet to contain a burst of restless bubbling excitement. He had a feeling the next change in his life was about to start.

chapter list / previous / next

[amythedvdhoarder]

Planning for the Worst

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 8K

Summary: Bucky is currently hiding with you in Romania. When the bombing happens in Vienna your whole world threatens to crumble around you.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff and smut. 18+ only

Authors notes: Written for the wonderful @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ Birthday Celebration. I hope you have a had a lovely birthday week (because one day is never enough!). 

I was sent the lovely gif above (not mine) and this “I’m thinking maybe a bit of angst and affection. However short or long you want it ” I opted for long, my longest fic yet!

This kind of follows the plot of civil war but is obviously adapted to include the reader. I love feedback so please let me know what you think!

Here is my masterlist if you want to read any of my other Bucky one-shots!

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You looked at the newspaper in your hand. This had to be a terrible mistake. They were going to come for him, you just knew it. Throwing the newspaper down you turned on your heel and set off at a fast pace. It took a lot of effort for you to remain calm but you had to. Drawing any sort of attention now could be absolutely catastrophic. You pulled your phone and called the first of the two contacts you had on there. No answer. Then you called the second contact, the coffee shop, to let your boss you quit. As you approached the busy market you could hear the wail of multiple sirens in the distance. You tried to ignore the panic bubbling through your chest as you weaved through the people milling around, oblivious to the events going on around them. A tirade of curses was aimed in your direction after you accidently barged into someone. You didn’t even pause to apologise. All you could think about was getting to him. If you got back soon, then maybe you would have enough time to warn him. Enough time for both of you to run.

Bucky had told you the fragments of what he could remember from the last 70 years. You knew that he would never be safe, that you could never have a normal life together. You were a nobody, a nurse from New York with no family and no close friends. But Bucky was a different entity entirely. People would hunt him down for who he used to be, for what he used to be when HYDRA had controlled him. Although HYDRA had supposedly been destroyed, any sympathiser could be out to get him. Then there was Steve. The person who had finally snapped him out of the HYDRA brainwashing. His best friend. Steve would be searching for him for sure. For that reason, you never stayed in one place for too long, a couple of months tops. Finding temporary jobs in whatever city you lived in whilst Bucky kept a low profile. You had been in Romania for a month and a half now. Every day you checked the newspaper for anything that hinted at your discovery. For nearly two years on the run with Bucky, you had followed the same routine. Both of you always so careful and so vigilant, always one step ahead. Invisible. But all of that was about to change.

Bile rose in your throat as you turned the corner and approached your building. Ambulances were scattered all around the entrances and numerous bodies were being carried out on stretchers. You went up to the police officer by the door. “Hi, um I live here. What happened?” The officer gave a judgemental scan up and down your body. “Gas leak” You bit back the laugh at such a blatant lie. “Thanks, do you know when I will be able to get back into my flat?” The officer just shrugged and turned their back on you. As you walked away all you could do was hope that Bucky got out in time, that he was unharmed. Safe. You would swear on your own life that he hadn’t carried out the bombings he was accused of.  It was an impossibility. He had been with you on that day, here in Romania. But the frontpage of the newspapers this morning told a different story.

All you could do was wait, kill time until you could get back into the flat. Everything you needed was in there. Passports, money but more importantly you hoped some indication of what had happened to Bucky. A TV in the bar you were walking past flashed up an image of a familiar face. You stopped, turning to look at the screen fully, stomach falling at the sight in front of you. The broadcast flickered to a live feed. A man with a backpack on being forced to the ground, a troupe of armed police pointing their guns directly at him. You bit your hand to prevent you from crying out. Terror filled you as you watched the man you loved, hauled to his feet and all but dragged towards a waiting armoured vehicle. The only small consolation was there in the form of a man dressed in red, white and blue; Steve. The man known to the world as Captain America. Surely, he would know that his friend was innocent and protect him. But any glimmer of hope faded as you watched America’s most famous hero, being pushed into another armoured vehicle.

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

The next hour felt like 10. You paced back and forth outside your building waiting for the police to leave. All the while trying to decide exactly what you should do. You didn’t know where Bucky had been taken, or by what agency. You just knew was that you were the only one who could help prove his innocence. Which was exactly what you were going to try and do. Your thoughts were running wild with the ideas of what they could be doing to Bucky and the fear and anger he must be feeling. Those two emotions were a bad combination for anyone but with Bucky it was 100 times worse. When he didn’t feel like he was fully in control the darkness did take over he would shut down. You had witnessed this countless times when he would just sit in the corner of the room for hours, stoic and trancelike.

Over time you had learnt how best to handle moments like these. Learning never to approach him or touch him. Not because you were scared of him but because he was scared that he could snap and hurt you. Instead you would talk, not necessarily to him, but the sound of your voice would help him escape the horrors cycling around in his head. Eventually when he was feeling more like himself, he would come and wrap his arms around you and just hold onto you. These episodes would usually end with you sat with his head in your lap just running your hand through his hair. It was times like these which Bucky appreciated how much you understood him. You never pressuring to explain what he was going through, gave him the space he needed.

Bucky began to open up to you and let him in. His memories were coming back slowly and as they did he tried to push you away. He was fully aware that he capable of killing you in a second. A trained assassin who wasn’t fully in command of their mind. The mere thought of that potential lapse of control had had led to many heated discussions. Bucky couldn’t understand why you were with him. He was a monster. A killer. Someone who many feared and those that didn’t, should.  He tried to get you to leave him so many times but you had refused. He loved you more than he could express but knew you deserved more. More than what he could offer which was at best a shell of the man he once was before HYDRA. But for some reason he couldn’t understand, you loved him.

His past, however, did hold some advantages. The assassin within him made him hyper-vigilant and his instincts had kept you both safe and undetected for so long. In preparation for being discovered Bucky had ensured you both had go bags stashed away and also briefed you on what to do if something happened to him. In this moment you were trying to draw on everything that Bucky had taught you. You watched as the policeman left before approaching your building again. As you walked up to your flat it was evident that there had been a massive fight. Railings were hanging off on some parts of the stairs, chunks missing from the wall and there were plenty of broken doors. One of which was your own.

Stepping through the doorway you gasped as you took in the extent of the damage. It was much worse than the rest of the building, your brain telling you instinctively that this was where the fight had broken out. The place was destroyed; the windows shattered, bullet holes littered over the ceilings and walls, furniture destroyed. One bit of the damage that didn’t surprise you was hole in the floor where Bucky’s go bag had been. Yours pulled out your own which was still hidden behind the old sturdy fridge. The final thing you had to do was get rid of your phone. You pulled it out of your pocket, along with the wallet containing the ID you had been using and left if on the counter, exactly as Bucky had instructed. It seemed a strange thing to do but it was part of the plan; people would be busy hunting down the woman from the photos on your ID. By the time they realised it was a stolen identity you would be long gone with a new look and a new name. You took a final glance and headed out of the door and out into the cool late afternoon breeze.

Now you were going to take a risk and deviate from Bucky’s carefully constructed plan. Before travelling to the designated rendezvous point you were going to take a detour. You could provide Bucky an alibi for the Vienna bombing. If you got to him now then maybe you wouldn’t have to stick to the original plan. As you walked to the bus stop you ran through what you had to do if this didn’t work. The clock was already ticking. If you didn’t get Bucky now then you would go to the safe house. If he didn’t show up within the 48-hour time frame then you would have to abandon him and go on the run again without him.

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

The bus you were sat on took you into the centre of Bucharest where Bucky was being held. As the buildings rushed past the windows you tried to keep focussed but your mind kept drifting to Bucky. Even before the bombing he was wanted by pretty much every nations intelligence services for crimes committed as the winter soldier. Bucky would never willingly provide information. You just prayed that the intelligence services wouldn’t just assume his guilt when he was uncooperative and defensive. No intelligence service would be above using torture to get what they wanted, especially when it came down to someone as infamous as the winter soldier. They would have to realise they had got the wrong person, hopefully before they started to interrogate Bucky in earnest.

Out of the window you could see a large crowd of people staring into the body of water. A quite ring of an alarm could be heard and news vans were pulling up in front of the building. Paramedics there treating people stood around the many ambulances. This couldn’t be unrelated so you pressed the stop button and quickly disembarked and wondered across the bridge towards the chaos. People in bloodied clothes were not trying to keep their voices down as they talked hurriedly about recent events. You walked with purpose, trying to blend in and pick up any useful information “I saw him. He looked so cold, so inhuman. It was like he was a robot. Killed all the guards on his way out.” It didn’t take you long to figure out who they were talking about. The winter soldier. It was worse than anything you could have imagined.

“Did you see what happened to him?” You pushed yourself into a group of women who were talking. They all turned to look at you. “Sorry, do we know you?” A blonde woman sent a challenging glare your way. “I work in the basement in IT” The lie fell easily from your lips as you sent a small back at her. She shrugged, seemingly believing you. “He went down into the river in a helicopter. Captain America went under as well. The divers are looking for them now. No sign yet.” You nodded before quickly saying goodbye to the women and headed away from the scene. They had told you everything you needed to know. Bucky was alive. He was with Steve. Steve would keep him safe until he was himself again. All you had to do know was get to cabin outside of the city and pray he would do the same. If he could still remember you.

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You rented a car under the guise of one of your fake identities, paying cash and providing a false address for insurance purposes. The poor girl at the company had no clue that the particular car you were borrowing was unlikely to be returned in one piece, if at all. The four-wheel drive was ideal for the long journey into the forests in the north of Romania. Hours later you were exhausted. The evening sky dimming as you hid the car at the end of a dirt track. The final distance was to be covered on foot taking you deeper into the forest. It was hard going; the thick undergrowth slowing you down and posing a constant challenge.

It was a journey you had hoped you never had to make. But as the small wooden hut, miles away from civilisation, came into view you allowed a sigh of relief to escape your lips. Bucky had really outdone himself this time. There was no way that anybody would find you. The building looked like it had been abandoned over 20 years ago. “It’s not exactly luxurious doll, even by our standards.” He certainly wasn’t kidding. After a brief tour you realised that it would be comfortable enough, it had the basics. Bucky had even left some rations. It was so off the beaten track that there was no chance of anyone stumbling across the place. You couldn’t help but wonder how Bucky had found it. Every time Bucky discovered a new safe house, the week following was filled with maps, questions and what if scenarios. It bordered on obsessive the way he quizzed and challenged you until he was satisfied. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. It wasn’t a normal activity for a couple but you didn’t care. If it meant being with Bucky, making him happy, then it was worth it.

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It was midday when you woke up. You had been that tired you hadn’t even bothered to take off your shoes as when you collapsed onto the mattress. As you sat up you were momentarily confused by your surroundings only for the events of the last 12 hours to sneak up on you triggering a groan of frustration. You glanced at your watch. Bucky had just over 30 hours to get here before you left. How likely was that? There was every possibility that the HYDRA brainwashing could still be determining his actions. The best you could hope for was when he was finally himself again, he remembered you enough to try and track you down. At this point there was nothing you could apart from sit and plan out your next move. Of course, you wanted Bucky to walk through the door, sweep you into his arms and end this nightmare but you had to plan for the worst. Bucky would hate for you not to follow the plan. It was one devised to keep you safe, which was his priority. He had tried to prepare you for this eventuality and there was no way you were going to let him down.

You spent the best part of the next 24 hours trying to figure out where to go next. Even though Bucky wasn’t there he had given you a head start by circling a couple of places on the map hidden in your bag. Scotland seemed like a sensible next step; you had plenty of money and the lack of a language barrier would certainly help. The evening was focused on changing your appearance. It had to be convincing enough to fool anyone looking for you but similar enough to the photo in your fake UK passport. You used the scissors you found in the rudimentary kitchen to cut your hair into a choppy bob, adding a fringe to add a little more anonymity. There was little else you could do apart from using some coffee to darken your hair. As you looked into the cracked mirror you shrugged, it wasn’t much but you definitely less recognisable. All that was left to do now was get some rest. Only 6 more hours to go.

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“Just 10 more minutes” you mumbled to yourself. You paced back and forth on the creaking floor of the hut. If you delayed your departure, even just a little, maybe he might show up. The idea of leaving and him showing up once you were gone was sickening. So, you waited for as long as you reasonably could. An hour later as the sun started to dip behind the trees you reluctantly gathered up your bag and made your way out of the hut. Immediately after you closed the door behind you, you got the sense that something wasn’t quite right.  Your eyes scanned the treeline in front of you and to your dismay something was moving. There wasn’t any time for you to find a place to hide. The sound of twigs snapping under foot was getting closer by the second.

Captain America stepped into the clearing and came closer the instantaneous sense of relief vanished as quickly as it had appeared. You shivered involuntarily as you saw the blood covering his face, the rips in his uniform. Worry and exhaustion evident in his eyes as he stepped closer. “Steve?” Your voice came out as a whisper but thankfully he seemed to have heard you. “Um hi, I’m sorry I don’t know who you are. I was given these coordinates by Bucky and I…” You stepped forward at cut him off “Where is he? Is he ok? Why isn’t he here?” You could feel the blood rushing through your head, your fists clenched around the straps of your bag. Steve’s frowned, his eyes studying you intently. “He’s on the jet.” He scratched the back of his neck “We were in a bit of a fight. He’ll be fine, just needs to rest. Left him sleeping.” Steve didn’t miss the way your eyes widened and then contracted to glare at him. He resisted the urge to chuckle at you, but he was a little scared of how you would react, he didn’t really want to piss you off more than you already were. “Why are we still stood here then?” Steve gestured to you to follow him “I’ll take you to him.” You followed him without a second thought. All you wanted was to see Bucky, to feel the warmth of his body next to yours.

For the next couple of minutes, the two of you walked in complete silence, Steve walking a couple of steps in front of you leading the way. He was even more impressive in person, even when he had clearly had the shit beaten out of him. Steve was slightly taller and wider than Bucky but you could see by the way he carried himself that he was less agile. All you knew was that whoever they had been fighting must have come off much worse than the super soldiers. “We’re nearly there. I’m really sorry, I still don’t know your name?” “Shit, sorry. I’m Y/N. You mentioned Bucky’s name and I kinda forgot about everything else.” Steve glanced over his shoulder and sent you a small smile. “I know the feeling, he has that effect on people.” A minute later, he suddenly stopped in front of you making you nearly collide with him. The jet was standing in a small clearing ahead. Steve placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and looked down at you softly. “I don’t want you to get too much of a shock. It looks worse than in is. I promise he’s going to be alright.” You bit your lip and nodded slowly, trusting the man you barely knew.

Bucky was resting again the side of the jet. You bit back a cry as your eyes swept over him. His face was covered in blood and despite his accelerated healing the swelling was gruesome. But your eyes were drawn to his left arm, or lack of arm. He was still sleeping as you knelt down in front of him. You removed the bag off your shoulders and opened it to fish out the first aid kit. Steve came and stood next to you. “I’m gonna fire her up. I’m taking him to Wakanda. King T’Challa has offered us sanctuary there. I can drop you somewhere on the way if you want?” Your attention remained on the box in your hand. “Thanks Steve, but I go where he goes.” You shot a quick look up at him. Steve just nodded before heading off to the front of the jet.

Sitting back on your calves your eyes scanned over the wounds on Bucky’s face again. Some of them were healing up already. All you needed to do was clean off the blood and clean then deeper gashes around his eyes and mouth. “Take a picture it’ll last longer.” Bucky’s voice sounded quieter than normal but the slight teasing tone told you he was ok. His blue eyes found yours and held them, no words were needed. Bucky winced slightly as he leaned to cup your cheek in his hand, his thumb tenderly wiping away the tears that had begun fall. Your hand went up to rest on his, holding him to you. “I thought I lost you.” The statement was barely audible. Bucky pulled his hand away from your face and held your hand in his. “Doll you don’t ever need to worry about that. I will always find my way back to you no matter what.” He pulled your hand up to his lips. “I love you Y/N.” You sat up on your knees and pushed a rogue bit of hair back off his face. “I love you Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky let you clean him up, his eyes glued to you the whole time. Once you were satisfied that his physical wounds had been properly seen to, you sat down next to him, your thigh brushing against his. You looked across him and saw his eyes flicking between you and the floor. Normally this kind of proximity was welcomed but you knew his was nervous. Scared that he could inflict damage with even the smallest of touches. “I know it’s a dumb question but how are you doing?” His jaw clenched and you could see him trying to construct an answer he thought you might want to hear. “Honestly Buck.” Your tone warm but demanded the truth. He rested his head against wall and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m alright physically. My arm doesn’t hurt but I just can’t trust myself, my mind. All it took was 10 words and I was gone, nothing but a brainwashed assassin.” He flinched as you placed you hand on his thigh, for an awful minute you thought he was going to pull away. Bucky took a deep breath before looking at you, his eyes expressing emotions he couldn’t vocalise. “You’re not a monster.” He opened his mouth to argue but you stopped him. “No. You listen to me. I love you. Yes, you have done bad things, but it wasn’t really you. You are a good man James, nothing could convince me otherwise.” He bit at his bottom lip and his eyebrows fused together. Hesitantly he lifted his arm up and placed it over your shoulder. You leaned into him and rested your head on his shoulder. “I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you Y/N.” Nestling further into him you shifted your arm so that it was draped around his abdomen, anchoring him to you. “You won’t hurt me. I trust you with my life.” Bucky didn’t want to argue with you so left it at that. He kissed the top of your head before resting his head on top of yours. After the events of the last couple of days he allowed himself to relax a little, watching as your eyes fluttered shut and your breathing deepened.

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Steve sidled over an hour later. He looked at his best friend and his girl. “She’s a good one Buck. Most would run but she seems pretty determined.” Bucky smiled. “Yeah I don’t deserve her.” Steve frowned. “How did you meet?” Steve lowered himself down against the opposite wall of the jet and tried to work some of the tension out of his shoulders. “Actually, I have you to thank for that.” Steve’s eyebrows raised in confusion and question. “The day I pulled you out of the river. I made it to the park and collapsed onto a bench.” Steve grimaced remembering the fight on the Helicarriers. “She was heading home from the shift from the hospital and found me. Insisted on taking me back to hers to patch me up. Wouldn’t take no for an answer and here we are.” Listening to his friend, Steve couldn’t help but feel sad and a little jealous. He didn’t know if he would feel the same love that Bucky did. Peggy’s funeral had been 3 days ago and the woman he had a crush turned out to be her niece, which made things a little more complicated. Now with the events of the last week cementing his criminal status, no woman in their right mind would go anywhere near him. Despite being apart for over 70 years, Bucky could still read Steve like a book. “Hey punk, you’ll find someone. If someone can love me after being brainwashed for years then I am certain that you will.” Steve gave a half-hearted smile before getting to his feet. “I’m gonna head back to the front, we must be getting close now.”

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“Doll, we’re here” Bucky lightly tightened his arm around your shoulder. The sunshine was streaming in through the open ramp making you squint as you tried to open your eyes. “You two ready for this?” Steve had appeared and was stood in front of you, hand holding the front of his belt, as he slipped back into Captain America mode. You glanced across to Bucky who was already looking at you, ready to answer the unspoken question. He nodded at you and you turned back to Steve. “Yeah, let’s do this”. Steve helped the pair of you to your feet and started to lead the way out onto the landing strip. Bucky stayed close to you, his fingers brushing against yours as you walked out into the heat.

The royal welcome party greeted you all warmly. Bucky was clearly nervous, his hand twined around yours and keeping you tucked against him. Steve was in a deep conversation with the King when a young girl introduced as Shuri approached you and Bucky. “I can fix you. It would be easy. Well for me anyway.” You felt Bucky shift awkwardly next to you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Uh thanks, but I don’t have the rest of my arm.” The princess laughed. “I could manufacture you a new arm with my eyes closed but that wasn’t what I was talking about. I’m talking about the stuff in your head.” Steve diverted his attention to the conversation immediately. Bucky’s mouth was hung open in shock. “What do you mean?” You voice shaking slightly as you asked the question Bucky couldn’t. Shuri rolled her eyes. “The brain is like a computer, it’s just a case of reprogramming.”  Bucky tried to suppress the hope currently rising within him. “Your saying you get out what HYDRA put into my head?” Shuri grinned. “For sure, just need to take a look in there.” She pointed to his head. Bucky’s face fell, the last thing he wanted was someone else poking around in his head. “My sister is very capable Sergeant Barnes. Take some time to think it through. You are welcome to stay as long as you want. All of you.” The King looked at you and smiled.

In the evening after washing away the events of the last few days, you walked into the living room of the suite to find Steve and Bucky huddled together talking in quiet voices. Shuri had shown them around her labs before they were taken to their rooms. She had you convinced in an instant that she could cure Bucky. You had watched the cogs turn in Bucky’s mind as he considered what was being offered to him as Shuri removed the last parts of his metal arm. It wasn’t your decision to make but you were determined to support him whichever way. The two super soldiers stopped their whispering as you walked closer to them, Bucky sitting up and looking at smiling softly at you. “Hey doll, how you feeling?” You took the seat next to him. “I’m alright just a bit tired.” Steve watched the interaction between the two of you. He knew the conversation that needed to happen, wouldn’t, if he stayed. Awkwardly he dragged himself up onto his feet and made his goodbyes, leaving you and Bucky in silence.

His bottom lip was nipped between his teeth, a sizable distance between you on the sofa. His face was set, his eyes cast down trying to mask the sadness. “You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you?” Bucky nodded still not raising his head. Moving yourself off the sofa you came to kneel in front of him, your hands resting on his knees. You tilted your head until your eyes found his. “It’s ok. Whatever you have decided it’s ok.” His hand landed on yours, fingers knitting together. “I’m going to let Shuri try. She came to see me whilst you were in the shower. I think she can fix me, it shouldn’t take her long but …” His eyes closed briefly as he tried to find the right words. “I don’t trust myself. Not whilst this stuff is in my mind still. I’m going to into cryo again.” Your free hand ran up and down his calf. “Hey, look at me Buck.” Hesitantly he met your gaze, clearly worried about your reaction. “It’s alright, I’m proud of you. It was always your decision to make, I’ll still be here when you wake up again.” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t be like this. You deserve someone unbroken, who can give you the life you deserve.” You pulled your hand from his and sat back, your hand running through your hair, a frustrated groan living your lips. “So, we are back to this again. I decide what kind of life I want to have, not you. I choose you. Do you think I would have followed you around the world if I didn’t? When are you going to accept that you’re stuck with me Bucky? What do I have to do to convince you?” Hot tears ran down your cheeks, your lips pressed into a tight line trying to remain as composed as you could. “I’m sorry” His voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N, I’m sorry.” Bucky repeated those words like a mantra. Over and over again, his head hidden under his hand, rocking back and forth slightly. The sight of him in such a state made you feel guilty. The last couple of days clearly had taken their toll on him both physically and emotionally. You perched on the arm of the sofa and manoeuvred Bucky so that his head was resting against your chest, hand carding through his dark brown locks. “Hey, you’re alright. I’m here.” His arm circled your waist, clinging to you. “I’m sorry” he repeated. “I know. Me too.”

Both of you sat like that for a while. Bucky not wanting to let you go anytime soon, pulled you off the arm of the sofa and onto his lap. “When?” The single word loaded with an enormous weight. “Tomorrow.” You felt your heart sink, you had only just got him back and you were going to lose him. Yes, it wasn’t permanent and it was for his own good, but the couple of days you had been apart had made you realise that your life had little meaning without him.  Bucky sensed the disappointment in you. “It’s not for long. Just think that after, we could have a normal life?” You nodded against his shoulder not trusting your voice.

Steve joined both of you later for dinner. Bucky and Steve chatted animatedly, reminiscing about their childhood. It was as if they had never been apart the way they teased each other, laughing and joking as they recalled stories.  All of you kept the conversation light and avoided talking about anything too serious. Steve enquired about your life before meeting Bucky so you gave him a history of your childhood and life in New York. He listened intently and commented on how much New York had changed since they were kids. Time slipped away from you all and before you knew it, it was midnight. Steve headed off to his room, promising to join you tomorrow morning before heading down to Shuri’s lab.  

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You watched Bucky come out of the bathroom, his boxers hanging low in his hips. A smattering of blue and purple bruises still evident across his toned torso. He climbed into the bed next to you, leaving space between you. Taking the initiative you shuffled over towards him. You kissed the scars on his shoulder where his arm had been joined, then moved your mouth over his body pressing your lips to every bruise you could see. “Doll, I can’t.” From where you were now straddling his hips, you looked up at him through your lashes and murmured between kisses. “Can’t or won’t?” The hardness you could feel forming below gave you the answer. Bucky closed his eyes and slammed his head back into the pillow. “I trust you. Let me take care of you.” You sat up, your hips naturally grinding against his with the movement.  He groaned at the sensation, his eyes fluttering open. He sat up slowly, his eyes searching yours for any doubt or worries. He didn’t find any. You leaned forwards crashing your lips into his. Your tongue flicked across his lips and they parted instantly allowing you access, the kiss becoming more heated instantly. Tongues battling with one another, making both of you moan into each other’s mouths. Bucky missed his metal arm as he could hold you tightly against him like he wanted to, instead he had to settle for pressing his hand on your lower back, pushing you to him. Your hips wiggled at his touch creating a delicious friction. Bucky moved his mouth from yours and trailed kisses along you jaw before travelling down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin as he went. One of your hands held onto the back of his neck acting as an anchor whilst the other trailed along the muscles of his back, nails dragging, leaving faint red lines in their wake.

“Doll, your shirt”. You leaned back and pulled your top off. Bucky’s mouth instantly made its way to your breasts. His tongue flicked over your hardened nipples, before taking one into his mouth. You threw your head back and gasped as he bit down gently before withdrawing, licking and kissing the sensitive skin and then repeating the process on the other. Whilst Bucky’s attention was directed at your chest you moved your hand down between you and under the band of his boxers. As your hand grasped his hardened length, Bucky released a growl. Your fingertips glided over his most sensitive part, making his buck up into your hand. “Doll” he gasped as your hand moved and twisted along his length. “Y/N” His voice strained as he tried to remain in control. You removed your hand and pushed Bucky back onto the bed. Standing up, you quickly removed your dampened underwear. Bucky started to pull his off but was struggling, you stepped closer to him and helped ease them off his body. You sucked in a breath at the sight in front of you. Bucky shifted his hips; your eyes tracked the movement and you heard him chuckle. “Come on doll, the anticipation is killing me here.” A devious smile formed on your lips. “I promised to take care of you.” You straddled his hips once again, rocking back a couple of times, covering him with your wetness. “But I’m going to make you wait.”

Bucky bit back a moan as you skated your hand down your body, tracing the curves of your breasts before guiding it lower to your core. He watched as your fingers circled your clit, occasionally flicking over the sensitive nub.  He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He watched as your head tilted back and your eyes fluttered close as you brought yourself nearer to the edge. The sight along with your cries of pleasure nearly made him come prematurely like an excited teenager. The movements quickened and your breath became ragged as you neared your climax. Your free hand massaged your breasts and Bucky placed his hand on the other, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. Your orgasm tore through your body, one hand keeping the pressure on your clit the other falling to Bucky’s chest to hold yourself up.

Bucky’s cock was throbbing now, the show you had just given him had whipped him up into a frenzy. His hand squeezed your thigh urging you to do something. Taking the hint, you took him in your hand and guided him easily into your heat. Both of you gasping as you sank down until he was fully seated. You stayed still for a couple of seconds getting comfortable with the stretch. Bucky moved his hand to your hips as you started to rock back and forth. “Jesus doll” he panted, already so worked up from before he had to try and calm himself down. His eyes locked onto yours. You leaned down, placing your hands either side of Bucky’s face, lips colliding once again. Your hips quickened the pace as Bucky began to thrust up into you. The knot in your stomach was tightening once again, you gasped into Bucky’s mouth as he began to thrust harder and faster into you. Suddenly he pulled out of you completely and you whimpered at the loss. He repositioned you so that you were on all fours and he was knelt behind you. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but was the best he could do whilst missing an arm. He pushed himself back into you and set a punishing pace, his hand gripped your shoulder as he pulled you to meet his thrusts. You screamed as you once again neared the edge. “Doll, touch yourself. Please.” The desperation in his voice made you obey immediately. Your fingers circled your swollen clit, your walls starting to flutter. Pleasure overtook your body and you fought to keep yourself upright as your legs began to tremble. You shouted out Bucky’s name as you reached your high. As your walls clamped and pulsated around him, his thrusts became sloppier. He chanted your name before releasing himself inside you with a grunt. After a final few thrusts he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled your flat against his chest, lowering you down onto the bed.

Both of you were covered in a film of sweat, panting as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky placed tender kisses to your shoulder before nuzzling against your neck. “I love you Buck” you whispered as your eyes began to close from exhaustion. “I love you too Y/N.” Bucky wasn’t sure if you heard him or not as he heard your breathing change and drift off to sleep, not even bothering to untangle yourself from him. Carefully as not to wake you he removed himself from you and awkwardly got himself out of bed. You didn’t stir as he cleaned you up or has he curled up behind you. For the first time this week Bucky allowed himself to fall asleep.

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The mood in the morning was sombre. Even Steve had an air of sadness to him when he arrived for breakfast. None of you spoke, just occasionally sending a half-hearted smile at one another. An hour later the three of you headed down to the lab. Bucky held your hand tightly the whole way there and was reluctant to let to when King T’Challa offered his hand to shake. “Sergeant Barnes, are you sure about this?” Bucky seemed to doubt his decision for a second but then he looked at Steve and then at you. “Yes.” His eyes never left yours as he replied. “Let’s just get this over with.” King T’Challa patted him on his shoulder and nodded his approval. “I’ll give you all a minute.” Both himself and Shuri stepped out of the room leaving just you, Steve and Bucky. “I’m proud of you Buck.” Steve gave Bucky a bear hug. Bucky leaned in and whispered something inaudible in Steve’s ear to which Steve nodded before they broke apart. Your bottom lip was trembling as Bucky stepped closer to you. “Doll, please don’t cry. If you cry I want be able to go through with this.” You nodded before burying your head into his chest, arms clinging to him. He kissed the top of your head delicately. You tilted your head up to his and kissed him. It wasn’t a heated kiss but it was filled with everything you wanted to say. The door opened and Bucky prised himself from you.

You watched as Shuri closed the door to the cryogenic chamber. Bucky’s face was still visible from inside. He looked directly at you and mouthed “I love you.” You smiled back at him “I love you too.” Shuri turned on the machine, the sound of the cold air being pumped into the chamber. As your knees began to buckle a strong pair of arms circled you and held you upright. The tears that had been threatening falling cascading down your cheeks. Steve held onto you tightly, already keeping the promise he had made to his best friend moments ago. When Steve finally released you, you glanced back to look at Bucky. A fresh wave of tears formed but you took comfort from how peaceful he looked, as if he could be sleeping. You didn’t want to leave him but couldn’t find it within you to fight Steve as he led you away.

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The next three months flew by. The civil war in Wakanda had started and ended with little warning. Instead of leaving, when it was suggested by Shuri, you had immediately offered your services as a nurse and helped tend to the wounded and even doubled up as her lab assistant during emergencies. It was the least you could do really, the hospitality you had been shown during your stay was incredible. Steve had left to go and rescue Sam and the others from the Raft. He phoned you every now and again to check on the progress with Bucky but you got the sense that it was to check up on you too.

You were sat by the lake just by the hut T’Challa had provided for you when your thoughts were suddenly interrupted. “I told you I could fix him.” You turned to find Shuri strolling down the hill towards you. “You mean it’s done?” She grinned back at you. “Of course, it was simple really. We need to wake him up to be certain though but all of my analysis says it should have worked.” It was almost too good to be true. Shuri turned and started walking back up the hill. “Are you coming? I don’t think Sergeant Barnes will be happy if he wakes up and you’re not there.” You nearly tumble over in your rush to catch up with the Princess. The butterflies in your stomach making you feel sick.

Shuri switched off the machine and you watched nervously as Bucky’s eyes blinked open. She opened the door and you walked towards him. Shuri took his hand as he stepped out, a little unsteady on his feet. You placed your arm around his waist for support and helped Shuri lead him over to the bed and got him to sit on the side. “Y/N” his voice croaked. “Hi, I missed you.” You picked up his hand and held his palm to your cheek. For a couple of minutes, you just looked at one another, taking in every last detail.

“Sorry to interrupt. How are you feeling Sergeant Barnes?” You lowered Bucky’s hand but still held onto it. “Fine, just a little cold. Did it work?” Shuri nodded. “We won’t know until we try to say the words. I have them here I just need to get someone to read them whilst I scan your brain.” Bucky’s face fell slightly. “I’ll do it.” Shuri nodded but Bucky looked at you in horror. “Doll no. I don’t want you to seem me like that. Plus, you can’t speak any Russian.” You stepped back and looked at him dead on. “You wouldn’t hurt me, I trust you. And I can speak Russian.” He looked at you confused. “You talk in your sleep, I picked up a bit and then learnt a little every time you went away.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Ok let’s do this Sergeant Barnes.” Shuri said lightly.

Bucky continued to argue as Shuri attached the scanner to his head and scowled as she handed you the list. He insisted that you stand on the other side of the room which you agreed to. Shuri gave you the signal and you crossed your fingers as you said the first word.  You watched as Bucky scrunched up his face and gripped the edge of the bed but it didn’t seem to have much impact. The next 6 words passed in a similar vein, no reaction, not indication on the scanner of any abnormal activity. You paused briefly. “Come on Y/N keep going.” Bucky growled at you, eager to get this over with, wanting to get the disappointment out of the way. You said the last three words and studied Bucky. Shuri was smiling and raised her fist in the air in celebration. But Bucky didn’t seem wholly convinced. “Say them again Y/N but one after another.” You followed Bucky’s command, not taking your eyes off of him.

Bucky opened his eyes and saw you watching him nervously. He then turned to Shuri, not wanting to celebrate too early. “It’s official Sergeant Barnes, I’m a genius. No sign of electrical activity at the trigger words. I would say you are cured.” A grin spread across his face, his features losing every last bit of tension and worry. Shuri removed the scanner and left the room. You walked towards him, tears of happiness in your eyes. He pulled you so that you were standing in between his legs, your hands on his shoulders. “I love you Y/N.” Dipping your head down, you pressed your lips to his. “I love you too.” Bucky wiped the tears from your face with his thumb and rested your forehead against his. “I’m all yours doll. If you still want me.” You drew back from him to look into his blue eyes. “Always. Just as I am yours.” In that moment as you looked at the man you loved with your whole heart, you felt complete. Everything was exactly how it should be. Somehow you knew that you could take on any challenge the world might throw at you as long as you were together.  

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Book Reviews 3&4: Nancy Drew and the Lilac Inn by Carolyn Keene & Trixie Belden and the Secret of the Mansion by Julie Campbell Tatham

This review’s theme is girl detective books ! Audience age range: roughly 12 and up !

Just as Enid Blyton’s books made me fall in love with magical creatures and faraway lands, detective novels became an obsession during late primary school, with classic lead female characters Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden being my absolute favourites. My school had an extremely small and limited library, and the Nancy Drew books were one of the only decent series there- even with a great chunk of the collection missing. My mother introduced me to Trixie Belden, which she insisted was better than Nancy Drew, though I refused to listen to such a declaration at the time.

Now, though? My opinions have definitely changed.

Nostalgic review

Rating: ★★★★★

From memory, Nancy Drew is a clever, beautiful and well-off girl in her late teens, living with her lawyer father Carson Drew and her housekeeper Hannah Gruen, who has looked after Nancy since her mother’s passing when she was only three. I always enjoyed the dynamic between Nancy and her father, as it was similar to mine with my father, also a lawyer- Carson doesn’t step in unless Nancy needs his help, but he does assist in legal advice when necessary. I also loved Nancy’s friendship with the cousins Bess and George, and liked that her relationship with her ‘special friend’ Ned never got in the way of solving mysteries or hanging out with her friends (‘hanging out’ was practically code for sleuthing in these novels anyway). Overall, my memories of this series amount mostly to exciting searches for missing heiresses, finding beautiful jewels and battling crocodiles in Florida.

On the opposite side of the spectrum is Trixie Belden- rough-around-the-edges thirteen year-old from a poor family living with both her parents and three brothers. Where Nancy has a housekeeper, lives in an affluent suburban neighbourhood and never wants for money, Trixie lives on the outskirts of a small town, both her parents work, and she is constantly reminded of how important it is to work for money as they do not have much of it to spare on mindless things. Nancy is a fairly solitary character, often working alone unless her friends show up, and even then she does most of the legwork; Trixie is also the main sleuth in her series, but her best friend Honey is almost always at her side. While the mysteries were great, the warm friendships in Trixie Belden novels are what I remember best.

Regardless of whatever my thoughts may be after rereading books from these two series, I’ve never ceased referencing either of them and my love of the mystery genre still holds fast even now.

Nancy Drew and the Lilac Inn Review

Post-read: ★★

Synopsis: girl detective Nancy Drew is called to solve a series of odd goings on at her newly engaged friend Emily’s inn, in what seems to be an attempt to prevent Emily and her fiancé from opening. Disaster strikes when her aunt retrieves Emily’s inheritance of diamonds- Emily’s last hope to cover the costs of fixing up the inn- and they are swiftly stolen within the hour. Nancy vows to catch the thief and the intruder and save Emily’s inn from failure.

I struggled in choosing which Nancy Drew book to reread for this review, and after reading through multiple rankings lists I decided on the Lilac Inn because it ranked highly on every list. I now wish I had just gone with Crocodile Island anyway… at least there was something snappy about it. In between the bomb, the theft, the doppelganger, the underwater fake-shark, the kidnapping, the spear-gun attack- I think I’ve made my point. There’s far too much going on, and if it was well-written I would be okay with it, really I would, but it’s all so blandly articulated that half the time I had to reread just to make sure I’d read correctly what nonsense was occurring at any given time.

Straight out the gate, I just want to say how shocking the writing was- that’s shockingly bad, by the way. If I thought Enid Blyton’s work was stunted, well, this was far, far worse. Especially since it lacks the excuse of being written for young children. It was incredibly difficult to push through in the slower parts, and I must admit I basically skim-read the lead up parts to the action sequences (which were incredibly minimal compared to the gnashing crocodile teeth I longed for, but alas). Sadly for me, Bess (my old fave), George and Ned were not present at all, and I cannot remember if they had actually been introduced that early in the series because they are not mentioned once.

I did really like the concept of the story, and the element of Nancy having a creepy doppelganger posing as Nancy to cause mischief (she has several over the series) was fun, even more so that said doppelganger was an actual actress and quite ruthless in her attempts to steal Emily’s diamonds- I love a morally-corrupt pretty female villain as much as the next person, after all. There is a romance teased between Nancy and a young man staying at the inn, a young man who continuously seems to be in the same room as the diamond thief messing with Emily’s inn, but ultimately both never amount to anything. This hardly surprised me given the book is written in the thirties, and Ned and Nancy never do anything but attend dances together the entire series, but still, come on. He could’ve at least stolen the diamonds to add some spice to his useless appearances.

It’s possible that were a very talented scriptwriter to take this book and make it into a movie it could work out a lot better than it does on paper- provided the casting was done well. The sets would be interesting, and I think the creepiness of the ‘ghost’ in the orchard and the diving scenes would translate a lot better on camera. Normally I’m not one to nominate live actions of novels for no reason, but this thought kept recurring as I struggled to get through the writing.

Characters who aged well: Nancy is smart and weirdly good at everything (they don’t explain why she knows how to do all the things she does, but diving and freeing herself from bonds seems to be easy enough for her. Given male characters are always allowed to be perfect without training, I’ll allow it). For a female character written in the 30s she has plenty of agency and does not once rely on a man’s help to do anything, which is why I always enjoyed her books. Carson Drew also aged well- not present that often, but useful without being interfering, and his trust in his daughter is refreshing. As for the other main characters in the series… they didn’t even show up in this book so I can’t really comment on this.

Characters who aged badly: plot twist- I’m adding Nancy here too. She is a little too perfect, too polished, a common criticism by modern readers, though at the time of publication was her main selling point. Additionally, earlier editions of the series featured racist comments made by Nancy, although those have since been taken out. However, the publisher and creator of the first books was not a very pleasant person, so I find myself able to separate that from Nancy’s character.

Favourite scene/quote: ‘The article went on to tell that Nancy had just completed a course in advanced skin diving in the Muskoka River, and that she had finished first in total points in the twenty student group’.

I find this quote amusing because there is really no need for Nancy to be good at every single thing, and this is a good example of the many times throughout the series that Nancy is the ‘best’ at a very random activity that is often never mentioned again.

As for my favourite scene, though nothing interesting actually ends up happening in the orchard, I did like the eerie setting of Nancy dressing up as a ghost and chilling behind a tree for a while (okay it was partially eerie, mostly just oddly comedic). The actress/impostor posing as Nancy provided a few good scenes, too, but for the main villain of the story she was hardly in as many scenes as she should’ve been in.

After doing some research, I discovered something most interesting: Nancy was written with significantly more character by the original ghost-writer of the series, a woman named Mildred Wirt Benson, who wrote Nancy ‘embodying qualities that she wished she had’- but the publisher Edward Stratemeyer did not want a bold female character, and she was rewritten with similar dialogue but now accompanied with ‘dainty’ verbs to sweeten her words. Stratemeyer was also known for his beliefs that women belonged in the kitchen, and the only reason he created Nancy in the first place was to capitalise on young female readers who wanted their own equivalent of the Hardy Boys.

With all of this in mind, it’s very possible that the Nancy from my memories is a mix of the older and new editions, which allowed Nancy more personality as the series went on, no longer needing to confirm to the sexist expectations of the 1930s. And despite these origins, Nancy Drew aged quite well as an unintended feminist icon: she solves her mysteries alone and rarely needs Ned’s help at all; in fact, most of the time, Nancy is the one doing the saving. It’s nice to think that, almost one hundred years later, Mildred Wirt Benson’s version of Nancy is the one being kept alive, both on paper and onscreen.

Trixie Belden and the Secret of the Mansion Review

Post-read: ★★★★★

Synopsis: energetic teen Trixie Belden’s boring town of Sleepyside is turned upside down when a rich new family moves onto the property opposite her own, an old miser winds up in hospital and his empty mansion is suddenly inhabited by a runaway boy, and a missing fortune is waiting to be uncovered.

Whewww.

This was a massive breath of fresh air after the Lilac Inn! After being so unimpressed by both Blyton and Keene’s writing, Tatham’s writing restored my faith in my childhood judgement. Her words flowed well and the conversation between the characters was very natural. The blank slate characters in the Lilac Inn were showed up by the animated and multiple-dimensional characters in the Secret of the Mansion, and I never once felt the need to rush myself through the chapters.

Unlike my method of choosing a Nancy Drew book, I simply decided on reading the first Trixie book for this review. While I almost went for a later book where all the main characters had been introduced, I couldn’t remember how Trixie first met Honey and Jim, which I felt was pretty important to her character. I’m very glad I did. Even in the first book, Trixie endures so much character development (contrasting very strongly with Nancy’s flawless existence). Longing for a friend, Trixie takes herself up the hill to the newly habited mansion to introduce herself and her little brother Bobby, who she is babysitting to earn money to buy herself a horse. There she meets rich girl Honey Wheeler, a sickly and sheltered but sweet girl of the same age, whose parents pay little attention to her. Things fall into place with all the expected luck of a teen heroine- Honey’s governess is a lovely woman who wants Honey to befriend Trixie and offers to look after Bobby, and of course Honey’s stables are now filled with horses and a stable hand who can teach her to ride.

But for every easy thing comes an opportunity for Trixie to grow: she comes to admire Honey’s bravery after previously being irritated by her fear of trying outdoor activities; she ignores the stable hand’s orders not to ride the stallion and falls as a result, leading to her having to work to regain his trust and also being taught the valuable lesson to recognise her own limits; finally, as much as Trixie hates looking after little Bobby, when he is bitten by a snake Trixie is resourceful and quick on her feet in helping him, keeping him well enough until a doctor and other adults arrive.

Rather like the Lilac Inn, the mystery of the story centres on the hidden will to a supposed fortune of the elderly man who lived in the old mansion not far from Honey’s new home. On a whim, Trixie nags Honey into accompanying her to snoop around the building, leading to their discovery of the old man’s nephew Jim hiding there. By the end of the book, the girls have helped Jim to find the will and safely escape his abusive step-father. Later in the series, Jim is adopted by the Wheeler family, and also becomes Trixie’s primary love interest (I love that this relationship is not at all rushed either).

The reading level for the Trixie Belden series is listed as grade 3 and above, but I had no problems being completely involved and intrigued by the storyline and characters as a twenty-three year old. I think I’ll continue to read the series on my own time, as I always enjoyed the full character line-up developed after a few books in.

Characters who aged well: Trixie! If my praise during this review didn’t make clear enough, she’s a wonderful character with great development. Honey and Jim are also solid characters, and Bobby and Trixie’s parents are well-written too- supportive and kind, but realistic concerning raising Trixie to be a responsible kid. Also going to add that Trixie’s group of best friends- self-named the Bob-Whites of the Glen and consisting of her two older brothers Brian and Mart, Honey, Jim and the later additions of Dan and Di- have a strong presence and very distinct personalities when they show up in the later novels.

Characters who aged badly: nobody! All the side characters were well done, including the villain. He wasn’t over-the-top by any means, his abuse of Jim was both emotion and physical in a realistic manner that concerned the adults around him enough to comment on it without actually taking proper action to help him, as it often goes. I appreciated the author’s ability to write a male character the vulnerable one, to recognise what was wrong about the situation, and to gladly accept help from two girls younger than him.

Favourite scene/quote: “‘serves him right,’ Trixie said, wiping her grimy hands on her rolled-up blue jeans. ‘The mean old miser. You should have left him lying in the driveway, Dad.’”

An earlier quote in the book, this sets the tone for Trixie’s character: she’s messy, no-nonsense and cheeky. For a female character written in 1948 I found this quite amusing. There’s none of the internalised misogyny that often popped up in ‘tomboy’ characters of the time: Trixie just is what she is, and she’s great.

A standout scene would be Trixie sucking the venom from her brother’s snakebite to save him, and the chapters focused on the developing friendship with Honey and Jim while the two teach Trixie how to handle horses is also enjoyable.

Overall verdict:

My mother was right, Trixie Belden is far better than Nancy Drew in every category I can think of. I wish that the series had gained the popularity that Nancy Drew did, because it would make for a fun movie or television show. There is an eighteen year gap between the publication of the first novel from both series, and both heroines saw many more books written after that. Nancy Drew is so persistent, however, that multiple movies and even a recent CW show have been made, though it is not very accurate to the books at all. Even now, modern-day setting Nancy Drew mysteries are still being released under the Carolyn Keene pseudonym, showing her unending mythical status.

I still love Nancy, bad writing and all, but in all fairness, Miss Trixie deserves a cut of the nostalgic hype surrounding the girl-detective genre. I’d also like to bask in the poetic justice of Nancy not only remaining a more iconic character than the Hardy Boys, but also becoming more feminist as time goes on. I’m sure the publisher is rolling in his grave!

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Four

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Hey there my broskis! I figured I would start backing this up over here as well, cross-posting from my AO3. The chapters got somewhat restructured, so there may be some retreaded ground. Hopefully this will also give me a bit of incentive to actually finish this tale ;-;

Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Paladin Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, found himself incredibly nervous as he watched Backhand suit up for the first time. She gave him no real reason to be, of course, climbing into her power armor with veteran grace. She had forgone their jumpsuit in favor of her Vault suit so she was short a few of the securing clips, but it was her call. She did put on a hood though, stating that she wasn’t a fan of getting chunks of her hair ripped out by the helmet.

  Danse barely hid his grin at the way she shook herself all over once she was in the suit, metal clanking loudly as pieces fell into place. “What do you think, Knight Vega?” He asked cautiously.

  “I think I’m gonna’ have a lot of fun with this.” Backhand sounded like she was smiling.

  Proctor Ingram sighed. “Yeah yeah, just try not to fuck up your actuators. Damn kids and your Prydwen jumps.”

  Danse flipped his helmet and smoothly clicked it into place in his suit’s gorget, then blinked in confusion at the HUD. “Proctor, did you change the-”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry Danse. The yellow HUD makes me queasy.” Ingram apologized. Danse sighed, bringing up the internal options screen and readjusting the HUD color back to the warm amber he preferred. “Don’t be that way, Paladin, I have to look at a million of these helmets every day.”

  “What? How do you change the…oh, I got it.” Backhand paused, obviously fiddling with the HUD in her own suit. “ Purple .” She said firmly.

  Danse tried to mask his chuckle by clearing his throat, but the look Ingram shot him told him the attempt was unsuccessful. “Well, uh, I think it’s about time we begin our maneuvers.” He said hurriedly.

  “You two take as long as you need. Bring Brandis back safe. Backhand, remember what I told you.” Ingram said sternly, saluting the two of them.

  Backhand nodded solemnly, returning the salute. “Ad Victoriam, Proctor Ingram.” Danse saluted as well, curious about Ingram's mysterious statement.

  Maxson hadn’t cleared them for vertibird transport to a general location. Danse could see why to an extent, the elder probably needed all the aerial support he could get while they sent out scouts to find more clues about the Institute. The reason Maxson had given was...still logical, but a little different.

  “ With you on foot, there will be less warning for Brandis. ” Arthur had said in his briefing, arms behind his back as always. “ If he is alive, we don’t know what shape he’ll be in mentally. Use extreme caution. If you fear for your lives, do not hesitate to kill him .” He glared at Danse when he said that and Danse had swallowed hard.

  Do not hesitate. Do not hesitate like you did with Cutler, Paladin.

  Danse let Backhand set a pace she was comfortable with once they were on the ground and he followed her lead, the paladin silent as they marched. His thoughts churned and roiled, scratching to escape his head in a frenzy of uncertainty. He almost didn’t notice Backhand skipping , aside from how ridiculously loud her sabatons were on the remains of the road. “Knight Vega, what on earth .”

  “ Finally! I’ve been trying to ask you something for five minutes. Figured I would opt for a different approach.” She laughed, knuckling his shoulder with her gauntlet. “After we find Paladin Brandis, I have-”

  “ If we find Paladin Brandis.” Danse corrected her grimly.

  Backhand paused, tilting her head to the side. “Sir?”

  “I said, if we find Brandis. There’s no guarantee that he’s alive after all this time. It’s entirely possible that we’re simply on a remains retrieval detail.” Danse warned her.

  Backhand shook her head after a moment. “Paladin, you really think I don’t know that? Damn.” She grumbled. “You’d rather find him alive, right? That’s the hope?” Danse nodded reluctantly. Brandis was an incredibly skilled survivalist, a respected squadron leader and free thinker of the highest caliber. He would be a phenomenal asset to the Brotherhood if…

  If he was still alive.

  “I apologize for my pessimistic outlook.” Danse said after a moment. “I have not had…exceptional luck when it comes to search and rescue details.”

  “Hey, first time for everything.” He was almost positive that she was grinning at him under her helmet. “You’ve got me here. You can't say the homeland doesn't take care of their own; I’m practically the embodiment of a four-leaf clover.”

  “We can hope.” Danse murmured, half to himself. “You certainly came through previously.”

  “Maybe I’m your good luck charm.”

  The notion that he had outlived his men because of luck left a bitter taste in Danse’s mouth and he fell silent once more. She at least seemed to understand not to poke him and simply carried on down the road at an easily-managed pace.

  Danse couldn’t decide whether he personally wanted to find Brandis or not. On the one hand, of course he was a valuable asset. But on the other, Brandis had a penchant for… noticing things. Arthur had butted heads with the older man numerous times, usually over what Maxson labeled ‘ trivial issues ’.

  And Danse still hadn’t forgotten the nasty rumors he’d heard about the real reason for Recon Squadron Artemis being sent to scout the Commonwealth…

  “ Brandis overreaches, connects well with young recruits. The elder fears his influence. ”

  “ Brandis was sent to die and you know it! ”

  The atmosphere in the barracks had turned ugly fast when Arthur had dropped the tidbit that the Brotherhood lost contact with Squadron Artemis almost immediately upon their arrival in the Commonwealth.

  Aspirants got into shouting matches; several scuffles broke out. Danse ended up wading through the midst of a pitched fistfight, throwing one knight over his shoulder and pinning the other beneath his arm momentarily.

  “ This is behavior unbecoming of a soldier, knights! ” He had shouted over the ruckus. “ Stop the childish antics, use your brains and think! ” His voice carried in the cramped bunk room, and due to his massive height he was easily visible through the swirling hurricane of young men and women. “ Paladin Brandis would be ashamed of every one of you for losing sight of what is truly important in the Brotherhood! Your brothers and sisters are all you have in the world, you cannot set into them at the first sign of trouble! ”

  “ Elder Maxson wanted Paladin Brandis to die! ” One brave scribe cried. “ That’s why he sent him! ”

  “ He is the elder and you will show him the respect he deserves! ” Danse admonished the young man. “ I will not tolerate this insubordination! ”

  “ You’re only on his side because you’re fucking him! ” The knight over his shoulder yelled furiously, beating his fists against Danse’s shoulder blade.

  The entirety of the barracks went dead quiet and Danse was certain his face must have been an ungodly shade of purple from his insinuation. “ What did you just say, Knight? ”

  The young man slowed to a stop, and then suddenly burst into tears. Danse set him down on his feet and the knight stood in front of him, his shoulders hunched. “ I ap-pologize, Palad-d-din Danse sir. ” He had hiccupped, saluting him without looking up.

  “ Knight, you cannot lash out with harsh words or actions just because something isn’t going your way. ” Danse had known he was letting him off too easy, but the young knight was still weeping. “ You will go to Knight-Captain Cade in the morning. He is…far better at managing situations like these than I am. I fear I will do nothing but cause more damage. ”

  “ Paladin Danse, have they told you anything about Paladin Brandis? Anything at all? ” A tiny squire had piped up from the door, her hair already braided for sleep.

  Danse shook his head regretfully. “ All I know is what you’ve already been told. I have no other information at this time .”

  “ Will…will you tell us if you learn anything new? ” She had continued hesitantly, glancing up at the aspirant holding her hand for confirmation. Murmuring rippled through the crowd, all eyes on Danse as he stood there silent, stoic. The knight's words echoed in his mind over and over, on his side, on his side...

  “ You have my word as a Brotherhood paladin, Squire .”

  It had been a simple thing to promise then. Almost negligibly simple. Danse shook his head, trying to disperse the memories. This rumination would get him nowhere. Thank goodness he had Knight Vega with him, at least she could keep an eye out for threats while he wandered down his proverbial Memory Lane.

  Speaking of Knight Vega…

  Danse swung his head around, perplexed. She had just been here, it wasn’t exactly like she could sneak in all that plating. He spotted her finally as he came over the next rise in the road. She appeared to be speaking to a civilian, the ragged-looking man gesturing wildly off to the side.

  “…idea how many of them there are in the facility?” Backhand was asking.

  “Usually we only see three to five, b-but sometimes there’s loads more! Hounds too! Please, General, if you can spare the men, we really need your help.” The man begged.

  General? Danse thought with confusion. Why is he calling her General?

  “Currently, we’re focusing our efforts on rebuilding Fort Independence…er, I mean, the Castle. We have mobile cells but they are few and far between. I will send word that-” Backhand was cut off by the man shaking his head rapidly.

  “I knew it, I knew you would refuse! That’s how it always is! Say anything about super mutants and everyone pusses out!” The man shook his fist in Backhand’s impassive face. “I had hoped that you of all people would be able to help us, but I guess I was wrong.” He spat, “should have known better than to trust things would be alright with your group back on the playing field.”

  Danse had heard enough, practically stomping down the road towards the man yelling at his charge. “Civilian, I suggest you watch your tone.” He uttered the words curtly, his eyes narrowed behind his visor.

  The man huffed out a breath at him, obviously unimpressed. “So you have a bodyguard now, General?”

  “Hardly.” Backhand replied dryly.

  Danse got the feeling he had just been insulted, but he brushed it off. “Where is the nest of vermin?” He queried instead, making a considerable effort to try and keep his tone neutral. “You mentioned super mutants.”

  “They’re in Weston. The pre-war water treatment plant. Are… you’re going to help?” The man asked uncertainly.

  “There are other, more important matters that currently take priority, civilian. When we have the time, we will investigate. Now I would advise you to be on your way before I have to assist you in making the choice of departure.” Danse ordered, his laser rifle not quite at the ready, but high enough that to the untrained eye it would look like he was poised to strike.

  The man grumbled something under his breath and then announced, “I'd better see you later, General. Oberland would be a good spot to spiff up, y'know, but it's so close to Weston no one will touch it.”

  “Thank you, Rob. Hey, tell your wife I said hello. I hope your little one is doing well.” Backhand's face had gone strangely soft.

  For some reason, the man's shoulders relaxed. “She is, she's doing really good. Her mom is teachin' her everything that she knows. She's wicked smart for her age.” He bragged.

  “No doubt there. Take care of yourself, and tell people to steer clear until we can get to Weston.” Backhand gave the man a nod in reply to the tip of his hat. “Thanks for helping.” She said out of the corner of her mouth to Danse, who straightened up.

  “I don’t recall doing anything helpful, Knight Vega.” He was startled when she knocked her pauldron against his own in a playful gesture.

  “Rob loves to puff himself up and talk about how no one’s ever done anything for him ever. It’s harmless, but he’ll drag on for ages unless you nip it in the bud.” She grinned at him. “Thanks for going on the offensive and heading him off at the pass. Lots of people are like him out here. When the Minutemen disbanded, it meant that the simple people had to take the full load of raider assaults and super mutant attacks. Still plenty of distrust for me and my crew.”

  “Your ‘crew’?” Danse echoed, thoroughly confused. Why did he call her General? What is she talking about?

  Backhand just nodded, putting her helmet back on. “You want to take point? You were kind of spacing out back there, Paladin. Might help you get centered. Run down the list of objectives?” She suggested.

  “I must be worse than I thought if you noticed my thousand-yard stare.” Danse realized it was a sarcastic quip the second after the words left his mouth, and he felt horribly awkward.

  That is, until there was an undignified guffaw from the knight. She clunked her whole forearm against his own in a makeshift nudge, still snickering. “How incredibly rude of you, Paladin! I’ve got bad eyesight, but it’s still there. Kinda’. Didn’t need twenty-twenty to see that you were deep in thought.”

  “Knight Vega, I appreciate your attention to detail. And…” Danse hesitated, biting his lip. “And thank you for… humoring my wandering mind.”

  “I’m not humoring anything. You’ve been through a lot recently and you’ve had no breathing room at all. You’re allowed to have time to process.” When she put it like that ...

  Danse made a noise of acknowledgement. Backhand cleared her throat, stepping aside and letting him go ahead of her.

  …

  Do me a favor and try to limit his time on board this rustbucket, okay? I don't know what's going on and it's not my place to ask. But Danse is a good man and he shouldn't be getting jerked around, Elder or no.

  Ingram's words spurred Backhand to speak up. “Paladin Danse, sir?” When he turned to face her, she wished that he wasn’t wearing his helmet. “Sir, I meant what I said before.”

  “What?”

  “When I said I was available if you needed someone to talk to. I’m serious. It’ll all be off the record, just between us. The only person I report to is you.” Backhand said firmly.

  “And the elder.” Danse reminded her, his voice soft.

  “Nope.” Backhand grinned, trying to lighten his obviously bleak mood. “Just you. You might answer to the elder, but I don’t.”

  “That’s tantamount to treason, Knight.”

  “He’s not a sovereign , for--”

  “Elder Maxson’s orders are law in this chapter of the Brotherhood, Knight Vega.” Danse sounded like he was repeating the words from memory, clearly used to defending the young elder. “I suggest you cease your needlessly-flippant flouting of Brotherhood practices.”

  Backhand knew she was on thin ice. “Of course, sir. I apologize. Forgive me my misstep.” She saluted loosely. “My previous military experiences were a little more lax. When out on patrol we spoke to each other and our superiors as equals. It was common to poke fun at the higher-ups, as well.”

  “I wouldn’t begrudge you a joke or two, but not at the expense of the elder.” Danse replied tersely. “He works exceptionally hard to keep everything in line and running smoothly. I will not tolerate any disrespect towards him.”

  “Understood, Paladin.” Her suspicion only thickened at Danse’s rebuke. What is Maxson doing to him? Normally, soldiers gleefully took the opportunity to joke about their superiors. But Danse was acting like it was a cardinal sin to so much as tease about the young elder. No wonder Ingram had told her to take her time. Danse was obviously kept on an incredibly short leash. The longer he was away from Maxson, the better.

  They continued down the road in silence for nearly an hour before Danse finally sighed heavily. “Knight Vega, I must apologize again. You were not raised in the Brotherhood, it’s not as if you would know any better. My shortness of temper is unrelated to you.”

  “It’s okay. You’re worried about Brandis, right?” Backhand asked. “A little scared, a little hopeful?”

  “For being a relic of a bygone age, you are remarkably perceptive.” Backhand sputtered a little at being called a relic but Danse carried on gravely, “I am concerned about the state Brandis may be in when we reach him. If he is mentally compromised…dealing with a man who was Brotherhood but has lost his senses is not a task I take lightly.” He turned to her. “The younger recruits love Brandis. He was a father figure to a multitude of them.”

  “You promised them you would bring him back.” She realized. Danse didn’t reply immediately, instead focusing his attention to the road in front of them.

  “I could not feasibly promise anything.” He muttered, quiet enough that she was unsure if she was supposed to hear him. “It was not within my power to promise.”

  “But you did anyway. On that slim hope that Brandis was alive and in one piece.” Backhand’s heart ached as she thought of the paladin trying to decide what to tell a group of young recruits, a group of kids .

  “…Yes, Knight. I did.” Danse admitted after a long pause. “My motivations are irrelevant. I lied to children, because I…I cannot see the little ones as soldiers. They begged for news of Brandis and I had nothing to offer them except my word as a paladin.”

  “That’s okay.” Backhand said simply. “We’re going to find him.”

  “I suppose we are.” Danse sounded a little surprised. His shoulders straightened up. “One way or another.”

  The asphalt had dissolved into nothing a mile back, leaving the two of them to continue trekking through the wilderness on the remains of the flattened earth that was once a road. Backhand was used to the booby-trapped state of everything at this point, so she didn’t even bat an eyelash when she heard the warning beep of a landmine.

  Danse on the other hand stopped dead, helmet swinging rapidly back and forth as he tried to locate the mine before it went off. “Wait, Knight Vega-!” He began as she knelt, trailing off when he realized that she had deactivated the landmine. “Oh.”

  “Impromptu bomb squad.” Backhand replied by way of explanation, tucking the salvaged mine into her satchel. “I got pretty good at working in gauntlets.”

  His worry was touching all the same, the paladin letting out an awkward chuckle. “Hell, maybe you are lucky.” He shifted his weight nervously, pauldrons clattering in the relative stillness. “I should have known better than to think Brandis would make it easy. There’s a reason that old codger lived through everything.”

  “You can either think I'm lucky, or you can just attribute it to the Sarge's bandanna like I usually do.” Backhand grinned, flexing her fingers experimentally. “Keep your eyes open for more and point them out if you see ‘em. These gauntlets are way better than the ones in my old suit. The mines won’t know what hit them.” 

  “Affirmative, Knight Vega.”

  With both of them on guard, their progress was slowed somewhat. But they found three more mines thanks to their diligence, and Backhand carefully deactivated every one before the timer ran out. She was so focused on scanning the ground that she almost walked into Danse’s back when the paladin stopped in the middle of the path. “Danse?” Inwardly, she cursed herself for not addressing him properly.

  Danse didn’t even seem to notice though, his attention fixed on a bunker built into the side of the shallow valley they were in. “Recon bunker Theta…of course .” He hissed like he was talking to himself. “How could I have forgotten?”

  “Is this the place?” Backhand asked, peering over his shoulder warily. The armored man nodded, already striding towards the door of the bunker.

  “It must be.”

  …

  There was a terminal affixed to the outer concrete of the building and the paladin wasted little time painstakingly manipulating his huge gauntlets to press the correct keys on the keyboard. There was a loud clunk! when the lock on the door disengaged, but the door itself remained shut tight. Danse swore under his breath, firmly rapping his knuckles on the metal door. “Paladin Brandis!” He called. “Can you hear me, sir?”

  “Paladin Danse? Are you sure you should-” Backhand started to ask, sounding nervous.

  “ Quiet , Vega.” Danse ordered brusquely. To her credit, she immediately fell silent. He could still hear her shifting back and forth behind him though, and he wondered what on earth could have her so antsy. Surely it couldn’t be that she was worried about what Brandis might do? “ Paladin Brandis! If you’re in there-”

  “Uh, D-Danse, I don’t think you should be so loud.”

  “Vega, he will not hear me otherwise.” Danse, losing his limited patience, hammered his fist on the door. “ Brandis! ”

  He heard a flurry of motion behind the door. “Who’s out there? How did you get that keycode? Never mind, never mind, just go away! I’m not letting you in here!”

  Danse’s throat tightened at the elderly officer’s voice. “Paladin Brandis, sir! It’s me, Pal--"

  In his distress over finding Brandis, Danse had forgotten to be wary of his surroundings. Heavy footsteps shook the ground and Backhand’s cry of surprise was the only warning he had, the paladin halfway through turning around when he was thrown against the door of the bunker by a thunderous blow from a behemoth’s improvised club. His shoulder protested violently at the rough treatment but Danse shrugged off the pain. He was so used to getting pummeled by the inside of his armor, he practically anticipated the bruises. He raised his head and got a good eyeful of the ugly brute inches from his face.

  Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. There was a dull roaring in his ears, static pounding at his temples like a hammer while he stared at the creature and it stared right through him. Bloody spittle foamed around its mouth, eyes wide and pupils nothing but pinpricks. Nostrils flared to take in his scent.

  This thing was once human . Danse felt sick to his stomach.

  “ Paladin! ” Backhand yelled, firing a glancing shot off the beast’s shoulder that made it rear back. She was giving him time again, Danse realized dimly, his body refusing to cooperate as he remembered Dawes’ horrific death at the hands of a super mutant, remembered Cutler, Cutler like a punch to the face. And this mutant was a behemoth .

  His laser rifle, unnamed as of yet, shook in one slack, trembling hand.

  Backhand flanked the massive creature to end up back at his side, her pauldron clanking into his own. “Paladin!” She barked and Danse instantly straightened up, his grip snapping tight on his gun.

  “Ma’am!”

  “Attack the enemy, soldier!” She sounded almost like Krieg, all righteous authority and fury inches from detonation.

  An order, an order. Danse felt his body refocus on the here and now, banishing the horrific images of Dawes’ demise for later contemplation. “Yes ma’am!” He replied automatically, pulling the trigger and spraying laser shots into the behemoth’s massive chest. Backhand slung Righteous Authority back out of the way to dangle from its strap, her shotgun in her hands now. Danse was so used to the comparatively quiet report of laser weaponry that he actually flinched when she fired the shotgun. The drum-fed gun bolted to life at her touch, heavy slugs making the behemoth pause.

  “ Eat hot lead, freak! ” Backhand shouted over the weapon, her words punctuating her shots. Danse got the feeling that pairing her with a Fat Man would make her nigh unstoppable.

  Behind him, he heard something swing open. The door to the bunker! Brandis! “Knight Vega, maintain this position!” He demanded, not bothering to look back.

  “A paladin…?” Brandis’ voice had an unfamiliar tremor in it.

  “ Now , Vega!” Danse snapped.

  “Sir, yes sir!” Backhand replied quickly, sliding into place where he had been a second ago. Her power armor frame filled the doorway as well as his had, and Danse brandished his rifle. The behemoth brayed deafeningly loud, seeming perturbed that its prey refused to cooperate.

  “Not today, you giant freak!” Danse announced firmly.

  …

  Backhand had barely caught a glimpse of a worn face with an unkempt beard peering around the side of the doorway before she moved herself in front of the opening. She braced her shotgun against her plating and continued to hammer away at the behemoth, shell after shell ripping the creature’s thick hide.

  Danse kept up his own attack, a seemingly endless stream of mutant-related verbal abuse pouring from him in time with his laser shots. Backhand almost wished she could hear him clearer, certain that he was swearing a blue streak that could put Sergeant Cathan to shame.

  That club swept low, knocked Danse’s legs out from beneath him. The paladin landed on his back with a grunt of pain and the behemoth (in a surprising show of intelligence) picked up one of the nearby boulders and dropped it onto Danse’s chest. Danse gritted out an infuriated curse and started struggling to lift the boulder, actuators in his armor shrieking under the strain when the behemoth started pushing down on the rock. Clearly it was either trying to crack Danse’s armor or crush the paladin inside it.

  “Shut the door.” Backhand said calmly. There was the sound of fidgeting behind her. “It’s going to be alright. Just shut the door.”

  At the loud clunk! of the door closing, the behemoth looked up from Danse. Backhand barely had a moment to inhale before she was snatched up by a massive hand, the creature roaring triumphantly.

  “Knight Vega!” Danse shouted, the paladin still trying to shift the massive rock enough to get free.

  Backhand squirmed desperately in the beast’s grip, arms pinned to her sides and her shotgun pointed towards the ground. Well kid, you gave it a good try . She pumped her trigger out of desperation, not sure if she even had any shells left, and blew a hole through the behemoth’s foot. The gargantuan mutant howled in pain, flinging her through the air when it toppled over. She hit the ground hard enough to lose consciousness briefly, her head slamming against the inside of the helmet.

  When she blinked her eyes open again, all she could see was a power armor sabaton inches from her face. There was a muffled report to her right and super mutant skull fragments and brain tissue abruptly sprayed across her helmet visor. “ Tango down .” Danse snarled.

  “Jesus.” Backhand muttered, her gauntlet clanking loudly against her helmet. “What a hit.”

  “Are you injured, Knight?” Danse sounded like his teeth were clenched.

  “Blacked out for a second is all. You alright?”

  “That’s irrelevant. We need to see to Paladin Brandis.” Danse said sharply.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve heard my name.” Said a quivering voice. “I imagine I’m hallucinating at this point. Going mad from seclusion.”

  “It’s Danse, sir, Paladin Danse. Don’t you recognize me?” Danse asked, and Backhand was sure she wasn’t supposed to hear the uncertainty in his tone.

  Danse pulled her to her feet and she took in the sight of the elderly man in badly-worn combat armor across from them. He was studying Danse hard, his eyes widening when Danse unfastened his helmet and took it off. “ Danse? You…is it really you?” Brandis asked, his voice still shaking. “Oh my God, is it true?”

  “It’s me, sir.” Danse replied stiffly. “Knight Vega and I were tasked with reacquiring you. Elder Maxson-”

  “Maxson? It’s his fault that I’m even…my squadron…” Brandis’ words grew disjointed, choked with emotion.

  “ The elder believes that you are still a valuable asset to the war effort, Paladin Brandis.” If Danse had been stiff before, he was outright stony now.

  Brandis, entertainingly, waved off Danse’s chastising attitude. “Yes yes, praise be to the elder. I suppose it’s you two that I ought to be thanking, though. After all, you’re the ones who risked life and limb to come find me.”

  “It was Knight Vega’s first assignment as a member of the Brotherhood. She was honored beyond measure.”

  “I don’t suppose she can talk , can she?” Brandis asked dryly. Backhand decided that she liked Brandis. “Why all this trouble for me, though? And so suddenly? I’ve been sending distress signals for years , Danse.”

  “It was only through sheer luck and our acquisition of Knight Vega’s skillset that we even managed to signal the Brotherhood for support.” Danse replied curtly. “Over half of Recon Squad Gladius is dead, their lives claimed in the line of duty. Much like your own squadron.”

  “Oh, Danse.” Brandis said helplessly. “It’s such a heavy burden to carry. Their lives…and Astlin , I know you were so fond of her.”

  “She was a good soldier. Best marksman I ever knew.” Danse gritted out.

  “I’ll bet she was an even better friend.” Backhand said tentatively.

  “She died with honor.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” What the hell was going on? Danse sounded livid , the set of his shoulders visibly tense even through the power armor. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  “Danse, what does the Brotherhood even expect to get out of me? I’m too old, I’ve…I’ve been away for too long.” Brandis floundered.

  “Elder Max-”

  “ Fuck Arthur, Danse!” Brandis exploded. “I’m asking you . What do you believe that the Brotherhood can get out of me?”

  “Intimate knowledge of the Commonwealth.” Danse snapped. “You’re a survivor, Brandis, and your skills could be indispensable to our troops.”

  “There’s nothing I could teach that the locals couldn’t Danse, you and Maxson know that.”

  “Yes, and you’re not a filthy local. You’re Brotherhood.”

  “Am I?” Brandis mused, glancing towards Backhand. “And I’ll assume that Knight Vega is one of the so-called ‘ filthy locals ’?”

  Danse paused, his hand still up in the air in the beginning of an irritated gesture. Backhand barely kept her snort in check. “Knight Vega is a…special case.” He said finally.

  “Typical Brotherhood. You’re filthy, you’re garbage, you’re nothing . And then, you’re a special case if you’re useful. Sound familiar, Danse?” Brandis grumbled. “Sleep with one eye open, Vega. Maxson is a little boy in a much larger man’s battle coat.”

  “Paladin!” Danse barked. “There is no need for this insubordinate behavior in front of my ward!”

  Brandis drew himself up to his full height (which, next to Danse in full armor, wasn’t exactly intimidating ) and jabbed his index finger into the larger paladin’s breastplate. “Don’t you dare speak to me about insubordination, Danse.” He hissed, his green eyes snapping with fury. “My squadron is dead because of Arthur and you still want to play Lancelot?”

  “The Brotherhood will honor their memory.” Danse intoned dully.

  “I’ll honor your memory if you keep this up, you damn fool.” Brandis growled. “No, no , I won’t go back to that madman. Better that I stay in isolation.”

  “I’m relatively certain that you staying here isn’t an option.” Backhand interjected. “Look, if the elder is as tricky as you say, he’s not going to let you live out your days in peace. You’re Brotherhood, or you were once, and you know too much. It was the same with the army.” Danse looked horrified and Backhand hurried to finish, sure that her opening wouldn’t last. “You should be as close to him as possible, if anything. Make it more difficult for him to do something shady by keeping an eye on him.”

  “Knight Vega! ” Danse sputtered indignantly.

  But Brandis was nodding his head, looking intently at her. “Take that helmet off, Vega. I make it a point to know my allies.”

  “Yes sir.” Backhand undid the helm and pulled it over her head, tucking it under her arm as an afterthought. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  “You’re bleeding, Knight Vega.” Brandis pointed out after she saluted him and Danse fairly pounced on her, a huge finger looped through the pauldron on her shoulder jerking her around to face him. His gauntlet grazed her temple and she winced, grimacing when the metal returned brick-red.

  “Just a scrape. I’ll be fine.” She insisted.

  “I’m certain you will, Knight. How long have you been in Danse’s care?” Brandis asked genteelly.

  “Ah, about t…two, three days?” Backhand answered cautiously.

  “But Danse said that-”

  “Knight Vega did not immediately accept the offer. I imagine that our ranks did not strike her as particularly impressive.” Danse cut Brandis off, his tone incredibly bitter.

  “It wasn’t that. I had other obligations to deal with.” Backhand corrected him, trying to be gentle. “You guys were in a worse situation than most, but my responsibilities took me elsewhere.”

  “True, I did not…I apologize, Knight Vega. That was unnecessarily harsh of me.” Danse admitted after a second.

  “Be still my heart. You got him to apologize! Never thought I’d see the day.” Brandis said with a hint of faked bewilderment. Backhand decided to keep the fact that Danse had apologized to her three times in the same day to herself. “Alright Danse, I’ll return to that rustbucket . But only because Knight Vega makes an excellent point.”

  “Shall I signal us a vertibird?” Danse asked, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

  “ Ha! And let Maxson get the drop on me? No, no, it’ll be better for me to show up on foot, alone. Provided you two have been discreet, this place will still serve its purpose as a fallback point. I’ll meander for a few days and then make my way…hmm.” Brandis’ eyes rested on Backhand.

  “Can I loan you my suit for your journey if you won’t accept an escort?” Backhand offered, following his train of thought. “My combat armor is functional and on standby. May I loan him my power armor, Paladin Danse sir?” She knew she was spreading it on thick, but Danse was obviously a stickler for protocol. “He is a senior ranking officer, and I…I mean if I’m with you, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” It couldn’t hurt to flatter him a bit.

  Danse’s face pinked up endearingly and he cleared his throat. “I don’t see why not. If you hope to arrive safely Brandis, this is the least we can do. I would prefer, of course, to accompany you sir. But it’s your decision.”

  “How gracious of you to permit an old man his preferences.” Brandis replied dryly. Backhand couldn’t stifle her hiccup of laughter and Danse ‘ harrumph ’ed, obviously embarrassed by her behavior.

  “Knight Vega and I will busy ourselves with other tasks in the Commonwealth until you make your return to the Brotherhood, Paladin.” Danse said sternly. “You realize that my knight cannot return without her armor and empty-handed.”

  “Understood, Danse.”

  Backhand fought the excited leap in her chest at the way Danse referred to her as ‘his’ knight, choosing instead to extract herself from her power armor and start strapping on her heavy combat gear. It’s only because he’s sponsoring you. Don’t be ridiculous , she scolded herself while she donned her breastplate and greaves.

  “My thanks, Knight Vega. When you return, I’ll see that your armor is waiting in the bay for you.” Paladin Brandis promised, a heavy hand landing on her shoulder. “As well as a frazzled Maxson, if I play my cards right.” The old man grinned, his eyes still sad. “You two can help yourselves to anything in the bunker. I’ve collected some odds and ends over the years, so if you see something you need it’s yours.”

  “Much obliged, sir.” Backhand said gratefully, struggling to recall what Preston had asked her to pick up in her travels. Well, we can always use more aluminum ...

Part Five

[chain-unchained]

December 12 - Part 4

Guys this part is ridiculously long and I am so sorry. I never meant to drag this out for this long and I just wanted to get it done. It’s important to the plot but I will be glad to get back to soft fluff. Anyway, hope you can enjoy this long ass read!

The spirits must have been on their side that day, for the impact of the Slime didn’t kill them outright. There was time to cut them free, and then he could hopefully use a warp totem to get them all out before the mine came crashing down upon their heads.

‘Just stay calm. You’ve trained with Marlon, you can do this.’

He held his sword aloft before him, then dashed in and cleaved the slime in two. Thus divided, it split into two smaller but still large slimes—Sam and Abigail were trapped in one, Sebastian in the other.

From the split also came several much smaller blobs, which eagerly latched onto Ashe’s legs in their fervent attempts to hug him.  The more he cut the big one, the more smaller ones popped out and clung to him. In seconds, he had dozens of them weighing down his limbs; he couldn’t even move.

“No, please—let go!” He was begging, desperate, and he didn’t care. “Please!!!”

His friends were just one cut away from freedom, and they were just out of his reach. The quaking was unbelievable, and with the weight of the little slimes on his body he lost his balance and fell to his hands and knees.

And then came forth dozens of monsters from deeper within the mine; it was seconds that felt like minutes later that he was deafened by the sound of the ceiling and walls collapsing from where the monsters had fled.

A piece of the rocky walls dislodged and struck him on the back, knocking him flat down to the earth and pinning him there. The wind was knocked from his lungs, and his sword tumbled from his grip.

‘Is this it?’

It was impossible to get his breath back. The rock on his back crushed his chest more each time he tried. The larger slimes carrying his friends danced in a panic just out of his reach as more chunks of the walls and ceiling came crashing down around them.

‘I really just got us all killed by slimes... It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have ever brought them here with me.’ His head drooped, his cheek resting against the uncomfortably warm earth. For a brief moment, he could smell the forest. ‘I’m sorry guys… I’m sorry Shane... I'm sorry Mom… and Grandpa… Am I… gonna be reincarnated as a slime…?’

 ####

 The world had gone dark, but now was swimming back into view. A clinical white ceiling greeted Ashe as he forced his heavy eyes open; his eyelids felt bruised. Actually, his entire body felt like it was just one massive bruise.

‘I’m… at the clinic?’

Gingerly, he sat up and looked around. The other beds in the recovery room bore Sebastian, Sam, and Abigail—all breathing. All alive. He sighed, relieved.

“…and that’s how I found them. Just like that.”

He heard Marlon speaking beyond the curtain dividers, and could faintly make out his silhouette along with Maru’s through them. They both spoke in hushed voices; Marlon was as composed and calm as ever, while Maru seemed to be borderline panicking.

“Thank Yoba that you did!” She wrung her hands anxiously. “Of course this happens on the one day Harvey’s not here.”

“Strange, that. He’s not one to leave town.”

“I know. But there’s a seminar being held in Zuzu City that he said he couldn’t miss.” The wringing intensified.  “This is a worst-case scenario.”

“Were their injuries that severe?”

“No, somehow—bumps, cuts, scrapes, bruises, and Sebastian managed to break his foot. But I’m not—I’m only an assistant. I’m not qualified to administer any aid without Harvey present.”

“A bit late to worry about that now. Besides, you seemed to know what you were doing to me.”

“I mean—I have a basic understanding of first aid, but like I said, I’m not allowed to perform it without Harvey being here.”

Ashe’s shoulders slumped as he looked down at his lap. He’d gotten so many people involved in this mess. Gotten his friends hurt, and almost killed. Put Maru at risk of losing her job.

The curtains abruptly were tugged open, and he jumped a little.

“Oh—you’re awake!” Maru sounded relieved, though still anxious. “Thank Yoba. How do you feel?”

“Uh—f-fine,” he fibbed with a meek smile, “just fine.”

He looked to Marlon, and the smile faded. The old swordsman’s face was as stoic as it ever was, but he could see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Never thought you’d lose to a slime, of all things. I suppose there’s a first time for everything, though.”

Ouch. That stung.

Across from his bed, Sebastian began to stir, and Maru quickly rushed to her half-brother’s side. “Sebastian…?”

“Ugh…” He groaned and lightly pushed her face away. “Give me a little space, would you?”

“Oh, Sebastian!”

Without warning she flung her arms around him in a tight hug. “I was so scared! I thought you were going to die!”

“Fuck’s sake—why does everyone try to choke me—” He tried in vain to pry her off of him. “Why the hell do you care, anyway?”

“What do you mean, why do I care?!” She pulled back, an angry expression on her tearful face. “You’re my big brother, of course I’m going to care about what happens to you!”

A flicker of guilt flashed across Sebastian’s face, and he looked away. “… Half brother.”

“Oh my Y—like that matters! Geez! You could at least apologize for scaring me and mom half to death!”

“I didn’t ask you to worry ab—” He stopped mid sentence. “You told mom?”

“Well, yeah!” She curled into herself a bit. “I kinda panicked and… maybe called Jodi too. And Caroline.”

“Yoba damnit,” he rubbed his forehead, “it’s not Mom’s business what I do. It’s not any of our mom’s business.”

Maru poked her fingers together. “I know. Look, I’m sorry, but I just—panicked, like I said. Harvey’s not here, and I didn’t know what to do. Besides, they were going to find out eventually, and they’d be even more upset then.”

“Shit, our moms are gonna finish the job for the slimes.” Sam had been awake for a minute at that point, just lying there listening to things play out as he came to.

Same for Abigail, who pushed herself to sit. “Well, fat lot of good putting fake names in the logbook did,” she said in a deadpan voice. “It’s been nice knowing you guys. Any second now they’re going to come bursting in through the door.”

“Er, actually… they’re in the waiting room.”

“Great.” She looked to Sebastian and Sam. “Might as well get it over with.”

Looking somewhat apologetic, Maru stepped out to fetch their mothers. There was a heavy air hanging in the room. It was awful.

“… How did you know we were in trouble?” Ashe asked of Marlon, who was still standing off to the side.

“Rasmodius reached out to me. Apparently the Junimos asked him to help you, and he in turn asked me.”

To say it was surprising was an understatement. Ashe didn’t think that the little spirits cared all that much for him, especially not since he hadn’t done much to fulfill their requests yet—

Once again the curtains were yanked abruptly open. There stood Robin, and Jodi, and Caroline, all wearing the look of mother bears on the rampage in search of their cubs. Terrifying didn’t even begin to describe the aura radiating from them.

“What were you thinking—”

“You nearly got yourselves killed—”

“How many times have I told you how dangerous those mines are—”

Their voices all overlapped in their attempts to admonish their children. There was no doubt that they were relieved to see them alive and well—the fact that they were so incensed was proof of that.

The heavy ball of guilt weighing down Ashe’s stomach compelled him to speak above them. “It’s not their fault.” In that instant, all their heads snapped to look at him instead of their children, and memories of such reprimands by his own mother flashed in his minds’ eye. “It’s mine,” he continued, somehow managing to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. “I’m the one who brought them into the mines with me.”

“Wh—it is not your fault, Ashe,” Sam insisted emphatically.

Sebastian nodded. “We’re the ones who asked to come along.”

“And I’m the one who got us into that situation,” added Abigail. “You told us that it was dangerous.”

There was a long moment of silence—awkward, heavy, painful silence. It was broken by the sound of Harvey all but skidding into the recovery room, looking mightily disheveled and thoroughly winded.

“Dr. Harvey!” Maru was relieved, and quickly sought shelter behind him.

“Ladies—” Hastily he attempted to straighten his lopsided tie and glasses, “I understand that you are concerned for their wellbeing, but I cannot allow you to stress my patients out. Much less before I’ve been able to examine them myself.”

“How can you expect us to be calm about all of this?” Robin gestured angrily towards her son, who was lying there with a look that begged to be put out of his misery. “We’ve told them countless times how dangerous those mines are, and they still went in!”

Harvey chose his words carefully. “With all due respect… they may be your children, but they are no longer children. At some point, you have to allow them to make their own decisions. Even if they still live under your roof. If you don’t, then they will be pressured into doing things like this behind your back.” He cleared his throat. “Now, please. I need to be able to examine them myself. Maru, could you bring them back to the waiting room?”

His tone left no room for arguments, and they reluctantly followed Maru out of the recovery area and back to reception. The four in the beds were stunned.

“Uh… Thanks for sticking up for us like that,” Sam said as the doctor pulled his wheely stool over to Sebastian’s bed.

“Hm? Oh, there’s no need to thank me for that. I only did what I felt was in your best interests as my patients.” With a faint smile curling up the ends of his mustache Harvey started to examine Sebastian. “I only got a little bit of the story over the phone with Maru—what exactly happened?”

Ashe swallowed guiltily, and began to recount the misadventure to him before the others could. Harvey just listened and nodded his head, moving from examining Sebastian to setting his broken foot in a cast. For a mercy, it was a brief summary. “… and Marlon brought us here,” he finished in a soft voice, picking at the thin white blanket covering his legs. “That’s pretty much it.”

“Well,” Harvey scooted over to Sam, “we can thank Yoba that things weren’t any worse. They could very well have been.”

Ashe cast his eyes back down to his lap. “I’m sorry…”

           “I didn’t say it to guilt you.” He smiled again. “Rather the opposite; there’s no need to dwell on what might have been. You’re all alive and safe now, and that’s what matters. That being said,” he swiveled around to Abigail’s bed, “it might be a good idea to stay out of the mines for the time being.”

“That won’t be an issue.” Marlon finally spoke again. “There was a massive collapse in the lower levels. Joja will want to close the mines to the public indefinitely.”

“Well there we go then.”

After a minute, it was Ashe’s turn, and he sullenly allowed Harvey to give him a thorough once-over. All he’d wanted was to fix up the community center; he didn’t want to put anyone in danger.

‘But that’s not really true. What I really wanted was something to distract myself from thinking.’ The community center was just a means to an end, an excuse. And maybe, just maybe… maybe he’d hoped something like this would have happened. Maybe he’d really hoped that one of these times he wouldn’t end up coming out of the mines.

As soon as that thought came into his mind, he physically shook it away, earning himself quite a look from Harvey. ‘That’s not true! Not even a little! I’m only thinking like this because I feel so guilty.’ He looked down at his hands resting on his lap. Abby had been right; he couldn’t keep carrying on like this. It was tearing him apart.

After a few more minutes, Harvey was satisfied that Sebastian’s broken foot was the most severe injury among the four. He still needed to set the man up with a pair of crutches and show him how to use them, but was content to let the rest filter out of the recovery area and towards reception.

“Ugh, I’m not looking forward to getting home…” Sam’s voice dripped with dread. “Even if Mom listens to what Harvey said, it’s still gonna be awkward as hell. She’s probably gonna want me to pay for my bill.”

Abigail’s face fell at the thought. “Ugh, tell me about it. And we didn’t even get to bring back anything from the mines so we don’t have anything we can sell.”

Well, there was something that Ashe could do to start repairing the damage he’d caused. With the both of them lulling behind him, he pushed the swinging doors to reception open.

The mothers’ heads popped up at the sound, and the conversation they’d been having ceased at once. There was a sort of muted look on each of their faces, and Caroline and Jodi rose to give their kids what was a much-needed hug.

“Harvey’s helping Sebastian with crutches,” Ashe said to Robin, who had gone a bit pale when she saw that her son was not among them. “And, um… I’d like to pay for everyone’s medical bills.”

Surprise flickered across the faces of everyone in the room. He could see that Sam and Abby were opening their mouths to protest his offer, and so he hastily added, “It’s the least I can do.”

“Honey, the thought is appreciated,” Caroline put her hand on his shoulder, “but the bills are already taken care of. Just please, be more careful next time.” She turned to her daughter. “Let’s go, Abigail. We have a lot we need to talk about…”

One by one Ashe watched his friends file out of the clinic with their mothers. He did his best to put on a smile and wave them off; after all, they were able to leave on their own two feet (well, Sebastian on one). That was worth smiling about, wasn’t it?

“Are you gonna be okay?” Maru asked as he turned to pay for his own bill. “To walk home, I mean.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, still managing to smile, “I’ll be fine—”

No sooner had the door swung closed behind Jodi did it swing back open. “Ashe?” panted Shane, his face red from exertion and the cold of the evening air. He was still in his Joja uniform, which was disheveled from his haste to get to the clinic from the mart.

“Shane?” Ashe’s eyes widened in surprise as he turned to face him. They only widened further as the man strode forward and folded him into a gentle hug.

“Thank fuck…” he whispered in between breaths. He was shaking. “Maru made it sound like you were on your deathbed.”

“Oh, er—” Behind the counter, Maru fidgeted guiltily. “Sorry.”

A new lump formed in Ashe’s throat, taking the place of his voice so he couldn’t speak. It hit him in that moment just how differently things could have turned out, and how happy he was to see Shane again.

“I-I…” His chin quivered, and tears began to well up in his eyes as he brought his arms up to squeeze Shane back. “I-I’m sorry…!”

 ####

 It was a slow walk back to the farm. Shane insisted on it, wanting Ashe to take it easy despite his insistence that he was just a little sore.

“Easy, easy does it,” the older man coaxed, helping Ashe up the front stairs—it was at that point that the pain really was catching up to him, and it showed. “I’ve got you.”

“Th-thanks…”

The stairs cleared, Shane held the door open for him. It was pleasantly warm inside the farmhouse, a welcome change from the bitter cold. Mr. Blue jumped over the back of the couch to greet them as they stepped inside, wending his way through both of their legs with audible purrs.

“I think he was worried about you.” Shane carefully nudged the orange cat out from around their feet so they could make it over to the couch. “Where do you keep your medicine and shit?”

With a wince Ashe let himself be lowered onto the cushions, the pain easing up just a touch when he did. “Uh… in the kitchen. Top left drawer next to the sink.”

“Okay. Sit tight.”

Ashe watched him root around in the drawer. “What are you looking for?”

“What do you think, dweeb? I’m looking for pain killers.” Shane looked at him. “You’re hurting pretty good, and don’t even try to deny it.” His fingers closed around what he was looking for, and he brought two small tablets back to Ashe along with a glass of water. “Here.”

“Oh, uh—thank you…” Ashe popped them into his mouth and took a sip of the water to help them down. “… I, um… I’m sorry.” He mumbled into the glass.

“You already said that, you know. Three times. On the way here.” Shane sighed and shook his head. “Seriously, what am I gonna do with you?”

“… I don’t know.” Setting the glass on the end table to his left, Ashe tugged his knees up against his chest and buried his face into them.

After a moment, Shane took the cushion next to him. “Ashe, what’s really going on here?” He asked. “There’s obviously something bothering you and making you not act like yourself.”

Silence. Then, “I miss her…”

“Your mom?” He wrapped an arm around Ashe’s shoulders as the farmer gave a tiny nod of his head. “I had a feeling. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I-I do, b-but… I-I’m scared that it’s gonna mess up your recovery somehow…”

“Bud, that’s not—those two things have nothing to do with each other. Seriously. And even if they did,” he gave a gentle squeeze, mindful of Ashe’s soreness, “I’m in a place now where I can handle it. And that’s got a lot to do with you. I’m not gonna force you to talk about it if you really don’t want to, but I’m here for you. You can lean on me for this.”

More silence. “I don’t remember what that’s like…” He sniffled, trying his hardest not to start bawling again. “I-I was taking care of Mom for so long that I forgot how to rely on others.”

“She was sick, right?”

“Y-Yeah. Cancer. I ended up taking her place at Joja so she could stay on their insurance.” There was another pause as he drew a deep shuddering breath. “I-I didn’t even get to attend her funeral. My b-boss wouldn’t give me the day off for it. It was the worst way to start the year.”

“Wait, this happened on New Years? This year?”

Ashe nodded again. “I-I didn’t really… y’know, have a chance to process any of it. Work, work work. And then I remembered Grandpa’s envelope, and… I came here. It was nice, having so much to do and people to distract me from… everything. But I can’t ignore winter no matter how hard I try…”

His voice broke, and the tears that he’d been trying so hard to hold back burst forth. “I-It’s not fair! She was all I had! I was all she had! A-And I was working so much that I couldn’t even be there for her most of the time! I had to watch her waste away from a distance! And now Joja wants to take even more way from me! It’s not fair! It’s not fair!!!!”

The room became filled with his anguished sobs, and Shane gently pulled him into another hug. “It’s not, you’re right. It never is.”

For what felt like forever, Ashe cried. He cried out the feelings that he’d kept pent up over the year. And when he had no more tears left to shed, he rested against Shane, completely spent.

“Did that help at all?” Shane’s voice was low and soothing as he brushed the bangs from Ashe’s face.

“… I don’t know…”

“That’s fine. It takes time.” He held him close. “Look, if you feel like you need to cry, come and cry on me. Okay? Doesn’t matter when or where it is.”

It took a moment, but Ashe nodded. He wondered if this was what Shane felt like when he was looking out at those cliffs on that rainy day…  

[diary-of-deadweight]

Being op isn’t all it’s made out to be.

Summary: you’re strong, hella strong, so strong that your aspirations of becoming a hero are dwindling until a bald hero makes his appearance.

Authors note: this is a BNHA x opm crossover fic that I’ve been wanting to write for a while but had to get some shit out of the way first, hope you enjoy this.

Ever since your were a child in kindergarten you always wanted to become as great of a hero as your idol, who didn’t live in Musutafu like most heroes but in a once populated town called City Z; it all started during recess just as Billy Beale, the class bully, followed by his nameless goons, was about to kick sand from the sand pit into your friend’s eyes for the hell of it, you stepped up to protect them by putting yourself between Billy and them as you punched him in the gut with your small chubby fist that sent him flying further then you’d expected.

Billy’s goons were left stood there, faces unsettlingly pale as they watched their group leader being punched harder then normal, scared stiff as identical dark patches expanded across their trousers from fright as they got laughed and pointed at for pissing their pants by the other kids in your class while you looked at your tiny hands in awe and shock as if they held all the answers you’ve been searching for, whilst also taken back at how much power they held without trying; that was when you found your calling to become a hero like your idol like many other quirk possessing kids across Japan and a hero is what you’d be even if the odds were stacked against you.

Even if you did get in trouble for engaging in a ,obviously, one sided fight and a scolding from your parents that were soon subsided by them not being able to be mad at you for long, especially when you were jumping up and down, waving your arms wildly screaming, “I HAVE A QUIRK! LOOK AT ME MOMMY, LOOK DADDY! I HAVE A QURIK!!”

Flash forward 13 years later and you were perched upon a wooden bench in a flowerless garden downtown just as a gust of early January air came by, making you involuntarily shiver in your heavily layered form as it brushed the honey brown leaves littering the street an inch across your peripheral vision as if it was playing monopoly with itself as a second draft of winter air ruffled the bare naked trees in the nearby area, the sounds of bustling city life just barely reached your ears, leaving you with a sense of serenity which was greatly appreciated while yet a tad unnerving thanks to your constant run ins with the League of villains that left you with less the pleasant memories and all within the spam of your first few months of attending UA none the less; they started out as nothing more then a dysfunctional group when they made their grand debut in the USJ in hopes of killing Allmight, only to find you, your classmates, Aizawa and pro hero 13 instead which lead to an all out brawl ,after standing around all stiff limbed and breaths being caught in your throats at the sight of villains somehow infiltrating a disclosed location; only to be bested by Allmight who finished off the nomu, with some minor help as you punched the brain dead bird monster off of an injured Aizawa and into a wall while knocking some lesser known villains off their feet by the blowback of the punch itself earning you some praises from fellow classmates and heroes alike which, at the time made you feel all warm inside, now didn’t make you feel as if you achieved anything really the more time that passed by and the more times you’ve ended things with a singular blow making you scream to the heavens, scaring off some birds in the process, “WHY DOES IT ALWAYS END WITH ONE PUNCH, DAMN IT!!!”

After the disaster that taken place in Kamino Ward, leading to Allmight’s retirement after giving all for one a farewell gift in the disguise of a knuckle sandwich and a unforeseen future that sent everyone in a blind panic to find the next symbol of peace meanwhile the villains lurking in the shadows took this as a blessing to wreak havoc, resulting in the percentage of villain activity to skyrocket more then ever before, unsettling the civilians even more then they already were came the introduction of the big three during a relatively calm day of school, well as calm as it could get, only for Mirio to offer a challenge to fight everyone in your class singlehandedly which peaked your interest greatly as you thought that you’ve finally found your match after defeating Midoriya, Bakugou and todoroki during the sports festival awhile back, coming out with your skin unscathed, your sports wear a complete mess of rips, punctures and burnt cloth that it was absolutely baffling to everyone in attendance, some believing that it all came down to your quirk being the solution and leaving it at that.

Turns out that not even the great Mirio Togata could take you down as you exhausted him easily with your unlimited stamina, insane durability at everything he threw at you and godlike reflexes, countering his attacks with those you’ve picked up from tv with your photogenic memory even if he switched strategies form time to time, all with a blank look on your face that left him struggling to figure out your next move as throughout most of the fight you just stood there with the patience of a saint. Needless to say that your ambitions of becoming a hero were at an all time low at this point as you found yourself becoming less and less committed to your craft to the point where even your most oblivious of classmates were starting to notice the dying fire within your heart, the loss of feeling such emotions as happiness, excitement, fulfilment, exhilarating among other positive emotions but most of all...you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt the heart pounding, adrenaline rush a fight could bring...you didn’t feel much of anything as you once did 13 years ago ever since coming to terms that you were practically unstoppable to overcome that you don’t think that even Allmight could beat you in an arm wrestling match!

Which all lead up to where you were now, sat upon that bench, now digging through your pockets for the class transfer papers just as a bald male in his 30s, dressed from head to toe in a orange jumpsuit, matching set of ruby red gloves and boots with a white cape that fluttered and swayed behind him in the breeze as he made a checklist of how his day went wrong which he spoke out loud as there was no one around to glance at him with concerning or creeped out looks “I lost sight of Genos, my phone is dead so I can’t contact him or nothing, on top of that,” he stopped his chatter to inhale air deeply into his lungs, “HE HAS ALL THE GROCERIES!!”

“Oi, old man,” you said just as you looked over your arm that was resting against the back of the bench, “mind keeping your thoughts to yourself, that would be greatly-“ your breath caught in your throat mid-way your rant as you got a good look at who you were unknowingly scolding, eyes widening as memories of your childhood flashed before you in snapshots.

A man stood before what looked like remnants of a monster dressed in a orange jumpsuit, red boots and gloves now stained with the monsters blood, white cape flapping in the wind, a shiny bald head complete with a deadpan face, after getting a little girl out of the crossfire of the monsters attack in record time, proclaiming to the self proclaimed vaccine man that he was a hero for fun before proceeding the kill him in one blow. The man you wished to follow in the footsteps of. The hero known as capped baldy...not really a name that screamed hero like names such as Allmight and Midnight but it screamed hero to you

“Oh my god...am I dreaming? Capped baldy in Musutafu!!!” You then squinted your eyes into slits as your voice dropped a octave “ you ARE capped baldy? Right?” He only grunted in response, not really expecting to find his first fan in...what did you say? Musutafu? Well...he was a looonnnggg way from home just for some sales shopping that might never happen again; You squealed for the first time in a long time since you were a child as you ran over to him within a blink of an eye, leaving him momentarily stunned as he regained his bearings as when you called him by his hero name that he became civil with overtime when he saw that there were other heroes with even shittier names then his own.

“I-I’m a massive fan of your work!” You began, already feeling yourself shake in the presence of your idol as you hoped that it wasn’t visible, “I’ve watched you fight monsters ever since I was a little child and from then on I’ve always wanted to be just like you when I grow up” you concluded as you peered up at him to notice that he had a shadow casted upon his eyes.

“Trust me kid you don’t wanna be like me...having a lot of power in your possession can only lead to a loss of many things, I don’t feel the thrill of entering battle anymore, my heart doesn’t pump as fast as it use to...I’m stuck in a constant state of melancholy.” he stated as he saw a lot of himself in you, when he was is middle school he wanted to be the strongest hero there ever was, then when he turned 23 he trained so Intensively that his hair fell out. He didn’t want you to wish upon the same fate that granted him the ability to incapacitate or straight up kill a being in one punch no matter how strong they are. He just couldn’t, you deserved better then that.

“That sucks because the second I turned 5 my quirk-“ He quirked a brow at the word, never having heard it up until now, “my power ,basically, when I punched this little asshole but ending up sending him flying further that I thought I would’ve...ever since then I’ve managed to defeat villains, students heck even heroes alike with a single punch that my ambition to becoming a hero has vanished chunk by chunk, piece by piece until nothing of it remained. It started to become less and less of a priority to me that I went and asked for a class transfer form hero course to general studies because it’s gotten that bad,” you paused as you felt the tears began to build up steadily within the corners of you eyes, inhaling deeply you asked the one question you’ve been meaning to ask him ever since you were little, “how do you cope with it?”

A silence hung between the two of you as a gust of air battered your frames, whipping your hair and his cape wildly before calming down once more, the sound of your heartbeat was just about the only thing you heard in the deafening silence besides yours and his semi-synchronised breathing, the rustle of trees and bushes; your hands began to felt more clammy as time passed on quicker and you swore you felt a bead of sweat trail past your temple, almost phasing out entirely until you saw the bald mans mouth move.

“Come again?”

“I didn’t, if anything I try to live my best life even with my overwhelming strength, I’m still looking for someone who I can take on without killing them in a single punch, I’ve met so many strong opponents who could easily surpass me yet I could still lay them out flat with out trying as if they’ve never progressed at all...but the take away from this kid is that even though you may be the most powerful person in the room doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there who will push you to your limits, so it takes months, years, decades, try and hold out until then even if your tried from the same thing from dusk till dawn. All you have to do is have patience, until then you can kick everybody’s ass to your hearts desire.” You both shared a chuckle at his finishing statement just a monotonous voice rang out from behind the caped baldy.

“Sensei! I’ve seen to have lost you awhile back and for that I apologise greatly for” the male bowed low, letting get a right good look at his synthetic blonde strands before he stood back to his full height, his eyes reminded you of Mina’s eyes as the whites of his eyes were completely pitch black, making his golden orbs pop out, his face was smooth as a babies bottom, his cybernetic body obviously went through some upgrades since the last time you saw him on tv,unlike his sensei, Genos was wearing some casual civilian clothes so he wouldn’t get spotted in public.

“Ah no need to be so...you, anyways we should better get back to city Z in case there have been any sightings,” Saitama said nonchalantly as he waltzed over to his companion, shopping in hand, before turning back to you with a minuscule smile upon his usually bland face.

“I hope to see you again someday kid, when we do we shall see who’s stronger, sound like a plan?” He rose a brow awaiting your response,

“Your on baldy and I’ll win for sure” he smirked at your eagerness before fishing his for something before whipping out a piece a paper from almost nowhere, scribbled something upon it before hanging it to over to you just as the pair took their leave.

You looked down at the price of paper which read:

‘You’ve got spunk kid, gimme a call someday when your feeling confident enough to spar. - saitama’

Below it was a combination of numbers you presumed was his number, a wide spread grin appeared on your face as you tried to control your excitement form leaking out and making you look like a right weirdo, you pocketed the slip of paper into your coat polecat before taking out the class transfer papers out of the other one, looking at the form you remembered his words.

“Even if it takes months, years or even decades...all it takes is a bit of patience” with that you tore up the form into pieces, tossing them up in the air like confetti, watching it fall to the sidewalk like fresh snow before making your way to school and bumping into a skittish Midoriya who asked about your change of personality and all you said was as you looked up into the grey cloud clad sky with a smile.

“I had an epiphany from an unlikely source”

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 6 - The Beach

Saturday had come and Varian and the rest of his new friends were all crowded in Wasabi's car. Wasabi had precisely enough room to fit six people, though perhaps a bit uncomfortably. He and Varian rode in the front seat, with Varian carrying Ruddiger in his carrying cage, while Hiro, Gogo, Honey Lemon, and Fred were squished together in the back seat. The robot, Baymax, was folded up inside his battery pack and tucked away in the trunk to make room. 

Apparently today was a holiday and they were all heading to the beach. Well in truth the actual holiday was on Monday, but Americans spent the whole weekend in celebration. Said holiday was Memorial Day and was meant to honor warriors who fell in battle. However, despite this somber origin, most considered the weekend to be the official start of summer and would mark the occasion with picnics, parties, and public swimming. 

For Varian and his friends though, this was the end of spring break. Starting on Tuesday, the university they now all attended would open back up and the summer semester would begin. The thought of which sent Varian's stomach churning with butterflies. He'd never been to school before and didn't know what to expect. He was filled with anxious excitement and to calm his nerves he looked out the car window to admire the scenery.

He'd been in this strange new world for a week now but he'd had little chance to admire it. For the past five days he'd been busy studying for his entrance exams for college. Passing the 'graduation' test in particular was important for gaining admittance into the school and Varian had to do some serious cramming to prepare for it. Squeezing twelve years worth of educational knowledge into his brain in less than a week.  

Fortunately Varian was very good at memorizing facts and all his new friends were on hand to help him. On Monday, Hiro had helped him gather up the study materials he'd needed and told him what to expect. Wasabi gave him practice tests throughout the week and helped him pinpoint the areas he was weakest in. He was pretty good with math and grasped most of the science quickly, with Wasabi being on hand to fill in the gaps, but he needed help in other less familiar subjects. 

Gogo had swung by on Tuesday and spent the whole day giving Varian a crash course in Social Studies, which was a combination of history, geography, and civics. 

Varian took a special interest in America's founding and it's chosen form of government, which was unlike anything he had heard of before. They had no king nor royalty of any kind. In fact the country was founded by people who committed treason and fought a war to overthrow their ruler, and who then put into place a democracy made up of elected representatives instead. It most closely resembled the government of ancient Rome, before Julius Caesar had taken over, but was expanded upon to encompass a vast kingdom, larger than even most empires. 

Varian had already thought San Fansokyo was an impressively large city, but was completely flabbergasted to know that not only was it not the largest city in the country, it wasn't even the biggest within its own providence; and there were fifty of these states that stretched across the continent from coast to coast with similarly massive metropolises in each. 

It was mind boggling and it took him sometime to wrap his brain around the concept. And that was just the tip of the iceberg, he also had to catch up with some four hundred odd years worth of world events on top of that. But Gogo was a patient teacher and she carefully broke down everything into manageable chunks, giving him timelines, charts, and maps for him to refer back to. By the end of the day he had perhaps learned more in those eight hours spent with her than he had in his whole sixteen years. 

On Wednesday, Fred had showed up to help Varian practice for the writing portion of the tests. He would have to complete two essays on any given subject for each of the two exams. Fred himself had actually completed one of the same tests, the S.A.T, just a few months ago and knew what the graders were looking for when it came to such essays. 

Mainly, they just wanted to know if Varian could follow the basic guidelines of writing; paragraphs and sentence structure, grammar, spelling, and his overall ability to form an argument on paper. All things Varian felt pretty comfortable with, but it was nevertheless a good refresher of those basics. Essay writing and thesis statements were apparently expected of any student attending higher education and he would have to write many during the course of his studies. 

Thursday, Honey Lemon stopped by to help Varian with Language Arts. Both tests would cover reading comprehension and even more grammar. Once again Varian was pretty comfortable with those two subjects, especially given the writing practice from the day before, and so they finished pretty quickly. Even with Honey Lemon adding in extra information about various important books and plays that had been written in the past four centuries, just in case any of them made it into the reading part of the exam. Though Shakespeare was still deemed the most influential even in this modern age. A fact which disappointed Varian; he personally thought Marlowe to be superior to the bard. 

"You don't even like Romeo and Juliet?" Honey Lemon asked aghast, "But it's sooo romantic." 

"But it's sooo stupid," Varian mockingly admonished with a laugh. Which in turn made Honey Lemon give him a not-so-serious pout. 

"Look, what was stopping them from just leaving together in the first place?" Varian explained his point. 

Honey Lemon opened her mouth to retort back but just as soon closed it again; she had never considered that question before. She screwed up her mouth in thought as she searched for a better answer. 

"Weeelll, sometimes it's hard to leave the only home you've ever known. Isn't that why you want to get back to your world?" She asked him.

Varian just stared at her for a moment, thinking of an answer to give that didn't allow him to explain his past in detail. Finally he said, "I wanna get back because my dad is there. I couldn’t care less about Corona itself." 

"You don't care at all?"

"It's just a bunch of buildings." He mumbled with a shrug, then he added, more assuredly, "What matters is the people in your life." 

"I guess," She replied, "all I know is that I had a hard enough time just leaving Sacramento. Even though it's only an hour and a half away and I can still see my family whenever. I can't imagine what it's like to be lost in a whole other world." 

Varian ignored her attempts to sympathize, not because he didn't appreciate the effort, but because he was ready to move on from the conversation. Instead he shut his eyes tightly and tilted his head back, trying to recall some of the new information he had recently learned. "Sacramento; that's the capital of California, right?" 

"Yeah. But don't worry, no one actually memorizes all fifty states and their capitals. I only know like twenty or so." She admitted.

"Oh, good." Varian breathed in relief. Soon both he and Honey Lemon were just giggling, happy to relieve the tension in the room.

"Oooh, you know what? I brought my make-up bag with me!" Honey Lemon suddenly exclaimed, and just like that all previous talk about literature and writing gave away to other subjects, mostly chemistry.

Honey Lemon made her own cosmetics. It was a passion of hers to find new, safe, and 'biodegradable' chemical compounds to replace some of the more toxic stuff on the market. 

"And absolutely no animal testing." She added in all seriousness. 

She even sold her wares over the internet, shipping them to customers as they ordered them, as a means of making money on the side. 

She poured out the contents of a rather large tote bag onto the floor and walked Varian through each item, what it was for, and how she had made it. Varian listened intently and even tried some of the stuff himself. 

He found he didn’t care much for lipstick nor cakey foundation, the texture was off putting to him. He also didn’t like anything with a heavy perfume. However, he did like the eyeliner and the black fingernail polish he had previously bought. He was still fascinated by the concept of synthesized polymers. 

They were both sitting on the floor, makeup strewn everywhere, laughing over nothing in particular, when Wasabi came home from his part-time job. Honey Lemon was in the middle of applying mascara to Varian’s eyes and he was trying his best not to blink but failing at it, which only sent both of them into more fits of giggles. Meanwhile, unnoticed by them both, Ruddgier had gotten into the powered blush and was making a mess in another corner of the room.

“I thought you two were studying.” Wasabi said with a hint of annoyance to his voice. He was tired from work and none too happy to find makeup scattered about his dorm room. 

“Sorry,” Honey Lemon tried to say through her laughter, “but we finished early and I’d promise to teach Varian how to paint his nails.” Varian held up his hand to show Wasabi his newly painted nails as a way of response. 

“That’s nice.” Wasabi replied back in a sarcastic tone. “Did you also teach the raccoon how to put on foundation?” 

That’s when they both finally noticed Ruddiger. Varian got onto his pet and went to clean up the mess, effectively ending the study/make-up session. 

The next day, Wasabi gave him two final practice tests and then it was time for him to take the real thing. He met Professor Granville at the school and, alongside a few other hopeful students, took the two tests. 

The first test, the S.A.T., went smoothly, but he wouldn’t know his actual scores until his answer sheet and essay were sent off to be graded. The graduation test however was taken over the computer and it took several hours to complete with a few breaks between parts. He felt he could have finished sooner had he had the chance to take the test using a pencil and paper instead, as he found the mouse and keyboard awkward. But the positive thing about using the new technology was that he got his scores back sooner. He managed to pass all the parts, even with him just barely scraping by on the Social Studies section. His official certification would come in the mail, the professor told him, but for all intents and purposes he now had a high school diploma. 

Which was apparently a big deal in this world. Earning a diploma was considered to be something of a rite of passage. Obtaining one meant you were ready to start entering the adult world and with it you could gain full time employment or seek higher education, like college. According to his friends, he should’ve been extra proud of this accomplishment since gaining a high school diploma at his age, while not unheard of, was unusual, and he had done it in less than a week when most took years to achieve it. 

To signify just how important this was, all his new friends threw him a party at the Lucky Cat. Even Aunt Cass had pitched in and made him a special dinner. It was something called ‘sushi’ and she typically prepared it for celebrations like this one; having cooked similar dinners for both Tadashi and Hiro when they had graduated high school as well.       

Varian was appreciative of her efforts, though he didn’t quite know what to make of the food itself. The ‘sushi’ consisted mostly of rice topped with raw fish wrapped in seaweed. The taste wasn’t bad but the texture of the uncooked seafood was weird to Varian. Fortunately, not everything was raw. There were different kinds to be had and Varian was able to pick out some that he did enjoy; ones stuffed with crab, egg, or just veggies. He especially liked the ‘dessert sushi’ made with tropical fruit.

He’d just finished recalling last night, when Wasabi loudly proclaimed, “We're here!” 

There were whoops and joyous yells in response from the various passengers and Varian looked out the front windshield to see the familiar blue streak that was the ocean just up ahead. Wasabi parked the car in the designated parking lot and then they all piled out of said vehicle and made their way down to the beachfront. 

The sandy beach was tucked in between two rocky cliffs and you had to walk down a wooden stairway to get to it. As he made his way down the stairwell, Varian could look out and see the expanse of dark blue ocean and lighter blue sky go on forever. It didn't look much different from Corona's coast. What did look different were the inhabitants. Corona's coastline was usually deserted save for the ports and the occasional fishing boat off in the distance, but here the beach was a mass of half naked bodies and swarms of vacationers enjoying the summer sun. Spread out along the sandy tolls were towels, blankets, folding chairs, and umbrellas of all sizes with scantily clad people lounging upon or underneath. 

Varian tried to remember Gogo's words from a week ago, about how this was deemed normal and not to bring himself to attention by starring. But everywhere Varian looked he was met with the sight of a lovely lady's long legs or a handsome lad's toned chest. Not looking was very much like asking a small child in a pastry shop to hold their nose and ignore the sweet smells of pies and cakes surrounding them. Fortunately, he was able to keep his composure long enough for them to reach the shore and find a spot to set up camp for the day; managing not to hold his gaze for too long on any one person or thing. 

They had brought a variety of towels and folding chairs of their own, along with a large parasol and ice chest full of food and drink for the day. Varian and Wasabi had spent that morning making sandwiches for everyone; tuna fish salad, sliced cucumbers with butter, jam mixed with a spread made from ground nuts, and some sort of mystery meat called 'baloney' paired with cheese. Varian couldn't figure out if said baloney was made from ham or chicken, as it didn't really taste like either, though it also didn't taste bad per-say. They also stored small bags of crispy fried potatoes, individually wrapped miniature cakes, and bottles of some sort of fizzy drink called 'soda' in the chest as well. Varian found the carbonated sugary drink to be odd but surprisingly tasty. 

While everyone was setting up Hiro unpacked Baymax from his portable charger, the robot inflated to full size again before stepping out, and Varian released Ruddiger from his carrier. The raccoon was grateful to be let out of the small cage at last and promptly snuggled up on one of the folding chairs under the sun to catnap. Varian didn't think the leash necessary as there really wasn't any place for his pet to run off to. 

Once done with setting up, the gang then proceeded to unpack the various toys and games they had brought along as well. There was a game you played with a net, like tennis, only you used your hands to pass a 'volleyball' over said net instead of a racket and you didn't want the larger ball to touch the ground at any point. They also brought a flat discus called a 'frisbee' which you threw from person to person. Gogo had with her a flat wooden board used to ride the waves that broke along the shore. Which she let Varian and her other friends try out for themselves. 

Varian however was not very good at any of these new sports. While he was fairly athletic, capable of running, climbing, and whatnot, he had never been the best at coordination. More often than not he'd simply trip and fall in his efforts to keep up with the ball or maintain his balance on the surfboard. 

Instead Varian found himself wandering off occasionally to try and strike up conversations with new people. He'd hadn't had a lot of social interaction while growing up, especially with others his age, and he wanted some practice before he started school in a few days. Hopefully to ease the awkwardness of being dumped in a world that he knew next to nothing about. 

However every time he'd smile at a pretty girl or make eye contact with a cute boy his age, his efforts to make small talk were sabotaged by some mishap or other. Either his own clumsiness would get in the way or he'd put his foot in mouth, as the saying goes. One particularly unfortunate incident involved him getting beaned in the back of the head from a misthrown volleyball while trying to chat up a couple of vacationing teens. Fortunately, his embarrassing failures at flirting would be followed by one of his new friends trying to engage him with some other activity so he was never left alone with his awkwardness for long. 

Swimming, sand castle building, more games; like 'chicken', where you tried to push one person off another person's shoulders into the water, or 'Marco Polo' where one person had to find the others with their eyes closed, using the ancient explorer's name as a call and response, digging for seashells, and other similar actives were to be had to pass the time away. 

Finally, the sun started to hang low in the sky and they all headed back to the car. They were wet, tired and covered in sand. They tried to knock the irritating substance off their shoes and things before all squeezing back into the ill fitting vehicle in order to head back home. They all sat on towels so as not to get the seats wet and their bathing suits and cover up clothes all clung to them dripping with sea water. 

Varian sat again in the front seat, only this time Honey Lemon had asked to hold Ruddiger on the ride back. She, Gogo, Fred, and Hiro were all fast asleep in the backseat with Baymax once again tucked away in his battery case. Wasabi had the radio on in order to keep himself awake as he drove (and to drown out Honey Lemon's snoring if he was being honest). The music that filtered out of the speakers was called 'classical' music, which just meant it was mostly orchestral music from ages past. To Varian it sounded very modern and sophisticated to his ears, like chamber music played for royal courts, not the more rustic folk music he grew up on. 

Right now a gentle suite with piano and strings was playing and it along with the steady motion of the car moving was beginning to lull Varian to sleep as well. He looked out again at the houses and scenery that passed by and thought of the day's events and the fun he had had as his eyes grew heavy. This world was so much more inviting and nicer than his own, it was a shame he'd have to leave it soon, but his Dad needed him and that was that. And with that final resolve Varian drifted off to dreamland. 

[louistomlinsoncouk]

Interview: Louis Tomlinson Talks “Kill My Mind” & Debut Album

After experimenting with everything from EDM to acoustic ballads, Louis Tomlinson finally found his sound on “Kill My Mind.” The just-released single is a throwback to the fuzzy, indie-leaning pop/rock of the ’90s and early ’00s. Which is not a coincidence given that it was inspired by the bands Louis grew up listening to on UK radio. (Think Oasis and the Arctic Monkeys). The song also sets the tone for the superstar’s debut solo album, which will be similarly raw and organic.

I spoke with Louis about his gutsy new single on Friday (September 6) and he recapped his search for a sound that was authentic to him. The “Miss You” hitmaker then revealed that his debut album is finally finished and gave some insight into its tracklist. He also reminisced about his heartwarming “Two Of Us” video and fond memories of being in One Direction. Other topics of conversation included the “Kill My Mind” video, upcoming live shows and his next single. Find out more about the 27-year-old’s solo journey below.

It feels like you really found your sound with “Kill My Mind.”

I think it’s important for any artist to play around with different sounds and find a place in their industry. For me, it frustrates me now that I’ve got four or five singles that just feel different sonically. It’s important to me, and something I’m going to focus on moving forward, to have a real identity as an artist. With the album that is really, really important to me. I feel I found my home on “Kill My Mind,” definitely sonically and the way it makes you feel and how it sounds to you. Yes, it feels good.

Was it a matter of finding the right collaborator or producer?

Definitely. You need someone who is going to embrace your ideas and embrace you for who you are. I did quite a lot of different sessions with producers in America. Everyone has their own opinion of what they think you should be. With some people, you can go into the session and say, “This is who I am, let’s work with this.” Whereas in other sessions, I can sometimes feel producers trying to pull me certain ways. When I found Jamie Hartman, who I wrote quite a few songs with including “Kill My Mind,” I didn’t even have to explain too much about who I am or what I want. We were just on the same page straight away.

It definitely has more of an indie sound. There’s also something quite ’90s about it. Was that your intention?

Yes, I’m a massive fan of ’90s music. I always talk about when I grew up, pop Radio had the like of Amy Winehouse, Arctic Monkeys and Oasis. Now it’s a little bit more urban-leaning. I just went with what I grew up with. That’s where my influences lie.

I think that really comes through on the song. It’s a bit fuzzier and more organic than what you heard on radio right now.

That’s a big compliment. I appreciate that, thank you.

As you said before, you now have maybe five songs that all sound very different. Will you go back to those songs and tweak them?

Well, there are some songs like “Two of Us,” for example. That is just a really simple, organic ballad that fits in line with what I want to do. There are songs like “Back To You” with Bebe Rexha that I absolutely love but, sonically, even just melodically, it’s so set on what it is. Whereas the Steve Aoki song, I have actually reworked to try to fit more in line with “Kill My Mind.” It has been stripped back and that worked straight away actually. I think it’s kind of song dependent really.

I can’t wait to hear the new version.

It’s such an anthemic melody. Anyway, it leads to that guitar-driven stuff. It works pretty well actually.

How far along are you with an album or an EP?

I’m done! I’m finally finished recording the album thank fuck. That took fucking ages. I’ve probably got another two or three more singles after “Kill My Mind.” So the album’s probably going to be out early next year. I’ll be relieved the day the album is out, I can’t wait for that day.

It must be so exciting to have it in the can.

Oh, definitely. It’s been two or three years in the making and when I was in One Direction, we were literally putting out an album once a year. It does feel like a long time for me but I’ll feel really proud when I get it out. I’ve been quite meticulous with it. I’m really excited to hear the feedback.

Who else have you worked with apart from Jamie Hartman?

Let me think about this, who else have I worked with? There’s a guy called Sean Douglas, who actually also wrote “Kill My Mind” and wrote with him on a couple of tracks. I’ve probably done sessions with close to 75 different producers. I think what I’ve realized and learned during the process is that finding the right writing and creative partners, who are all on the same page, is priceless. I have also worked with Wayne Hector, Steve Robson, Julian Bunetta also. There are probably four or five songs that I wrote with Jamie, so they really will be a big chunk of the album.

Will those earlier singles be on the album?

They will be, definitely. I’d say, maybe 30 percent of the songs on the album were written longer than a year ago. There are some songs that are so special to me and I think they mean a lot to the fans. Some of those songs also represent that time in my life in whatever way. So I couldn’t necessarily start fresh, but once I’d written “Kill My Mind,” I kind of found my sound. Once I’d written “Kill My Mind,” there were three or four songs that followed on from that, and it was a little bit more straight forward because we knew exactly what we were aiming for.

I can imagine “Kill My Mind” sounding great live. Have you thought about a live show or tour?

I’m lucky enough to be playing a show in Madrid. They’re doing a Coca Cola festival and I’m headlining one of the days. I’m really excited about that. I’m doing 10 songs. Now, to this point, I’ve only done three or four songs on the odd radio show. So I’m really, really excited to get out and get a reaction and feed from the audience. I know, “Kill My Mind,” is naturally going to make the transition to a live show and I’m pretty confident it’s going to be fun. So I’m really excited about that moment.

How different is it standing on stage by yourself compared to being in a band with other guys?

I’ve done the odd performance. I feel like I’m growing into that. It won’t be so new to me, but doing 10 songs and creating a show about me on the stage, it’s a little bit, I would say, daunting. There’s naturally more pressure. That’s another thing I’ve realized from working on my own as a solo artist. I have to stay across absolutely, everything and all of a sudden, I’m so meticulous about every single detail. When I think about the tour, it’s going to be an even more rewarding situation for me because when we put it on, I will literally have painted this picture from the ground up, so it’s something that really excites me.

You mentioned “Two of Us” a little bit earlier. I love that song.

Thank you.

The video was so touching. Who came up with that idea? That old guy is a legend.

Oh my God, honestly. Of all the things that I’ve done in the last 12 months, that is definitely one of the best things. It was an absolutely amazing experience. I think it was a conversation between me and the record label. We talked about different, interesting ideas that we could do for the video. Everyone should watch that video and be inspired. Not from my story, but from Richard’s story. That old guy recently lost his wife and it was raw to him, but I’ve never met anyone with such an amazing view on life. Although he wasn’t dealt the best hand, he lived so happy and so fun, and he was up for anything literally. He was a proper, proper, brave old guy and I was really taken aback by him as a person.

Has he inspired the way you approach your own life?

Definitely. I think that I have the luxury of now being able to see that the glass is half full as opposed to half empty. Richard really taught me that. There are some things that we did together, which he had obviously never done before. It takes a brave man of that age to do new things. Yes, we can all learn something from that, definitely.

Have you thought about what you’re going to to do for the “Kill My Mind” video?

I’ve already filmed the “Kill My Mind” video, and the next video actually. I’m really excited about this. It’s with Charlie Lightening who directed a documentary about Liam Gallagher. I’m really excited about that. Visually, he’s really cool. Conceptually, for “Kill My Mind,” I wanted it to be like all the Oasis videos I love. I wanted it to be more about the performance. Not focusing too much on a narrative and just being lit really well. I think we pulled it off. I’m excited about that one.

I can’t wait to see it. Do you know when it’s coming out?

Yes. What day is today? Friday. I think it’s due Monday or Tuesday. I think we’ve got some last few notes to do before signing off. So, yes, early next week.

Do you enjoy the visual element?

Yes. I’ve always been quite inclined to get involved in conversations about that. To be honest, sometimes One Direction was so manic, there literally wasn’t time to be across as many things as I am now. It’s really, really rewarding. It’s the same buzz that I get off writing songs. Like when we sat and we spoke about the idea for the Richard video, “Two of Us.” Then you actually watch the final piece, you’re like, “Wow, we’ve actually created something really interesting.” To a certain degree, important, that’s proper refreshing. Definitely.

You mentioned some of the One Direction videos. Has enough time passed that you can look back on it and feel nostalgic or does it still feel recent to you?

It still feels recent but there have been numerous times where I find myself kind of reminiscing about old videos on YouTube, interviews, or performances, whatever it is. There’s still that side of the nostalgia where you miss it as well. It’s like looking back on your school days or your university days. It gives you that funny feeling in your stomach where you miss it, definitely.

You said you filmed a video for the single after “Kill My Mind,” how long will we have to wait for it?

Because I have other songs that don’t really reflect the overall identity and sound of the album, I just want to get as much music out as I can before the album comes out. I’m pretty sure the plan is to release a song every month or every six weeks, so there’s more music out there. I want to really drive home who I’m trying to be as an artist. I think the next single’s coming middle of October, something like that.

Thanks so much for your time. Good luck with the album.

Thank you. I appreciate that.

[zenithlux]

Cadence Update - 28

Catch up on the full story here!

Now and again we try To just stay alive Maybe we’ll turn it all around ‘Cause it’s not too late It’s never too late

Never Too Late - Three Days Grace

---------

Over the next few days, things fell into something akin to a schedule. Nero and Nico would arrive in the morning before Dante had even rolled out of bed. Then, Nero would carry Roxy to the backseat of the van, give her the blade Kuro had blessed, and wait for Vergil to hop in after. It had only taken a day for the devil-hunting duo to lapse back into what Vergil assumed was normality. Nero and Nico fought more with each other than they did demons, but Vergil could sense a certain underneath all the arguing. When they did encounter any demons, Nero would let Vergil out and the two would fight them off together. 

There was just one, glaring problem: Vergil couldn’t kill anything on his own. 

He had been worried something like this might happen. It didn’t matter how strong he was on his own; he was still a familiar. And, for reasons he still hadn’t figured out, familiars couldn’t kill other demons. Every time he tried, he failed miserably. His most vicious attacks would do nothing, leaving Nero to kill them himself. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the demonic energy always shot straight at Nero, no matter how much damage Vergil had done. Nero had apologized, but they hadn’t figured out how to fix it. And the less energy Vergil had, the more pain Roxy was in. Every day put Vergil further from figuring out how to fix her paralysis, and there was nothing he could do about it.  

Nico had tried to solve it. Nero had used their blade instead of Yamato, but it didn’t do anything. Nico had offered to drag Roxy out, but she could barely raise her arms, much less stab a demon. She’d been too weak to summon Aki, much less hand him off to anyone else, so that was out. Vergil tried everything he could think of. He’d dragged a few demonic bodies back to the van, but both had spurred back to life before they reached her. Nero had done the same, even holding her hand to kill them, but the energy still flocked to him. Vergil had even slipped back into his corporeal form to try and direct more energy at her. But nothing happened, and he had a sinking feeling that nothing ever would. 

How had Kuro managed this? Aki mentioned that it had taken the dragon a few years to even manifest himself, much less reveal his existence to her. Another lie that, unfortunately, Roxy hadn’t been aware of. Vergil had learned through her thoughts that Kuro had revealed himself to her as some kind of passing demon with interest. She hadn’t had a clue that he’d already existed within her and had just waited until he could show himself to let her in on it. But no matter how much Vergil cared for her, they didn’t have years. They all knew that Mundus would be back. The former (or current?) Demon King would find his way out in due time. And if Roxy was this week, both her and Vergil would be dead in a heartbeat. 

Or enslaved, the thought of which was much, much worse than a quick death. 

After four days of no luck, Vergil could tell that even Nero was getting upset. “How long do you think this will take?” He said even though his present company had no hope of answering him. “I can’t stay away from Fortuna forever, even with Dante’s constant visits.” He sighed, rubbing his fingers aggressively through his hair. Vergil didn’t blame his son for being so close to a breaking point. Vergil himself felt positively miserable, as his only contribution to the last few days had been almost-demon-kills and long, fitful naps beside his summoner. 

He could feel Roxy’s frustration as strongly as his own, even though she was rarely lucid enough to express it. 

Nero stabbed through another demon, wincing as the energy swarmed him. “Sorry, Pops. I’m not doing it on purpose.” Vergil shrugged, prowling around Nero impatiently, before pouncing on another demon, biting its neck for good measure. It didn’t bleed out - of course not - and Nero shot it without about as much gusto as a snail. “Is she close to standing at least? Surely she’s getting stronger.”

Vergil sighed, but it came out as nothing more than a huff. ‘No’, was the easy answer, as ‘I don’t know’ made him uncomfortable. Luckily, he didn’t have to say anything as Nero plopped himself on the ground, spinning Blue Rose in his hand. Vergil sat beside him, glancing at the van behind them. Nico was missing from the front seat, probably checking on Roxy. She was fine if a bit tired. Vergil could feel her in the back of his mind no matter how far away he got. She was mildly more awake today - thankfully, as she’d been in and out of sleep for a few days now - but her back still hadn’t healed. Vergil could still see the strings connecting them; small, fragile things that still didn’t show any signs of improvement. 

Finally, Vergil sighed and tapped the ground. Nero glanced at him, and he drew a circle in the dirt with a claw, before drawing a line through it. Nero snorted, but Blue Rose stopped spinning. “I can’t stay here much longer.” Vergil drew a question mark and Nero sighed. “Nico will stay behind to help, but Kyrie needs me.” Vergil nodded, even though his heart sunk at the thought. Nico could only do so much. He hoped that Roxy would at least be walking before Nero left, but it wasn’t fair of him to expect that. 

So, he drew a single word in the dirt, “Go.” 

Nero nodded. “Don’t worry, pops. It’ll all work out.”

A rumble pulsed around them. Vergil’s ears flattened on his head as he searched for the source. A quiet dream laugh echoed from beneath him. He slammed his head into Nero’s side. The younger hunter swore as he rolled to his feet and darted to the side, giving Vergil just enough time to leap out of the way. A massive demon burst through the ground, sending chunks of concrete in all directions. Vergil’s gaze jerked to the van, but he was forced to dodge away as a giant fist slammed down where he’d been standing. “Wonderful,” Nero said as he propped Red Queen on his shoulder. “I swore I killed you months ago.”

Vergil had never seen this creature before. It towered over them with lava swirling through its rocky body. Two, massive horns curled off the top of its head, but Vergil’s attention was drawn to the massive, shark-toothed mouth in place of its stomach. “Human!” The creature roared. “You were the one who fought my brother?”

“Guess so,” Nero said. “And he was just as ugly as you.”

Vergil wanted to roll his eyes, but his gaze kept shifting to the van. They needed to pull the beast away before it crushed the helpless women inside. But Nero wasn’t moving, and the last thing Vergil wanted was to draw attention to them. The creature roared again before his stomach snapped open. A ball of fire shot at Nero, but he simply hopped out of the way before Vergil could react. Nero clicked his tongue as he shook his head. “And now I’ll just have to take care of you too.” He slammed Red Queen into the ground, revving it with a wink. That time, Vergil did roll his eyes; Nero was acting far too much like Dante for his liking. 

The creature roared again. Another fireball shot at Nero. Vergil backed away, glancing at the van again. Nico was in the front seat now but had yet to move. But with a building at her back and the demon in front of her, Vergil knew she wouldn’t have a chance. He considered going back to the van himself. There wasn’t exactly much he could do to the monster. 

Unless. 

He closed his eyes as Nero continued to run the Goliath around. Vergil wasn’t sure why he and Dante spent so much time playing with their prey, but it didn’t matter. Instead, Vergil focused on his memories of Shadow. The way her body moved and twisted in whatever way she wanted. She could have fought a creature of this size, and he couldn’t rely on Nero any longer. 

My tail…

His eyes snapped open. Of course. He’d spent hours working on summoning his demon tail. Surely that could use that now. And as Nero continued fighting, Vergil focused on his tail. After a few moments of nothing, it snaked out around him, sharpening in a form similar to his demon tail. More tendrils seeped off his body in response, and he was satisfied when he found he could recall them at will. Perfect. As Nero slashed across the demon’s chest, Vergil leaped forward, slamming his tail into its leg. The creature howled, surprised as he swung at Vergil. But Vergil sunk into the ground surprised to find that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. He slipped back out on the other side, stabbing his tail into the opposite leg. The demon swung to the side and his stomach-mouth widened. But as the fireball launched, Nero appeared and knocked it back into him. 

“Not bad,” Nero said. “But you need a lot more practice.” Vergil glared at him, but Nero’s wings appeared and the man was gone, launching into the air. Nero kicked the Goliath in the head, leaping off of it with a whoop of delight. The monster stumbled. Tendrils shot from Vergil’s tail, wrapping around the creature’s legs. He yanked back as hard as he could. Goliath went down in a heap. Vergil backed away, snarling as Nero moved to take its head off. “You ugly piece of…”

“Wait!” Nico said. 

Nero froze, Red Queen inches from the beast’s neck. Alarm swept through Vergil as he realized that Roxy was standing, arm over Nico’s shoulder. The frozen blade was in her other hand as they limped toward them. “What are you…?” Nero’s voice trailed off as Roxy shakily extricated herself from Nico’s arms and stumbled slowly forward. Vergil moved to her side, uncertain what he could do if she fell. And while the pain was obvious between them - Vergil could feel it in his own back - her determination was as strong in her eyes as it was in her heart. The strings between them pulsed with energy, though it was far less than Vergil wanted. She unsheathed the blade as she approached the dying demon. Its eyes rolled up toward her. 

“You,” It whispered. “My master wants you.”

“Well,” She said, out of breath as she dropped the sheathe. “He can’t have me.”

Then, with both hands on the hilt, she stabbed the creature straight through the eye. Blood pooled at her feet as it screamed; a shrill, terrible sounding thing. Then everything went ominously silent. His body vanished, leaving behind trails of red orbs and demonic essence. It all cascaded into Roxy, nearly overwhelming her. Vergil moved first, leaping to her as she clumsily dropped to her knees. He propped his body against her back as the sword fell from her hand. She took a deep breath as her head fell back toward the sky. “There,” She said quietly. “I did it.” 

Then she slumped forward, her eyes closed, and she said nothing more. 

[secret-kkh-fics]

History Repeats | Chapter 15

Due to this not being posted anywhere else yet, please like but DON’T REBLOG my fics.

Chapter Summary:

Once again in Van Statten’s underground bunker, Rose must make a terrible decision when she comes face to face with the Dalek once more. How will she be able to stop the massive slaughter ahead?

Dalek

The Lone Dalek

“What’s that, then?!” the Doctor said in surprise. He was leaning in, squinting at the console screen in confusion. There was a persistent beeping sound, almost like a warning.

“What is it?” Rose asked him, attempting to look too. As usual, she couldn’t understand a thing, since the writing was all in Gallifreyan, but the screen was flashing red. “That doesn’t look good, yeah?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should take a look.” Immediately, he began to race around the console, hitting buttons and flicking switches. Pausing with one hand on a lever, he looked up at her curiously. “What do you think it is?”

She looked back up at the screen. “Um… I don’t know. It’s not a problem with the TARDIS, is it?”

“No, it’s from outside,” he told her.

“Some sort of distress signal?” she guessed.

“Could be. Let’s find out.” As he spoke, the TARDIS gave one final lurch, and they landed. He took one last look at the screen before instantly headed for the door and she followed him out.

“So, what is it? What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it a distress signal?”

“I don’t know, but it’s certainly some kind of signal, drawing the TARDIS off course…”

He began to look about, and Rose’s stomach lurched as she did the same. She knew this place. It was Van Statten’s Museum. Oh god, the Dalek. She didn’t know if she was ready for this. She didn’t know if she was ready to face a Dalek again. Or if she could even stop the devastation this one Dalek caused.

She felt sick.

“What is this place?” she asked, despite the nausea. “Where are we?”

“Earth, Utah, North America. About half a mile underground.”

“Right, underground base. Not ominous at all,” she muttered. “And when are we?”

“2012.”

“That’s so close,” she said. “That’s… what, only seven years away? I should be…” She tried to do the maths in her head. She was twenty-three, so it would make her 30. No! No, she was nineteen! Biological time. Why was her age so confusing now? “Twenty-six.”

Still looking around as she spoke, the Doctor found a light switch and turned it on, flooding the halls with light and illuminating the sick, alien museum. Many glass cabinets were spaced throughout the enormous room.

“Blimey, this place is huge!” she exclaimed. “Look at this stuff. Is that alien?”

“Yeah. A big old alien museum. Someone’s got a hobby.” They began to walk down the row, looking in the cases. “They must’ve spent a fortune on this. Chunks of meteorite, moon dust… That’s the milometer from the Rosewell Spaceship.”

“Look! That’s a Slitheen arm!” she cried, pointing it out. “That’s from a Raxocorocofalipatorian! Look at it, it’s been stuffed! How on earth did they even get it? Do you think it’s from when we bombed Downing Street?”

“Most likely,” the Doctor said. Then something else grabbed his attention and he quickly approached the case. “Oh, look at you!” he said to it.

Rose followed him over, staying a step behind him as she looked at the case he was. Inside was the head of a Cyberman. Her heart began to beat rapidly in fear as she gazed at it. This had been the first place she had ever seen a Cyberman. At the time, she could never fully comprehend just how terrible they were. Looking at it, it almost looked a little silly. The design was different to they Cybermen she knew. The head rounder and skinnier, the ‘handles’ on the side were thicker and ribbed. It didn’t look as aggressive and intimidating as the ones from the other dimension, but she knew that they were probably just as deadly.

“I don’t like that thing…” she found herself saying.

“Mmm, with good reason,” he said quietly. “This is an old friend of mine… Well, enemy. The stuff of nightmares reduced to an exhibit. I’m getting old.”

“Well, yeah. That kind of happens when you’re 900 years old and jump about time willy-nilly.”

“Oi! I’m actually still pretty young for my species, thank you very much. Time Lords can live for thousands and thousands of years! Well, if they’re carful, which most of them are… were.”

Sensing his mood dropping as he thought of his people, Rose went with her favourite tactic of distraction. “So, where do you think the signal is coming from?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, still staring at the Cyberman head. “Everything here looks like it’s well and truly dead. The signal’s alive. Something’s reaching out… Calling for help.” He gently reached up, and before Rose could say anything to caution him, he tapped the glass.

Instantly, alarms went off and men with guns ran into the room so fast she’s surprised they hadn’t come in earlier simply from just hearing them talk. There were at least a dozen of them, and within a few seconds, they were completely surrounded, guns pointing directly at them.

“If someone’s collecting aliens, that makes you Exhibit A,” she commented. The Doctor just gave them a tight-lipped smile as if to say ‘oops’. Rose frowned. “No, really. I don’t trust this place. Might be a good idea to not let them know…”

Knowing what Van Statten was like, knowing what he was doing to that Dalek as they spoke, she could just imagine what he would do if he ever found out that the Doctor was alien when they weren’t in the middle of a crisis. She could practically see the Doctor strapped to an angled, upright table, his shirt stripped off and writhing in pain as they tortured and experimented on him.

Again, she felt so worried that it made her feel sick. She wanted out of this place as soon as possible. Taking the Doctor’s hand, the attempted to calm herself, telling her self that she was over reacting and imagining things. The Doctor would be fine. He was last time.

She just had to deal with the Dalek, and everything would be okay.

Everything was okay.

One of the armed men grabbed a radio and spoke to someone. “Sir, we have two intruders on Level Sub 53. One male, one female. They look like civilians, but we’re not sure how they got down here undetected. Can’t see anything on them.”

After a moment’s pause, the radio made a static sound as a reply came through. “Alright, check them. I’ll make sure the boss is informed.”

“Yes, Sir.” He turned to a couple of the other men. “Search them.”

The two men came over to them, instructing them to hold their hands over their head and began to pat them down. Rose was reluctant to let go of the Doctor’s hand, but complied. She would be worried that they would find the alien tech that the Doctor carried on him, like the sonic screwdriver and more, but this had happened enough times in her past that she knew by now that anything in his trans-dimensional pockets wouldn’t be felt or picked up on any scans. The only thing they found in Rose’s pockets was her phone, which, after a brief glance at her messages, was handed back to her.

“People still have these?” the man who’d grabbed it asked, staring at it like it was an old relic.

“I miss those things,” another guy commented. “Trusty old phones, like bricks. I used to have a Noikia, my wife accidentally backed over it with the car. Perfectly fine! These days you drop your phone on the ground and it’s unusable!”

“I got my dad a new phone,” someone else said. “Fell out of his back pocket into the toilet. Won’t work anymore and he’s sitting there wondering why.”

“Humans,” the Doctor sighed quietly. “Make something better and you’re still not happy with it. Still, that’s how you evolve.”

Rose smirked, but her attention was diverted by someone’s radio going off.

“Attention all personnel. Bad Wolf One, descending. Bad Wolf One, descending.”

“What’s that, then?” she asked. “What’s Bad Wolf?”

“It’s one of our choppers,” the man replied. “The big boss’s chopper. He’s just arrived. He’s the one who’s going to decide what to do with you.”

“Right… and he named his helicopter after a fairytale?” She knew that they were her words, and she realised that she was probably the one to put the words in his head, but it was Van Statten, and she felt that wanker deserved all the teasing he could get.

“I wouldn’t make light of him, if I were you,” the man warned her. “He’s got a short temper. I heard that when he fires people, he has their memories erased and just leaves them out on the street in a random place around the country, and they’re just left there with nothing and no clue who they are.”

“Charming,” the Doctor grumbled sarcastically.

“Palmer, come in,” a voice crackled through the radio, cutting off any more conversation.

“Palmer here,” the man in charge answered.

“Bring the intruders to Mr Van Statten’s office. He wants to see them.”

“Yes, sir.” He looked up at them. “Right you two, follow us. And no funny business.”

“Funny business? Me?” the Doctor said innocently. Rose could only grin and shake her head.

 Silently, they were led from the museum and into a lift, only a couple of the guards with them now. The lift went up ten or so floors before they were led out, down the corridor. Van Statten’s PA met them outside and escorted them into the lavish office. On the back wall was a large painting of Van Statten, she instantly recognised the style of a famous contemporary painter but couldn’t for the life of her put a name to the artist. It was clearly a recreation of one of the lady’s most famous paintings. And sitting at his desk in front of the gaudy, self-gratuitous painting was the man himself, taking an alien artefact from Adam.

“…Paid $800,000 for it,” he was saying.

“What does it do?” Van Statten asked, taking it from him.

“W-well, you see, the tubes on the side must be to channel something. I think maybe fuel-”

“I really wouldn’t hold it like that,” the Doctor said, cutting him off.

“Shut it,” the PA commanded harshly.

“Really, though. That’s wrong,” he continued.

“Is it dangerous?” Adam asked.

“No. Just looks silly.” He leaned forward to put his hand out for the item, but paused when they heard the sound of multiple guns cocking. Van Statten held up a and to stay them, then cautiously handed it over. The Doctor looked pleased as he lay it out flat on his palm and brought his other hand up to stroke the top. “You just need to be…” As he ran his fingers over it, it lit up and sounds came from it, like someone running their finger around a wine glass. “…delicate.”

Everyone looked impressed by his talent, and he just looked smug.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Rose said. “Can I…?”

Before anyone could protest, the Doctor handed it over to her. She hadn’t gotten the chance to play one quite like this, but the Doctor had taken her somewhere where she’d played something similar. With the most gentle of touches, she ran her fingers over the top, going through the scales. And then she began to play a tune. It was an easy, beautiful tune. One that she had heard almost every day for years. The song of the TARDIS. Even when she was no longer with them, the song stayed in her heart and she would often wake up in the morning with the tune dancing through her head.

She was so engrossed in playing the instrument, she didn’t see the Doctor’s brow furrow.

“It’s a musical instrument!” Van Statten said in wonder.

The Doctor nodded. “And it’s a long way from home.”

“Here, let me,” he said. He held out his hand and Rose handed the instrument back, trying to hide a pout of disappointment. Unfortunately, it was his.

She wondered if she could convince the Doctor to come back for it for her.

They watched as he took the instrument and odd, static-like sounds came out as he pressed too hard.

“I did say ‘delicate’,” the Doctor told him. “It reacts to the smallest fingerprint. It needs precision.” Van Statten listened to the Doctor’s advice and soon a few ringing notes came from it. “Very good,” he congratulated him. “Quite the expert.”

“As are you.” He suddenly callously tossed the instrument behind him and all eyes followed it as it clattered to the ground. Rose could tell by the look in the Doctor’s eyes that this was the exact moment he decided he did not like this man. “Who exactly are you?”

“I’m the Doctor. And who are you?”

“Like you don’t know,” Van Statten snarked. “We’re hidden away with the most valuable collection of extra-terrestrial artefacts in the world and you just stumbled in by mistake.

“Pretty much sums me up, yeah.”

“You’d be surprised by how often it happens,” Rose put in.

“Question is, how did you get in?” He walked around the desk, so he was standing closer to them. “53 floors down with your little cat burglar accomplice.” He leered down at her and Rose scowled. “Quite the collector yourself, she’s rather pretty.”

“She has a name, you know,” she snapped at him. “It’s Rose, and she’s gonna slap you if you don’t use it.”

“Ooh, and she’s spunky too. I like her. Hey, little Lord Fauntleroy, we might have found you a little English girlfriend.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” she muttered, shooting a glare at Adam. The Doctor looked between them with raised eyebrows, looking highly amused.

“Ah, this is Mr Henry Van Statten,” Adam introduced the smug man.

“What, and he can’t introduce himself?” she snarked. “And who’s he when he’s at home anyway? Other than some smug, rich twat with a hobby as weird as stamp collecting?”

Adam frowned in surprise at her comment, but soldiered on regardless. “Mr Van Statten owns the internet.”

“Oh, I see… That would be impressive if that was how the internet actually worked. No one can own the internet.”

“And let’s just keep the whole world thinking that way, right kids?” Van Statten said. Rose just rolled her eyes.

“So, you’re an expert on just about everything except the things in your museum,” the Doctor observed. “Anything you don’t understand, you lock up.”

“And you claim greater knowledge?”

“I don’t need to make claims, I know how good I am.”

“And yet, I captured you,” Van Statten said smugly. “Right next to the Cage. What were you doing down there?”

“You tell me.”

“The cage contains my one living specimen.”

“And what’s that?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“Show me”

“You wanna see it?”

The exchange was so quick, each man rapidly coming back with their reply in a way that reminded Rose of men showing off their toys.

“Blimey, just whip them out and measure them already!” she huffed jokingly.

“Rose!” the Doctor said, aghast.

“What, we both know you’d win,” she said to him with a smirk. “He’s clearly compensating for something.” This drew a small guffaw from the Doctor and Van Statten glared at her. Oh, she had hit the nail on the head.

“Goddard, inform the cage. We’re heading down,” Van Statten said to his assistant. He turned to Adam. “You, English. Look after the girl. Canoodle or spoon or whatever it is you British do.”

“No, thanks!”

“And you, doctor with no name…” He nodded towards the lift. “Come and see my pet.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Rose said. “I’m going with him.”

“Nope. You’re staying up here. I don’t just let anyone see my pet, and he’s the expert. So, the mouthy teen stays here.”

“Aww, but you said you liked me,” she pouted teasingly as they walked out the door.

The Doctor grinned, enjoying it probably more than he should. “Behave, you.”

“Never.”

He shot her one last brilliant grin before he turned and climbed into the elevator with the others, leaving just her and Adam in the room. She turned to face him expectantly, and for a moment, Adam just stood there, awkwardly hitting a fist into the palm of his hand. The expression he wore was clearly one of someone who had no clue what to do or say.

“Blimey, you’re a clever one, aren’t ya?”

“Oh, thank you!” he said, brightening up.

“That was sarcasm, Mate. Come on, you’re babysitting me. What are we going to do for entertainment?”

“I… Um, how-how about I show you my workroom?” he asked. “It’s no museum or Metaltron, but there’s some pretty cool things in there.”

“Metaltron?”

“It’s what Mr Van Statten has called his living specimen. See, no one knows what it is, and since we can’t get it to communicate we have no way of knowing. The alien seems to be a living creature, but it’s encased in this large, metal structure. So… Metaltron.”

“Ah, I see,” she said, trying not to laugh imagining a Dalek’s reaction to being called a Metaltron.

“Anyway, it’s ah… this way.” He led her out of the office into the hall, and into another elevator, making a belated introduction and small talk. They went down a few floors, along another few corridors, and finally into his small, cluttered workspace. “Sorry about the mess,” he said. “Mr Van Statten sort of lets me do my own thing, so long as I deliver the goods…”

Rose looked about the space, taking in all the objects around the room. She was quite pleased to find that she recognised a lot of them or could at least roughly identify what most of them were. She could also see quite a few objects she was sure were from Earth, and even something she knew was from the 51st century. She wasn’t sure if it fell through a rift, or if it had been dropped by a Time Agent, but she knew exactly what it was… and she should probably get it out of the hands of this greedy, arrogant git.

“What do you think this is?”

His voice caught her attention, and she turned around to see him holding something out to her. As she took it off him, she could see it in his eyes. That look that was practically begging her to ask him what it was so he could explain his ‘amazing’ theories to her and show off just how smart he was. She remembered how last time, even though she hadn’t had a clue what half of this stuff was, she had still played ignorant so he could show off. It was something she had sometimes done with the Doctor, just so she could listen to the sound of his voice and see how excited he got while explaining things. She had wanted to see Adam get that excited and passionate about something he clearly loved. But this time, she knew better. She knew what he was really like, and she had later realised that he had been rather condescending to her, just because she wasn’t ‘smart’. Well, she wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“Hmm….” She studied the chunk of metal carefully. “It’s porous, which would make it lighter than it would be if it where solid… Naturally occurring. But it’s been shaped. These bits are clearly broken and torn,” she traced her fingers around the edges, “but this part is smoothed flat, like it’s been worked. It’s an odd metal… definitely not from Earth. The colour is off from anything we have, and the pattern in the metal is an effect we’ve only seen on meteorites. Actually, there isn’t a metal like this in our entire galaxy, so it’s from somewhere beyond the Milky Way. It’s undoubtedly from a spacecraft of some kind, but I’m not sure which bit. The lightness of the material would definitely be good for flight, but probably not sturdy enough for the hull.”

“You-you don’t think it’s from a hull of a spacecraft?” he asked, baffled.

“No. Spacecraft, definitely. Hull… probably not. Then again… if they crashed, might be why.” She gently placed it back down on his desk.

“Oh.” He seemed quite put out, not only that he hadn’t been able to explain what it was, but also that she seemed to know more than he had about it. It brought a small smile to her lips. “You, ah… you seem to know a lot about… well, this stuff. Usually I have to try and convince people that aliens are real and that I’m not just a crazy person.”

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “After everything that happened back home? Aliens crashing into Big Ben, the Christmas spaceship, Cybermen and Daleks in the streets?!” She wondered if he would pick up on the memory of the Daleks and realise what it was Van Statten was hiding down in his basement, but he didn’t react at all. Still, that was all six or seven years ago for him, there had to be something more recent he would remember. Oh! It was 2012! “Everyone disappearing into thin air at the Olympics?!”

“In Bejing?”

“No, the London Olympics!”

“…Th-the Olympics haven’t happened yet. They’re a few months away.”

“Right. Right, yeah. They are, aren’t they. Still, how could you not know about all these things?!”

“Seems America missed the memo,” he said, rolling his eyes. “They didn’t get a lot of what we did back home. And they thought the Cybermen were a big practical joke, like a flashmob or terrorist group or something. I was actually on a plane to Japan for a foreign exchange programme. Totally missed it… But I was there that first Christmas, that one with the spaceship. One moment there’s aliens on TV, the next I’m waking up, standing on the edge of the roof with my mum and no idea how we got there.” Rose nodded. “What about you? Where were you that Christmas?”

“Oh, I was on the ship. So was the Doctor. He fought single combat to get them to leave Earth and won.”

“I… wow. Okay. Are-are you and he…”

“Yep,” she replied, nodding enthusiastically.

She knew what he was asking. If they were involved. And they may not be yet, but they hopefully would be in the future. And she was most definitely emotionally involved with him. And she was going to stop that boy’s train of thought right there.

He was obviously perplexed by this idea and a little put out to have his attempts of possible flirting shut down. She just continued to glance around the room.

“So, how did you end up here anyway? Doing a job like this?”

“Van Statten has agents all over the world looking for geniuses to recruit.”

“Oh, okay. So, you’re a genius?”

“Sorry, but yeah. Can’t help it. I was born clever.”

See. Smug, arrogant, condescending git. The Doctor was incredibly intelligent, but he didn’t rub it in everyone’s faces quite like that. It made her want to knock him down a peg.

“Why does a genius have a hairdryer in with a crate of guns?”

“What?”

“That one,” she said, pointing to the device that very clearly was not a gun. “I’m pretty sure that one’s a hairdryer.”

His brow furrowed. “How can you tell?”

She went over and pulled the crate out, grabbing it for a closer inspection. “Well, for one thing, this is a switch, not a trigger. These dials here are for temperature and pressure. And both sides are covered with vents and grates… It’s clearly not meant to have something fired out of it, and wants to prevent anything getting in. Plus, it just… generally looks like a hairdryer…”

“Oh.” Being shown up was making him at a loss for words, and Rose was loving it. She enjoyed watching as he looked about, practically searching for a way to try and one-up her. “You wanted to be down there looking at the alien with your doctor friend, right? Well, if you’re a genius, it doesn’t take long to patch in on the comms system.”

Trying not to roll her eyes, Rose smiled and relented. “Oh, alright then. Let’s have a look.” She came around to stand beside him at the desk, watching over his shoulder as he tapped at the keys and hacked into the camera down in the ‘cage’.

“To be honest, it doesn’t really do much. The alien. It’s weird. It’s kind of… useless. It’s just like this… great big pepper pot.”

The feed flicked up and despite herself, Rose felt herself tense up at the sight on the screen. In the middle of the room, chained up, was a Dalek. Just one regular Dalek. The first she had ever seen. Back then, she had been so naïve and had no kind of clue what creature Van Statten had imprisoned in his basement. But now she did. She had seen the horrors they had caused. The people this one would kill if she let it out. The billions of people they had killed over the course of 90 years on Satellite Five. Canary Wharf…

She despised this thing for what it was. For the things she knew it would do.

It could stay down there and rot for all she cared.

She didn’t care that that horrible man was torturing it. She didn’t. It deserved it. It deserved whatever was happening to it for all the pain it had and would cause. She didn’t care. She didn’t. It deserved it. It did…

It-it could rot here forever for all she cared… She wasn’t going near it this time.

Suddenly, she was no longer in Adam’s workroom. She was down in the cage, looking at the Dalek as time passed rapidly around her. She watched as days and months of torture was inflicted upon it. She watched as Van Statten shouted at it, demanding it talk to him and be a good pet. She watched as it screamed in agony, its hatred for mankind growing even stronger than it had already been. She watched as it bided its time. As a terrible storm raged, destroying the levels above ground and sending a powerful lightning strike right down through the bunker’s electrical system, giving the Dalek enough of a boost to recharge its systems and heal itself. It wasn’t perfect, still damaged and broken from years’ worth of torture and experiments, but its gun worked, and it was strong enough to break free. She watched as the Dalek moved its way through the bunker, killing everyone in sight. As it found its way up to the surface and out into the world. She watched as it made its way across Utah, across South Western America, killing billions before the military were able to bring it down with a nuke. So much of America decimated, the land radiated and uninhabitable for decades to come. All because of one brutal creature. All because she didn’t show it the compassion and mercy she should would almost anything else.

Rose gasped as she came back to herself, leaning heavily on the desk, her eyes fixed on the screen.

“We have to go!” she gasped. “We have to get down there!”

“We’re not supposed to-”

“They’re torturing it! I don’t care if it’s a Dalek or not! It’s wrong and we have to stop it!”

“Wait, that’s a Dalek?!” he cried as she ran from the room.

  “Hold it right there!” a guard said firmly as Rose charged into the room, Adam jogging in after her, trying to keep up.

“Level three access,” he panted, flashing his ID. “Special clearance from Mr Van Statten.”

He walked past her and led her into the cage. On their way, they passed Simmons. After seeing the possible timeline where he spent years upon years torturing that Dalek, she felt herself fill with rage, and before she could stop herself, she lashed out and slapped him.

“Fucking sadistic tosser!” she hissed at him. Immediately, every guard in the room was up in arms, heading towards her with their guns drawn. Thankfully, they were stayed by Adam, who held up his hand to stop them. He looked at Rose questioningly, his expression almost screaming for her to apologise. Instead, she just looked back at Simmons. “You’re worse than that creature in there,” she told him. And then she turned and pushed past Adam into the cage.

“What was all that about?” he asked as the door closed.

“I don’t condone torture,” she said shortly. “No matter how vial the victim is.”

Adam wisely said nothing, and she turned around to face the Dalek. Her heart pounded in fear, her mind racing with all the times she had gone up against them. What she knew they could do. What she knew this one would and could do. Still, she faced the chained creature and smiled sympathetically. It really looked roughed up, many of it’s domes crushed in and one of its panels pryed open. Thick chains surrounded it, keeping it teathered to four posts.

“Hello,” she said. “Are you alright? Are you in pain?” The Dalek just stared at her. She had no idea what it was feeling, with its unexpressive casing, or if it was even feeling anything at all. “My name’s Rose. Rose Tyler. I’m going to help you. Okay? My friend and I, we’re going to help you.”

“YES,” it said.

“Good. Then let’s get you out.”

“Rose, I don’t think-”

“YES… I AM IN PAIN,” the Dalek cut Adam off. “THEY TORTURED ME. BUT THEY STILL FEAR ME. DO YOU FEAR ME?”

Hesitantly, she looked it up and down, then shook her head. “Not right now.”

The Dalek lowered its eyestalk pathetically, really putting on a show. “I AM DYING.”

It almost made her laugh. Last time she met this Dalek, she had no idea what it was, nor how dangerous it was. It had played innocent and she had lapped it up in her naivety. She never realised just how much the Dalek was putting it on.

“No, don’t be silly,” she said playing along. “We can help.”

“I WELCOME DEATH. BUT I AM GLAD… THAT BEFORE I DIE… I MET A HUMAN WHO WAS NOT AFRAID…”

It was at this point, that Rose could no longer hold in her laughter. Adam balked at her reaction, too stunned to know what to do as she doubled over.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry,” she said, gasping for air. “I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

“I don’t get it…” Adam said, looking entirely lost. It was clear it was something he didn’t like feeling.

“It was just putting on the ‘poor little me’ act so strong, I couldn’t keep a straight face,” she said with a grin. Then she turned back to the Dalek. “I’m not like these other humans. I know what you are. I know what your species has done. What you do. I know that your lot commits genocide everywhere you go because you think you’re superior. But I have seen all of your existence before. I’ve wiped you from existence before. Daleks are monsters… but you don’t deserve this. Nothing deserves this. So, I’m going to get you out of here.” She began looking about for some controls or some way to let it out. “My friend and I will take you somewhere you can’t hurt anyone. Somewhere you can build a life and do… whatever it is Daleks do when they aren’t planning or committing invasions and genocide.”

“THAT IS MY PURPOSE!”

“Yeah, well, not anymore. You know there’s no more Daleks left, right? Not anywhere else in the universe!” She wasn’t entirely sure if it was true, but she knew that the Doctor had once been utterly convinced of it. “You don’t have any higher authority. You have no objective. And no weaponry. But you have your life. So, I suggest you take it.” When she couldn’t see any controls nearby, she walked over to one of the pillars chaining it up and started looking over it. “Okay, how do I get you out of here…?” She tug on the chains, looking about for a lock or some kind of release switch. “Adam, can you do something? I can’t touch it, or it will be able to repair itself, including its weapons and probably go on a killing spree.”

“Rose, I don’t think this is such a good id-”

“What do you think you’re doing?” The door burst open, and the horrible torturer guy rushed in, glaring at her.

“Getting this Dalek away from you!” she growled. “It might be one of the most instinctively evil creatures I know of, but it still deserves better than what you’ve done to it!”

“Get away from there!” he ordered her, stalking over to her in a few strides and grabbing her wrist away from the chains.

“Let go of me!” she hissed, trying to pull away from him. She tugged as hard as she could, and he let her go, sending her flying backwards… right into the Dalek. She could feel the cool metal under her hand heat up to the point of burning, and she jumped back, looking at it in panic. “Shit!”

“GENETIC MATERIAL EXTRAPOLATED,”  it said. “INITIATE CELLULAR RECONSTRUCTION!”

Right before them, the Dalek began to repair itself, gaining strength enough to burst out of the chains like it was no more than silly string, sparks flying around the room, making Rose scoot back as far as she could until she hit Adam’s legs. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, eyes still glued to the Dalek.

“What the hell have you done?!” the horrible guy cried.

“That was your fault!” She shouted back. “I said I couldn’t let it touch me! Now everyone is in danger, you fucking moron!”

The Dalek moved over to the man, its plunger extended out threateningly.

The man scoffed. “Watcha gonna go? Sucker me to death?” In the next instant, the plunger shot out, encompassing the man’s nose and mouth, almost sucking it in and the sounds of the man’s muffled screams and crunching bones filled the room. Rose couldn’t even bring herself to pretend he deserved that fate.

She grabbed Adam by the arm and pulled him out of the room. “It’s killing him!” she shouted at the men in the outer room. “Do something!” Someone immediately closed and locked the door behind her and Adam, and she rushed over to the man at the intercom.

“Condition red!” he called into it. “Repeat, condition red! This is not a drill!”

“What’s happening, Bywater?” Van Statten responded.

“Metaltron has broken loose. It’s killed Simmons.”

“Do whatever you can to keep it contained, we’ll video through soon.”

Rose paced anxiously as the Bywater began hurriedly tapping and keys and flicking switches. It was minutes later that the video flickered to life and she heard the Doctor’s voice, making her rush to the screen.

“You’ve got to keep it in that cell,” he ordered.

“I’m sorry, Doctor. It was my fault. I didn’t mean to touch it, but he pushed me and I fell on it. And then it said it was absorbing genetic something or other and then it was breaking loose!”

“Rose, it’s fine. That wasn’t your fault,” he assured her. “What’s important is making sure that thing doesn’t get out.”

“I’ve sealed the compartment,” Bywater said, sliding up beside her. “It can’t get out. That lock’s got a billion combinations.”

“The Dalek’s a genius. It can calculate a thousand billion combinations in one second flat.”

A quick glance at the screen showed them that the Dalek was on its way over to the entry pad and she turned back to the screen.

“Van Staten, you need to evacuate this base, right now! Get everyone out!” she told him firmly.

“She’s right,” the Doctor said.

Van Staten shook his head. “We need all essential manpower to keep it contained.”

“God damn it, you can do that without everyone here!” she shouted. “That thing is going to kill everyone! No amount of ‘manpower’ is going to stop it. It’s gonna cut through everyone like butter! If you don’t evacuate now, they are all going to die.”

Van Sataten just snorted. “I think my men can handle it.”

“No, they can’t. I’ve seen these creatures almost completely domninate many species – including you humans - countless times throughout history. My own people didn’t even truly beat them, and by the end of the war, we were experts in killing Daleks!”

“This facility is-”

“Van Staten,” she cut over top of him. “What are you going to do? Listen to the advice of some who’s battled these deadly things and actually knows what they’re talking about, or  are you going to put billions of people in danger because you’re a spoilt, rich manchild who can’t tell an alien blaster from a hairdryer and don’t want to admit how dangerous your precious little alien ‘toys’ are? No? Didn’t think so. So shut the fuck up and evacuate this entire damn base right now!”

Van Staten stared at her, offended and dumbfounded, while the Doctor full on beamed at her and Van Staten’s assistant attempted to hide a snigger.

At that moment, though, the Dalek found the right code and the door opened. The milliary personel lined up to shoot and she scooted back to the exit with them.

“Open fire!” Bywater commanded. Together, he and the woman who went with them last time began shooting at the Dalek.

“Alright! Alright! Get everyone out!” they heard Van Staten order. “Just don’t shoot it!”

“Everyone, come on!” she called to them.

“Rose, get out of there!” the Doctor told her.

“Don’t bother trying to hold it off, it won’t work! Just run, damn it!” She grabbed the two soldiers by the sleeves, tugging them with her.

“De Maggio, make sure that the civilians get out alive. That’s your job, got that?”

De Maggio nodded. “You two, make sure you stick with me!”

Right then, a voice came over the speakers. ‘Emergency evacuation – please exit the base! Emergency evacuation – please exit the base!’ The halls began to fill with the sound of footsteps as people made their way to the nearest exit.

Rose smiled even as the power failed around them and the alarm stopped. Because this time as she ran, several people ran along to safety beside her.

Chapter Index  |  First Chapter  |  << Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter >>

[hlupdate]

After experimenting with everything from EDM to acoustic ballads, Louis Tomlinson finally found his sound on “Kill My Mind.” The just-released single is a throwback to the fuzzy, indie-leaning pop/rock of the ’90s and early ’00s. Which is not a coincidence given that it was inspired by the bands Louis grew up listening to on UK radio. (Think Oasis and the Arctic Monkeys). The song also sets the tone for the superstar’s debut solo album, which will be similarly raw and organic.

I spoke with Louis about his gutsy new single on Friday (September 6) and he recapped his search for a sound that was authentic to him. The “Miss You” hitmaker then revealed that his debut album is finally finished and gave some insight into its tracklist. He also reminisced about his heartwarming “Two Of Us” video and fond memories of being in One Direction. Other topics of conversation included the “Kill My Mind” video, upcoming live shows and his next single. Find out more about the 27-year-old’s solo journey below.

It feels like you really found your sound with “Kill My Mind.”

I think it’s important for any artist to play around with different sounds and find a place in their industry. For me, it frustrates me now that I’ve got four or five singles that just feel different sonically. It’s important to me, and something I’m going to focus on moving forward, to have a real identity as an artist. With the album that is really, really important to me. I feel I found my home on “Kill My Mind,” definitely sonically and the way it makes you feel and how it sounds to you. Yes, it feels good.

Was it a matter of finding the right collaborator or producer?

Definitely. You need someone who is going to embrace your ideas and embrace you for who you are. I did quite a lot of different sessions with producers in America. Everyone has their own opinion of what they think you should be. With some people, you can go into the session and say, “This is who I am, let’s work with this.” Whereas in other sessions, I can sometimes feel producers trying to pull me certain ways. When I found Jamie Hartman, who I wrote quite a few songs with including “Kill My Mind,” I didn’t even have to explain too much about who I am or what I want. We were just on the same page straight away.

It definitely has more of an indie sound. There’s also something quite ’90s about it. Was that your intention?

Yes, I’m a massive fan of ’90s music. I always talk about when I grew up, pop Radio had the like of Amy Winehouse, Arctic Monkeys and Oasis. Now it’s a little bit more urban-leaning. I just went with what I grew up with. That’s where my influences lie.

I think that really comes through on the song. It’s a bit fuzzier and more organic than what you heard on radio right now.

That’s a big compliment. I appreciate that, thank you.

As you said before, you now have maybe five songs that all sound very different. Will you go back to those songs and tweak them?

Well, there are some songs like “Two of Us,” for example. That is just a really simple, organic ballad that fits in line with what I want to do. There are songs like “Back To You” with Bebe Rexha that I absolutely love but, sonically, even just melodically, it’s so set on what it is. Whereas the Steve Aoki song, I have actually reworked to try to fit more in line with “Kill My Mind.” It has been stripped back and that worked straight away actually. I think it’s kind of song dependent really.

I can’t wait to hear the new version.

It’s such an anthemic melody. Anyway, it leads to that guitar-driven stuff. It works pretty well actually.

How far along are you with an album or an EP?

I’m done! I’m finally finished recording the album thank fuck. That took fucking ages. I’ve probably got another two or three more singles after “Kill My Mind.” So the album’s probably going to be out early next year. I’ll be relieved the day the album is out, I can’t wait for that day.

It must be so exciting to have it in the can.

Oh, definitely. It’s been two or three years in the making and when I was in One Direction, we were literally putting out an album once a year. It does feel like a long time for me but I’ll feel really proud when I get it out. I’ve been quite meticulous with it. I’m really excited to hear the feedback.

Who else have you worked with apart from Jamie Hartman?

Let me think about this, who else have I worked with? There’s a guy called Sean Douglas, who actually also wrote “Kill My Mind” and wrote with him on a couple of tracks. I’ve probably done sessions with close to 75 different producers. I think what I’ve realized and learned during the process is that finding the right writing and creative partners, who are all on the same page, is priceless. I have also worked with Wayne Hector, Steve Robson, Julian Bunetta also. There are probably four or five songs that I wrote with Jamie, so they really will be a big chunk of the album.

Will those earlier singles be on the album?

They will be, definitely. I’d say, maybe 30 percent of the songs on the album were written longer than a year ago. There are some songs that are so special to me and I think they mean a lot to the fans. Some of those songs also represent that time in my life in whatever way. So I couldn’t necessarily start fresh, but once I’d written “Kill My Mind,” I kind of found my sound. Once I’d written “Kill My Mind,” there were three or four songs that followed on from that, and it was a little bit more straight forward because we knew exactly what we were aiming for.

I can imagine “Kill My Mind” sounding great live. Have you thought about a live show or tour?

I’m lucky enough to be playing a show in Madrid. They’re doing a Coca Cola festival and I’m headlining one of the days. I’m really excited about that. I’m doing 10 songs. Now, to this point, I’ve only done three or four songs on the odd radio show. So I’m really, really excited to get out and get a reaction and feed from the audience. I know, “Kill My Mind,” is naturally going to make the transition to a live show and I’m pretty confident it’s going to be fun. So I’m really excited about that moment.

How different is it standing on stage by yourself compared to being in a band with other guys?

I’ve done the odd performance. I feel like I’m growing into that. It won’t be so new to me, but doing 10 songs and creating a show about me on the stage, it’s a little bit, I would say, daunting. There’s naturally more pressure. That’s another thing I’ve realized from working on my own as a solo artist. I have to stay across absolutely, everything and all of a sudden, I’m so meticulous about every single detail. When I think about the tour, it’s going to be an even more rewarding situation for me because when we put it on, I will literally have painted this picture from the ground up, so it’s something that really excites me.

You mentioned “Two of Us” a little bit earlier. I love that song.

Thank you.

The video was so touching. Who came up with that idea? That old guy is a legend.

Oh my God, honestly. Of all the things that I’ve done in the last 12 months, that is definitely one of the best things. It was an absolutely amazing experience. I think it was a conversation between me and the record label. We talked about different, interesting ideas that we could do for the video. Everyone should watch that video and be inspired. Not from my story, but from Richard’s story. That old guy recently lost his wife and it was raw to him, but I’ve never met anyone with such an amazing view on life. Although he wasn’t dealt the best hand, he lived so happy and so fun, and he was up for anything literally. He was a proper, proper, brave old guy and I was really taken aback by him as a person.

Has he inspired the way you approach your own life?

Definitely. I think that I have the luxury of now being able to see that the glass is half full as opposed to half empty. Richard really taught me that. There are some things that we did together, which he had obviously never done before. It takes a brave man of that age to do new things. Yes, we can all learn something from that, definitely.

Have you thought about what you’re going to to do for the “Kill My Mind” video?

I’ve already filmed the “Kill My Mind” video, and the next video actually. I’m really excited about this. It’s with Charlie Lightening who directed a documentary about Liam Gallagher. I’m really excited about that. Visually, he’s really cool. Conceptually, for “Kill My Mind,” I wanted it to be like all the Oasis videos I love. I wanted it to be more about the performance. Not focusing too much on a narrative and just being lit really well. I think we pulled it off. I’m excited about that one.

I can’t wait to see it. Do you know when it’s coming out?

Yes. What day is today? Friday. I think it’s due Monday or Tuesday. I think we’ve got some last few notes to do before signing off. So, yes, early next week.

Do you enjoy the visual element?

Yes. I’ve always been quite inclined to get involved in conversations about that. To be honest, sometimes One Direction was so manic, there literally wasn’t time to be across as many things as I am now. It’s really, really rewarding. It’s the same buzz that I get off writing songs. Like when we sat and we spoke about the idea for the Richard video, “Two of Us.” Then you actually watch the final piece, you’re like, “Wow, we’ve actually created something really interesting.” To a certain degree, important, that’s proper refreshing. Definitely.

You mentioned some of the One Direction videos. Has enough time passed that you can look back on it and feel nostalgic or does it still feel recent to you?

It still feels recent but there have been numerous times where I find myself kind of reminiscing about old videos on YouTube, interviews, or performances, whatever it is. There’s still that side of the nostalgia where you miss it as well. It’s like looking back on your school days or your university days. It gives you that funny feeling in your stomach where you miss it, definitely.

You said you filmed a video for the single after “Kill My Mind,” how long will we have to wait for it?

Because I have other songs that don’t really reflect the overall identity and sound of the album, I just want to get as much music out as I can before the album comes out. I’m pretty sure the plan is to release a song every month or every six weeks, so there’s more music out there. I want to really drive home who I’m trying to be as an artist. I think the next single’s coming middle of October, something like that.

Thanks so much for your time. Good luck with the album.

Thank you. I appreciate that.

[waterchestnut123]

CHAPTER 3 / The Peculiar Perils of Straw Hat Parties

Common commentary throughout the 5 seas held that Straw Hat parties were notoriously wild. This is something that Trafalgar Law, as well as the rest of his crew, are learning first hand. Not that Law particularly feels like partying; after Dressrosa, the Heart Pirates Captain has a little soul-searching he’d like to attend to. But one tends to become… drawn in, to certain things around Luffy—regardless of one’s plans or intentions. This is how Law finds himself developing an unlikely and unexpected friendship with his ally’s navigator—and how that friendship, much like Luffy’s parties, grows far beyond his intentions.

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Chapter 3: The Consequences of Poor Party Planning

Chapter Rating: T Warnings: References to gore, traumatic experiences, mild language.

“Hard to Port! HARD TO PORT!”

Nami clung to the bannister of the top deck as though her life depended on it (and realistically, it probably did) as she shouted instructions to Franky at the helm. Remaining upright was a struggle, the vicious rocking of the ship threatening to dissolve what tenuous equilibrium she had established in her inebriated state. Violent gusts whipped her hair in every direction, cold rain pelted her face, and as a massive wave came crashing down—just shy of where the ship had been moments ago—she debated just how hard she was going to pummel Luffy when all this was over.

The storm had hit fast and hard, but she’d been able to give enough forewarning to the two crews that they were, so far, successfully staying just ahead of the worst of it. How long that would continue to be the case, however, she wasn’t sure. They were in no shape to navigate the Sunny: Usopp was completely passed out after his game of sake-scotch—tucked away in the men’s quarters by Zoro before they set off; the usually unflappable Zoro was unsteady on his feet as the ship rolled violently with the tide—a sure sign of his extreme level of intoxication; Luffy was struggling to keep his meat down, and Brook couldn’t stop laughing at Zoro’s frequent stumbling and subsequent cursing. What little headway they had made was entirely attributable to her early detection. The storm was gaining—and their ability to outrun it was rapidly deteriorating.

“Franky—we need a coup de burst! We can’t keep this up!”

“The cola engine is empty—it needs a new barrel! You’ll have to do it, though, I’ve gotta stay on the wheel!” Franky shouted back, holding tight to the spokes as they pulled violently starboard.

Nami worried her lip. Traversing the ship in her current state and in the present conditions—with every wooden surface slick with rainwater, was firmly in the “bad idea” category; but she didn’t have much choice. She eyed Franky’s wrestling match with the wheel and took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Alright—be ready! We need to head directly east by southeast to outrun the storm!”

“You got it, sis!” He then turned his attention out to the deck. “Oi! Everyone! Raise the sails!”

Wiping sopping hair out of her eyes, she gripped the railing tightly, taking careful steps towards the deck stairs. It felt like an ageless journey to get to the rear of the ship—her progress slowed by the ship’s turbulent thrashing. She was forced onto all fours as she crossed the lawn deck due to a sudden bout of nausea; though she rather hoped at the least that lowering her profile would reduce the likelihood of being blown off the ship by a violent gust. After covering in almost five minutes a distance that should have taken less than thirty seconds to cross, she found her way aft. Sliding down the ladder into the bowels of the ship, she planted her feet carefully on the floor of the cola room, wiping water from her face and taking quick stock of her surroundings.

The cola engine was currently filled with empty barrels as Franky had said, and she quickly set about removing them. She struggled to place the full, fresh barrels in their place—heavy in their own right, made worse by the unsteady ship—but eventually managed to work all three into place with a final, frustrated kick. She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard Franky shouting instructions topside, then the whir of the engine coming to life.

She turned to make for the ladder again, grateful that it would soon all be over—however that was where she made her mistake. Grabbing hold of the rungs, she didn’t get more than four feet up before she heard a particularly strong wave violently crash against the side of the ship, and felt a sudden, sharp lurch. With her weary grip and wet shoes, she lost her footing and tumbled down the ladder, landing harshly on her ankle and feeling a resounding crack followed by a sharp, shooting pain in her ankle.

“AGHHH!”

Her vision went briefly white as she hurriedly pulled the injured leg out from beneath her, cradling it delicately between her palms. Eyes tightly shut and leaking tears, she grit her teeth against the searing ache, feeling her stomach turn in response to the pain. She had barely repositioned herself comfortably at the base of the ladder when she felt the force of the coup de burst push her against the rungs, briefly stealing her breath. The laughter of her crew above followed quickly after, echoing down the chute and signaling their escape from the storm’s clutches. She had that to be thankful for at least.

After a minute, as the ship began to slow, she let out a slow, shaky breath and turned her head up, eyes still leaking pained tears. Now she just needed one of those idiots to carry her to the infirmary.

“Oi! Luffy!” she shouted up the chute, voice pitchy with pain. “Get your rubber ass down here and give me a hand!”

—:—:—:—:—:—:—

“What did you do?”

Law stared down at the swollen mass that was now her ankle with an amused, if dumbfounded, expression, Chopper’s ice pack resting beside her calf atop the infirmary bed. They had managed to find an island nearby with a protected cove at which to make repairs; and it was good, too, as the ship had gotten quite a good trouncing in the storm. Or perhaps it had been their abysmal reaction time. Either way, they had a ship to fix.

And a navigator too, apparently.

Nami grit her teeth as Law gently turned her ankle to examine it, still a bit tender as the local anesthetic had yet to take full effect. A broken tibia was Chopper’s diagnosis—and quite bad, too. No sooner had they had docked than Chopper hailed down Law in his sub who, according to the tiny doctor, was far better equipped to mend such a break with his ope ope no mi than he was with only his hands. Er, hooves.

“I slipped and fell down the ladder in the energy room,” she ground out, attempting not to flinch at the gentle pressure of his fingers.

Law released her ankle, turning to her with a raised brow. “You know you really should have been more careful going up a wet ladder while drunk,” he commented mildly.

She glared at him, eyes narrowed and expression distinctly unamused. “Shut it, Doctor spots. Can you fix it or not?”

He repressed a bemused smirk as he stood, crossing his arms as he eyed her ankle thoughtfully, then turned to Chopper.

“Bring her to my operating room on the sub—I can reset the bone and mend the damage to the surrounding tissue, but it will require surgery. It shouldn’t take too long, but even if I speed up the healing process, the recovery will still be almost a week—and she’ll need to be careful for another month after that. We can go over follow-up care once I’m done.”

“Oh, good!” Chopper breathed a sigh of relief, tense shoulders relaxing. “Thank you so much!”

But Nami’s ears were still ringing with the word ‘surgery’. A wave of anxiety washed over her, momentary visions of an old memory—of bloody scalpels and chunks of flesh littering a concrete floor flashed through her mind; but just as quickly as they came she shut them out, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth until the images ceased their assault. As she opened them she forced the anxiety down, allowing the much more manageable emotion of anger to take its place. Grinding her teeth, she turned towards the open door, shouting with renewed irritation for the closest thing she had to a punching bag.

“Where is that rubber idiot?! I am going to give him such a beating!!”

—:—:—:—:—:—:—

Chopper, in heavy point, carried Nami onto Law’s sub, down an elevator and into the operating theater where he placed her gently onto the operating table. Once she was situated, Chopper wished her a speedy recovery and departed to tend to the rest of the crew’s numerous scrapes and bruises.

Law busied himself preparing additional anesthesia for injection, as well as pulling out the needed equipment. Nami eyed him warily as he worked, placing scalpels, cotton pads, and other supplies upon a metal tray.

Finally ready to begin he turned, activating his room to encompass the bed—only to notice his patient gripping the sheets beneath her in a white knuckled grip, her eyes periodically darting anxiously towards his tray despite the otherwise cool expression of her features. He paused before reaching for his scalpel, eying her thoughtfully. After the roughness of Punk Hazard and Dressrosa, he wouldn’t have thought she’d suffer from something like medical anxiety.

“The surgery shouldn’t take more than an hour,” he said carefully as he pulled the tray towards him, situating himself near the foot of the operating table. “You can stay conscious while I operate, or I can sedate you, if you’d prefer. You won’t feel anything either way.”

“Sedation,” she said without hesitation.

He nodded, reaching for a mask draped atop a metal canister beside the bed. As he approached, he noticed that her posture had not relaxed, and she eyed the mask apprehensively. Drawing upon his patience, he gently pushed her down flat onto the bed.

“It’ll  be over before you know it.”

She closed her eyes, fingers clenching and un-clenching as she took a calming breath, and Law seized the opportunity. Quickly raising his arm, he gently pressed the mask against her face and activated the flow of gas. Her eyes flew open and she attempted to sit up again; but his hand on her shoulder was steady, and though he was briefly subjected to her signature glare, her gaze quickly became unfocused and her eyelids fluttered shut.

Finally, he could begin.

The surgery went smoothly. Her fracture was, as he anticipated, quite bad, and the surrounding tissue severely irritated. Thankfully, though, it had suffered little actual damage. Copious evidence of a previous fracture in the same location suggested that to be the reason for the severity of the break; the bone structure was already quite weak.

In total it took no more than an hour, and by the time the sedative was due to wear off, he had finished the surgery and already started a healing acceleration treatment.

The sound of her groggy voice alerted him to her wakefulness, words faintly slurred.

“Mmmm… ’s nice,” she mumbled.

He lifted his head, glowing palm unmoving from its location atop her ankle. He’d been told by his patients before that the treatment felt vaguely like warm water gently flowing through the affected area—it seemed Nami agreed. Slowly, her eyelids struggled open and amber eyes turned to gaze blearily at him. He could tell from the slightly vacant look on her face that, though wakeful, the sedative was keeping her higher faculties from emerging.

She blinked slowly, repeatedly, gazing at him with her head cocked against the pillow in confusion, “Wha… Hi—hi Torao. Hi. Whas… whas’re you doin’?” she glanced from his face to where his hand rested atop her ankle, then back to his face, expression full of childlike curiosity.

“Healing your ankle,” he answered noncommittally.

She blinked at him, then shifted slightly on the operating table before her eyes widened and she attempted to sit up on her elbows

“Where did you put my foot?” She asked urgently.

Law repressed a snort. While the sedative had worn off enough for her to wake, the local anesthetic may not have, and it was likely sensation from the mid-calf down was, at the least, muted.

“Your foot is securely attached to your leg, Nami-ya. As you can see.” He gestured with his free hand towards the ankle he was working on. She followed his hand with her eyes, but didn’t look convinced.

“But I can’t feel it. You must have taken it off.”

“You can’t feel it because I numbed your ankle for the surgery. Your foot is still attached,” he reasserted firmly, if with a hint of annoyance.

She narrowed her eyes as she examined his face closely. “And what’d I need surgery for, hm? HM?”

He glanced up, feeling his eyebrow twitch with growing irritation as he answered, “Because you broke your ankle.”

At his words her eyes widened, and she nodded with sudden clarity. “Oh—OH! I broke my ankle!” Then, more softly, “I broke my ankle…”

He rolled his eyes, adjusting his hand with a quiet sigh. He never was a fan of dealing with sedative-induced delirium. He had hoped he might be done before she woke expressly so that he could avoid this, but luck was not on his side.

For several minutes she seemed content to watch him work, lying back against her pillow silently as she stared down at him. Then, suddenly, she grinned, sitting up on her elbows again as her gaze rose to his face with childlike enthusiasm.

“Hey—hey Torao… ask me if I’m orange.”

Law’s eyes rose to meet hers, and he felt that twitch in his brow return.

“No.”

She immediately frowned, looking thoroughly put out. “Oh, come on! Ask me! Pleeeeease?”

He sighed, drawing on his patience. He was almost done, he reminded himself—almost done.

“Are you orange, Nami-ya?”

She continued to smile at him, biting her lower lip to withhold her glee, before finally blurting out, “No!” and dissolving into giggles.

He stared at her flatly as her chest heaved with her laughter, feeling a distinct desire to put her under again. Thankfully it seemed her poor attempt at humor had, for the moment, satisfied her; for as her laughter died down she simply settled more comfortably on her elbows, eyes curiously watching his glowing hand slowly, carefully tracking over her ankle.

He was rewarded with another few moments of peace, before she broke the silence again.

“What’re you doing?”

He momentarily shut his eyes before forcing out an answer. “I’m healing your ankle. Like I told you.”

She frowned slightly, clarifying her question. “No, I mean… aspif—epsific—specifically.”

“I’m accelerating your body’s natural healing process by increasing blood flow and feeding your cells mitochondrial energy.”

He had hoped the specificity of his answer would disinterest her from further query; but no. Of course not. Instead, she raised her thoughtful gaze up to his face, blinking rapidly as she inquired further.

“How d’you do that?”

“By feeding you some of my life force,” he answered noncommittally, readjusting himself on his stool.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, expression becoming sharp despite the bleariness still coloring her expression. “Is… that doesn’ seem like it would be very good for you.”

He shrugged. “By the time I’m done with your treatments, it will probably have taken a few days off my lifespan.”

With unexpected speed and strength she pulled herself upright and yanked his hand off her ankle, expression horrified.

“No!!”

He eyed her with a furrowed brow, crossing his arms over his chest in distinct irritation. “No?” he echoed incredulously, “You were the one who complained about the recovery time.”

She shifted in the bed, moving her arms to support her weight on her hands as she started to sway. The sudden move had clearly been an effort. “I was… I was just mad ‘cuz I didn’t want to have surgery! Don’t waste your life like that! You can’t!”

Once more Law rolled his eyes, moving his hand back to her ankle and re-activating the acceleration. “It’s just a few days, Nami-ya. I lost years on Doflamingo.”

Again she surprised him with her strength as she leaned forward in an attempt to shove his hand away—but this time he wouldn’t be deterred. He grabbed her with his free hand by the wrist to hold her at bay; but she just reached for him with her other hand to pull him off her ankle—and before he could understand how exactly it had happened, they were engaged in slap fight, with Nami managing to muster a shocking amount of speed and strength.

But that strength didn’t last long. Her precision and speed quickly faded and she began to sway in her upright position. Taking advantage, he grabbed both of her wrists, holding them away and her upright, exasperated and irritated in equal measure.

“Nami-ya!” he commanded sharply, “Would you stop.”

“No!” she asserted stubbornly, weakly struggling against his grip. “You just got your life back, and at a huge cost—I won’t let you be so quick to waste it—especially on me!”

That was… not an answer he was expecting. His surprise caused his grip to slacken and she used the opportunity to slip free of him, settling her arms across her chest with a frown. His eyes moved to meet with hers, and though her gaze was still a bit hazy, they were nonetheless resolute. His brow furrowed and he frowned, thinking. He had not anticipated she would be upset about this, nor that she would seem to carry such… strong opinions, as to how he spent his life force.

“This is the nature of the Ope Ope no Mi, Nami-ya,” he said carefully, “Certain abilities feed on the user—that’s just how it works.”

He allowed a moment for his words to sink in before placing his hand back on her ankle, re-activating the acceleration; and when she weakly reached to try and remove it again he grabbed her wrist with his free hand, eying her sharply.

“It’s a worthwhile use of my abilities, and a relatively small sacrifice I’m willing to make,” he said with finality, the glow under his palm igniting again. “If there is anyone between our two crews we need able-bodied, the navigators are at the top of that list. Stop fighting me or I’ll put you under again.”

She frowned at him, and as he released her wrist she thankfully settled back against the pillow instead of making for his hand again. She let out a frustrated breath, closing her eyes. Her posture seemed weary—the energy expended fighting him off had clearly taken it out of her. She remained still and silent for some time, and Law used that opportunity to examine his progress. The swelling had gone down significantly, and he could now feel the bone beneath her skin, smoother now at the break site as the bone began to knit neatly back together.

“Luffy said you made a room so large on Dressrosa he couldn’t even see it,” she said quietly, breaking the stillness. “Is that what cost years of your life?”

He raised his head, seeing her sitting up on her arms again as she eyed him.

“Mugiwara-ya didn’t regale you with the details?” he commented lightly before returning to his examination. She frowned.

“He’s not a complete idiot, you know. He does know when something’s personal and to keep his mouth shut. When I asked, he only told me the basics, and said I should ask you if I wanted to know the rest.”

Law turned to study her annoyed expression, surprised by her words—and Luffy’s. He had assumed that the whole of the battle would become common knowledge to Straw Hat’s crew, as much as he wouldn’t prefer it.

Luffy’s… unexpected tact—a concept he would never have ever thought could be associated with the lunatic captain, was… appreciated.

He turned his gaze back to her ankle, sliding his hand beneath it to examine the tendons. Given that he doubted she would remember much, if any of this conversation later, he decided to humor her.

“Yes,” he answered simply.

She stared at him wide-eyed, expression dumbfounded.

“Why?”

“…Why?”

“Yeah—why would you just… waste years of your life like that?”

“To maintain situational advantage,” he answered absently, carefully feeling along the achilles tendon. “And the years weren’t wasted—they ended up saving my life.”

She stared up at him with something suspiciously like concern, voice quiet. “What happened?”

He paused, eying her a moment, contemplating. It wasn’t something he particularly liked to dwell on, but…

“I was shot by Doflamingo. Twenty-two times, I believe. By keeping up my room too large to be seen, I was able to remove the bullets and heal myself while Doflamingo was busy with Luffy, thinking I was dead.”

She sat up fully, her eyes widening in alarm and a hand moving to cover her mouth. Silence, and the occasional metal creak of the Polar Tang as it shifted in the waves were the only sounds to fill the space between them. She said nothing for several moments, and he was content to leave it at that—but then she quietly spoke, voice soft and words unexpected.

“But… you were still shot, right? The Ope Ope no Mi can’t stop you from… feeling all those bullets—right?”

He held her gaze briefly before offering a small but clear nod.

Her eyes widened a moment before she let out a breath, turning towards the wall, eyes far away.

“I thought you seemed different when you came back to the Sunny with the others,” she said softly. “Luffy told me that you used to be a member of Doflamingo’s crew until he killed someone you cared about; that you had allied with us only because you wanted help getting revenge, and were willing to do anything to get it.” She lifted her head and her eyes met his—her gaze uncomfortably knowing.

“I get it—I do. An old captain you hated, who took someone you loved away from you…” She closed her eyes, one hand raising to unconsciously rub her tattooed shoulder. “I would understand more than anyone else. I’ve wanted to ask for a while, but… I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk about it.”

She opened her eyes and gazed at him with a small, sad smile.

“And why would you understand?” he asked coolly, though with the unexpected turn in conversation he felt suddenly anything but.

She turned her gaze down at the thin cotton blanket lying across her lap, thumb gently stroking her tattoo—though, in looking more closely, he could see her thumb was actually circling a scar hidden beneath the ink.

“When I was ten, the Arlong pirates invaded my village, taking over my island and demanding everyone pay tribute or be killed. We were poor, and my mother had only enough saved to pay for my sister and I. So… Arlong shot her, right in front of us. And when he found out I could make maps, he kidnapped me and forced me into his crew.”

Her voice had grown small, and Law could tell, recalling these events was difficult for her. He felt uncomfortably voyeuristic; as though he were becoming privy to something too intimate, too… familiar—things not meant for the ears of a rival. He was about to tell her she needn’t continue—he felt fairly confident she wouldn’t have were she not under the influence of a drug; but what she said next halted his words on the tip of his tongue, and curiosity overtook his better judgment.

“I hated him so much,” she said with a venom unbefitting the quiet atmosphere. “I spent eight years as one of his executives—robbing pirates to try and buy back mine and my village’s freedom. That was the deal I made with him. The villagers didn’t know why I joined, and they hated me for it—or at least, thats what they wanted me to think.” Her anger dissipated slightly, and she let out a sigh.

“When I had finally gotten almost all of the money, he sent his marine lackeys after me to confiscate it all. He never had any intention of honoring our agreement—never intended to let me go; just wanted to give me false hope.”

She closed her eyes and took a breath, then turned to him, a self-deprecating smile on her lips.

“I found out later that the villagers knew all along—they’d just been playing a role so that if I ever wanted to run away, I wouldn’t feel guilty for abandoning them and leaving them all to die. When they found out about Arlong’s duplicity, they finally decided to go after him. I gave up and went with them; I thought I had no other way out. I was going to kill him, or die trying.”

She stared at him pointedly, then—eyes both fierce and gentle. Her gaze felt strangely piercing for a woman only on the cusp of cogency; and yet he found himself unable to maintain her gaze. He turned his eyes back down to her ankle.

“What happened?” He asked quietly as he shifted his fingers over her ankle bone. She smiled fondly.

“Luffy.”

Ah. Figures.

Silence pervaded once more, and after a moment she settled back down onto the bed, closing her eyes with a quiet exhale.

He allowed himself a moment for his mind to drift back through her story. She was the one Straw Hat he’d gotten to know the least. Their interactions on Punk Hazard had been rushed and frenzied—as most of the endeavor had been, and they’d been separated throughout the events of Dressrosa. Yet it seemed they had more in common than he ever would have guessed.

“I think I would have missed you, y’know,” she said suddenly, unexpectedly, pulling his mind from his thoughts. He lifted his head to find her smiling softly, eyes still closed.

“If you’d died on Dressrosa,” she clarified. “You’re a good guy and a good captain. You’ve grown on me,” she added, her smile broadening just a bit.

Law’s brow furrowed as he gazed at her sincere smile, unsure how to take, let alone react, to the sentiment. He decided instead to deflect.

“Me, or my bear?” he inquired coolly, thinking back to the night before. Nami laughed.

“Okay,” she said with a yawn, “You and the bear.”

Silence stretched between them once more, and Nami hummed contentedly as he moved his hand back to the top of her ankle. He forced his attention away from her face and back to his work, fingers trailing over the the site of the break one last time.

“Thas’ nice…” she murmured, settling deeper into her pillow, “I take it back… you can spend your life force doing that any time.”

Law felt a small smile pull up the corners of his lips, but he didn’t respond, focusing instead on finishing his examination. It seemed just about where he wanted it to be for now—mended enough to get her through until tomorrow. With a flick of his wrist he stopped the acceleration, looking back up ready to pronounce her treatment finished for the day—but instead he found that she had fallen back asleep.

With a breath, he slumped back on his stool with a weary sigh. The acceleration always left him feeling drained, but her argumentativeness—and the unexpected conversation, had taken more of a toll on him than he’d anticipated.

Had he not spend so many years as a pirate, he might find it difficult to imagine she had ever struggled against such hardships. She certainly didn’t carry herself that way; she was clever and headstrong, at time ferocious and at others, playful. Though he hadn’t seen much of it for himself, he knew from the other members of her crew that she could be… tempestuous and domineering; though they remarked upon it with the utmost fondness.

She was flirtatious and often smiling; yet if her words were to be believed, she had suffered—isolated and alone, most of her life. But still she found a way to be cheerful, and to demonstrate seemingly genuine care about his own hardships, even though there was little reason to. He was a captain of a rival crew, in a temporary alliance with her own—beyond his abilities to fulfill their agreement to take down Kaido, there was nothing to be gained from deeply and truly caring. He was torn between thinking her abundantly kind or outright foolish.

But, then again, when had anyone on Mugiwara’s crew ever made much sense?

And though he was loath to admit it, she had struck a cord. Under the lingering influence of the sedative, she was just so damned sincere in her concern. He couldn’t even remember the last time a relative stranger gave two shits about the things he’d been through—maybe the nuns at the church in Flevance. He’d certainly never met anyone with a story like his before, either.

And though he was even more loath to admit it, he was also left feeling guilty. He shouldn’t have let her carry on the way she had. Even if he couldn’t have stopped her, he should have at least tried; but, perhaps selfishly, he’d found himself wanting to know what made her tick. He knew she wasn’t in her right mind, and if she remembered any of their conversation when she woke up, he suspected she would be cross at best, furious at worst.

Though, he couldn’t help the small smile which curved up his lips as he thought back to her final comment. He’d grown on her, huh?

A quiet, yet firm knock came at the door and he wearily stood from his stool. With a click he turned off the brighter overhead lights and opened the door, finding Penguin on the other side.

“Lunch is ready, captain,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. “Do you want me to bring something for you and Miss Nami?”

Law glanced over his shoulder at her still and slumbering form. Turning back to Penguin, he shook his head. “No. I’m just about done here, and Nami-ya is asleep. I’ll meet you in the mess hall in a bit.”

“You got it, Captain,” Penguin smiled before turning and heading back down the hall.

Law shut the door quietly, turning back towards the operating table. He’d just have to deal with the consequences of their conversation later, when she woke up again. Hopefully she wouldn’t remember, and he’d have nothing to deal with at all.

He began cleaning up his tools and equipment, pausing briefly as Nami shifted in her sleep. He chanced a glance at her; the arm that had risen to her tattoo now rested loosely atop her waist, her head fallen slightly to the side. Orange curls framed her face like a strange halo, and her dark lashes lay peacefully closed.

His mind cast back to the night before—to Luffy’s party out in the middle of the ocean, and his and Nami’s conversation on the aquarium bar balcony. One moment in particular stood out to him—when she’d taken his hat. He could easily have taken it back using his ability just as he’d done with his wallet; but for some reason, he let himself get drawn into her game, just as he’d let himself get drawn into conversation with her not ten minutes ago. And when he had her cornered against the far wall, blinking up at him from beneath those lashes, he’d felt… drawn to her; caught in the orbit of her gravity and unable to pull out.

He could chalk it up to the alcohol. She was a beautiful woman, after all, and had been looking up at him with those impish eyes, face cast in the silvery light of the half moon. He was only human.

She hummed quietly in her sleep, and the sound jarred Law from his reverie. He forced his attention back to the task at hand, picking up the remains on his operating tray before sliding it back into its proper place. He needed to stay focused. Now that he had been reunited with his crew, taking down Kaido was next and that would be no easy task, requiring every ounce of his attention and focus especially with Luffy in the picture—and she was beginning to take up too much room in his head.

As he headed for the door, he quickly checked her IV and tossed the remaining refuse into the medical waste bin on the wall. Reaching for the handle, though, he paused, glancing over his shoulder at her. She still lay quietly on the bed, her chest rising slowly but steadily with her breathing.

Yes, she was taking up far too much room in his head.

He pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall, shutting it softly behind him—and with it, all wayward thoughts of the navigator asleep within.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

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[kitsoa]

Lyric Comic Q&A

So it turns out when you work on a project for half a year, you get a lot of Thoughts and want to express them whether people are actually curious or not. Without further ado, your un-requested Birdmen Lyric Comic Q&A

(Warning: I’m long winded)

*Why a Lyric Comic?

Dude, lyric comics are cool. I’ve always been fascinated by the beautiful, multifaceted artistic experience they provide, because of my love for music and art. Furthermore, I am often plagued by cinematic trapped in my head, spurred by the movement and lyrics of my favorite songs. Since I have no means or experience in the animation category (which would free these phantoms from my head) the lyric comic was a godsend of a medium for this inspired idea of mine. Kiki-kit of the Gravity Falls fandom and Tides-miraculous’ lyric comic in the Miraculous Ladybug are my main inspirations, I’ve adored their sense of motion and emotional savviness. It’s quite the powerful medium.

It’s also a good medium for me personally. I am a ‘looper’ with my music, allowing me to listen to something over and over without tiring. This is useful in the drafting stages! I loved the challenge (though I definitely didn’t anticipate it’d take this long).

*Why this song?

“Out of Mind” was one of those songs that spoke to me, in an overly cathartic, heart-yearning-- almost funnily sardonic ways. Birdmen being on the brain, I started to easily see how much the singers voice reflected that bombastic frustration our Eishi is so known for. The Pre-Chorus “Are you kidding me?” speaks to me the most, reminding me of his cry of frustration during his first blackout, screaming against his fate as he fell from the sky (this exact image did not make the final cut in the end, but I certainly vied for it until other themes overtook it-- let’s face it, there are many screaming Eishi’s to choose from).

This period of time between Takayama’s disappearance and the inevitable reunion is super intriguing to me. Eishi’s in the role of the heartbroken singer, hopelessly betrayed and unable to get over the good thing they had.

*Breakdown the story:

The progression goes like this:

Eishi’s loneliness consumes the first verse, Takayama’s empty seat, Eishi standing alone… all the while peppered with Takayama’s broken promise, which culminates with Eishi’s defiant Death Tweet. The Refrain then serves as these hallmark moments that define them. This is what they had. Every rescue, every proclamation or venomous defying of fate-- it’s what made them. And you’d have to be out of your mind to think that these moments could be forgotten.

Verse 2 is all about that shift in Eishi to follow him. Wistful memories drive Eishi as he chooses to leave and depart from everything he knows, just to get him back. Meanwhile, that opinion of Takayama is still weighed down by that grating irritation (like hell he’s in touch reality, how could he do this?) culminating to his call for him in the Himalayas. The Refrain fires again with the same point as the last but this time I tried to go for a more fervent angle, some of the scenes actually focus on Takayama’s feelings for Eishi and ultimately the pull they have towards each other.

The Bridge is where things get desperate. The moments in the manga where Eishi is in physical pain because of the Whiteout shake me so much. It reminds me of a straight up panic attack. I let this crescendo with the music, making the black void swallow the chaos in a quick snap. Building to the final chorus.

The whiteout is special because Eishi both yearns after this figment emotionally (his friendship with Takayama) and intellectually (what the hell is it and what does it mean?). It represents his unique position in the realm of the story being able to see it, but it ultimately captures the almost divine force behind the relationship of Eishi and Takayama. The outro then brings us back to Eishi failed call at the Himalaya’s, the whiteout ripping him up and forcing Takayama to save him. All the while calling back to that first interaction between them. A mysterious moment that obviously held more weight than any world shaking rescue. And I cap it off with a warmer depiction of their reunion.

*Are you shipping in this comic?

Despite the romantic song, my affections for the pairing, and any other subtext I’ve provided, I went in with the project with a platonic angle. Like I’m not lying. I’m on the ace spectrum or whatever so I kind of interpret every strong bond in the same realm. So that means, if you think it’s a romantic interpretation-- then you’re right. If you think it’s not, you’re also right. Love comes in many forms. Have fun kids.

*What was your process?

Storyboarding

Listen over and over and figure out where to phrase the panels. I then divided the lyrics up accordingly in a draft and reviewed the pacing over and over again. Does it flow? How many words would comfortably fit with each panel?

Determined the thematic arc. At this point I already had a few anchoring moments so I wrote a description of the panel in the draft. I went with the formula of Verses= move the ideas, Refrain= emotional accents, and the Bridge is like… the climax with an epilogue of an outro. This was tricky step. I debated a lot of ideas and some lyrics didn’t feel like a good fit until I really sat on it for a while.

Fill in the draft. This is where I sketch the general shape of panels. This is also where I look at the gestalt of the thing and make sure the composition is easy on the eyes. I tried to make it dynamic and zig-zaggy so as not to be boring. This is the step where one gets really excited about the project. Cause it’s no longer trapped in your head.

Sketching

Gathered references. Surfed the web, made some myself.

Made time to sketch, I did a lot of them at my summer job, made sure to draw about 2 or 3 a day. I had the time then because it was before I took on my day job. I was very surprised to find that I rarely went back to edit a picture or dispose of a draft. I went through with the mantra that I was going to finish the picture no matter what.

Stayed disciplined with said time. I would not let myself take a break from drawing because half the success came from the fact that I was on a roll.

When I finished them I then went through the process of scanning them (my scanner broke between the first 20 panels so RIP)

Coloring Stage

...Good lord. This is where I probably went the most wrong. Make sure you have a good process in place before starting out this stage.  I was not one to digital art much as of late so my familiarity with my program was lackluster (and it also is literally the worst program  in the world), and my laptop couldn’t handle more than 10 panels. So hurray for a very desperate fix. I did everything from my brothers computer, in his room. Sometimes at terrible hours because that's the only time I’m home.

Color planning. I rushed this process but I pulled up the textures and color pallets and reference images from internet searches and stock piled them. While planning I approximated the overall ‘tone’ of each pane; (is it a dark shade, a light shade, blue, or red in hue…) and then I adjusted that so the colors didn’t repeat or blend unless the panels where connected in the same scene. There was a lot of problem solving in the actual coloring so some of this was not as smooth and I paid for it later.

Sketch Editing. I was able to go back in, move around things and edit certain aspects of the sketch without compromising the entire work. This was a life saver.

Actually coloring. Because I color sketches it’s actually a painstaking process where I can’t use a wand or a fill. I’m not familiar with certain masking and coloring methods that would have sped the process up and I wanted to be consistent. This would take 3 to 5 hours a panel which I would do in small bursts.

Type-setting

Deciding font. I was hunting around for a good font for ages until I just decided… to use my own handwriting. This meant that I had to makes sure my tablet pressure specs were up to date and I had to practice my style. It’s not perfect but its cool.

Apply font to panel. There were moments when I literally said ‘screw it’ and left my handwriting a little more sloppy than standard.

Consultation. I worked with my graphic designer friend on improving the placement of text and the color choices. This was an interesting step she is a saint.

Finalize

Every single panel is extremely large. I had to resize each one. Before this I had many tests in the drafts to see how certain sizes would load or format.

*Will you make another?

Probably. Like, there is nothing more satisfying than getting something stuck in your head out of it. I have a lot of tunes I am fond of but barely any qualify for lyric comics (need to have a good pace, easy to latch on musical phrases, thematic content that works etc.) The fandom is important too. Now that I think about it I have storyboards for an old DCMK ‘lyric comic’ idea to Imogen Heap’s “A-ha” (it was like some hidden dark side!au shit I still come back to it). I can’t let my interest wan or it straight up dies. Birdmen is a really unique series for me because its held on for a remarkable amount of time and strongly at that.

Fun Facts:

I colored a total 77 panels, 11 of which were scraped versions of the core 66 because perfectionist tendencies.

It took me 3 months to sketch all the panels out, sometimes drawing 3 a day. I would often cradle my sleeping kitten while I drew.

Panel 54-- the final chorus, whiteout splash page-- took three days to draw. At first it was two pages taped together, then it was three. I had my friend mend the images together into a massive pic for me to color, then break it apart for blog distribution. The full version is used in her video edit of the lyric comic.

I didn’t use pressure sensitivity on my tablet until I got to the last chunk. RIP

It usually took me over a day to do one picture.

I do not have a computer in my room that utilizes the art program I need. I literally did every panel after #10 in my brothers room. Sometimes hella late at night too. Props to my generous brother, he tells me he likes the company.

I took a few notable breaks. All of Inktober was used on the art challenge. The weeks leading up to Birdmen Week. And at least half of the Christmas season was spent on coloring hiatus.

I like adding a ring around the pupils of the seraph eyes. This is not canon, but an error that I really liked. You can see it as a sort of glow.

I am having my friend edit the panels into a video for your convenience. I have no idea how long it will take but I’m tired.

[kheprrison-arts]

Wilderness (Chapter Four)

Fandom: Mianite Chapter: 4/? Summary: The storm ends soon, though now the food supplies will be low once again. It's time for another trek. A/N: Sorry for the lack of updating Wilderness. Hopefully this chapter is good and makes up for it's absence.

Syndicate

After Tucker had left, the rest of us stood around and waited for Dianite to return. We're losing daylight quickly. Sonja, every once in a while, would try and take off after Tucker, who had gotten farther than we had thought he would, but we held her back. She knew we all wanted to chase after him, but the three of us knew better than to test Dianite's patients and trust.

Especially from our experience back home.

It actually wasn’t long until Dianite showed up again, saying how he found his camp and a bear was digging through his food supplies. He apologized for suddenly leaving but we knew he was just trying to protect us. It wasn’t too long before he realized Tucker had went missing. "You let him leave?"

"He wouldn’t have listened to us," Jordan explained, "he said he didn't trust your judgement and that you were probably lying, so he went to the mountain."

Dianite hummed, his eyes half-lidded. "Fine. I'll lead you to camp then I'll go searching for him."

"Really?" Sonja asked, excited to see Dianite wasn’t going to kill him immediately.

"Yeah. Come on," he nodded his head toward where he came from and stalked off. We followed him, trudging through the mushy snow. It stilled snowed, white flurries floating by. But it wasn’t too much. Not yet. vAgain it didn’t take long for us to get there, in fact probably only half the time it took for Dianite to run over here then run back. It was quite quaint. It was big enough for us all but we knew that he had no idea of others even existing past the mountain. It was essentially a big donut dug into the snow… about twelve feet deep.

God. Twelve feet deep and There’s still snow underneath. I’m guessing it’s just so compact now it’s probably just ice.

Dianite had us move inside, trying to find our places and told us not to go anywhere before he climbed up the snow wall and ran off. He seemed to be in a state of urgency, which I wouldn’t be surprised. The storm must be near, I can hear the wind picking up fast.

Most of us fell asleep, huddling close for warmth. Though I couldn’t sleep, not now. And I knew Sonja was having a hard time as well. The wind had really picked up over night… I mean if it were night I would have no idea. I nearly screamed at the top of my lungs when I heard a loud noise, like a deep thump. The snow around the entrance where we all lay picked up in a cloud, blinding my vision temporarily while whatever fell entered in. I wasn’t so scared anymore when I saw Dianite, his body heat almost immediately warming up the place.

He snorted and set down Tucker, who was passed out in his arms. “Is he okay?” Sonja asked, sitting up and waking Jordan.

“He should be fine,” Dianite spoke. “He found an old camp of mine and hid out in there.”

“Why didn’t you let him stay?” Jordan asked, yawning. At least someone got their sleep.

“It’s dangerous up there alone, especially with Poison Arrow,” Dianite explained.

“Who?” I asked, repositioning to get comfortable where I sat. Dianite hummed lowly and laid down on his side, probably also getting comfortable for the wave of questions he might get.

“Poison Arrow is Mianite’s dragon. She’s a black and green wyvern that protects the mountain from intruders. I have to admit she’s dangerous, I’ve come across her once and she nearly killed me…” Dianite trailed off, his eyes closed. I felt a pang of regret in my chest, I knew it was a bad memory for him. “Jericho’s lucky Poison Arrow hadn’t patrolled in that area yet. You’ll mostly find her in storms, though you’ll never get a warning like you do when there isn’t one.”

“How big is she? And what do you mean by warning?” Jordan asked.

“I can’t say how big she is now. It’s been a while since I’ve tried to trek up the mountain.” Dianite huffed. “Storms appear a lot around here, it’s common nowadays. When there is a storm all creatures fall silent in hopes to hear Poison Arrow as she hunts, but the strong winds caused by her wings deafens them. When there is no storm all can here her above the clouds, the flapping of her wings and the wind picking up under them, the sound of her voice when she finds her target. We all can hear her, so it’s best we travel only when there is no storm. Only she can hear in the blizzards.”

“Oh…kay,” Jordan said, laying back down, “that’s all I needed to hear.”

“The storm will let up soon. Probably by nightfall. It’s best to get your sleep while you can.”

“Can we use you as a warm blanket?” I asked, rubbing my hands together to create some sort of friction. Jordan had his warm jacket so he was already set anyway, having probably fallen asleep by now.

Dianite shrugged and laid his head down, Sonja and I took that as an okay and snuggled close to him. He hummed and wrapped one of his arms and his tail around us.

The next morning I woke up to Dianite running a round the camp of his. It was odd to see him back to normal, no longer a big and burly beast. He huffed through his nose when he caught my eyes. “Syndi, come and help me pack up.”

I nodded and helped him for the next few minutes, packing up several bags with meat and bait and cloth and whatnot. “We’ll be going over by the river today,” he said, “grabbing some fish before we head up the mountain.”

“Sounds fun,” I snorted. “Will there be any?”

“Hopefully. The story might’ve chased them off though.”

After we finished packing we woke everyone up and Dianite explained the game plan. He said he had a trap set up in the water, so if the storm did chase off the fish then most of them would’ve been caught in the nets he set up. He said after we go get some fish then we would start heading up the mountain. And god knows how long that’ll take.

Quickly, all of us followed Dianite, I believe still going east. “The river surrounds the mountain like it’s a moat, it always has and always will,” Dianite growled. We found the river, seeing why he was growling so much. “The storm must’ve broke the ice last night.”

The river was in a huge mess. The water rushing like there’s no tomorrow, if I stuck a hand in there I’d probably be swept away immediately and swallowed by the depths. Massive chunks of ice barreling down the waves.

“Hopefully the nets are still there,” Dianite growled lowly, setting down his stuff by a boulder. We all did the same while he told us to stay put just in case.

He was nearly close to the water, trying to see through the surface until he jumped back and ran back towards us, shouting “hide!” We all hid behind the boulder, Dianite peering around it. His hair and scales stood on end while his ears folded back in agression.

“What is it?” Tucker asked. None of us had addressed the fact that he left and nearly died. He knew he was in trouble anyway.

[robynkassisracist]

Survivor HHH Edgic Episode 1

I’ve never done this before and decided to make one for fun so hope anyone who might read enjoys!

CP: Ali, Ashley, Chrissy, Mike, Ryan

OTT: Alan, Joe

MOR: Ben, JP, Lauren, Patrick, Roark

UTR: Cole, Desi, Devon, Katrina

INV: Simone

Ryan - CPP5

The strongest edit of the episode was most definitely the bellhop from New Jersey, Ryan - who also managed to garner the most confessionals with 6 total. We immediately witness a narrative start for him on the boat as he describes his underdog nature and sarcastic reasons as to why anyone would align with him. He then goes to find the advantage among the supplies - a super immunity idol only good for first tribal which he will have to pass off to someone on the losing tribe if the hustlers are to win immunity. His strategy with the idol coupled with his establishment of a game relationship with Devon paints him in a good light this episode, and with it being premiere we can’t help to think he’s being set up for an journey this season.

Chrissy - CP5

While not getting the same positive tone as Ryan, Chrissy still received a pivotal edit for the premiere. She was first to showcase a confessional this season, and was already displaying her strategy for the game. However, her boost in an edit came in the back half of the episode where she threw up after the challenge, was pinned as in the minority with Katrina in the “Mom Squad,” and finally proceeded to be given the super immunity idol by an anonymous Ryan. The idol and her being a potential target gave us a direct path into the inner workings of her mind this round, as her contemplation for making a move took up a solid chunk of the strategy edit. All of this summed Chrissy up for a strong CP premiere edit.

Ashley - CP4

While Ashley fell into a bit of a secondary character roll with Chrissy and Alan dominating a lot of the hero edit by the end of the episode, we still saw a look inside of Ashley’s motives and thinking. She established a relationship with JP as well as was the voice reacting to Alan’s antics, both in confessionals and at the tribal council itself. While she her being cut early due to her supposed duo with JP is not fully clear yet, getting insight on her potential story supplied for a solid edit.

Mike - CPM3

Placing a medium tone on Mike was a bit of a thought out decision. The audience got insight on his game based on the outlet of family talk, and family talk always seems to be a pretty good sign of character development in my experience. Where his tone went from a positive to a medium was his altercation with Tony Vlachos impersonator, Joe. While Joe was a bit aggressive with Mike, it doesn’t save for the fact that he was caught in the act of an idol search anyway, dumbing him down ever so slightly into a medium tone.

Ali - CP3

Definitely the most subtle of the CP’s this episode was the hustler tribe’s, Ali. When I almost put her into the MOR bracket, I went over again her path in the episode and realized in terms of a premiere episode, she was set up a bit better than the others. She displayed a very level head and seemed to know what she was doing, and established a connection with Patrick, who doesn’t seem to be the most strategic player as of yet. Thinking back to the person who was most recently edited this way in premiere is MVGX’s Mari, who faced a very untimely elimination after a CP edit in episodes 1 and 2. Nonetheless, Ali showed her potential right out of the gates, and the fact that she received a “boat question” from Probst and gave some insight on how a hustler should work was enough for her to crack through to complex personality.

Alan - OTTN5

Someone getting an OTTN5 right off the bat is always good television, and the case of football star Alan of the heroes was no exception. While this could be summed up in simply getting into a guy’s pants for an idol (and possibly something else because you never know which way these people swing if ya know what I mean), if you look more under the surface it was simply a case of playing too hard right out of the gates. Unlike people who did this in recent memory such as So Kim in Worlds Apart, Alan somehow managed to evade first boot. His paranoia, strip searching methods, signs of quickly turning on an alliance, and making a scene at tribal are all worthy of this edit.

Joe - OTTN3

Tony step aside! I think it’s pretty safe to say that this guy had a lot of similarities to our favorite/least favorite villain cop of Cagayan. Muscled and bald? Check! Aggressive energy that makes you only slightly uncomfortable? Check! Immediate paranoia? Check! And bullying into getting information? Yep! That’s a check. His confessional of manipulating the healers with their “big hearts” to get ahead as well as his confronting Mike about an idol was enough for the standard villain edit. Where his visibility fell a little shorter was simply based on screen time, as the villain of the heroes, Alan, ended up taking up more time due to tribal council. Nonetheless, this was a great foundation for an emerging villain of the season, or at least pre-merge.

JP - MOR4

After being the victim of #StripGate2017 you would think JP got a pretty prominent edit. While a lot of the screen time fell onto Ashley to get thoughts on the situation, JP was still a character to watch. Ashley may have overshadowed him, but the possibility of his partnership with her as well as his potential budding rivalry with Alan was enough for him to be memorable.

Ben - MOR3

This was someone I almost cracked into the CP, but decided against it. Ben seemed to be someone who got a “good-ole-boy” edit, and while we got insight on what he does to make him a hero, there wasn’t much strategy behind it. However, we did get some strategy in the form of his quick slapping together of the majority alliance on the heroes.

Patrick - MOR3

While on the hustler tribe, Patrick proved to be a character. He was playful and ever so slightly aloof with his antics involving the stick bug and the crab in his pants. While we could wonder if the magic of the stick bug will award him a win like it did for Mike Holloway in Worlds Apart, the main focus of Patrick was his relationship forming with Ali. Where Patrick falls slightly short in the edit is that he was seemingly recruited by Ali as an ally. This could prove great for Patrick, or slightly problematic for Patrick depending on how he goes about the situation.

Lauren - MOR2

Placing the fisher from the hustler tribe was difficult, seeing as she could debatably also be in UTR. However, with her showing her work around camp this proved to her trying to assimilate. On a tribe of young people and Lauren being the oldest at 35, she’s going to have to if she wants a chance to get through the beginning stages of the game, and taking initiative in the shelter building could be beneficial with her. You’d have to hope this is a good sign that she gets farther than many may expect, as she could have easily fallen into the doomed “Mom-Squad” category that Chrissy and Katrina were unwillingly sucked into.

Roark - MOR2

Rounding out the MOR edit is Roark of the healers. In the beginning we saw Roark work the end of the marooning challenge, where she held the torch to win the massive bonfire for her tribe. In the other instance we saw her, it wasn’t much, but it was something to work off of for future episodes. She was just edging onto UTR where we saw the wheels turning in her head, however it was very isolated to her confessional. There was no aligning on her part, and no one spoke about her in their own confessionals, so it would seem she was simply one of the few left on the strategic back-burner for the premiere episode.

Devon - UTRP2

All we really saw of the surf instructor this episode was - while important - not predominant. Ryan disclosing to Devon that he had the super immunity idol was really a part of Ryan’s dominating episode storyline, where Devon seemed to be playing background character. Nonetheless, it is important to the narrative (albeit that may be Ryan’s narrative). On top of that, his happy-go-lucky outlook and Ryan’s comments on him after Devon’s reaction to the idol reveal was enough to give him a positive tone for the episode.

Jessica - UTR2

The edit for Jessica was really just her thirsting for tribe-mate Cole. What could potentially come from this is a duo forming in some way, whether that be friendship or showmance (probably showmance because let’s face it - these people tend to have no self control). This was probably just a case of Jessica not being as important to the narrative, but at least it was some form of screen time.

Katrina - UTR2

Poor, poor Katrina. We hardly knew her. And not in a way that it was just her going for the first episode. I mean we seriously, hardly got to know her at all this episode. A lot of this falls onto how the tribal council was handled by both players and editors, where we saw after massive havoc and chaos a unanimous vote against the easy target, and we saw the editors give barely any insight as to why. For a first boot, she was highly under-edited, and I wish I could rank her better.

Cole - UTRP1

While the eye candy of the healer tribe was given the always fun and previously mentioned “boat question” from Probst, and was also drooled over by Jessica, the fact that Cole was given no confessionals speaks to his edit this episode. The fact that the entirety of his narrative was from dialogue with the host and others speaking of him gives him an edit, but not one dictated by himself.

Desi - UTR1

Not someone we saw much of, but this could probably be attributed to a lot of the screen time going to the heroes and the hustlers for premiere. Desi is someone who is hard to get a read on at the moment, however she wasn’t completely invisible, as we saw some of the workings of her mind in a single confessional as someone identifying as a healer.

INV1 - Simone

So I was hoping no one would fall into this episode 1. I was really, really hoping. But unfortunately for Simone, that wasn’t the case. While one could argue her edit was drowned out by the other hustlers, if the highlight of your edit is putting down what you’re doing to see your other 5 tribe-mates hauling a log onto camp then that speaks for itself. Sorry Simone! Better luck next time. There’s always the chance she’s being saved for later in the minds of the editors, so we could hold out hope she’ll become more prominent... if she manages to make it more than 3 episodes in.