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missblissy · 6 years ago

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Title: Homeless at Home Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Genre: fanfiction, chapters, angst, reader insert, fluff, slow burn, friends-to-lovers, pre-game Characters: Young!Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Mathews, Arthur Morgan/ Reader, Female reader, Arthur x Reader, Arthur Morgan x Reader, Arthur/ You Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four

Follow me on AO3!! Read it there too!

((Hello, I had to get this chapter put up because I had so much fun writing it!! Reader/MC is here!! I will have the next chapter up very soon!! The next chapter will also be in second person POV!! Future chapters will go back and forth between Reader/MC and Arthur!! Things are about to get really good!! I can't wait to get the good parts when you and Arthur start falling in love~~ That's so far away still >:) Have fun reading until then.))

Description:

Dutch put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. He had this sad look on his eyes and he said, “You know what to do,” And walked away to finish taking care of the parents of this poor girl. Arthur held the girl as she cried and thought about Dutch’s words.

....Because it’s the right thing to do.

He had to pry her away from him. She held on like it meant life or death. It was so bizarre because he was a total and complete stranger to this girl but she had gone from hating him to loving him in just a second. He could never see himself trusting someone so easily. Then again he wasn’t a child anymore.

“What’s your name, miss?”

She rubbed her eyes to clear away her tears, “(Y-y/n)… (L/n)…”

____________________________________________________________

How long… has it been? The lantern was barely flickering alive. It could die any second. This train just didn’t want to stop. As each moment passed, whether it was an hour or a few minutes, it got colder and colder stuck in that train car. It had to have been more than 20 hours, possibly more. Arthur was tried, he couldn’t sleep. He was hungry and regretted not eating much the day before.

Dutch was sitting beside him with blood covered fists. He took the rings off his swollen knuckles. It had been so long that his wounds had scabbed over, rock hard. He punched the walls so hard trying to escape that he was pretty sure he broke a finger. He couldn’t feel it though, so it didn’t matter that much.

There was a God though because Dutch had a flask he kept in the pocket of his vest. So it wasn’t all that bad, “Should of brought a book,” He joked while passing the rum to Arthur.

Arthur chuckled, “Yeah, like I can even really read one,” His voice dripped with dark humor as he tried to laugh at his own shame. The satchel at Arthur’s side had burned him with the thoughts of the book he had in there. It was his mother’s journal so there was no way he was going to share that with Dutch, “If only Hosea was here… He has that stupid pocket watch on him he stole from that funeral.”

They both chuckled at the memory. That was a very unfortunate day… for the family they robbed. Well, Dutch and Hosea robbed them while Susan provided get away. Arthur got to watch from where they left him near a saloon, he had only been with them a few weeks at the time. He was the one that found out that tip that a funeral was happening soon and told Dutch about it.

A shiver cut Arthur’s memories in half. The cold started to become painful. He looked to Dutch you seemed unfazed, “Can I have some more of that rum?” Dutch passed him the flask, and to Arthur’s surprise, it wasn’t empty.

He took a swig and cringed as the dark liquor burned on the way down. Thankfully it warmed his belly and soon the rest of his body too. The cold was still a problem, just less of one for now.

“Where do you think we are headed, Dutch?”

The older man took in a deep breath and brought his hand up to his chin, “North. That’s for sure. It’s February. It’s not spring yet. But I know its only this cold up in the most northern parts of this god damn country around this time of year.”

Arthur let those word sink in. How far north was north, “Like… Illinois?”

Dutch shook his head.

“….Ohio?”

Another no.

“How far, Dutch?”

Before he could answer the train’s whistle called out while bells rang. They were coming to a stop. Dutch and Arthur shared a glance and stood up at the same time. They had been sitting so long though, Arthur could barely feel his legs. The cold rushed in again and Arthur wobbled forward. Dutch caught him before he could fall.

Dutch pushed Arthur towards the front of the car so they were hidden in the dark corners behind the ladder. There was an unsettling scream as the breaks of the tracks fought against the cold. There was an echo that rang far and wide that Arthur could hear even inside the steal and iron car. His gut told him he was far from home, and his heart hoped his gut was wrong.

Several minutes passed while the listened to muffled yelling. It made Arthur’s heart sink every time he heard a burst of powerful wind slam against the train. Finally, after what felt like forever, someone had started walking above. The hatch was slowly peeled open and as light pooled in from the cold snowy world outside, Dutch and Arthur held their knives close. If they could get out of here without making a sound, they could probably live to see another day.

A man started climbing down the latter. He was covered in layers of clothes. Arthur shivered and held back groan when the icy winds whooshed inside. The man didn’t see them, but he saw the mess they made. He started to call for one of his friends but he was cut off as Dutch jumped forward and slit his throat. Thanks to the corners of darkness, Dutch and Arthur could hide from sight. His friend was already on his way coming down the ladder so Arthur was forced to be smart. Staying unseen, Arthur waited for the second man to get to the ground. He jumped from the side and tackled the man to the ground, stabbing him quickly in the neck while covering his mouth to muffle his screams.

Bloody and cold, they took the chance to swap clothes with these guards. It felt nice to put on heavier clothes. Too bad they had blood on them. It didn’t matter at this point.

They weren’t doing this to blend in they were doing it to stay warm. Dutch was torn between taking the money or the gold bars. He knew he’d need as much as he could to get them back to the open west. He hated the thought of not having enough to take back home to Hosea and Susan.

He chose the money. It was the easiest to hide. He stuffed as much as he could in each pocket and had Arthur do the same. They had about a thousand each on them. There was thousands more they had to leave behind. There was no way they could walk around hauling bags and satchels full of money without horses to escape on.

Dutch climbed up the latter, keeping his pistol ready to fire if need be. He poked his head outside and had to squint at the blinding whiteness that was his view. The sun was in the middle of the sky and slowly rising. He looked around and noticed they were stationed at a town that was busy despite the weather. No one was around so Dutch took this as the chance to escape. He waved Arthur to climb up while he kept watch, “Go!” He whispered, “Jump down in the snow, get as much blood off you!”

Arthur nodded and crawled to the side of the train. The jump intimidated him but he didn’t have any other choice. He flung himself into the snow and hoped it would break his fall. It did, but not really. His knees buckled when his feet crashed into the icy ground under a couple feet of snow. He was knee deep in snow and he fell to his side in pain. At least he was getting the blood off him.

Dutch landed less gracefully than Arthur but fought through the pain. He brushed snow up and down the dark coat he was wearing. Arthur was unfortunately in a gray coat so it was harder to hide the stains. He did his best to hide them or wet the rest of his coat with snow.

After a few minutes, they rushed away from the station and towards town. Arthur groaned at the sight before his eyes. It was busy and packed with people. Brick roads and light pools. Horses and carriages. It wasn’t a city. But it was a town on the verge of busting at the seams.

There was a sign on the walls of the train station. Arthur slowly tried to read it. He whacked his hand at Dutch and pointed to the sign, “New York,” He said.

“Dunkirk...” Dutch’s voice was barely above a whisper. The second some walked by he snapped out of his frozen gaze and approached the man with an unfordable about of smoothness. With a smile on his face he asked the man, “Excuse me, friend, can you tell me where I am? I miss my stop a few miles back, where is Dunkirk located in New York?”

“It’s about a four your train ride south of Buffalo, sir, ” The man was so helpful. It was like he got asked that question a lot. He kept his frown on his face though and then pushed aside to get back to his day.

Dutch wasn’t done though. He sidestepped and blocked the man again, “H-how far from Pennsylvania?”

“Three hours north by train,” The man was not happy but Dutch let him go. He got his answers.

“Arthur!” He ran over to Dutch’s side quickly. Something was very wrong. Dutch looked like he saw a ghost. He stared hard at the ground the franticly looked around, “New York!” He said sharply under his breath.

“H-how we gonna get back?” It scared him being this far north. Arthur had never been this way, he knew trouble was up here. He knew there was so much law that if anyone of these pricks knew his face they’d turn him in for the sheer joy of it.

Dutch didn’t say anything but he made a sharp turn into the train station. Arthur followed close behind him. The heat in the station was welcoming but the smell inside was spoiled by the number of people in there. It was cluttered with folk getting on and off trains. Waiting for trains. Waiting for carriages to avoid the cold. Seems everyone had the same idea. This wasn’t a problem for Dutch, he just shoved his way past people. He made it to a window after cutting in line. The teller was startled and taken aback when Dutch smiled at him.

Funny how Dutch looked like a crazy mad man and he didn’t seem to notice. Arthur was sure he was watching the man have a break down of some kind. Dutch did his best to keep his cool and ask, “Do you have a train that would be heading southwest? Texas? The Arizona territory?” He tried to speak slow, but his words still mumbled together.

Arthur watched from a few feet back as the teller shook his head, “Not for another three weeks, no. Can’t go that way with the weather right now,”

Something snapped in Dutch and he almost lost his temper. Again, he spoke slowly, this time with an underlying irritation to his tone, “How in the hell did that train from Arizona get here?”

“It came in as the storm hit, sir. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there’s more snow here than we know what to do with. No trains are allowed to leave the state until the weather has let up,”

Dutch stood there for a few seconds. He didn’t want to take this as his answer, but he had no choice. Arthur rushed to follow him outside. He could hear Dutch muttering under his breath.

“Fuck!” He said sharply. A few people looked at them. Arthur did his best to ignore their stares, “I hate New York,” Dutch said more quietly. He started walking into town.

Arthur followed close by. He couldn’t keep asking the same question. He knew he had to give Dutch time to thing. He for one was at a total loss and found himself helplessly and totally dependent on Dutch to survive.

They went into a general store and Dutch and Arthur bought some much-needed supplies. Dutch asked the owner if there was any place in town to buy a horse or a wagon. There was a stable but they were closed for the winter season.

For now, they got some cans of food, some booze, a map that the store offered of the local county, and two leather-bound empty journals. As they walked out of the store, he handed one to Arthur. For some reason, he thought he had escaped the role of being a school kid. But to his disappointment said to him, “It’s gonna be while until we get home. You should write. I know you ain’t good yet but you can keep up the practice. It’s something to do at least,”

Arthur didn’t argue like he normally did. He took the smooth black journal with a slight nod of his head in thanks. He tucked it away in the new satchel he got. He traded it for half the price of the old one which was falling apart. This one was made of wolf fur.

“Got a plan yet?” Arthur finally asked as they worked their way around this upbeat town.

“Yes and no,” Dutch said, “We can’t sit around waiting for the weather to get good. My face is too well known in these parts. I’m thinking we steal a horse… just one. We ride out on it and find some kind of.. farm. A ranch. There has got to be some even up north. We’ll get a wagon and ride back west to Cleveland. Get on a train there and see ourselves home,”

It sounded easy enough. But Arthur knew he had a few weeks ahead of him living on the road. As the walked further into town Arthur found himself looking at something truly spectacular. It was one of the great lakes. Erie, infect. The entire lake as far as he could see was frozen over. It looked like an icy wasteland out there. Dutch pulled him from his thoughts once again.

“We need to get word back to Hosea that we��re alive,” They set off for the post office. Arthur had to go in because they could have had wanted posters of Dutch inside. Arthur was only wanted in one state and they stopped searching for him a while ago. Dutch was much more popular with the government though.

Arthur sent out a letter to a man by the name of James Henry Garrison. It was the current pen name they had set up to keep in contact with one another. Arthur chose it when he joined the gang. His vocabulary was limited and his handwriting looked like chicken scratch. Arthur shook his head while he started the letter, pushing down his irritation at himself.

Dear brother, Me and Pa made it to New York. It’s colder than hell here. Talked to the teller about another train heading west. Says no trains will be leaving N.Y until the weather lets up. The factory didn’t pay Pa. So we don’t have a lot of cash. Just enough to get us back home. Tell Ma to not worry and if she has to clean up and move around then let her. Won’t be home for a few weeks. Gotta head to Cleveland by horse. We’ll be taking the next ride west from there. Hopefully. Will write back when we make it to Cleveland.

- Brandon

Arthur hoped the letter would make it to Hosea safe and sound. And hopefully soon so that he and Susan didn’t have to worry too much. The letter was short and sweet, it wasn’t like he could really write more because he didn’t exactly know how.

Back outside again, Arthur and Dutch meet their next task of stealing a horse. Dutch had been eyeing one while Arthur was in the post office. It was a large workhorse, strong enough to tread through the thick layers of snow. The huge horse was black with white spots and had a crazy mane. It looked nastier and meaner than any outlaw they’ve ever come across.

“How in the hell are we going to steal that thing?” There was a hint of attitude in Arthur’s voice. He wasn’t looking forward to being bucked off a horse two feet taller than him. Seeing as he would be riding at the hind end anyways, “Let’s say we get on it, then what? Walk out of here with all these people around?”

Dutch had a plan, he always had a plan. He shook his finger and went, “Ah, ah. Have faith in me, boy. Follow my lead,” The horse was hitched outside some kind of barn.

Arthur could smell the molten iron leaking from inside the makeshift blacksmith's barn. The horse was already agitated and didn’t seem pleased to be out in the cold. There were some low lives scattered around here an there but none of them seemed to be paying attention to anything. Dutch had started sneaking across the road, walking fast and quickly to the side of the barn. He waved Arthur over and the two stood there looking around the corner. Dutch had picked up a rock from the ground and tossed it a few times in his hand before took all his strength and pelted it at the window across the street into someone’s upstairs store. The two of them quickly hid behind the barn’s walls and watched the show start.

The store owner came running outside and instantly started yelling at the low lives that had been loitering around to behind with. It created the perfect distraction. Dutch gave Arthur a quick shove and rushed to the horse waiting to be taken. Within the chaos, Dutch mounted the horse and pulled Arthur up. As they left, someone noticed them stealing the horse and called out in alarm. Thank god this horse was huge and fast, they made it out of town before the law was able to show up and hopefully no one saw their faces either.

The wind bit at his neck and ears, and Arthur wished he had more clothes on. The horse that he had nicked name Bucky -because any second this horse would buck him- trotted through thick snowy paths. Arthur watched the coast of Lake Erie as they made their way west. The landscape changed from open fields to thick forests. He could still see the lake splashing out between pine trees. While Arthur was looking in the forest he noticed something.

“Dutch-” He tapped his shoulder, “Look. A house. I think it’s abandon. Or no one is home.”

Dutch slowed Bucky and gazed into the trees. There was a stone house that blended in making it hard to focus on. He squinted and spurred the horse towards the house.

There wasn’t any light coming from inside and the chimney was free of any smoke. There was little to no tracks, no horse, no sounds. There was a barn though that was busted slightly open. Dutch saw in there an unused wagon. He smiled and began to chuckle with joy, “Good looking, Arthur,” He praised, “Let's see what’s happened here,”

Arthur slid off Bucky while Dutch went for the wagon, “See what you can find inside. Get anything that seems useful,” Arthur followed orders and kicked his way through the snow to get to the house.

It was just as cold inside as it was outside. The door didn’t even need to be unlocked. Arthur pushed the heavy door aside and tried his best to see inside the dark house. It looked empty, but not in a good or safe way. As he pushed inside he found himself in a kitchen that was fully stocked. It was like who ever lived here had just up and left everything behind. There were pictures everywhere. Rugs, curtains. This was a house owned by someone rather wealthy but it was funny because it was so small and cute.

Arthur pulled out his revolver just in case some animals had snuck in, or if there was a chance someone was home.

He made his way into a living room and found a massacre. It made sense now, the house wasn't abandoned. It’s owners were killed in cold blood, left to freeze and rot on their living room floor, “Dutch!” Arthur called, “We got some dead folk in here!”

There were a man and woman, probably married from all the pictures hanging about. The looked high class in nice clothes but covered in frozen blood. They didn’t die peacefully. It looked like they suffered. Dutch had walked into the house. When he saw the bodies he let out a sigh that expressed grief, “A shame,” he said, “Snows too deep for the wagon,” It didn’t take him long to get back to business, “Seeing as our hosts are no longer with us… I don’t think they’d mind if we stayed a little longer. Go check the other rooms, see if anyone else is home.”

Dutch had gotten to work and removing the dead while Arthur searched some more. He found the master bedroom with the biggest bed he ever saw and a bathtub right there in the god damn bedroom. Right across the hall was a smaller bedroom. Arthur pushed the door open and was greeted with heat. He instantly pulled out his gun and aimed it blindly in the room. There was a lantern, lit and flickering, there were cans of open food on the floor. He saw something moving behind the bed.

It was hard to make out what he was looking at, at first. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he found himself looking at a child. A girl. She made it very obvious where she was hiding and she was even staring back at Arthur. When he pointed his gun at her she screamed loudly as if she was about to die. Arthur quickly lowered his gun and move into the room, “No! No! It’s okay! I put it away!” He stuffed his gun into his holster and raised his hands up, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The girl stayed in her place and let out a cry, “Go away!” She sounded sick. His voice was high pitched and stuffy. She coughed a few times then yelled again, “Get out!”

The commotion caused Dutch run over. He stood in the doorway and caused the girl to scream again. She picked up a stuffy animal she had and threw it at them. Dutch dogged the toy and shuffled into the room, “Miss! Calm down! We ain’t here to hurt you!”

“That’s what the other men said!” She threw another toy, this time it was a wooden horse and it hit Arthur square in the chest, “They killed my mom!” She cried out. Arthur got a good look at this girl. She was young but definitely not much younger than him, “They killed my dad! They just killed them for the fun of it! You came back to kill me too!”

Arthur took a few steps towards her, he was trying his best to not snap at her for all the toys she hit him with, “We ain’t those men,” He said slowly, “We saw what they did to your mama. We ain’t bad like them,”

She clutched tightly to a doll that looked like a princess. She took a few steps forward as she started to calm down, realizing she was in no immediate danger. She broke into a run and threw herself into Arthur’s arms and cried, “They killed them!” She sobbed, “What am I gonna do now, mister?”

Because it’s the right thing to do.

“What’s your name, miss?”

She rubbed her eyes to clear away her tears, “(Y-y/n)… (L/n)…”

She sniffed hard and coughed a few times. She seemed to be really sick, “How old are you?” he kept a hand on her arm, lightly holding it but also to keep her from clinging to him again.

“12,” He voice was so sad and raspy. He felt sorry for her. She was only three years younger than him but he could already see the innocents she had was gone. He almost saw himself in her. He remembered when he was 12 years old. He cried a lot then too, “I’m scared, mister,”

“It’s alright, (Y/n),” Arthur stood and as he did she took his hand in hers. It caught him by surprise but he didn’t make her let go, “We’ll take care of you. My name is Arthur,”

As they left her bedroom and made their way into the open end of the house, the bodies were gone but the blood remained, “He’s Dutch,” Arthur pointed at his mentor who was digging around in the cabinets.

“Why?” She asked, “Why take care of me?”

He stopped his snooping and Dutch met up with (Y/n). He gave that heartfelt smile of his. It was soft and only half a smile but it carried so much weight behind it. For a killer and outlaw, Dutch smiled a lot, “Because… It’s the right thing to do. You’re just a kid and you won’t make it on your own. I’ve always wanted children but no woman would stay with me long enough,” He and Arthur laughed at that, “You’re a lot like my young friend here,” He gestured to Arthur, “I plucked him from the streets too. He ain’t had nobody until I came along,”

She shyly hid behind Arthur’s arm and said, “Are you guys going to send me to the orphanage?” He remembered the building all the low live hung around back in town.

Dutch shook his head quickly, “No,” He sounded so sure and his words stood as firm as he did, “Not unless you want to go.”

(Y/n) shook her head quickly and clutched harder onto Arthur’s hand, “I don’t want to,”

“Well then, hello Miss (L/n). It’s my pleasure to formally meet you. I am Dutch Van der Linde, at your service.”

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thewritingmage · 7 years ago

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Ventilation Mishaps

Hiya! This fic is part of the Wolf 359 Reverse Big Bang! My artist was @aspectnotarized and their art is pretty awesome! So I totally suggest you check out their tumblr!

Plus this project was so much fun so thanks to the @w359reversebang mods for organizing and hosting everything! They’re amazing!

Note: I tried, I hope I did okay at the very least.

Fandom: Wolf 359

Words: 3,205

Summary: When Eiffel woke up this morning, all he wanted was to do was escape Minkowski's Quarterly Annual Talent Show. He did not mean to fall into a secret room, find creepy crawlies with too many eyes, and secrets that decided to change the way he sees their resident scientist.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709791

“Hello Dear Listeners! This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel. It’s day 525 of the Hephaestus Mission. And I am in the ventilation shafts.” Eiffel said, faux chirpy attitude in his voice. “A ventilation shaft that I’m pretty sure just loves me.”

At that snarky remark, Eiffel dipped head first into a slanting vent. With a yelp, he proceeded to crash straight into a silver wall. A resounding bang left his ears in ringing pain. He sat up as much as he could in the enclosed space, rubbing at his head in agony.

“Ouch, fuck. That’s gonna leave a bruise. A goddamn painful bruise but I will still be avoiding our very own Dr. Jekyll when this all cools over. Back to what I was saying beforehand, Dear Listeners. Today is day 525 and it is a day I cannot wait for to be over.” After adjustments to the mic, Eiffel got back down on his stomach. He crawled in the only direction the vent allowed him to.

He grunted with the effort to pull himself through the dust covered vents. Another turn in the shafts came up. Eiffel groaned at the sight of it.

“Well, we’re having one of those days at the station. A very very bad one. I mean, every day is a good day with me around, I am the epitome of the days around here. However, today is one of the days that I stay indoors, don’t need to get caught outdoors in a storm, am I right?”

A soft chime played in the headphones that circled his neck. Eiffel froze, eyes wide in fear as the one voice he was avoiding came through.

“Crew of the Hephaestus, this is Commander Minkowski. As I know that you are all keenly aware, it is time for our quarterly talent show. You all know that I am aware that you know it is mandatory to come. Since no one was in the cargo bay, I do hope none of you are hiding out right now but are all getting ready for the talent show.” One and only commander of the crew cleared her throat. “So, as I stand in the coms room, to which I hope I just missed you Eiffel, I better not find anyone hiding out in the storeroom or any laboratory.”

“Ha! Storeroom idea was denied!” Eiffel crowed his success.

“I hope to see both of you down in here the cargo bay in twenty minutes. If not, I will hunt you down.” Minkowski finished her monologue threat with a click of the PA chimes.

“Anarchist.” Eiffel mumbled under his breath as he started to move forward again.

Another slant in the vent came up and Eiffel guffawed at the vent. He tsked a finger at it. He twisted around till he had his feet going down first, not wanting to get caught in that trick again. A ping went through his headphones as he slid down the vent, feet steadied him as he arrived in an open area. Eiffel made a noncommittal noise when a thought came across him.

“I wonder where our resident evil scientist is even doing today, dear Listeners.”

A crackle of static burst sharply in the headset, making the man wearing them cringe.

“Eiffel, are you there?” Russian accent pierced through the otherwise silent vent.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hilbert! How’s it going, Doc? Chewing any carrots today?” Eiffel joked as he sat down in the open space.

“Eiffel, there is no carrots on station. I could not have been eating carrots today.” Hilbert answered, confused.

The only communications officer on board leant into his palm, “Never mind. What’s up, Doc?”

The sound of clinking glass echoed through the headphones, “I have come up with solution to our ‘Talent Show’ situation.”

Eiffel hummed in acknowledgement, a hand snuck into his side pocket as he pulled out a bag. He popped a cigarette candy into his mouth and leaned back against the wall. Hilbert continued, “Give me moment, Eiffel. I need to be precise with this.” A fizzing sound made Eiffel pause on the biting of his candy.

“Woah, woah. What exactly are you doing?” Eiffel asked.

“It has been while but I remember I have degree in biochemistry. A handy degree in my experiment today.” Hilbert said, clinking of glasses clear through the headset microphone. “I have decided to make a narcotic and sedative, very powerful.”

The human in the vent shaft rubbed his forehead, eyes closed and mouth set in a line. “Doc, you know we have gone over this. You don’t need to go all evil scientist on us yet.”

Hilbert only chuckled at that, the sound of pressure being closed off let Eiffel know the Russian had sealed his fate. Eiffel sighed. He peered down at one of the three entrances that lead into darkness. “Okay Captain Nemo, I gotta go before I’m forced into the Temple of Doom.”

Hilbert hummed into his mic, “I have completed sedation anyways, I will report later results.” The buzzer ended the conversation.

“Well, I can’t wait to see that result. For now, we need to get to a better hidey spot. Which shall it be? Creepy dusty shaft number one, darkness looming shaft number two, or definitely-not-hotel-cleaned shaft number three!” Eiffel gestured in a grand sweeping motion as he announced into his recording.

Only the creaking of the Hephaestus answered the communications officer. He swung his flashlight towards the middle. Grimacing at the darkness that led ahead,

“We have a winner! Shaft number two is our winner! Come along, Listeners. We shall go on a very dirty adventure.” Eiffel said, flamboyance gone as he got to his hands and knees.

Flashlight and recording device his sole companions in the darkness.

It was a brisk twenty minutes later, when Eiffel once again ran head first into a dead end. His flashlight clattered to the floor that made him freeze as the sound echoed throughout the distant ventilation system. He didn’t move for a few seconds before he scrambled to grab the flashlight. He held it close to his chest as a ding of his coms lit up his earphones. As he straightened up, his head set fell, the only man around reached for it as the voice of their resident scientist spoke.

“Eiffel? Eiffel, are you there? Complications have arisen!” Hilbert's frantic voice rose through the speakers.

Eiffel scrambled to get the headset. His flashlight bobbed against the grey. His hands skimmed over the receiving end of the com before they grabbed it. He clutched at it as a loud creak groaned under him, he held his breath as the creaking began to settle into a low moan before it went silent.

“That doesn’t sound good. Okay, if I just reach slowly across…” A deep groan reverted throughout the area, Eiffel stood still. Took a slow breath…and shot his hand out, grabbed the headset, and curled up till the groaning stop. Everything settled. “Okay, Listeners, I think everything is under control...gotta check on Hilbert.”

The buzzer broke through the silence. “Eiffel. This is urgent!”

A second voice came on the coms as Eiffel placed the headset around his neck, volume jacked up. “Hiiilbert. Where did you gooo?”

A frantic whimper echoed, “This is an ur-zzzzz-atter! I need emergen-zzzzz-ack up-zzzz-”

The communications officer looked down at the headphones, confusion across his face. He tweaked the small signal booster. “What? Doc I can’t hear you. Something is blocking the signal-”

Creaaaaak.

Eiffel’s eyes widen.

Crack!

His mouth gaped as a crack in the vent broke in front of him.

Bang!

With a snap forward, Eiffel flew into darkness.

God, why was it so dark? Eiffel thought as pain hit him. He blearily opened his eyes, trying and failing to find any good light source in front of him. Blackness circled him. He shut his eyes again as a weight on top of him gained his awareness. He sat up, pieces of metal fell of him into piles on the floor. Squinted eyes caught a beam of light, he turned and pushed off pieces of vent from the torch.

“Why the hell is there so much gravity here….” Eiffel mumbled as he got up.

He raised his hand up to his ear, pressing lightly on it as he spoke. “Hera? You there?”

Only static responded to him. He frowned and tried again. “Hey Doc, are you receiving?”

Static once again responded, “Goddamn it...well, Dear Listeners. You guys are the only ones listening in now. I’m going to explore and see how to get out or how to unblock this signal.”

He swung his flashlight around, light illuminating a series of computer screens and lab tables in a surprisingly large room. The communications officer kicked a few stray metal pieces away. Curiosity made him wander towards the cabinets and lab tables covered in a thick layer of dust. With one finger he dragged it through the dust as he shined his light at the glass cabinets. Jars, full of floating specimens that he swears twitched at him, glinted back at him ominously.

One jar in particular stood out. Coated in copious amounts of dust, he reached a hand out to pick up the jar. He tilted the light, a floating monstrosity sat in the liquid. Eiffel shuddered at the sight of it. A swish in the container made the human pull it closer to him for examination.

“What are you-” In a blink of an eye, the spider-like creature turned a full one-eighty on him. A multitude of eyes stared as it attached itself to the glass in a loud thump. “HOLY SHI-” Glass crashed under his feet as Eiffel screeched. Instinct making him let go of the jar in fright.

He scrambled away, flashlight aimed at the experiment. It only stared up at him, it’s dozen eyes blinking in unison at his paleness. It began to skitter to the down man before said human through his one and only flashlight at it with a scream of, “HELL NO, GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, TOTO.”

The thing hissed at him before it ran in the opposite direction, disappearing into the darkness that was of this mysterious room. Eiffel’s’ lungs shook at the effort to take in air, eyes focused on the flashlight a few feet away. If he concentrated, he could hear the skittering sounds of the spider.

“Why spiders? Why couldn’t it be butterflies?” Eiffel grumbled as he stood a bit shakily. “I’ll just hope that incident is purged from my mind by tonight.”

Eiffel secured his flashlight once more and turned away from the lab area. His attention shifted away to the outdated computers across the room. He quickly scooted around tables and headed towards them. Flashlight set down to face the console, Eiffel rubbed his hands together. “Now, now. What do we have here?”

Brown eyes focused on the keyboard laid out. He cracked his knuckles and began. Typing in codes to wake up the computer. “Come on you hunk of junk, I want to know all your secrets.”

A blue screen loaded. Text popped up: Computer start up? Y/N

Eiffel scoffed, “Of course. Let’s enter the Matrix.”

The screen booted up, several terminal screens lit up in unison. Brightening the room and catching the officer’s attention. All the screens showed logs that had been previously recorded. They glowed red, dates labeled upon them. “This…. this is weird. There are audio logs on this computer. I’m clicking on this first one, oldest it seems. Blast from the past, volume one. Here we go.”

Click

Static popped and a voice, loud and clear, came through.

“Hephaestus Station. Captain Isabel Lovelace here.”

Her somber tone made chills crawl up Eiffel’s spine. A terrible gut feeling awoke in him, something wasn’t going to go right.

Four logs.

Four logs with loss of crew, sickness, and oddities that could and did boggle the mind.

Eiffel didn’t know what to say.

Eiffel breathed. “Two more logs, Listeners. Two more.” He raised his eyes at the original screen. “Volume five of these accursed logs. I swear this is worse than opening that Ark.”

Click

“Captain's Log. U.S.S. Hephaestus Station. Final entry.” Her voice held no room for cowardice or weakness, it stood firm with malice. “Run and hide. That's all I have to say to you. Run. And. Hide. Because I'm coming for all you bastards. You probably thought you'd never see me again. You thought if you just left us up here you could forget all about us. Out of sight, out of mind, huh? Jokes on you. You bastards killed most of my crew, but I'm still alive, and Dr. Selberg is still alive, and we have a way to get off this tin can. It's taken months, but we found a way. It's not gonna be pretty. It's not gonna be fast. But we'll make it back to Earth, and the first thing we're going to do as soon as we get home is find everyone involved in this sadistic little field-trip and make you pay. So, if you're listening to this: Run. And. Hide. Because by the time that I'm done you will feel more helpless and more alone than all the innocent people you've ever hurt. See you soon.”

Eiffel stared at the screen. His mind a pot full of mixed reactions and confused thoughts. His mouth opened and closed. Never deciding one or the other. His voice caught. “Captain Lovelace. I hope to the goddamn heavens you’re out there. I hope you and Selberg have made it through all this shit.”

He shook himself and faced the screen. He had to do this. He had to find out.

He clicked the mouse. He tried to prepare himself.

“C’mon Eiffel. Be the Yoda you were always meant to be.”

It wasn’t working.

The recording started to play.

"This is Captain Lovelace of the USS Hepha-” A distant knocking interrupted the beginning of her speech. “It’s…. It’s open!”

A new voice entered, lower and rougher to the ears, with an accent tinged on. A very familiar accented voice. “Captain? Is this a bad time?”

Eiffel’s jaw dropped. His mind racing at that voice. It couldn’t have been him.

“No, no. You’re fine, Selberg. Just was trying to get some logs going. What’s going on?” Lovelace answered, a relief beneath her question.

“Everything is ready. We can head downstairs when you are.” One sentence and Eiffel knew.

Eiffel shook his head, backing away from the console with mutters that grew louder. “No….no….no! It can’t be Hilbert! It can’t-”

Suddenly the coms set around his neck buzzed to life. The voice of their only scientist crackled to life. “Eiffel! Please respond! Situation has gone critical and I am trapped!”

Panic bloomed across his mind, he ripped the headset away from his neck and threw it as far as he could. It only bounced off the adjacent wall, still spewing static and Hilbert’s hails. Eiffel’s back hit his side of the wall. His mouth gaped, his lungs frozen. This couldn’t be...why would Hilbert be Selberg? How did he survive? Where is Lovelace?

Thoughts raced through his head, crashing into one another without abandon. His view of their resident scientist tilting so hard on its axis, his vision blurred to the point that he slid down the wall. Hands coming up to hold his head as the dizziness rocked him.

White light fizzled into existence, Eiffel was far too gone in his own head to notice. The two opaque blurs moved around the room, projected light particles trailing after them. They engaged each other in what could be conversation. The taller of the two sat down in a nonexistent chair, leaning her face up at the other. “Thank you, Dr. Selberg. This has been hard but I am glad you’re here.”

“Can’t be….” Eiffel said, fetal form curled tighter into itself as the holographic recording played and the headset let out one last burst of Hilbert’s terrified scream.

The standing figure only inclined his head. “Always happy to be of assistance.”

The room was buried in darkness, every inch dripped with inkiness. The barest of illuminations alighted the room. A dulling, white light cast itself over a huddle form in the corner. At a glance, the man looked frozen. As if death itself had touched him with the way his skin has turned pale from his natural darken skin. With hands over ears, the man tuned out the glitching figures by the console. One phrase in constant repetition.

“Always happy to be of assistance.”

A multitude of instruments were scattered around the console. None of them the right ones to stop the broken line. Across the room, the only door was sealed tight. Marks and other tools scattered around it too. The door itself bore numerous dents and scratch marks but no mark or sign of a successful open entrance. Only dust particles floated in the air, disturbed by the only visitor.

The line stuttered, only one syllable stuck like a broken record. Eiffel glanced up, mind already forming a plan to get the radio working. Realizing this was his chance since the signal was blocked no more. He reached beside himself, headset in hand, to grab a small tool. Quickly, he dismantled the headphone casing. He pulled wires out and cut few in half. The voice in the background gained more of its sentence.

“Always-Always….”

Eiffel eyed the white obstructions, “Oh fuck off! You can’t come over and try to drag me to the Dark Side forever!” he yelled at the two white figures.

The headphone sparked brightly as two wires were connected. A static laced voice broke through. Eiffel smiled as the signal became stronger. He pulled his knees closer to him as a shiver racked his body. He raised the headset further, ignoring the penetrating cold.

“India-Golf-Niner-Niner, do you copy?” Eiffel said, heart beating fast.

“Ei-zzz-el? Can you hear me-zzz-?” Hera’s sweet voice filtered through, Eiffel sighed in relief.

“Yes! I copy! God, you do not know how nice it is to hear your voice, Hera.” Eiffel answered. “Could you open this damn door? Please?”

Hera paused for a few moments before she answered. “Aren’t...you outside?”

He looked baffled, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “No, I’m inside some room. It’s as big as the observatory.”

Hera’s humming went a few octaves higher. “I’m going to get-get Minkowski… actually I’m going to get Hilbert because M-Minkowski is… a bit preoccupied.”

“No!” Eiffel yelled, body jerking forward to stop a non-existent force. “I mean, don’t get Hilbert. Just...just help me find my way through the vents again?”

“Of course, Officer Eiffel.” Hera said, a quiet tone set.

“You’re the best. You know that, right?” Eiffel said as he got up and scooted around the figures who still stuttered.

“I know.” Eiffel could practically hear the smirk in her tone as he searched for something tall enough.

“Thanks, Hera.” Eiffel mumbled before he exclaimed a happy sound when he found something for the perfect height.

Hera spoke with quirk of fondness as Selberg’s repeated mantra broke. “I’m always happy to be of assistance, Officer Eiffel.”

- Le Fini -

#wolf 359 #w359rbb #aspectnotarized #fanfic and art #my writing #I really hope I did this art justice!

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