#7000 security guard

[pleasantlyinsincere]

BRAVO September 1967 Shortly before his death Brian Epstein admitted to BRAVO-employee Thomas Beyl: The boys are everything to me

His face was white. His grey suit seemed to be too big. His shirt collar was opened widely, the black tie hanging crookedly of his neck. Brian Epstein had met death. He came from his father's funeral. That hot July day I met Brian Epstein for the last time. Six weeks later he was dead. As I was taking the list up to Brian's private office, I was desperately thinking about what to say to him. I knew Brian had been very attached to his father. I knew this loss must have rattled him deeply. There rarely had been a conversation with him, where he didn't mention his 'Daddy'. I didn't feel comfortable in my skin. Even though Brian had promised me once: "Whenever you come to London, come and see me. I'll always have time for you." It had always been like that. But now?

[...] Brian met me at the door. "Hello, Thomas! Do you want something to drink?" That afternoon I met a completely different Brian Epstein. I was startled when I saw him. He seemed broken and like he had aged years. He stood up from his office chair laboriously. He reached his hand out towards me. It was limp, his handshake without strength. "nice to see you, Thomas", he said. "Have you seen the boys? Have they come back relaxed from Greece?" He tried to act as natural and friendly as usual but he was a bad actor. Brian was quiet for a while, then he said: "I know why you came. Nice of you. But let's not talk about it. Please." On Brian's desk stood bottle of whiskey, next to it a glass. It was empty. Absent-mindedly he puffed on his cigarette and regularly his gaze would drift towards a big painting of his father on the wall. I felt out of place and was about to say goodbye when Brian said: "Stay for another moment. I want to tell you about a dream that finally seems to be about to come true. I'm planning a movie with the bullfighter El Cordobes, the dancer Nurejew and the boys. Cardobes and Nurejew have already accepted. I just have to convince the boys of my plan." The big dream was buried with Brian Epstein on 30 August 1967 on the jewish graveyard of Fazackerley, a suburb of Liverpool. Like so many great dreams of Brian Epstein, who had wanted to become an actor - and never became one; who wanted to write plays - and never wrote one; who bought a theater - and never staged one; who loved Mozart and Beethoven - and became manager of a beat group; who looked like a successful stock broker - and was at home on the stage of the pop world.

It was 26 June 1966. BRAVO-Beatles-Blitztournee. 7000 fans are screaming their throats hoarse inside Hamburg's Ernst-Merck-Halle. They are waiting for 'their' Beatles, who had come back to the place their careers had started after four years. It's just minutes before the 'returnees'' concert. A security guard addresses me: "Are you Thomas Beryl? You have to please come outside. There is a young guy in front of the main door, who has been trying to come in for half an hour even though he has no ticket. He claims he is the Beatles famous manager Brian Epstein. He thinks we're stupid." I rip the dressing room door open, calling to the Beatles: "Wait a moment. They aren't letting Brian in." The Beatles double over with laughter. "Once again", chuckles Ringo. John shouts after me: "Tell him he should get a belly befitting of his status, so that people recognize him as a manager!" The 'young guy' was indeed Brian Epstein. During the concert he said to me: "Look at the boys. I have never seen them this happy on stage. It has to be an amazing feeling to return to where you once have started small. That's when you really realize that you've made it. Frankly - I am a bit jealous because I wasn't with the Beatles during their first Hamburg stays." He watched his boys beaming faces - and beamed along with them.

No, Brian Epstein wasn't a typical manager. He preferred to wear suits in muted colors and subtle ties. His luxurious London apartment proved his exquisite taste. Brian loved antiques and chose with great care and knowledge. His appearance was quiet. For a manager he was modest and shy. Brian kept in the background so much, that sometimes the Beatles didn't even realize when he was missing. But still Eppy - as the boys called him - belonged to them as five fingers do on a hand. And Eppy was the thumb. Brian didn't like to hear such words. "No, no", he denied. "I am not the fifth Beatles but the Beatles' number one fan." Similarly he fended off the claim that the Beatles had him to thank for fairy tale career. "The boys would have made it without me", he told me. "At least I have just as much to thank them for as they do me. I'm known as a successful manager and have a big enterprise. But I was only able to do that because four electric boys became my friends."

The boys have a different opinion. John: "Without Brian we would have gotten out of our greasy leather jackets too late and the Queen would have never invited us to her palace. No one but Eppy was ready to help guys like us financially. Without him we would have been stuck in basement pubs. When he proposed to become our manager, we thought he had a screw loose. That's how little we believed in ourselves." George: "It was our luck that the Epstein family shop was so close to the Cavern, else Brian might not have found us. Then it would have been good night, Beatles!" Ringo: "I owe everything to him. Without Eppy I would never have become a Beatle. He was the one who acquired me." Paul: "Without Eppy the Beatles wouldn't exist anymore. There was a lot of truth to the rumors that we were breaking up. We had a few crises within the group. So heavily that we were about to go our separate ways. It was Eppy who repaired the cracks. He was our friend and we trusted him endlessly." The Beatles trustee is dead. His short, hot life ended 27 August 1967. John, Paul, George and Ringo didn't attend his funeral. They respected his biggest wish even after Brian Epstein was dead: He never wanted to be the center of their performance.

[aura-acolyte]

So I don't really have as much of a problem with the League as a lot of people do (and we're not going to get into that because this isn't about politics) but it does annoy me that most people think the League is the only career path for a trainer. You either take it on or become a gym trainer, nothing else. So, I'm here to give you a list of jobs where knowing how to Pokémon Battle is a useful skill. For when you wanna battle but you don't wanna participate in the League or independent tournaments.

Pokemon Researcher/Research Assistant: For certain fields of study, such as the study of Pokemon moves, knowing how to Pokémon battle is a really useful skill. Sure you could get some trainer off the street and pay them 7000 Poke or sit in on a League match but being able to battle yourself in a controlled environment is a lot more convenient.

Battle Restaurant Server: Spice up what's usually a soul crushing job with a little bit of battling. Battle Restaurants are like regular restaurants but the servers and patrons have Pokemon Battles between meals. You don't even have to be that good at battling to get hired and the pay's pretty good.

Any Sort of Explorer: If you want to explore the wilderness or dive into the depths of caves, you need to know how to Pokémon Battle. Sometimes you just can't avoid wild Pokémon attacks and your only choice is to battle them or run. And I don't care how fast you are, you aren't outrunning an angry Mightyena.

Security Guard: Do I have to explain this one?

Actor or Stunt Double: The movie may be fake but the battling's real. Filming goes a lot smoother when you know how to properly give commands to Pokémon.

Battle Subway Depot Agent: This one's a Unova specific thing but if you're a really good battler you could become a Depot Agent on the Battle Subway, testing the might of trainers to see if they're worthy of taking on the Subway Bosses (Subway Boss? I can never remember if there's one or two).

[iamskadhi]

Story of a villain - Part 2

Hi, Dabi stans, here is the translation of the second part of my fanfiction (it isn't posted anywhere else, btw)

In case you haven't read or want to read the Part 1 of Story of a villan.

As I mentioned before, it is written from a male POV (Dabi's POV), it has a explicit smut parts, includes a little self-loathing, original characters (but the female lead doesn't have a name so you can pretend it's you)

I decided to use the word "part" instead of "chapter" because I actually merged a lot of small chapters I've written before, I'm trying to make it fit in 3 parts so this is the middle of the whole thing and I'm going to say that is so satisfying to write a love story this way, I've never done this before and I highly recomend it now.

The first part has +7000 words and this part has +8000 words, there are no big descriptions of places or time because I tried to write it as a light novel, feel free to send me messages to correct my gramar or if you have any comment about the times not making sense or anything else.

Anyway, I hope you like it.

PART 2

Slowly, we became more than what we were already: a chosen family. Together we found an apartment – smaller than her former place, but nicely located – and for almost a month, I managed to kill most of my old habits, but it costed me, the old me was screaming in the back of my mind next to my thirteen-year-old corpse.

Some nights, we talked about the future before sleeping and I noticed the way she smoothed the ground, patiently helping me to feel safe and at home; she had no idea my home is wherever she is.

Then, I got a job under a fake name. I went from drug dealing in dark alleys to torturing people and now I was a security guard at a downtown club known as Beanie and One Day.

“You’re sketchy as fuck” said the manager, a mid-forty man named Tanaka Haru, “can you throw jerks out the door?”

“I’m not that strong”, I admitted.

He doubted, but I got the job. I got the name, the place, the girl; but it wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t satisfied at all; and only to make things worse, her mother came to our place one morning after my babe went to work, she looked around and tried to bribe me to leave her daughter alone.

“I love your daughter,” I told her clearly.

“You’re ruining her life!” she accused me. “I talked to her father and if you don’t get out of her life for good, he’ll remove her from the company”

I grinned and she looked at me as if I was crazy.

“You wouldn’t. You care too much about what other people thinks”

“Oh, believe me, we would and we will take her out of the country after that, so don’t get too comfortable in this dumpster you brought her to live with you. Take the money, you clearly need it if this is the best you can get” she disappeared ­— she had a teleportation quirk too.

I looked out the window, a black car that was park outside started up and fled immediately; that was probably hers. I wanted to burn the card and money she left, but I let it there, kept the card in my pocket.

When my babe came home, I noticed she was upset too.

“Wanna eat outside?” she asked me.

As we walked, she started to point out all of the benefits of the new place, it made me sad how hard she was trying to convince herself she was okay without all of her privileges.

I couldn’t keep it in anymore:

“Your mom visited” She stopped walking, so I stood there too, “Did you talked to your father today?”

“What did she say?”

Something horrible was going on inside her head, it was obvious, I showed her the card.

“She offered money to separate us”, I burned it “She said you were supposed to go to your parent’s house that night, but I guess you knew that already.”

“I finally got you” she said, “I got you, I can’t be the one who leaves. I started over, I’m adapting”

“No, you’re not”

“Yes, I am!” she looked at me, her gaze was reddish, irritated, I sighed.

“Did you cry today, baby?”

“Don’t treat me like a kid!” she ran her hands through her hair in exasperation.

“I’m not doing that, I see it in your eyes.”

She swore she was fine, but it wasn’t true. After eating, we took the long way home, as we walked in the building her mother’s words resonated in my mind: “you’re ruining her life”.

My babe smiled at me when we entered, put her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply, I closed the door behind us… and clothes started falling on the floor.

If she could smile like that and still embrace me as tenderly as she just did, how could I still believe that her mother was right? I totally screwed her and she was happy with it.

“You still haven’t got your period, you should get tested,” I suggested her when we were done.

“Are you worried?” she put on my shirt.

“I don’t wanna be like our parents”

“Me neither, but it’s too soon to know”

It was killing me and I wondered how she managed to keep it cool and if she even wanted to have kids. I never asked, we never talked about it, I assumed it was off the table.

My heart ached just thinking about it.

Doing a regular job was way boring than I thought it would be, but it helped get my mind distracted; at the end of the shift, the bartender –a mid-thirty man named Haruma— would serve some drinks and the manager  pointed out all the things that should be improved.

“You’re new” I heard a soft voice behind me, a girl’s voice, one of the girls that dance around the place to keep a fun mood sat next to me.

“Hey, Momo, I didn’t see you tonight” Haruma smiled at her, brought another glass for her.

“I kept sober tonight, there are less jerks lately,” she said looking at me.

“Thanks to the new guy!” the manager put his thumbs up for me.

“I suspected it”, she smiled “I’ve been watching you, you got a big reputation”

“He does?” Haruma asked. I tensed.

“Yeah, girl’s notice his cute face and whisper about his scars, how did you get them?”

She pissed me, but the bartender was paying attention.

“Did it myself”

“How?” she wanted to know.

“That’s none of your business”

“I heard you got a fire quirk, Miura” Haruma was too amicable for his own good.

“Really?” Momo giggled. I just nodded and she put her hand on my arm. “I got a water quirk”

I pulled my arm away and jump up the chair immediately; she literally watered me and soaked my jacket sleeve.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?!”

She laughed and grinned.

“I guess we’re not compatible”

I could see that she was insane and I shouldn’t even look at her but she annoyed me.

“Momo, are you okay?!” the manager yelled from the other side of the club.

“That was uncalled for, Momo” the bartender reprimanded her, “Don’t take it bad, Miura, she’s not good socializing, that’s all”

“Put a sign on her next time!” I exclaimed.

“Oh, I can’t wait for the next time” she giggled.

“Don’t be rude” Haruma reproached her again.

I just left. It was still dark; when I got home, my babe was sleeping. We spent little to no time together since I got this job; I took a shower before getting into bed with her and she opened her beautiful sparkly eyes as I laid next to her.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered “Didn’t mean to wake you up”

“How was your night?”

“It was fine”

“Good” she mumbled and closed her eyes again. I tucked her hair behind her ear and she sighed, “You smell nice”

I cuddled her and fell asleep in a minute.

The smell of something very delicious woke me up, I went to the kitchen and saw Hana.

“I’m sorry, were we being too loud?” my babe asked. I shook my head, still sleepy.

“It was the bacon, right? Come, sit” Hana was cooking. “I like your new apartment, it’s close to where I live so I thought I could come and eat breakfast together, I didn’t mean to disturb. It’s nice to see you’ve taken care of your skin” she walked to me and analyzed my face, “but I see a couple of dots near under your eyes, they don’t look like moles”

“It’s nothing,” I said and she left it.

I ate in silence and went back to bed, but I could still hear them talk:

“Did you tell him?” Hana asked.

“No, he won’t take it well”

“You should tell him, though”

I swallowed the bad feeling and slept, but I didn’t rest well.

“What could it be?” I thought before falling asleep, “Did she get tested?”

It clicked my mind: she was pregnant, it was obvious and expected —not “we wanted this” type of expected, but “it had to happen” type. I cooked dinner and waited for her.

Time passed slowly, I called her and she didn’t answer; it’s something that never happens.

“Where are you?” Sent.

A few minutes later, she was writing.

“With Hana” Read.

“At the hospital?” Sent.

“At her place” Read.

I had a bad feeling.

“You OK?” Sent.

“Of course, my love. See you later” Read.

I wasn’t gonna let it slide. I had Hana’s phone number; I just never sent her a text or called her before. No, I did when they were in high school— I thought and called her:

“Hi, hi” she answered.

“Hi, are you having dinner or something?” I asked.

“Who’s this?” she asked, “Oh, Dabi, hi, why do you ask me that?”

I swallowed my saliva as I realized.

“You’re not together”

“I feel like I missed something, I’m sorry, I’m at ER right now and you called me out of the blue…”

“What were you talking about this morning?” I wanted to know.

“This morning? You were there”

“When I left you two alone, that one thing I won’t take well”

There was a brief silence.

“I’m gonna tell you, but act like you don’t know, okay?”

“Why?”

“It’s not that bad. You know the way her parents are and she had to do this, believe me, she didn’t have a choice, well she did but the other choice was something totally irrational and…”

“Spill it, Hana”

“They set her a date with some wealthy prick, she already knows him from college and he’s an idiot, she had to go, trust me, trust her, she’ll just go to dinner with him tonight and it’s done, please don’t freak out”

“Where?”

“I don’t know” she mumbled, “I swear. She mentioned it but I’ve never been there, it’s new and stylish, the kind of place her mom adores; I just know it opened this week”

That was the only clue I needed.

“Do you know when they’re supposed to meet?”

“Please just let it slide, they must be there already, she’ll be home real soon”

“Thanks” I hung up. I had to see the wealthy prick.

If they met in college I had someone in mind, I hated thinking about it. Searched online for newly opened restaurants and went straight to the one that looked more stupidly pompous.

It had big fucking crystal doors but no windows, I had to go in; the host welcomed me with a fake smile:

“I’m sorry. We have a dress code, sir”

I ignored her and walked in, looking around, she followed me, heard some gasps and I saw them. I fucking saw the same asshole that used to stalk her back in college and felt the anger heating inside my chest.

A waiter addressed me: “I’m sorry, gentleman, but you have to respect…”

“Who’s manning that table?” I pointed them.

“I’m sorry again; I can’t give you that info…”

I walked to them, she hadn’t see me but I stopped when she stood up and spilled her wine on his face. He got up too, a waiter jumped in offering a napkin and I hurried to the table.

“You’re still the same immature little girl, I see” the prick said walking towards her, I reached him just in time, put my hand on his shoulder.

“Long time no see, fucking loser”

She widened her eyes surprised; she really didn’t noticed I was there until now.

“Who the fuck are you?” he looked at me confused; I grinned and let a little blue blaze out my hand on his shoulder.

“You forgot about me? That’s sad, I remember you perfectly, fucking asshole”

He squealed like a little bitch, I perfectly saw in his eyes when he remembered; she jumped in and pushed me back.

“Dabi, let’s go” she said while pushing me “Let’s go, let’s go”

I let go of his shoulder and stepped back, grinning like a devil, mad as fuck:

“Damn, you’re lucky we’re at a fancy place!”

“Please, let’s go!” she took my hand and pulled me, we rushed out of the restaurant, when we were outside I confronted her:

“Why did you do this?”

“Why did you do that?!” she reproached me.

“No, there’s no possible way you can turn this on me, what the fuck happened?”

She looked at me as if she was completely out of her mind before turning her back on me, and walked away.

“Where the fuck are you going?” I followed her.

“Home! I need to change!”

“You need to explain!”

“No! How did you find out?” she bawled, “Why are you here? Why…?”

I reached her hand and stopped her, people walked around but I had to see her face; she was turning red but she wasn’t crying.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t been there?” I asked calmly.

“I would’ve teleported out of there,” she said, but I know she wouldn’t have done that. “I would’ve go home, like I’m trying to do now” she hugged herself.

She was gorgeous; wearing a red dress and her hair up, she looked like a movie star or a model. I really wanted to fight for this, but I also wanted to take her home and make love to her fully dressed like that.

“You asked Hana, didn’t you?” she looked at me, still upset, and I nodded.

“Let’s go home,” I said, put my arm around her waist and walked with her.

“Yeah, I really wanna change” she mumbled.

“No, keep it” I said with a smirk and I saw her smiling too.

“Wanna take shortcuts?” she asked and pulled me to the first dark alley we saw.

Teleporting with her was like jumping, except you don’t feel the fall; she wrapped her arms around me. When I first met her she could teleport in a radio of fifty meters —she was awesome–, by now she can do over a kilometer, maybe two.

We’ve done this before and I trusted her, but it still made my legs wiggle, she kissed me with each jump, avoiding street lights, avoiding CCTVs, when we were near the building, she stopped and I felt my legs wiggling like jelly.

She mocked me but I didn’t mind; we ran to the apartment like kids running home after school, this was the kind of things that made me fall for her despite… everything. When I’m with her, the rest of the world vanishes.

We made out in the elevator and barely managed to open the door in-between all the kissing, laughing and touching. We were role-playing and she was being incredibly clumsy.

“Oh no, mister robber, please don’t hurt me with your giant… tool.”

We laughed. She was doing it on purpose, no matter how serious I tried to be, she was faking a voice, she had to be a dummy.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but the only valuable thing in this place is me”

I gazed her body up and down. What a woman, I thought and I took my jacket off.

“So what would you do if I went to touch you now?” I aimed to touch her waist and she stepped back grinning, very professional. I bit my lip.

“Oh no, please, my husband will be back soon!” she exclaimed.

“Then I gotta hurry” I touched her arm and she teleported us to the bed, I wasn’t expecting it but kept it cool and took my shirt off, I felt her hands going up touching my abdomen, “Stay in character, honey”

“Shit, nooo, mister robber, what are you doing to me?” she said as I took her underwear down her legs.

“Enough is enough!��� I couldn’t keep it together anymore, kissed her deeply, suck her tongue into my mouth while putting two fingers inside her, and massaged her clitoris with my thumb. The red dress was almost as soft as her skin.

She moaned and undid the button of my jeans. I wanted to scold her for being so bad at role-playing but it could wait ‘till morning. We had a rope in the nightstand for this kind of situations; I tied her wrists together and let my jeans fall down.

She looked at me with thirsty eyes as I put on a condom and let a sigh out when I dived deep inside her; I kept a hand down on her hips and covered her mouth with the other while licking and sucking her precious neck all the way from her collarbone to her ear.

Soon, I forgot about the role-play too, kissing her deeply while she clawed her fingers on my hips and pulled me in desperately as I pulled out; she already wanted to come. I pulled out and turned her on her stomach, she lift her ass and I dived into her again while playing with her clitoris.

She buried her face on the pillow and I left my weight fall a little on her, put my ear on her scapula and felt her taking long deep breaths. I felt her loose strength as she was coming done. I pulled out, still hard as fuck, to allow her to turn around.

“I think we ripped the dress” she sighed.

“Shit, I loved this dress”

“I could tell how much you loved it” she said when I untied her wrists and checked the hour. “If you’re getting late, let’s make it worth”

She gave me that smile she has when she’s expecting another round.

That night my pay was deducted a thirty percent, but I was so satisfied that it could’ve been completely deducted and I wouldn’t mind.

The next few days felt like a honeymoon, not only because the sex, everything was suddenly working out. I spent so many years thinking I would never fit into a normal lifestyle, obsessed about heroes and becoming the best of them... Or maybe I’m very printable, I thought.

I was obsessed with the hero’s path because my father was a hero himself. He is still a hero. Now I was living with someone that always lived a regular life and I could live like that only because of her.

“Did you ever think about becoming a hero?” I asked her. She looked at me, confused.

“We’ve had this talk before”

I remembered the first time that I saw her, she was training her quirk behind her parent’s back. She was too mad at them because her life was made since the day she was born, she didn’t have siblings like me because her mother hated being pregnant, therefore she had no voice in their house. Training her quirk at a crack house was her only rebellious phase.

That and dating me.

“How could you fall for me?” I asked.

She laughed.

“Remember that day I jumped off the roof and you screamed you loved me? You already knew I can teleport anywhere, anytime, but you were so desperate thinking I was trying to kill myself. We were messed up kids who taught ourselves how to live, how could we ever just be friends?”

That was an embarrassing memory, I really believed she was done with her life and her parent’s expectations and I ran upstairs to that roof. She jumped before my eyes and my hands couldn’t reach her, of course I was desperate and I screamed.

“You were so cute” she sipped her cup of coffee with an annoying grin.

“If you’re pregnant I’m telling that story someday”

She stared at me, blushing until her face turned all red.

“You manipulated me” I said and she laughed.

“Maybe I did” she admitted. “I liked you but I never thought you loved me”

On my day off, I went to the mall attempting to buy a coffeemaker like the one my babe had before, but of course, I couldn’t afford the exact same machine so I had to buy the next best option.

I was waiting in line to pay, when I notice the woman in front of me had white hair with red stripes. It’s not possible, I thought, chill – but I couldn’t resist myself and tried to look at her face. She noticed and looked back.

“I’m sorry” she said immediately when she made eye contact - took me by surprise, “are you in a hurry? My cart’s full, you can pass before me” she offered politely.

“I’m good” I said. That was definitely my sister.

“Okay” she said and she looked at me timidly, it made me wonder…

“What’s the matter?”

If maybe, she did recognize me.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to stare at you like that” she stuttered. “It’s just…” she looked at my black hair “that you look like someone that I miss”

She’s lying, I thought and swallowed my saliva nervously, stay calm, stay calm.

“What?” I asked.

Don’t fuck things up, do it for her.

“Someone that I knew, I meant someone that I knew,” she lied, “I’m sorry, I felt nostalgic for a moment, you can go before me, seriously,” she offered again.

“Fine” I said as I walked by her side, “thanks”

“You’re welcome” she smiled.

Not only my hair or my piercings, my voice is different, I thought, but she knows. I looked over my shoulder and she smiled.

Or maybe I’m losing my grip again. Forget it, forget them.

Back home, I questioned myself if I should place the coffeemaker as if it has always been here or if I should’ve wrapped it with a bow and all.

I called Hana and she laughed at me.

“I’m sorry, that’s so cute. I think you should place it there and count the minutes, we can make a bet about how long it will take her to notice”

“She’s a caffeine maniac, she’ll notice immediately”

“Na-uh, it’ll take her like ten minutes at least, pregnancy makes woman very absent-minded. I can see her using the French press and then…”

“What?”

“What?” she shut the fuck up.

“That thing you said about pregnancy”

There was a brief silence and she said nervously:

“Oh no! A car crashed somewhere and I need to go, bye”

I stayed standing like an idiot for a couple of minutes, staring at the coffeemaker. It wasn’t like I didn’t suspected it or I didn’t know, but the fact that Hana knew her period was late and seemed to have confirmed she was pregnant didn’t sit well.

I felt betrayed.

Searched online everything about pregnancy symptoms, I also felt curious about what to do with a newborn, I read everything I found and it was so much to handle, I felt the urge to throw up.

“I can’t do this” I said to myself while scrolling down my phone’s screen. I remembered my father. “I won’t be like him”

Rage filled in. I tried to picture it: the baby, a real baby.

What if they have my quirk?

What if they have my weakness?

I felt the urge to leave.

If they don’t have a quirk, it’d be fine.

If they have my babe’s quirk, it’d be fine.

My mind was tricking me, asphyxiating me.

I put my phone on the table and left the apartment, walked around the building, then wandered further and faster; almost running.

I saw a couple of those stupid heroes on the other side of street.

What if they want to be a hero?

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped walking.

“My love?” I heard her voice, but couldn’t see her. “Dabi. What are you doing here?”

I looked around, everything was numb and she appeared before me. Perfectly normal, glowing eyes looking in mine, she took my hand and intertwined our fingers.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Tell me”

She was like gravity, bringing me back down to the cold hard ground.

I can’t fuck this up, I thought. I pulled her closer to me and whispered in her ear:

“I missed you”

“I’ve got something to tell you” she whispered back.

“I’ve got a gift for you”

She smiled.

On the way home, I told her about my little trip to the mall, she listened careful; she could be strange and mad, but she always understood when it comes to me – to my family’s mess. Even though we were raised in completely different types of asylums.

“Welcome home, cheater” I said when we were walking inside the apartment, she looked at me as if I was crazy.

“What?” she asked.

“Hana told me” I crossed my arms trying to look dead serious “Is she the father?”

She realized and burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I asked her, she was holding her stomach and covering her mouth but couldn’t hold it in.

“I’m so-I’m sorry” she laughed and laughed, completely out of control, “I was gonna get so angry if you were accusing me for real of cheating. You can be so dramatic sometimes, I love you”

“When where you gonna tell me?” I wanted to know.

“Well, you know, I was gonna walk in with a baby one day and…” I stared at her, I was done with the jokes and she saw it in my face “My love, I just found out, I swear”

“When?”

“Hana took the blood sample and she sent me a message with the results this morning, I promise you I was gonna tell you at dinner”

I gasped for air and pointed at the box in the kitchen.

“Oh my God, Dabi!” she covered her mouth and jumped in excitement like a kid, “thank you, thank you, thank you!” she hugged me before unpacking it.

She looked so happy. Then, I remember what I read about caffeine during pregnancy and tried to take it away.

“I’m returning it” I said.

“What?!”

“Caffeine isn’t good for the baby” I lifted the coffee machine when she tried to take it back from my hands, “You’re gonna settle with a cup per day from now on”

“HELL NO!”

She turned into a demon in order to take over the coffeemaker again. What did I just get into?, I thought as I found myself losing a battle to her for the first time in forever. I sat out the door in the hallway during thirty minutes until she forgave me for trying to do things right.

A week passed but I felt frozen in time, she made an appointment for an echography and I knew I had to go, I said I would, but I missed it. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t showed me anything, as if it didn’t happen.

I could feel when I’d come back from work, every time I laid in bed next to her she’d wake up and stare at me. I felt the silent pressure of her gaze and for a fortnight, there we were acting indifferent to each other. No sex, no fights, no talking.

One night after work, I was with the bartender, killing time, when our boss joined us:

“So… ho-how are you?” he asked me directly.

“Fine”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing” Haruma said, “but he doesn’t open up no matter how much whiskey I put…”

“Whiskey?” Tanaka gave him a look, discontent, tired and sighed making a sign to pour a glass for him before turning back to me “Anyway, you’ve done a decent job but lately, you’re scaring the clients – real clients, not just your target clients, it’s not good for the business”

Maybe they can relate, I thought, maybe I should let a wall down.

Our boss was expecting me to say something and Haruma was really bad at pretending he wasn’t into the conversation.

“Do you… have children?” I asked in a very low tone.

“Fuck no” the manager puffed.

“No, no, no, no” Haruma shook his head frenetically, then he asked with a childish smile “Is your girlfriend pregnant?”

I didn’t answer.

“Kids are cool, I dated a single mom once,” he continued.

“Hey, don’t say weird things” Tanaka scolded him.

“But it’s true! She was older…” Haruma started a narrative but he was too into himself that he didn’t notice no one was paying attention.

“Now I understand” my boss seemed concerned, “How do you feel about it? Shock? Sad? Wanna go and buy cigarettes?”

I looked down, he was seeing right through me.

“I should give her a call” Haruma finished his story with a longing sigh. “Hey is it true woman turn lustful when they’re pregnant?”

I gave him a cold stare and he made a face, realizing he fucked up.

“I’ve seen you picking up girls almost every night, how come you haven’t gotten anyone pregnant?” I asked him and the manager scolded him again, attempting to hit him from across the table.

“I’ve told you to stop a fucking thousand times, that’s why they never come back! You fucking piece of shit!”

“Dabi, how could you?” Haruma avoided every hit like he was used to this.

“And ain’t you married?” I addressed Tanaka, he had a wedding ring on his finger.

“Yes, to a man” he said resolute.

“I’m sorry we can’t advise you, Dabi”

“You’re on your own, kid” the manager patted my shoulder while pouring some more whiskey for himself.

“But I’m curious about something” Haruma put his face on his hand, awkwardly close to mine. “Are you in love?”

His breath hit my nose; the manager sighed and I couldn’t shut up: “I am madly in love, I cannot breath when she’s not near, I love her”

“Aww that was sweet” Haruma smiled.

“You could’ve been a detective if you’d stayed at school” the manager said to Haruma.

“Yeah, but bartending is fun” Haruma said with a sly grin. I looked at him confused, and he explained immediately: “My quirk forces people to be brutally honest. One day I asked my father why he was mean to me and he said he hated me because I killed my mom during labor”

Our boss lighted a cigarette for himself.

“You know it’s not true”

“Well I didn’t kill her, it’s not possible, but she died and he blamed me my whole life. I dropped high school and left his house, I’ve been on my own since then”

“So you’re in love, that’s why Momo couldn’t pull you up” Tanaka smiled at me, “that’s a relief, she’s the reason I had to fire the guy before you”

“That and he was also a jerk” Haruma said.

“He was tall and strong…”

“I hated him!” Haruma insisted.

“He was perfect for the job until she messed with him!”

“Then why didn’t you fire her? He was an asshole, you just can’t admit it because he’s your type!”

They started and argument and I had to leave. It was early; the daylight was clearing the streets as I was walking home. If I was so in love and if I had pictured us as a family before, why was I so nervous? Why did I feel like I could go away on my own at any given minute?

I stayed in the living room for a moment, took a bath and went back to the couch; she came out of the room and looked at me.

“Are you okay?” she asked. My body moved by itself, walked towards her and hugged her, “Did something bad happen?”

“I never asked you how you feel about this. I never asked you if you want this. I assumed you were fine because I’m here but I have no idea what’s going on or what to do to make things right”

In other words, I was an idiot.

She hugged me back, her nose snorted and I felt her crying on me as she ranted:

“I had no idea how to talk about this, I feel like a mess! I’m not doing good at my job and I can’t handle a household even when this is a smaller place. The other day I said ‘hi’ to a baby in the street and he cried! Then I cried and his mom was so nice, she comforted me when the baby stopped crying!”

She started to say unintelligible things and I just nodded and patted her back as she continued:

“What, when and how am I supposed to tell my parents? My mom is gonna bully me so hard if I cry when my own baby cries!”

She cried long and loud for good thirty minutes before getting ready for work, she used a couple of cold spoons to deflate her puffy eyes.

I was tired but I could barely sleep. I felt curious about Haruma’s quirk and how much information he could get out of anybody.

“I learned the hard way that pushing people’s boundaries is a double edge sword,” he told me. I thought it was because of his father, but he continued: “One time I took a girl home, I used to ask them what kind of stuff they like…“

He kept talking, he reminded me of Hana and despite I liked them both, I would never put them in the same room together.

“So, who is it?” he asked, “Your girlfriend?” I didn’t say anything and he smiled, “bring her one night, I’ll make some alcohol-free cocktails just for her and I’ll ask her whatever you wanna know, but… don’t resent me later”

Our boss appeared behind him and hit the back of his head.

“Don’t listen to a word he says, whatever you’re planning don’t do it” he warned us.

“Tanaka!” Haruma bawled, rubbing where he was hit.

“I heard ‘bring her’ and I don’t care who you’re talking about, you better don’t bring anyone to meet this slut man”

“Tanaka, that’s rude!” Haruma cried louder.

“Don’t be like this, Tanakun, let him bring her” Momo sat next to me, “I’m curious about the type of girl this idiot likes” She gave me a shiver “how many girlfriends did you say you’ve had?”

“I didn’t say” I said as I stood up to leave.

“See you tomorrow, Dabi!”

Haruma and our boss said goodbye, but as soon as I was walking out, I felt somebody following me. She didn’t even hide.

“Stop the stalking” I told her when she approached me.

“It’s not stalking, I’m just walking in the same direction that you are” she defended herself, but this wasn’t the first time she tried to follow me.

“Okay, walk then” I made a sign with my hand to let her pass in front of me and she smiled.

“Are you going to walk behind me? Do you like that kind of stuff, Dabi, chasing pretty girls on lonely streets?”

“There are no pretty girls in this street, just go your own way” I said as I walked back to the club, but she didn’t left me alone.

“You’ve never had another girlfriend, have you?” she asked, “Maybe you should sleep with other girls so you could see that sex isn’t a fucking big deal, you don’t have to run away from me all the time!”

I arrived and saw Haruma and Tanaka closing the door.

“Did you forget something?” Tanaka asked, but I shook my head.

“Where you going? Wanna share a taxi?” Haruma asked.

They lived in the opposite direction, but I nodded. Haruma complained a lot in the back of the taxi, he was saying it’s my fault that he had to share a taxi with Tanaka; I fell asleep.

I woke up when we arrived at Tanaka’s house. Haruma was there:

“I thought I’d have to carry you” he sighed in relief.

I tried to leave, but they didn’t let me.

“I know where you live” Tanaka said, “You’re running away from something. What is it? You forgot to collect laundry?”

Haruma laughed: “Married people are a different breed”

“We’re not married,” I said.

“Yet” Haruma said. “Oh! Tanaka, your husband”

A mutant came out of a room, a big, tall man with two pairs of arms and eyes. I tried not to stare.

“We didn’t mean to wake you up, Beanie, sorry” Tanaka said, but his husband said it was fine, they went to the kitchen and I noticed he was staring at me.

I smirked when I realized why the club’s name is Beanie and One Day.

“Do you know each other?” Haruma asked me and I denied it.

I started to receive a couple of messages from my babe.

“Don’t worry. See you at home soon” Sent.

“That’s not right” Haruma said, looking at my messages before taking over my phone, “Give me that!” he wrote something really fast and sent it, then took a picture and sent it. “Now we’re good”

My phone ringed a couple of times, Haruma read the messages and smiled pleased with himself.

Tanaka and his husband put a few plates and juice for us – his husband was drinking coffee.

“It’s good to see a new face, this never happens” his husband said politely. “What brought you here?”

“Momo” I said.

Tanaka jumped in his seat and his husband grinned.

“I told you that girl means troubles, nothing stops her ever, I knew it since she tried to mess with my nephew”

“We’ve had a long list of security guards,” Haruma told me.

“And why haven’t you fire her?” I asked Tanaka.

“Look, she’s harmless, she dances well, and she…”

“She’s an orphan” his husband interrupted, “and this guy over here has a terrible savior’s complex. Momo’s an orphan, Haruma was neglected and I suppose you…”

I nodded; he was kinda right. Tanaka exhaled:

“I’m gonna talk to her again, just give her time”

“Time for what?” Haruma asked him, “If she keeps trying to follow him she’s gonna do something stupid, you know her”

“Well, if I fire her she will come back as a client”

“Why she doesn’t cause you any trouble?” I asked Haruma.

“Oh, she likes tough guys and I’m a cinnamon roll”

Beanie laughed, squeezed Haruma’s cheek and said:

“It’s not just that, she likes to break her favorite toys”

“Here we go again” Tanaka rolled his eyes.

“I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but you know I’m right” He finished his breakfast, “Listen, she doesn’t just wants to hook around, she likes breaking hearts, she likes to make guys obsessed with her and dump them like trash”

Haruma put his arm around my shoulders and pointed at my face.

“The thing with this guy is that he’s already obsessed with someone”

“Oh, a challenge, she hasn’t have to deal with someone in love before” Tanaka’s husband analyzed me, looking somewhat pleased.

“You should go to work, honey,” Tanaka said.

“Sure, I’m leaving, but I wanna know something first” he said and looked at me, “what’s your girlfriend like?”

Haruma smiled and asked too:

“Yeah, what is she like, Dabi?”

It hit me again; I recognized it this time, I immediately bursted out a ton of cheesy compliments about her image — like her captivating sparkly eyes, contagious laugh— and personality —how kind she is and tough at the same time. I felt exhausted when I was done and had to take a deep breath.

Beanie and Haruma seemed extremely satisfied. Tanaka looked at me worried. For myself, I think I fainted after that.

Suddenly, I was at my birth house.

I heard mom humming in the kitchen, Fuyumi was helping her to make dinner, I could smell it; Natsu crossed the front door and greeted me.

“When did you get here?” Natsu patted my back when he walked by.

“Touya, help us set the table” Fuyumi told me from the kitchen’s door. Mom smiled at me, behind her:

“Touya! Welcome home!”

I tried to reach them, I really tried, but the room stretched as Natsu, Fuyumi and mom stared at me from afar.

“Did you go to Sekoto Peak again, Touya?”

That man, my father, was by my side wearing a frown and the house disappeared and turned to the forest.

The forest was on fire, my blue fire, and my babe was standing there. I called her name but nothing came out of my mouth so I screamed – still nothing - and the flames embraced her but she didn’t move.

A bucket of cold water hit me and woke me up; Tanaka and Haruma were standing in front of me.

“What the fuck were you dreaming?!” Tanaka asked.

“Dude, your face!” Haruma looked at me terrified.

I touched my face, it was hot, and I used my phone’s camera to see the damage: a mark of burnt skin appeared around my collarbone. It wasn’t that bad.

“You seem to be used to burning yourself, it doesn’t hurt?”

“I am used to this, a friend fixed my face a couple of months ago” I sighed when I realized Hana was gonna kick me.

“A couple of months, then your girlfriend has seen you like this,” Tanaka mumbled.

“So we don’t have to worry about her getting back at us” Hamura sighed in relief, Tanaka looked at him in disapproval.

“Watch your words”

“It’s fine” I said, “Thank you… for everything”

“Thank you for not burning yourself to death”

“Tanaka, don’t say that!”

“I’ve done worse. I need to go home” I said.

Tanaka invited me to eat first and brought a burn cream for me; after that Haruma and I left, we were walking side by said when he started talking:

“Hey, about your thing with Momo…”

“I don’t have a thing…”

“My bad! It was a poor choice of words, but I wanted to let you know, she’s not like that. That thing Tanaka’s lovey dovey said before... Momo likes to make guys fall for her, but she’s scared of commitment.”

“So what?”

“I thought you could trick Momo into thinking you’d dump your girlfriend for her, you don’t have to go all the way with her. Just pretend she caught your eye, take her to the movies…”

“No”

“Well, it’s respectable. See you later!”

In the subway, I thought about inviting an iced coffee to my babe, so I took my phone to send a message and read all the stupid messages Haruma sent her.

“Hi hi, this is Haruma, a friend from work your fluffy-haired boyfriend made, he’s with me and our boss right now, we’re having a little reunion but don’t worry, we’ll return him later, safe and sound - pinky promise” Sent. Right after my last text.

“If he’s not friendly, why friendly shaped?” Sent, with a blurred picture.

“Hello, Haruma, thank you for taking care of him.” Read.

“Have fun” Read.

“Sorry, we broke him.” Sent with a picture of me sleeping on the couch.

“LOL, send me another please” Read.

[PIC][PIC][PIC][+7 PICs] Sent.

“TYSM♡” Read.

It’s like they’re speaking another language, I thought.

Then I remembered what I dreamed and tried to take it off my mind, but I couldn’t. I was just entering our neighborhood when she called me, except she wasn’t the person on the other side of the line.

A police officer introduced himself and explained a fucked up situation:

She was at the police station. There was an illegal use of her quirk. She caused a public disturbance. She had a verbal fight with a hero.

Each sentence the officer said was more ridiculous than the previous one, then he mentioned a car accident and I lost it.

At that moment, I wish I could teleport like her, but the only thing I could do was take a taxi. When I arrived, she was sitting in front of an officer’s desk, he was yelling something at her and she was quiet, just taking it.

“If she was in an accident why are you yelling at her?!” I yelled at the officer, she looked at me and jumped up, there were no visible injuries or scratches; the officer stood up too and a couple more hurried as if we were gonna fight.

“Is this your husband?” he yelled at her again, as if I wasn’t there.

“You bet I am!” I walked furious towards them.

“What the fuck did you tell him?” she asked him upset.

“What happened?” I wanted to hear it from her, but the officer didn’t let her talk.

“She caused a public disturbance when she verbally fought with a hero that was about to save a kid…”

“I already told you that is not what happened!” she exclaimed, absolutely mad, “that dickhead hero caused the car accident right after I saved the kid, check the goddamn CCTVs!”

“What hero?” I asked.

“Nobody important” she said calmly and turned back to the officer, “there were eyewitnesses and you, the goddamn police! Just took the hero’s word for granted! Fucking inefficient!”

He wrote something while shaking his head, I felt the urge to burn everything down but I looked at her, she was mad but she looked fine.

“Should I take you to the hospital?” I asked her but she refused.

“You can’t go anywhere until you pay the bail,” said the officer and pissed me off, I wanted to burn him to ashes.

“You should’ve start there” she reproached him with fire in her eyes, pulling her wallet out of her purse.

“And you still owe an apology to Beast Arms”

“He’s the one who should be apologizing!” she complained, “that fucking beast almost killed somebody”

She was distressed; it was all over her face. When we walked out of the police station, I hugged her and she cuddled, her scent filled my nose and I patted her back.

“I fucking hate heroes” she complained, “this was all his fault”

“Today was a long day for the both of us” I whispered. She touched my collarbone.

“I noticed,” she whispered back.

“What happened?” I still wanted to hear it from her.

“I was walking home and I saw a kid running, he crossed the street at a red light and I just teleported to get him and teleported back to the sidewalk with him. Out of nowhere, that dumbass hero jumped at the same time we appeared back in the sidewalk, and he didn’t just stopped the car, he crashed it! Can you believe it?! And it wasn’t just that car, the one behind it and another crashed too! It was madness! And the idiot looked around and saw me with the kid crying and addressed me as if I did something wrong, he jumped in too hard he could’ve smashed the poor kid!”

“Why was the kid crying?”

“He was trying to catch his puppy, that’s the worst part! I didn’t see the puppy, I just took the kid back to the sidewalk and the hero was yelling at me and I saw the poor thing lying dead in the middle of the street, so I yelled back at that stupid piece of shit! He’s supposed to be trained, he’s supposed to see the whole situation before jumping in to action, he could’ve save the puppy, but noooo!”

She kept ranting and moving her hands in the air and I was so enchanted by how much she depreciated that hero that I wished it was Endeavor the one that stood in her way. I would’ve killed to see the old man being reprehended by her in front of a crowd.

She was so into it that she didn’t notice I was taking her to the hospital to make sure she and the baby were fine. That night I saw for the first time an echography, the doctor said everything was normal but I felt like an idiot because I saw nothing on the screen.

They both laughed at me.

“It’s always hard for new parents, especially the dads” the doctor said, she was really nice, “I’m gonna show you something cool”

Suddenly Hana came in.

“Hi there! Whatchu doin?” She saluted playful as usual, but her eyes looked tired.

“Hana, shh” the doctor shushed her and my babe waved her hand.

A sound filled the room, it started as a numb beat and then it cleared… my babe closed her eyes and the doctor smiled. Hana covered her mouth with one hand and put the other on my arm while jumping in excitement.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeats,” she whispered but she probably wanted to scream.

I felt something warm in my chest, something I wasn’t able to put in words but it compared to the day I made blue flames, it filled me with joy somehow. I wished it would last forever.

[jgvfhl]

The Number Lads (gn) Make Killer Memes

HAPPY NOVEMBER the Lads are back, and they're about to make someone's life very difficult. Hopefully, this marks the start of a monthly posting schedule again for this fic, but the holidays at the end of the year might delay things slightly in January. We'll see. But enjoy some new Mandalorian friends!

Words: ~7000 Warnings: some violence and some very bad humor Link to Masterlist of Chapters on tumblr Link to the full story on Ao3

Do-si-do sincerely hoped his sergeant never found out any details of tonight’s events. They had a sneaking suspicion she might not approve of their stealing a speeder bike from the Guard, then helping to lead a wild mynock chase through the Senate District on Coruscant. Still, they were doing an excellent job at not dying or crashing, even with about two dozen Guards on their tail.

Last they’d seen, Loops and Trees had commandeered a larger air speeder from the Guard and had split the pursuing forces a bit further. Maral was still here in her totally amazing, beautifully painted gauntlet starfighter Moon Saber, and Fours and Commander Bacara, the absolute madmen, had successfully gotten two of the transport shuttles off their tails as well. So, all in all, it wasn’t going terribly! Do-si-do had seen the commander and Echo get into the chancellor’s office, so he had to assume they would do what they set out to do. The rest of them couldn’t really help them out here.

Do-si-do swung their bike around a sharp corner, aiming for a shadowed overhang to get some cover and take a short breather before they had to head back out. It worked, but only barely. They had just dismounted and hunkered down behind the bike when the patrol of Guards zoomed past them. Fortunately, none of them stopped. Do-si-do let out a breath, then nearly jumped out of their armor when their comm started blinking green.

They answered quickly, transferring it to their helmet’s internal system in case they needed to get on the move again.

“This is the prettiest pilot this side of Trip Zip, what can I do for you?”

There was a pause. Then, Trees answered, “I’m not going to comment on that. General Unduli contacted me and told us to meet her and Kenobi in Little Sriluur. Something’s happening.”

That was vague. “Any better ideas on what that something is, or are we just guessing?”

“I was not given more information that that, no.”

Do-si-do nodded, easing the bike out of cover slowly, looking around for Guards. “Got it, Little Sriluur. Is the Clubhouse good?” What if someone had found out Sevenset and Fives?

“I do not have any more information to give you, Do-si-do,” Trees told them.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The comm disconnected before they had a chance to say anything else. That was Trees, they supposed.

Right. Little Sriluur. Their sense of direction, like any good clone, was impeccable, so they weren’t worried about finding their way there. But just in case they had to take some creative detours, they used the speeder bike’s control panel to enter the Noodle Bar’s name into the mapping system. The speeder bike hummed along beautifully as they put it into gear, shoved off the platform, and sped out onto the flight lane beside their temporary hideout.

Without the impending danger of Coruscant Guardsmen (who may or may not be acting with free will), the ride through Coruscant’s maze of buildings and alleyways was almost peaceful. They were a pilot, so of course the feeling of free movement through spaces otherwise confined by flight lanes and gravity was always invigorating. And, at least for now, there was no one shooting at them. That was a win. A few people honked at them or shouted insults when they flew a bit too close, but Do-si-do ignored them. They were too busy scanning the area for Coruscant Guards or security probes.

There were plenty of them, of course, but as they flew farther away from the Senate Dome and the government offices, their numbers thinned. A few more blocks, and it almost looked normal. About a block away from Little Sriluur, they startled a little when a Guard speeder appeared on their left, but they settled when they recognized Loops and Trees in the cab.

“Sweet ride!” they shouted over the rushing wind.

Trees’ helmet turned to them. Do-si-do imagined one of his finest, emotionally flat expressions on his face under it. “I am not happy about anything happening right now!” he shouted back.

Do-si-do laughed. “Hey, Loops! Where’d you learn to fly a speeder?”

Loops didn’t take his attention off of the flight lane in front of them. “Uh… General Koon,” he said.

“Nice!” they grinned, watching the bright lights and lit signs of Little Sriluur come closer and closer. “Where are the Jedi, anyway?” they called over to the other two. “Or do we just follow the sounds of lightsabers?”

“The transmissions on this speeder haven’t given us anything useful,” Trees said, pointing to the speeder’s control panel.

Do-si-do was a little put-out that they hadn’t thought to listen in to the Guard’s own transmission channels. “What did they say?” they asked.

“To ignore the ‘small disruption’ in Little Sriluur,” Trees answered, putting air quotes around the emphasized words.

That didn’t sound good. It meant whatever was happening in the neighborhood, they were on their own to deal with it. Well… no turning back now. They’d all either get medals for this, or it would be the last thing they did in service to the Republic. Do-si-do tried not to think about the last option. In a moment, the three of them were cruising into the heart of Coruscant’s weequay neighborhood. The sign for Sun’s Noodle Bar was visible at the end of the street, and at least initially, Do-si-do didn’t see anything amiss nearby. Hopefully, that meant Sevenset and Fives and the other inhabitants of the restaurant were still safe.

Hopefully, they could keep them that way.

“Do-si-do!” Loops’ shout pulled their attention back to their friends flying next to them. Trees was pointing off to their left, a little ahead of them.

It wasn’t clear right away what was so important over there. After a few seconds, bright lights flashed, and Do-si-do recognized a plume of smoke rising out of the cityscape.

Well, shit.

“I guess we know where the Jedi are!” they said, trying to find some silver lining here. “I’ll follow you guys!”

The air speeder veered to the left, zipping down a side street. Do-si-do followed, still keeping an eye on any probe droids or Guard patrols in the area. There were a concerningly few number of them both, and neither of them seemed too interested in checking out the “small disturbance” two blocks up. What they did start seeing more of were frightened civilians running or flying away from the plume of smoke. Loops and Do-si-do each had to execute a little fancy flying to avoid an oncoming civvy speeder going way faster than they should be in a flight lane this size.

Something had them seriously spooked. They were not looking forward to finding out what it was.

About two blocks up, they started hearing noises more at home on a battlefield instead of the heart of the Republic. A familiar clanking was the most ominous of them all. They turned right back towards the main thoroughfare, and immediately were faced with a blockade struggling to contain a mass of panicking citizens. A line of droids had cut them off from escaping down the side street, and were slowly but surely walking them back towards the main street.

Loops pulled his speeder up sharply, and Do-si-do followed, knowing it was a losing battle to try to calm down a crowd of that size on their own. Not without Jedi, certainly.

“Hey!” a droid yelled, noticing them finally.

As they approached the bigger street, one of the droids, an officer with yellow accents on its body, held up an angular hand. “Halt! No one passes—”

“We’re passing, thanks!” Do-si-do shouted as the two speeders zoomed over their heads. A flurry of red blaster bolts appeared in the air around the two speeders. Luckily, the droids were still lousy shots.

They burst onto the scene taking over the main thoroughfare, Do-si-do instinctively swooping higher for a vantage point. The pilot in them just liked to see as much as possible, and there was a lot to see. The blocks adjacent to the street that had led them here were all packed with people and droids—the bad kind of droids. It looked like the droids had worked to contain several large groups of citizens on the ground, holding them in place as collateral. It was a horrible, vile practice, but one the Seppies had no issues using as long as it kept the Jedi at bay. On the subject of Jedi, Doi-si-do still couldn’t see any Jedi, or even the occasional flash of a lightsaber that might give them away.

What they could see, however, were Commander Bacara and Fours holding their ground at the center of one of the walkways crossing the flightlanes. The droids seemed torn between containing their civilian hostages and sending more numbers to take on the pair of Marines.

Loops flew his speeder down to land between them and one side of the bridge. Do-si-do was quick to mirror the action, landing on Fours’ side.

“Where are the Jedi, sir?” Trees asked, ducking low in the vehicle to avoid the blaster fire.

“Dealing with Dooku!” came the reply. “Up the block to the northeast.” He tilted his helmet slightly up the street, unwilling to move his hands from where they were aiming his pistols.

“Dooku?” Do-si-do repeated, shocked. “Why the hell is he here?”

“I’m not gonna ask him!” Commander Bacara shot back.

Fair.

“What can we do, Commander?” Loops wanted to know.

“Try to break through these blockades,” the commander answered. “Getting the civvies out of danger is our first priority.”

That made sense. It robbed the droids of their leverage, and cleared the field of noncombatants at the same time.

Do-si-do nodded. “On it! Sir!”

They kicked off the ground again, hunched low to the handlebars to make a smaller target. Nearby, they watched Loops’ speeder lift off as well. They punched in Trees’ comm frequency to make it easier to… well, communicate.

“Which group are we aiming for first, boys?” they asked.

“The smallest?” Trees answered, sounding slightly unsure. To be fair, none of them had any leadership experience on the field. But that didn’t mean their other experience didn’t count for something.

“Maybe the one closest to where the Jedi are supposed to be?” Do-si-do suggested.

“You want to get closer to the Sith lord and the two Jedi fighting him?” Trees replied.

Do-si-do shook their head, turning their bike around in the air and aiming up the street. “I’m thinking we get the civvies closest to danger out of it,” they said sharply. “Now, come on!”

Trees didn’t reply, but the comm stayed open. When they glanced back, Do-si-do saw the Corrie speeder turn around and start to follow their path.

“What’s the plan?” Trees asked.

Honestly, Do-si-do wasn’t sure they had a plan, per se, more of a… vague idea. “You two stay this side of the street and take out the droids there. You can use the speeder for cover. I’ll head around to the back of the group and get the civvies a way out that way.”

“How?”

“I am a master at improv!”

There was a pause that Do-si-do barely registered as they approached the group of terrified civilians. “No, you’re not!”

“I’m not an officer, okay? Gimme a break!” was the only response they managed to find to that. They just had to hope Loops and Trees would actually carry out the skeletal plan.

They swooped down, skimming over the group of droids and other people until they could veer to the right down a one-lane sidestreet, similar to but smaller than the one the three of them had used coming here. There were six B1 droids guarding the back of the group on the walkway hugging the building next to the sidestreet.

“Duck!” Do-si-do shouted as they angled the bike downwards.

Luckily, the collection of weequay and other races heard them, and listened. The people closest to the back of the group crouched down, some people pulling others to the deck if they were too slow. The droids, always a slower study, had only just noticed their hostages had moved before Do-si-do and their bike registered as a threat.

Do-si-do turned sharply, temporarily dropping the thrusters’ levels as low as they dared without killing the engine as well. It was nice to know machines. Gravity and physics did the rest, and they crashed sideways into three of the droids, laying them out flat on the deck as they kicked the thrusters back up to normal levels. As the bike slid over the droids, Do-si-do leaned down and swiped one of their blasters from its owner. The other three droids were chattering in surprise, just now leveling their blasters at them. But the Kaminoans hadn’t spent all that time and money to put out lousy soldiers.

Do-si-do shot down two of the droids before the speeder bike had even stopped moving. The final droid was quickly seized, disarmed, and deactivated by some proactive citizens while Do-si-do made sure the three on the ground wouldn’t get up again.

They steered the bike off the walkway, up and over the slight railing that kept people from toppling into the flight lane. “Go!” they said, gesturing down the open walkway. “Get out, let’s go!”

The crowds needed no further instructions. They surged forward en masse, right over the droids that had been holding them captive moments earlier. They moved down the walkway, heading away from the bigger street as fast as they could. Do-si-do grinned, rather pleased their haphazard plan had worked. They saw Loops and Trees standing among the scrapped bodies of the ten or so droids that had been guarding the hostages on that side. They flew over to them, hovering on the walkway beside the main street.

“Good plan, right?” they said, grinning still.

Loops shrugged and Trees just stared from behind his helmet.

“Alright, contain your enthusiasm,” they said. “We’ve got other civvies to deal with.”

Loops and Trees climbed back into their speeder and followed Do-si-do back into the air. There were two remaining clumps of civilians held hostage by droids. One was across the street and under active assault by Commander Bacara and Fours. The other was down the block on the same side of the street.

“Has anyone checked on the Noodle Bar?” they said out loud after checking the comm channel with Trees was still open.

“In what copious spare time would we have done that?”

“I was only making sure the Seppies aren’t after Sevens and Fives” they replied, ducking under a string of colored lanterns hung across the flight lanes. “Do the Seppies know? Is that why they’re here?”

“Shall we ask them nicely?” Trees answered, his voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm.

“Okay, cool it, Green Bean. Let’s get these natties dealt with first.” They tried to keep the worry out of their voice. It was hard, though. Sevenset and Fives were right there. If the droids found that out, they had no trouble believing they’d storm the place without hesitation. Considering that, they felt a little more confident that the droids didn’t know where they were.

They had just passed the Noodle Bar, still aiming for the group of hostages held a little ways up the block from the restaurant, when a large crash and a distant humming reached their ears. They looked over their shoulder for a second. Flashes of blue and green caught their eye.

The Jedi, finally.

There was also the small issue of a large lit sign being ripped off its building and hurled towards the Jedi. It missed, but ultimately crashed into the opposite building and the walkway adjacent to it.

The humming noise was getting louder too. Do-si-do recognized it as some kind of air transport, but they couldn’t tell what exactly the vehicle was yet. They hoped it was more allies, but they had to be prepared for it to bring more enemies too.

Trees’ voice cut into their thoughts. “Do-si-do, it looks like the droids are bringing reinforcements.”

Well, joy of joys. “How many and what kind?”

“Mostly B1s, but I can see at least ten SBDs.”

“Great! Let’s see if we can get these civvies outta here first,” Do-si-do told him, urging the speeder bike faster. Kriffing SBDs—seriously?

“Clones!” cried the first droid to noticed their approach.

“Clankers!” Do-si-do called back. The droids had been too slow in reorganizing to react to the new threat, so Do-si-do swooped as low as they dared, knocking the first droid on the head with the back of the speeder bike before skimming over the crowd of gathered natties to the far side of the group. Hopefully, Trees and Loops would get the hint.

They whirled the bike around to face the droids guarding the back of the group, quickly shooting two of them down like before. There were five more, plus the other seven Loops and Trees were responsible for scrapping. Plus the ones coming down out of the sky any second now. Wonderful.

Do-si-do ducked a blaster bolt and steered the bike around to point at the droids. The natties wouldn’t thank them, but they never did. They drove the speeder forward, bowling into two of the droids, who toppled to the ground as the crowd gave way. Not as brave a group as the first one, it seemed. They kept the bike over them to keep them in place. The two either side of them couldn’t quite decide if they should use their blasters at this close range, or just grab them. Do-si-do wasn’t too keen on letting them finish that decision.

They grabbed the droid on their right, shooting a hole through its chest from the neck down. The other droid did actually try to grab them, but they quickly smashed their blaster into its face to buy time to swing themself off the bike to shoot that one through the chest as well. It was honestly annoying how careful they had to be not to let the bolts go through the droids and into the crowd of terrified and screaming civilians next to them. The last droid shot at them, but missed (barely), hitting the wall of the building instead. Do-si-do lunged forward, crowding into its space so it couldn’t use its blaster as effectively, and shot it down.

That done, they returned to the bike, glad to find it still worked and hadn’t suffered any stray blaster bolts. “Alright, people!” they shouted as they rose a little higher. “Get going! Head south as much as you can,” they said, pointing away from the sounds of Dooku and the Jedi.

As before, the crowd surged forward down the walkway, hopefully to safety. Well. Somewhere safer than here.

They darted over into the flight lane to avoid the crowds and return to the main action. They still had one more group to free, after all.

Okay, the main action had gotten a bit more… active. Trees’ warning about more droids arriving had been well-deserved. About two or three dozen more had arrived, including those SBDs Do-si-do wished they could will out of existence. Up the street, they could see flashes of blue, green, and red as Kenobi and Unduli battled Dooku across the upper stories of the buildings. So far they hadn’t come too close, but the hum of sabers was audible between the high pitched whine of blasterfire. The main force of the new droids had gathered across the street, concentrating their strength around defending the hostages. Fours and his commander had backed down the footbridge over the flight lanes until they were hunkered down with Loops and Trees, all under a hail storm of red blaster bolts.

The SBDs were leading a march across the footbridge, their reinforced armor plating making it much harder to just pick them off like the B1s. Do-si-do steered their speeder bike higher, hoping to get some advantage to help their friends. They climbed until they were about as high as the division between floors in the buildings either side. Glancing around the scene, they tried to work out any weak points in the droids’ formation around the hostages. Just as they leaned to start turning down yet another sidestreet, something struck their bike from the side out of nowhere.

They yelped, torn between hanging onto the bike or hanging onto their blaster. What had hit them? As the bike’s spinning slowed, they could make out a small handful of B1s whirring around the air on small air speeders. Oh, those little shits—

Do-si-do snarled and aimed to give chase. They were sorely missing their starfighter’s aiming and hostile detection capabilities right about now. They took off after the nearest airborne B1, but only got a few seconds ahead before something much, much bigger came up behind them and swept them completely off their bike and knocked the wind out of their lungs and the blaster from their hands.

“Where are the fugitives.”

Once the momentary panic had started to subside, Do-si-do recognized the low, monotonous voice of an SBD. They all had jet boosters in their backs, right. Great.

“Where are the fugitives.”

“I don’t know!” Do-si-do yelled, watching the street and their friends fly by in a blur under their dangling legs.

The SBD’s metal hands tightened around their torso. “Where are the fugitives, or you will be destroyed.”

“Up yours, you karking oil stain!” No way they were giving up Fives and Sevenset. No way in hell.

The SBD stopped moving forward, hovering above the open flight lane that led down, down, down towards the lower levels of Coruscant. Do-si-do stopped looking down, knowing it would only make their stomach churn at this point. See, this was just another reason they liked being a pilot: getting shot down in space meant a very quick death, either being burned up or just freezing to death in the vacuum of space. But falling from this height? There was no guarantee. There was no guarantee they wouldn’t hit one of the footbridges crossing the flight lane and bounce off into who knew where. They might hit a speeder and only get broken bones, and since they were a clone, no one would even bother bringing them to a medical center, most likely.

For the third time in as many minutes, Do-si-do’s train of thought was interrupted by a collision. Something solid slammed into the SBD holding them. They couldn’t tell immediately what had hit it.

Then they felt the droid’s grip loosen as it deactivated. So someone had shot the SBD. That would have been great news, had Do-si-do not been dangling several hundred feet above the nearest flat surface below.

They started falling, uncaring of how undignified their screaming was, because they were falling, Force dammit!

Just as suddenly, they stopped falling, after a jolt of impact. They looked down to find someone’s armored arms wrapped securely around their torso.

“Can I go two kriffing seconds without getting hit by something or someone in the air?” they demanded. They were stressed and upset and they were allowed to be a bit pissed off.

“Yeah, you were looking a bit like a bouncy ball for a second there, kid,” said whoever was carrying them. The voice came through a filter, so whoever it was had a helmet too.

“Did you shoot that thing?”

“Nope! Someone has a sniper perch in one of the restaurants over there.” They zoomed over the street, weaving between the strands of lanterns strung across it, until they arrived where the other Numbers and Commander Bacara were still holding their ground against the force of droids across the street.

Do-si-do was set down on their feet next to Trees.

“You troopers want some help with these guys?” their rescuer asked.

Turning around, Do-si-do saw a Mandalorian in full armor. The armor paint was… garish, almost. Bright colors and odd designs faded and flowed into each other across the entire set, forming a stark contrast against the dark grey of their flight suit. Do-si-do looked back to the helmet, expecting to find a black T-shaped visor like so many had. There was… no visor. The front of the helmet was smooth and painted over like any other part of the armor.

This person had saved them… in mid-air… blind.

Holy shit.

They stopped gawking and ducked behind the walkway’s railing when red blaster bolts came a little too close for comfort.

Commander Bacara glanced over at the newcomer from where he was crouched behind cover. “Clan Ves?”

“‘Lek!” the Mandalorian answered, sounding almost chipper. “Maral called us in. I’m your Aunt Faye. You’re Bacara, right?”

“Elek. How many are you?”

“Two others. My ad and my vod.”

“Where are they?” he asked.

Faye pointed across the flight lane on the street corner opposite the crowd of hostages. “Over there somewhere. Trying to keep the ad out of this, since he hasn’t passed his verd’goten yet.”

The Marines commander turned to look at her. “You brought a child here?”

“I got a call! I didn’t have time to find a daycare,” she answered, gesturing to the general situation. “Besides, they’re thirteen. They’ll be fine with their ba’vodu.”

“Can we discuss this later, sir?” Trees demanded, completely flattened against the back side of the speeder to avoid the steady stream of red blaster bolts whizzing by overhead.

A huge crash brought everyone’s attention farther up the block towards the Jedi and Count Dooku. Their fight had continued to migrate, working its way down the block, closer and closer to the group of civilians they still hadn’t managed to free. This could get ugly if they didn’t get the hostages to safety soon.

“We need these SBDs taken care of!” Commander Bacara ordered. “I don’t care if you have to blow up the footbridge to do it.”

Faye checked one of their vambraces as they all crowded together to concentrate their fire on the approaching droids. Do-si-do assumed that’s what she was doing, anyway, since she never actually looked down at her wrist. “I don’t have enough Whistling Birds for all of them, but I could take out three.”

“Do it!”

Trees shoved a droid’s blaster into their hands, and Do-si-do wasn’t about to ask him where he’d picked it up. They kept firing with the rest of the Numbers, but they couldn’t help but watch out of their periphery. They’d never seen Whistling Birds in action before, but they’d always liked the sound of them from stories. Six pinpoints of light shot out of Faye’s vambrace with little bursts of noise. They left tiny trails of smoke or compressed air in their wakes as they sped across the air, homing in directly on the SBDs. The first three jolted slightly as two miniature missiles embedded into their armor and detonated. The droids stumbled, then fell, the red light in their visual sensors fading as they crashed to the deck. It slowed the rest down for a few seconds, giving the Numbers and the commander a chance to down two more of them. That left just five marching across the footbridge towards them.

Suddenly, and enormous chunk of signage came hurtling through the air and smashed through the metal footbridge. The bridge and chunk of metal disappeared into the gap, now careening through the lower levels of Coruscant.

“What the shit!” Do-si-do yelled as Loops and Trees both made wordless yelps as well. Fours and his commander and Faye seemed less surprised.

In the pause in blaster fire, flashes of blue and green made them all look up. Generals Kenobi and Unduli were leaping back and forth across the gap created by the flight lane. Do-si-do looked and found Count Dooku had hitched a ride on one of the B1s still in possession of a small speeder, and was skimming through the air towards the group of hostages.

Well, this wasn’t good.

A loud noise came from the building just up the block, and they looked to the source in case it was something dangerous. It was, just not for the Numbers and their allies. The building in question was the Noodle Bar. Apparently, someone had a rocket launcher pointed out the window, and had just fired it at the speeder holding up the Sith Lord.

A split second before the missile made contact, Dooku leapt from it, landing directly amongst the hostages across the flight lane. The B1 on the speeder was not as lucky, and it exploded violently in the middle of the air. Kenobi and Unduli landed on the street corner up the block from the Numbers’ current location. They looked tired but far from finished.

“Come no closer!” Dooku yelled, raising his voice and his red lightsaber. The civilians around him were quite literally shaking with fear. Do-si-do didn’t blame them.

“Really, Count?” Kenobi replied with a curled lip. “That’s stooping awfully low, even for you.”

“Leave the civilians out of this!” Unduli added on, gesturing with her green blade.

“I want what I came for,” the Sith replied. “But you Jedi are always in the way, and now look.” He gestured to the crowd around him with his free hand. “You’ve put innocent lives at risk.”

“Nar’sheb! You landed there on purpose!” Faye yelled at him. Do-si-do jumped a little, not used to people aside from Jedi doing the talking during these confrontations. “Let the young ones free, at least, and negotiate like a civilized person.”

“A Mandalorian asking for negotiations?” Dooku said. “You must be desperate, Kenobi.”

“I’ve never actually met that Mandalorian before,” Kenobi said, glancing at Faye.

She waved. “I’m Faye! Clan Ves! Su’cuy!”

The Jedi each gave little waves in return before resuming their conversation with Dooku.

Commander Bacara looked at Faye. “Any chance you have a Whistling Bird left for him?”

She shook her head. “I wish. Kriffing demagolka, but no. Used ‘em up on the Supers.”

“Didn’t you say someone had a sniper perch in the Noodle Bar?” Do-si-do asked her. Maybe that person could take out Dooku, or at least distract him?

Faye nodded, but didn’t get a chance to respond. A chorus of cries and protests rose up from the hostages. The B1s and SBDs surrounding them had turned inwards, now aiming at the hostages instead of their adversaries. Do-si-do’s stomach swooped uncomfortably.

“Dooku!” Kenobi shouted. “This is barbaric!”

“My master gives clear instructions,” the Sith shot back, still waving his saber around to supplement his speech. “I am to find the clones in question, destroy them, and not let anyone stand in my way. You, Kenobi, are in my way.”

“Threatening the lives of innocents doesn’t help your cause!” Unduli told him, walking slowly towards the small footbridge that connected the two city blocks across the sidestreet. Kenobi followed her. Their movements were deliberate and steady.

Dooku frowned. “It seems my message is not clear. Do you need a demonstration?”

He lunged into the crowd around him and dragged a young child to him. The girl looked no older than twelve, with tan skin, smooth black hair, and big brown eyes filled with tears. At the same time, the B1s surrounding the group all did the same, grabbing a random civilian and holding a blaster against their heads or torsos.

“I want those clones, Kenobi!” the Sith snarled. “Anything else, and these people will die for your inaction.”

Commander Bacara growled as he looked down the sights on his blaster. “I can’t get a good shot on anything. The SBDs are blocking the way.”

Faye sighed sharply as she did the same. “Yeah, me neither. Kriff.”

Do-si-do saw the commander’s comm light up, and watched him answer it in his helmet. His head tilted in a slow nod. “Okay. Saleha and Mira think they can take out the B1s without getting the civvies hurt.”

“How?” Trees asked.

“They have the sniper perches in the Noodle Bar,” he told him.

That made sense. Do-si-do did recall Saleha dragging a long case out of the hall closet while the rest of the clones were packing up to leave with Maral. Since Ahsoka Tano was still staying with Fives and Sevenset, they were fine with the two old ladies pointing weapons of war out of the restaurant windows if it meant taking out Dooku.

The two Jedi had made it almost across the smaller footbridge that would lead them right to where the Numbers and their allies were gathered. While the larger footbridge across the flightlane was destroyed, Do-si-do had no problems believing the Jedi would just hurl themselves across the gap anyway. The Sith still hadn’t budged, however. He still held the shaking little girl firmly in one hand by the collar, watching the Jedi’s every move.

Kenobi, living up to his nickname, was still trying to negotiate. “Release the hostages, and we’ll settle this on even footing.” Perhaps he was just stalling. It didn’t look like anything was getting through to the count.

Movement to the left of the huddled group of hostages made Do-si-do look away from the Sith Lord for a moment. On yet another street corner, this one across from the crowd of hostages on the far side of the street, a lone figure was visible. They were also in full beskar armor, all painted in black and purple, with a few white accents beside bare silver steel. A long staff protruded from behind their shoulder, possibly another weapon—probably another weapon. More Mandalorians? That must be the vod Faye had mentioned.

The movement had been this new person standing up to full height. “Hey, Dicku!” they yelled, even carrying across the way from behind their helmet. “Let the girl go.” They leveled a blaster pistol at the count. “Her name is Ligma, and she’s under my clan’s protection. You really wanna piss off an entire clan of Mandalorians?”

Do-si-do blinked. They bit their bottom lip gently to keep the ungraceful snort from coming out of his mouth. “Ligma?” they muttered to Loops.

“Yeah, I know,” he answered. “Not gonna question it.”

Behind Do-si-do, a thunk sounded. They glanced over their shoulder and saw Faye had slapped her palm onto her helmet’s front. “I’m going to slap them,” she muttered, then raised her head again. “And then I’m going to kill them.”

Before they could ask why, Dooku was speaking again. His tone was absolutely dripping condescension. “Explain to the Jedi that as soon as I know where I might find the fugitives in question, little Ligma here—”

The little girl screamed. “LIGMA NUTS!” In a second, the girl’s tan features gained a shade of grey-ish green and her eyes flashed yellow. Her arm came up, suddenly holding a miniblaster like Saleha had used to stun Nines earlier that evening. Only, this one wasn’t on stun. A bright red flash was all that could be seen before Dooku was doubling over with a cry of pain.

In quick succession, several more blaster shots rang out all over the street. One came from the Mandalorian across the way, and it slammed into Dooku’s head, killing him instantly. Four green shots came in rapid sequence from the Noodle Bar, scrapping four of the B1s threatening the civilians directly. Immediately, the Jedi leapt across the gap, using the Force to launch themselves directly in front of the droids surrounding the hostages. Faye took to the air on her jetpack to follow them.

Commander Bacara stood, aiming his blaster. “Fire at will!” he barked, already aiming for the rest of the SBDs.

Do-si-do needed no further prompting. They, Loops, Trees, and Fours followed his lead, picking off the B1s carefully. The Jedi never made careful too easy, and once again, Do-si-do found themself wishing they were back in a starfighter instead. Everyone kept moving around, blocking shots, and there were still the civilians to keep safe as well. It was a mess. A mess they were not entirely practiced in cleaning up. Luckily, Loops, Trees, and Fours seemed more than comfortable.

It was all over in under a minute. The droids lay in sparking pieces on the deck if they hadn’t been Force-pushed off the edge. The civilians were terrified and many of them weeping, but they were all alive. The little girl had disappeared. Do-si-do had lost her in the action, and couldn’t see her anymore, anyway. But he did see Faye meeting up with her vod, smacking them upside the helmet, and then embracing a young Mandalorian with gold accents on their chestplate and vambraces, and a gold helmet.

“Threat neutralized,” Commander Bacara said. He raised his comm, then stared at it when it started blinking green before he’d pressed any buttons. After the initial hesitation, he answered it. “Bacara.”

He must have had it connected to his helmet, because there was a stretch of silence before he spoke next.

“But you’re all unharmed?” He nodded in response to whatever answer he’d gotten. “No, we’re all done here. Dooku’s dead. The Noodle Bar is safe.” There was another pause. “I’ll tell you about it later. We will take care of the several unconscious and-or injured people inside the Clubhouse, yes.” After one last pause, he nodded. “Bacara out.”

“Was that the—er, Commander Sixes, sir?” Do-si-do asked.

“Yes. He and Echo are fine.” He turned to the Jedi still ushering the civilians away from the mechanical carnage. “Generals! A word!”

After a minute or so of being Jedi and comforting scared people, Kenobi and Unduli jumped back across the flightlane and walked over to the group of troopers. The Mandalorians all followed with jetpacks, the adults both carrying the young one over the gap.

“Thank you all for your help and your bravery tonight,” General Unduli said when they had all gathered.

“Yes,” Kenobi seconded. He looked to the Mandalorians and offered a small salute, bowing slightly with his right fist over his heart. “Vor entye, Aliit Ves.” Then he smiled at the Numbers and Commander Bacara. “And of course, thank you, troopers. This went far beyond the scope of your usual duties, and you all served bravely, as Master Unduli has said already.”

Do-si-do knew their helmet obscured their face, but they smiled widely. The Jedi could pick up emotions anyway, right? They’d know. Commander Bacara gave a curt nod.

“The chancellor is dead,” he said flatly.

There was a short silence while everyone adjusted to the sudden change in mood and subject. The Jedi’s faces both remained fairly neutral, almost impassive. Eventually, Unduli dipped her chin and closed her eyes.

“I had sensed the Force grow lighter,” she said softly. “But I had assumed it was because of Count Dooku’s death.”

“I had as well,” Kenobi agreed with a distant look in his eyes. “But, no. This is too much change to have been just the count. The chancellor held more Darkness than we had ever imagined.”

That was a terrifying thought, considering that man had nearly taken control of the entire GAR, and could have exterminated the Jedi Order as a whole with a few well-placed transmissions. But he hadn’t. He was dead. Dooku was dead. Ventress had abandoned the Separatists months ago, if rumors were to be believed. That just left Grievous to deal with, and there was no shortage of people gunning for a chance at scrapping the wheezing maniac.

Kenobi’s comm went off, and he answered it. “Yes, Anakin?”

“Master, the Force feels different.”

“Yes, I would imagine it feels very different,” he replied easily. “Lighter, perhaps?”

“I… guess? I’m not—I was kind of busy, I might have missed some things.”

Kenobi rolled his eyes fondly and held up a hand as he turned away to find some privacy for the conversation.

General Unduli took up the conversation. “With the chancellor no longer able to control the Guards, it would be safe to move your injured friends to the Temple’s Halls of Healing, if you would like.”

They were all a little taken aback by the offer.

“The Temple, sir—ma’am?” Loops asked.

“We still can’t be sure there aren’t others who can control the chips,” she explained. “Until then, especially in the upcoming wave of attention and public reaction to the chancellor’s death, it might be safer for them in the Temple.”

Unfortunately, she made good points. Do-si-do didn’t want to know what kind of backlash or outcry or whatever would happen after word got out about the chancellor’s true nature, and about the clones who had brought him down. They nodded, looking to the other Numbers and the commander.

Commander Bacara seemed to hesitate for a second. But, eventually, he nodded too. “Yes, ma’am, that sounds like the safest plan. We have a ship we can call for transport.”

Faye raised a gloved hand. “So do we, Bacara, if you need the extra room.”

General Unduli nodded. “I will let you take care of your own, Commander,” she said with a smile. “I will meet you all at the Temple.”

She turned to follow Kenobi, presumably to find whatever transportation they had taken here. Or maybe they’d just take the shuttles back. Do-si-do was far more interested in the Mandalorians they hadn’t met yet.

“Well, that was fun,” said the Mandalorian in black and purple armor. The remark sounded genuine. “I’m Aykhaal Ves. If you must refer to me, you can use they, them, and their pronouns.”

Do-si-do smiled under their helmet. Aykhaal sounded so confident saying that. It was nice. It was… hopeful.

Faye shook her head, one hand resting protectively on her kid’s shoulder. “Apparently, they had the bright idea to sneak this little one—” she poked her kid’s helmet— “over there to surprise Dooku.”

Do-si-do tilted his head. “That was you?”

The kid nodded. “I’m a clawdite, yeah. I’m Iskender.” After a glance at Aykhaal, Iskender added, “And if you have to refer to me, please use whatever gender makes the joke funniest.”

Aykhaal chuckled while Faye shook her head yet again. “Anyway, it is very good to meet you all. You fight well. Maral’s been talking about her little brothers for ages now, so it’s nice to meet at least one of you,” she added to Commander Bacara.

He looked at her for a second, his face unreadable behind his helmet. “Thank you,” he said finally. “We have several unconscious people to transport,” he went on, pointing to the Noodle Bar. “We should do that now.”

Aykhaal gestured to the way ahead. “Lead on, al’verde.”

How's that for a way to get rid of a Sith lord? I think it's hilarious, personally. All of Clan Ves belong to @23-bears and they are all wonderful, I hope you enjoyed them. @theultimatesandwich @rndmpeep @mercurydancer @thechaoticfanartist

[poughkeepsies]

SCROLL BITCH SCROLL okey that made me laugh i imagine you like those security guards on the airport like keep moving people! lol

we are approaching buddie at maximum velocity I do not have time to individually stop and explain the 7000 signs that they're going canon to every nontruther

[govindhtech]

GIGABYTE TRX50 AERO D Motherboard : Discover the Future

The GIGABYTE TRX50 AERO D Motherboard, Built for the AI Era!

The TRX50 AERO D motherboard is the newest High-End Desktop (HEDT) wonder to be announced by GIGABYTE TECHNOLOGY Co. Ltd, a prominent maker of motherboards, graphics cards, and other hardware solutions.

The TRX50 AERO D is intended to take the content production and AI operation experiences to new heights by providing optimal support for AMD Ryzen Threadripper PRO 7000 WX-Series and Ryzen Threadripper 7000 Series CPUs. Prosumers may now experience the same level of performance seen at workstations at home.

The TRX50 AERO D has a variety of flexible extension options that allow it to accommodate several GPUs and PCIe devices. This enables it to efficiently handle demanding applications, such as those that need the NVIDIA RTX Ada Generation professional graphics card and the AORUS Gen5 AIC Adaptor. The architecture of three PCIe x16 slots delivers exceptional performance for artificial intelligence (AI) training, the development of content, the depiction of design, scientific computing, and large-scale data analysis.

The triple-slot width design, on the other hand, assures that there will be sufficient room to support huge high-end graphics cards, resulting in improved GPU compatibility as well as more efficient cooling. In addition, the revolutionary PCIe UD Slot X has a one-piece design that is firmly secured to the specific backplate. This allows it to reach a fantastic load-bearing capability of up to 58 kg, which is a great achievement.

⁠The TRX50 AERO D is the most powerful High-End Desktop (HEDT) platform available to builders since it is powered by an all-digital, 28-phase architecture and can unleash remarkable performance when combined with the newest AMD Ryzen Threadripper CPUs. The sophisticated thermal design has a larger heatsink, a heat pipe in the VRM region, and an M.2 thermal guard. These components provide high-efficiency heat dissipation to guarantee that the system maintains its cool temperature even while executing many tasks or programs that need a lot of system resources.

⁠Built for the Age of Artificial Intelligence, the GIGABYTE TRX50 AERO D Motherboard! GIGABYTE TECHNOLOGY Co. Ltd. is a well-known manufacturer of motherboards, graphics cards, and other types of hardware solutions. They have just introduced their latest High-End Desktop (HEDT) marvel, which is the TRX50 AERO D motherboard.

This motherboard is a High-End Desktop (HEDT). By offering optimum support for AMD Ryzen Threadripper PRO 7000 WX-Series and Ryzen Threadripper 7000 Series CPUs, the TRX50 AERO D is designed to boost the content creation and AI operating experiences to new heights.

It is now possible for prosumers to enjoy the same level of performance at their homes as is available at workstations. ⁠ Because it comes with a wide selection of customizable expansion options, the TRX50 AERO D can support a number of different GPUs and PCIe devices at the same time. Because of this, it is able to perform demanding programs with ease, such as those that need the NVIDIA RTX Ada Generation professional graphics card as well as the AORUS Gen5 AIC Adaptor.

When it comes to artificial intelligence (AI) training, the creation of content, the portrayal of design, scientific computing, and large-scale data analysis, the architecture with three PCIe x16 slots gives great performance. The triple-slot width design, on the other hand, ensures that there will be ample area to handle enormous high-end graphics cards, which results in enhanced GPU compatibility as well as more effective cooling. This design also has the advantage of being more space efficient.

In addition, the groundbreaking PCIe UD Slot X has a one-piece design that is tightly attached to the particular backplate. This connection ensures that the slot can’t be removed. Because of this, it is able to attain an impressive load-bearing capacity of up to 58 kg, which is a significant accomplishment. ⁠ Because it is driven by an all-digital, 28-phase design, the TRX50 AERO D is the most powerful High-End Desktop (HEDT) platform that is currently accessible to builders.

This is because it is able to unleash exceptional performance when paired with the most recent AMD Ryzen Threadripper CPUs. The clever thermal design incorporates a heat pipe in the VRM area, an M.2 thermal protection, and a bigger heatsink than typical. As a result of the high-efficiency heat dissipation that is provided by these components, the temperature of the system is able to be kept at a comfortable level even when a large number of jobs or programs that demand a significant amount of system resources are being run simultaneously.

Read more on Govindhtech.com

[birchstreetsystems]

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[simpendragons]

k my take on the marinette/adrien situation is that they have a fundamental disconnect bc of how they define relationships - yes I know there’s like 7000 posts abt this yes I’m adding one too bc I feel like people haven’t said this yet - so marinette has a really safe stable social life with good friends and a supportive family. She can be fully herself around them including insecurities, mistakes, and even lashing out a bit at them and still feeling safe and loved in the relationship. I’m thinking like siblings right now, she has people where lashing out at them every once in a while is more a symbol of being comfortable enough around them to do that than a symbol of not liking them or not needing them.

So this is her definition of a good relationship - one where you can be honest about everything you’re feeling, the good, the annoyed, the bad, and still come back day after day and be secure. Meanwhile, Adrien doesn’t have that relationship definition. All of his relationships are predicated on the need for him to not have flaws and not make mistakes. We see this bc Gabriel has such high standards and places so much pressure on him, how adrien is guarded and pretends to be perfect even in front of his closest friends. For adrien, his definition of a good relationship doesn’t include security in the face of passing annoyance. So when lb thinks she is letting her guard down by letting annoyance show, cn thinks she hates him and wants him to leave.

So there’s this fundamental disconnect where marionettes definition of a stable relationship includes the security to lash out once in a while and still come back, but adrien has never had that before bc his father makes him be perfect in order to ‘deserve’ a good relationship, so when lb lashes out he actually takes it as she wants him to leave which is not at all what she is intending it to be.

As someone with siblings I know how nice it can be to have people who you can be secure enough to be a little mean to! Obviously that doesn’t mean actively be terrible to there has to be a balance but it’s a different level of safeness in a relationship that I don’t think adrien has ever really had and so I think that’s a big source of the problem between them this season.

[13uswntimagines]

Always Hers (Emily Sonnett x Reader)

Request: A sequel to Always Yours where Kelley introduces Sonnett to reader and they hit it off, and a relationship builds. Basically it’s 7000 words of Emily and reader falling in love, Christen realizing she royally messed up, Tobin freaking out just a touch, and Kelley totally not gloating about it. 

Author’s Note: This was requested by @women-enthusiast​

Emily was terrified. She had been having the time of her life, sat in the front row of an Y/n L/n concert dancing next to Kelley. Hell, during Shut Up and Dance you had even winked in their direction (making all of the girls around them swoon). But about halfway through the show, a very large man had come to stand in front of them.  

He had simply stood and stared, leaving them mostly alone until the very end of the show. He sent them a small smile and an “if you two ladies could come with me please”, before escorting them out of the crowd and deeper into the stadium. Which every turn down the twisting hallway, she felt the knot in her stomach get tighter and tighter. What the fuck was happening? 

“You gotta relax before you have an aneurism. Everything will be fine,” Kelley said quietly as the man led them through a door and into a cozy-looking room. 

A couch sat against one wall, a Stanford sweatshirt thrown carelessly across it and a guitar propped up beside it. The sound of running water gave them a very good guess of what was behind the door on the opposing wall. 

Emily took a deep breath, holding in a gasp. This couldn’t be what she thought it was. 

“If you would please wait here, Ms. L/n will be with you in a few minutes. Feel free to help yourself to the table,” The man smiled, gesturing towards the table filled with water and a fruit tray across from the comfy looking couch. 

Kelley rolled her eyes, immediately making her way over to the food table to peruse the options. She scrunched her nose as she looked over the items. 

“Well this is bullshit,” She mumbled, grabbing a grape and popping it into her mouth. Emily frowned, unsure as to how Kelley could be so casual right now. 

“What?” She asked, stepping towards the table. She blinked at the spread. There was way too much food on the table for one person. 

“There aren’t any chocolate-covered strawberries. They always used to be on her riders,” Kelley mumbled, puffing her cheeks out as she grabbed her another grape. Emily frowned. How the fuck did she know what was supposed to be on the table? She opened her mouth to ask the question, but a voice behind her beat her to it. 

“Apparently they were unavailable this last minute,” Emily whipped around in shock, her eyes bulging at the sight of you in a pair of sweatpants and a white tank top, casually running a towel through your hair. You smiled crookedly at them, your dimples on full display. It wasn’t your stage smile though, Emily noted (barely able to take her eyes off your exposed biceps enough to actually think about it). It was easier, more natural.

“Holy shit, you’re-“ Emily studdered, her brain unable to process that you were standing right in front of her. Your lips quirked in amusement before you looked past the blond to your favorite defender. 

“You couldn’t come and greet us yourself, you had to send oddjob after us?” Kelley asked, tossing another grape in her mouth and crossing her arms. She hadn’t brought Emily here to set you up, but her reaction was definitely amusing. She also hadn’t missed the extra blinks you had given the blond defender. Perhaps her plan was going to work better than expected. 

You rolled your eyes at the woman. Greg had been your security guard for years and she still refused to learn his name. You were just lucky that their presence hadn’t caused a riot in the crowd. 

“You conveniently forgot to tell me that you were coming, and Greg didn’t want a replay of the riot we almost had at the Superdome,” You said, your eyebrow quirking up. She winced at the memory, shaking her head and finally closing the distance between the two of you. 

You huffed her tightly to you, resting your cheek on the top of her head. The two of you swayed lightly as you hugged. It had been way too long since you had seen each other. 

“Missed you sunshine, you never answer your phone anymore” She hummed into your neck. 

“Missed you too,” You said softly, holding her tighter, and ignoring the second statement. The truth was that it was hard, that sometimes when you talked to Kelley all you could think about were your college days. It wasn’t just her that you pushed away, it was everyone. 

You had been friends with the woman even before the two of you went to college. She was your sounding board, your rock, more your sister than your friend at this point, and she hated you were locking yourself away again. 

“You, you’re-“ Emily’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. You squeezed Kelley one last time before returning your attention to the blond standing wide-eyed in the middle of the room. 

You had to admit that she was adorable with her pink cheeks and her hands pinned at her sides, unsure of what to do. 

“You should introduce me before she passes out,” You whispered loudly, nudged Kelley. The older defender smirked at her counterpart. She hadn’t meant for you and Emily to be more than friends, but if it turned out that way, she wouldn’t be upset. You were the sweetest person she knew, even if you had lost some of your sunshine over the years. You would treat the blond defender well and vice versa. You both deserved to be happy. 

“Right. Emily, this is Y/n. Y/n this is frat daddy junior Emily,” She nodded, not missing the eye contact between the two of you. You smiled wide, taking a step towards the frozen defender and grabbing her hand. 

“Well Emily, it’s a pleasure to meet you. A friend of Kelly’s is a friend of mine,” You said, bowing slightly and lifting the back of her hand to your lips. You could be suave when you wanted to be. 

“You said my name,” She said dumbfounded, her mouth hanging open slightly. 

“I think she’s made one too many tackles,” You laughed, glancing at Kelley over your shoulder. The woman facepalmed. The most interest you had shown in another person in nearly a year, and she’s too star-struck to realize it. 

“I swear she’s not usually like this,” Kelley mumbled, and you bit your lip in amusement. 

“Whatever you say Squirrel,” 

*****

Emily smiled down at her phone. The two of you had been texting nonstop since the concert, and she found herself slowly becoming addicted to your sweet and sometimes dirty sense of humor. 

It was interesting, how different you and your stage persona were. 

She learned how quiet and thoughtful you were. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t hide the sadness that seemed to linger behind your million dollar smiles. A cautiousness behind every interaction. She wondered what had turned you from Kelley’s so-called sunshine into a cloudy day. 

She bit her lip watching the three little dots, indicating that you were typing, hoping that you would like the restaurant she had chosen. She giggled at your quippyness about how posh the place sounded. 

“Who ya texting that’s got you smiling like that?” Kelley asked, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Emily jumped, her phone nearly falling out of her hands as she rushed to get out of the message, before seeing it was only Kelley. 

“Oh, just Y/n,” Emily mumbled, her cheeks turning very pink.

Kelley smothered her smirk as she sat down beside the defender. “That’s cool, what’s she up to?”

“She’s in town, we’re going to get lunch or something,” Emily shrugged nonchalantly, and Kelley’s smirk got bigger. She wasn’t sure if you would go for it after the whole fiasco with Christen. 

“Really?” 

“You sound surprised?” Emily’s nervous eyes met hers. Kelley paused unsurely. How did you tell one friend that your teammate hurt the girl that she might be interested in so bad that she was terrified of relationships? 

“Y/n got hurt really bad by someone she loved. She hasn’t been the same since,” Kelley said softly. 

“You mean she hasn’t moved on yet?” Emily’s head tilted to the side, trying to understand. She had heard your stories through music, but she never thought about how that might translate into real life. 

Kelley shook her head, biting her lip. After Christen, you had rebuilt your walls and hidden your heart away in your castle so no one could hurt you. That was until you laid eyes on Emily. “She hasn’t let anyone get close to her again,” 

“Oh,” 

“Yeah, Just don’t hurt her, alright?” Kelley hummed, patting Emily’s knee. If you were going to open up the gates again, she didn’t want an army of white walkers marching in. They would pillage the little bit of you that was left. But the way pink traveled up Emily’s neck all the way to her ears told her that her best friend knew how delicate this situation was.

“We’re just friends Kell,” Emily muttered. 

“Whatever you say junior, and for the record, she didn’t text me about lunch,” Kelley laughed, patting her leg one more time as she stood. You two would figure it out on your own time. 

****

Emily smiled at Greg as she passed through the door to the little cafe you had chosen for lunch. He winked at her and pointed towards a table in the back, away from the windows twiddling your fingers nervously. 

All the security and fans staked out everywhere you went took some serious getting used to, as did your propensity for cheeseburgers over anything remotely fancy. Each time the two of you had done this over the past few months you had chosen somewhere with reasonable food and amazing milkshakes. 

The crooked grin you saved specifically for Emily broke across your face when you saw her, and you stood from your chair to greet her in a warm hug. You kissed her cheek and stepped back to pull her chair out for her, before handing her a beautiful (plastic) Rose. It had become a thing between the two of you. You didn’t like real flowers, they died, but fake ones stayed forever. 

“Hey superstar, I’m glad you could make it,” You grinned, pushing her chair in, and taking the seat across from her. 

“Well, you’re too cute to pass up,” She quipped back, enjoying the pink that dusted your cheeks. 

“I ordered you’re regular. Is that ok?” 

“You remembered my order?” Emily asked, her eyes widening in surprise. You felt the warmth in your cheeks travel up to your ears. The truth was that you had known her order after the 3rd time lunch the two of you had done, (and you ordered extra onion rings in case she didn’t want the French fries). 

“Well, we’ve done this a few times,” You shrugged, picking at the table. Her hand covered your own, and you smiled softly at the action, suddenly feeling shy. 

“You’re adorable,” She mumbled under her breath as the waitress set two milkshakes on the table in front of you. Noticing that yours wasn’t your normal chocolate peanut butter concoction and instead was the strawberry one she had tried last time. 

“Hmm, 20 questions?” You asked, sipping your shake (that you definitely didn’t get in case Emily changed her mind). 

It had become your go-to game with the woman, and both of you have always had a blast with the get to know you game. 

“Are you going to answer mine honestly?” She quirked an eyebrow up at you. The last time you had seen each other, you fibbed just slightly (not so slightly) about your new music. You were reluctant to give spoilers, and you told her your lead-off single was going to be a fun song playing off the saying sex on a beech (cake by the ocean). Instead, you had chosen something much sappier, about the start of a new relationship called Begin Again. 

Your fans had gone crazy, trying to put all the pieces together. It seemed they were divided on if you and Christen had gotten back together, or if you were finally moving on. You kept your lips sealed, and it had taken Emily more than an hour to finally weasel to real answer out of you. 

“Scouts honor,” You saluted, taking another drag of the strawberry milkshake. 

“You go first,” Emily grabbed your shake and took a sip, pushing her own chocolate one back towards you. You blinked, thinking for a second. You had never mastered suttelty in normal conversation, and you had no idea how to ask your question. 

“Are you dating anyone?” 

“Nope,” She smiled, popping the p. You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Cool. I believe you’re now entitled to a question?”

Emily tapped her chin in thought, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Are the rumors true? Kelley won’t tell me,” 

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific babe,” You smirked, smiling kindly at the waitress as she set down your double cheeseburgers. Your life was plagued with rumors. That you were dating this celebrity, that Preath had broken your heart. 

“You dated Christen and all your songs are about her?” Emily asked, grabbing an onion ring off your plate and dipping it in your milkshake. 

“I think dating would be a bit of a stretch,” you snorted, shaking your head. You weren’t sensitive about it anymore considering the media shoved it down their throat every chance they got. Emily waved her hand as if to say go on, you sighed. Despite the media pressure, you hadn’t really told anyone (besides Kelley) about it before.“We were best friends, who occasionally slept together. I caught feelings, Christen didn’t. She wanted Tobin and I was her plaything until Toby was ready.” You said the midfield turned forward’s name mockingly, looking wistfully over Emily’s shoulder. 

She watched you for a moment, taking in the faraway look in your eyes. Her heart ached at the deep line in your forehead that hadn’t been there mere moments before. 

“That was only the first part of my question,” she said softly. You blinked back to yourself. 

“I write about what I feel, so some of them are about her. But lately they’re all about an amazing girl who makes me feel things that scare the crap out of me, things I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel again,” Your y/e/c eyes met her blue ones and you smiled softly.

Emily sat up in surprise, anxiety beginning to bubble up in her chest. She liked doing this with you, and she didn’t want it to stop. She opened her mouth to ask her, but your shaken voice cut her off. 

“Would you be my girlfriend?” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Emily smiled, leaning across the table, cupping your cheek and placing a very sweet kiss on your lips. Your fingers tangled into the baby hairs at the back of her neck as you carefully pulled her closer. You pull away a second later, connecting your forehead and breathing heavy. You would take that as a resounding yes. 

“Does this mean I can hear the rest of the album early?” She asked, her breath fanning across your lips. 

“I’m sure we can work something out,” you said as you leaned in again. Gosh her lips were addictive. 

*****

Distance sucked, but over the past year, you and Emily had made it work. It was difficult with your music commitments and her soccer stuff, but as far as the two of you were concerned, it was worth it. 

Emily laid with her eyes closed, her phone resting on her chest and Kelley sitting beside her as the radio host introduced you to the audience. She was happy to relax and listen to you talk about the thing you were the most passionate about (besides her). 

It was nice to hear your voice, even if it sounded even more tired than it had when you talked the night before. 

She could tell how much the press tour for your new album was taking out of you, and it killed her just a little bit to not be able to comfort you. You hadn’t exchanged the words yet, but she was sure that you loved her as much as she loved you ou. 

“So I’ve got to ask, this album sounds so much different than both Heartbreak Hotel and Divinely Inspired to a Hellish Extent. There’s less pining and a lot more love,” The interviewer asked casually, but Emily could hear the smirk in his voice. The fans were going nuts now that your music had shifted from heartbreak to a blossoming love story. They all wanted to know who (Christen) had you writing sappy love songs. 

“Yeah, I’m in such a different place than when I wrote either of those two albums, and I think that’s reflected in the music,” You volleyed the question, twisting it around so you were answering it and not answering it all at the same time (a skill that Emily both admired and was terrified of). 

“So, it’d be safe to assume that you’re first two albums were about one relationship and this one is about another?” The interviewer pressed. And Emily groaned loudly. God, why couldn’t they just let it go? It had been nearly 3 years since you and Press were a thing. You had moved on and were finally happy, why wasn’t that enough? 

Kelley smirked at the outburst, side-eyeing the defender. She was thrilled that you had finally found someone who would treat you right. Both women were so caught up that they didn’t notice the couple entering the room and sitting on the bed opposite of them. 

“God, why can’t they just let it go?” Christen said loudly after yet another question from the interviewer. All eyes snapped to her, and Kelley raised her eyebrows at the outburst. “Don’t give me that look, I’m tired of them trying to get her to confirm that we dated,” She huffed, crossing her arms and leaning further into Tobin who began to rub her back. 

“I think dating is putting it loosely. If I was her I wouldn’t have just thrown you under the bus, I would have been the fucking driver,” Kelley rolled her eyes. 

“That was uncalled for,” Tobin grumbled. 

“You’re just upset because you didn’t know Forget You was about you,” Kelley snorted. Remembering how Tobin had walked around camp whistling the tune until she had broken the news. (Still, you found it hilarious considering the original lyrics). 

“You know what I meant,” Tobin grumbled. 

“I’m pretty sure she’s tired of it too,” Emily said softly, smiling almost sympathetically at the woman. You had gotten over most of your anger, and insisted that she shouldn’t be mean to Tobin. Love made you all do crazy things. 

“I write what I feel, and I think the only safe thing to assume from that is that I’m happy,” You added, bringing everyone’s attention back to the interview. Emily smiled softly at the phone. You were happy. You had gained your sunshine back, as Kelley put it, and she was glad that she was part of the reason for that. 

“And sickeningly in love?” The interviewer again tried to dig. 

“And in love,” Your smile was visible in your tone. Emily masked her sudden intake of breath. She knew, but it was the first time she was hearing it out loud. 

“I didn’t know she was in a new relationship” Christen’s eyes snapped to the phone in surprise. She knew you would move on eventually, but actually seeing evidence of it was causing all kinds of feelings to bubble in her chest. Feelings she didn’t have the right to have. She made her choice and she was happy too. You deserved that. 

“The new love songs are so sweet. It’s probably her best album yet,” Emily added with a shrug. It wasn’t just the music that was good, it was the knowledge that you were both falling together. That you would be there to catch each other was amazing. (And the memory of you strumming out a few of the love songs in your underwear in a concert just for her was a bonus too).it didn’t matter that the world was sure they were about Christen. Everyone in this room knew they weren’t. 

“I’ll have to listen to it, wonder who it's about,” Christen said thoughtfully. She shouldn’t deny that she missed you. Missed the friend part of your relationship. 

“Someone who knows just how lucky she is,” Kelley said, looking Christen in the eyes. It was no secret that she still harbored ill feelings over what happened between Chris and her best friend. Emily shrunk slightly. The two of you had agreed to keep the relationship on the down-low, and Preath were the last people she wanted to tell. 

Christen’s jaw dropped in surprise. You never talked about your relationships. Not even when you and her were involved. You weren’t good with emotions and it was a more ‘gentle-womanly thing to do’.

A barely audible “She told you?” left her lips. And Emily’s heart rate skyrocketed, thinking that this was about to become even more awkward than it already was. 

“My lips are sealed,” Kelley smirked, running her hand across her mouth in a zip it motion before throwing away the key. She wasn’t about the mess up the most stable relationship you had ever been in, and it was fun to watch Preath squirm. 

Emily took a deep breath. Some relaxing evening this had turned out to be. She went to swipe the radio app away on her phone when your name popped up next to a text. She couldn’t help the edges of her lips turning up. 

You really did have amazing timing. 

*****

Emily loved peaceful nights at camp. Early nights where the team bonding movie ended at a decent hour and they didn’t have early morning practice the next day. Sure her bed's cuddles weren’t as good as yours, but they still comfy. 

She had gotten to talk to you tonight, a long FaceTime. It bothered you how exhausted you looked, how your crooked smile hadn’t met your eyes. The chaos of touring was rough, made even more difficult by time zone differences. But still, you had made time to talk to her, to tell her how much you loved her. 

She idiot wondered what had pulled her out of her sleep, before the soft knock on the door sounded again. 

“Who the fuck is at our door at 3 Am?” Emily groaned loudly, rolling onto her back, and glancing over at her roommate in the other bed. She thought late-night pranks were banned at this camp, and she had been lucky to be roomed with her best friend. 

“I have no clue. Maybe if we ignore it, it’ll go away,” Lindsey mumbled, burying her face further into the pillow, moaning loudly when the knocking got even more insistent. 

“Fuck, I’m coming, cool your jets,” Emily huffed, throwing off the covers and marching towards the door. She flung it open, ready to yell at however the fuck had the nerve to bother them at this hour. But the words died on her lips the second she saw your very tired form leaning heavily against the doorframe, plastic Rose clutched firmly in your hand. 

“you’re here,” she said softly and you flew into her arms. You held her tightly, running your nose along the collum of her neck. She stumbled with the foot-wide, grabbing the doorframe to steady the two of you. 

“Sorry, I just. I missed you. I can’t sleep without you,” You mumbled into her skin, placing a kiss on the spot she loved so much. Emily wasn’t sure if you were apologizing for waking her up, or for nearly tackling her to the ground, but she didn’t care. It was so nice to have you in her arms after nearly 2 months of being apart. 

“Shhh, come in. It’s alright, I missed you too babe,” She hummed, stepping back and pulling you into the room, and closing the door. She grabbed the flower, smiling softly at it before placing it in her nightstand. She could tell how exhausted you were (you had probably flown in right after your show), and the last thing you needed was her teammates coming out to see what the commotion was. 

You mumbled something incoherent into her neck, following her as she sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“Babe? Who is it, Son?” Lindsey Asked sitting up and taking in the sight of you basically sitting on Emily’s lap with your head buried in her neck. You looked up at the woman wide-eyed, and she gasped. “Holy shit, you’re Y/n L/n and Disani just called you babe,” 

“Surprise...” Emily smiled, and you huffed into her neck. She could feel your nose twitching, a telltale sign that you were probably about to fall asleep.

“How long?” Lindsey asked breathlessly, holding in the awe at how cute you two looked together. She never expected the big badass singer to turn into puddy in her best friend’s arms. 

“Like a year and a half?” Emily shrugged, shushing you again and running fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp. Your schedule was brutal and you had a propensity to avoid sleep when you were stressed. But on the bright side, she had learned that you always got cuddly when you were sleepy Like a puppy. 

“Damn, That’s why you’re so obsessed with all her music. It’s about you,” Lindsey laughed. Emily’s cheeks turned bright red as she cleared her throat. You weren’t really awake enough to register that your girlfriend was still your number one fan. 

“Let’s get Y/n into bed. You must be exhausted,” Emily said softly, maneuvering so you were both under the covers. You hummed, leaning up to peck your girlfriend’s lips before settling back into your favorite hiding spot. 

The room was quiet for a few minutes, and Emily breathed a sigh of relief as your breathing evened out. You had never been a great sleeper, and she worried about how much you got while you were on tour. You were adorable, even more so when you were sleeping. Your face relaxed and you looked younger. Emily couldn’t help but wonder how the hell Christen ever let you go when you offer up the opportunity to see you so unguarded (a sight your fans rarely got a glimpse of). 

“You know the media is going to think you snuck into the hotel to see Christen right?” Emily murmured after a few minutes, not expecting you to reply. 

“Fuck the media. They need to chill with that Preath bullshit,” You huffed, burrowing deeper into the woman and placing a kiss on her collarbone, completely forgetting that you weren’t alone. You would call your publicist in the morning and have all the rumors squashed anyway (you didn’t want another disastrous interview like the one where Ellen had found pictures of you and Christen from college). 

“Wait you dated Christen?” Lindsey gasped, nearly falling out of her bed, and you groaned incompressible into your girlfriend. 

“A loose interpretation from what I’ve gathered,” Emily giggled, again comparing you to a puppy on her head. 

“It doesn’t matter, we all know who’s bed I was in tonight,” You huffed. 

“Damn right we do,” Emily tilted your chin up to kiss your lips. Emily wasn't the jealous type, but it was hard when the entire world was convinced you were with someone else. It also helped that you were always so sweet with her and made sure she knew how much you loved her. 

You pulled her closer, your fingers tangling in the baby hairs at the back of her neck as your tongue ran over her bottom lip. God, you had missed her. You moaned lightly when Emily’s tongue met your own. 

You were brought out of your moment by a very loud cough. You sat bolt upright, blinking owlishly around the woman in the opposite bed. 

“No sex while I’m here alright?” Lindsey smirked, amused by this you that few people ever got to see. This adorable side that seemed to be entirely taken with her best friend. No wonder you wrote her so many sappy love songs. 

“You’re no fun Linds,” Emily cackled, pulling you back down beside her. 

It would be a pain in the ass to get you out of the hotel without anyone seeing you, but the risk was totally worth getting to spend time with your girl, even if it was only for a few hours. 

****

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried. You had won 6 grammy’s the night before, and now you got to sit in the stands while your girl fought for the Shebelieves cup. You hadn’t been to a soccer game since Paris, and you had to admit it was slightly addictive watching your girl be a badass defender. It was one thing watching it on TV for the 3 years you had been dating, and an entirely different one to actually be here. God, she was gorgeous. 

You pulled your jacket tighter around you and shifted your hat down a little bit further. This was Emily’s moment, and you didn’t want to draw any attention away from her. 

*****

Tobin was freaking out, her normally chill persona nowhere to be found. Her hands were shaking and she didn’t know if it was fear or rage. Who the fuck gave you the right to show up at one of their games (sporting a jersey nonetheless) after you had released a song like To Make You Feel My Love. She thought that you had given up on chasing Christen years ago, but why were you here, seeming hiding in the stands. 

The media had been shoving the Preath narrative down your throat for months, maybe it had finally gotten to you. Yet, weren’t you in your own relationship? Maybe they had all read the signs wrong and you were still head over heels for Christen. 

If you were going to finally make a stand for her girl, why had you chosen this venue? She shook her head, heading into the tunnel for halftime, she needed to figure out how to stop your bid for Christen’s heart. 

“You didn’t tell me she was coming,” Tobin growled, passing Kelley as she made her way to her locker. 

Kelley shrugged, unable to suppress her smirk. “She’s not here for you anyway,” 

“She’s wearing a jersey Kelley,” She spat, glaring at the defender, who simply shrugged again. 

“Yeah, so? She wanted to do something nice, prove how much she loves her and all that,” 

Tobin opened and closed her mouth several times, her fist clenching as Kelley all but confirmed her biggest fear. But she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

*****

You found it incredibly amusing that your girlfriend couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off you during the second half. Hell, it was so obvious that at one point she had tripped over thin air cause she was looking at you instead of where she was going. 

And by the time the final whistle blew, you had garnered the attention of most of the national team, wondering why their frat daddy junior was so distracted. 

Lindsey got to you first, hopping up onto the railing to talk to you (as you had chosen a front row seat just behind the bench). 

“Hey rockstar, wanna come down and see your girl?” She smiled, leaning over the rail to tug you forward. You glanced behind her, wincing at the glare Tobin was sending you. You tugged your jacket closed again and shook your head. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea Linessie,” 

“Oh come on, Kelley and I will protect you so you can serenade Sonnett,” She laughed goodnaturedly, remembering the many times you had convinced your respective best friends to help you surprise your girlfriend. 

“Haha, very funny,” you frowned, biting your lip. You really wanted to see Emily, but from the looks Tobin was sending your way, you weren’t sure if that was a good idea. 

Lindsey’s eyes softened at your hesitance. It was rare you let your softer, more shy side out in public. She knew you truly cared for Emily, and that you were worried your presence would ruin the night for her. 

You glanced at the railing, picking at the chipping paint. “She deserves to savor your win, not have me and my drama on the front page,” 

“Everything will be fine. Emily is super excited you’re here, and when they get a picture of your jersey, I think that all the preath shit will be in the past” Lindsey said softly, grabbing your hand and tugging you onto the field. 

You hid behind Lindsey as she navigates you through her teammates, intent on making it to the frat daddies who were across the field(who just happened to be standing next to Christen). That was until a very angry Tobin stepped directly into Lindsey’s path. 

“I can’t let you go over there Y/n. It’s over, just let it go,” Tobin said, crossing her arms like a petulant child. 

Lindsey rolled her eyes at the woman, attempting to take a step around her. “Chill Tobs, it’s not a big deal,” Tobin again stepped in your way. You frowned. This was why you didn’t want to come down in the field. 

“I think it’s a really big deal that she’s trying to steal my wife,” Tobin huffed, sniffing slightly. 

“What?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing. You weren’t here to see Christen at all. You were so busy staring quizzically at the midfielder that you didn’t notice your girlfriend sprinting in your direction until she launched herself into your arms. 

“I’m so glad you decided to come! I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” She mumbled into your neck, and you pulled her closer to you, tilting your head so you could place a kiss on her lips. This moment made everything worth it. 

“You said it was important so I’m here. I’d do anything for you superstar,” You said softly, kissing her cheeks and her forehead, drawing a giggle out of the girl. 

She shoved you lightly, catching you by your jacket collar to pull you back into a kiss. 

“I thought you were an Arsenal fan, not a Chelsea one?” She laughed against your lips, and you pouted. It had been the only jacket in Kelley’s apartment that fit you. You pulled away completely, shrugging out of the offending piece of clothing, revealing your jersey beneath it. 

“I just wanted to hide this until the right moment,” You smirked, ignoring the gasps of the women behind you. (Tobin had been watching dumbfounded from the moment you started hugging Emily, and the large Sonnett on your back had her even more confused. Why were you in Somnett’s jersey if you were trying to win Christen back?)

“God you look good with my name on your back,” Emily smirked, her hands on your hips, pulling you back in for yet another kiss. You smiled against her lips. This hadn’t been your plan, but everything seemed to be coming together. 

“What if it was our name?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at her and tilting your head to the side. She froze, blinking rapidly to process what you were saying. 

You barely registered the “Wait, what?” From behind you, and the slapping sound that followed. You could only assume it was Kelley as she added a “Shut up, she’s been planning this for months,” 

You had been planning this for months. Planning the perfect moment, and it couldn’t have been more perfect than this. You were both winners in your respective fields, and you wanted to be a winner in this too. You had never felt this way about another person. 

 Emily blinked at you again, asking a silent what, and you took that as your cue to continue. “Like, what if Sonnett was my name too, like minus a hyphen?” You shrugged, poking the 14 on her jersey and the matching one on yours before beginning to dig into your pocket. 

“Are you?” She stuttered as you dropped down on one knee, pulling out the ring you had stashed in your pocket. Yeah, this was much better than doing this in some back hallway of the stadium. 

You took a deep breath and looked up into Emily’s eyes, opening the ring box and asking the simple question “Marry me?” 

“Yes,” Emily is on her knees in an instant, cupping your face and kissing you again. She didn’t need a big long speech about how much you loved her (the two albums made your feelings crystal clear), and she loved you too. She couldn’t wait to be your wife. 

“Told you she wasn’t here for you,” Kelley laughed, nudging Tobin and Christen as they gaped at the two of you. How had they not known? 

Christen gulped down her feelings, leaning further into Tobin’s side. You weren’t hers anymore and she was somehow alright with that. 

[gumnut-logic]

When the World Goes Boom (Part Four)

This bit was a challenge to write. I’ve actually moved into writing stuff down for the planning of this fic so things are getting more complicated. I would really like to know why I suddenly can’t write short fic anymore. This one is over 7000 words now with plenty to go ::sigh:: I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Spoilers & Warnings: Spoilers for season three, angst, 2115 words

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ and @i-am-chidorixblossom​ for putting up with my crazy and reading this at random moments.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

-o-o-o-

Gordon accompanied Grandma back to the hospital. His father’s voice had been almost vacant of emotion when he made the request. Scott is asking for his grandmother, can you please come back in.

It wasn’t really a question.

Grandma shot him a worried look as he grabbed his wallet. John was still in the house office. Gordon had tried to speak to his brother, but Eos had growled at him at the door.

He got the message.

Didn’t stop him from worrying.

He recognised they were in a bad spot, but the outlook was positive. Alan was going to get better; Scott should recover soon. It was hard, but not insurmountable and he fought to maintain his positivity. He had to think positive. That was the key to everything.

Grandma was ever so quiet. There was none of her usually bubbly chatter. Instead it was replaced with a silent frown, thoughts obviously churning behind those eyes. It was disturbing. She hadn’t offered to cook a meal since they got here.

“They are getting better, Grandma.”

She blinked and looked over at him. “I know, honey.” A critical blue eye appraised his clothing. “You should bring a jacket. We’re not in the tropics at the moment.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Grandma.”

She had dragged him and Virgil back here late last night, determined that he sleep in his own bed. Gordon hadn’t wanted too. He would rather have stayed with Alan. But his grandmother pointed out, and rightly so, that Alan was sleeping with medication tonight and would be fine under the care of the hospital. Gordon needed his sleep and he needed to go home.

Sure, Gordon needed to go home. This just wasn’t home.

But both brothers did as they were asked.

Somehow Virgil was gone before Gordon woke.

He suspected his older brother was taking his coffee intravenously to be out of bed that early. But he left a note and Gordon was to take the baton after Alan’s dressing changes.

Gordon’s lips thinned just thinking about that, but it meant he was going into the hospital anyway. Their father’s request was just timely.

The house in Parnell was close to everything important in Auckland, including the hospital. The early morning sun was bright and the view across the bay was blue and clear. His body ached for the water, but it wasn’t happening. He turned back to the car and forced a smile at the driver. He got a sad smile in return.

The drive was short, the hospital entrance like a maw, just like all hospital entrances, as he stepped into another world behind those doors.

A world from which he was willing to do anything to free his brothers.

Being Tracys they did get a little extra special treatment. Well, special in the way that they had to have it due to their celebrity. Scott and Alan’s room was separate from the main ICU, hidden away and secured by IR security and Kayo. Once past the guards, a small empty corridor led to three lonely chairs sat against stark white walls beside a door.

His footsteps echoed on the scrubbed linoleum.

Grandma gently took his wrist. “Gordon.” Blue eyes looked into his. “Could you please go and find Virgil and Alan?”

A frown. “Are you okay, Grandma?”

“I’m fine, honey. I just need to speak to your father.”

Alone.

It wasn’t said, but he got the message. “Okay, Grandma. Comm me, if you need me.”

“Always.” A soft smile and her hand briefly cupped his cheek.

He knew his smile in return was weak, but he gave it what he had.

As he turned to leave, the door opened and his tired father emerged. Gordon stopped in his tracks. Dad looked awful. Pale, bags under his eyes, immediate flashbacks to the early days of his return had Gordon’s heart thudding in his chest. A step forward, but Grandma grabbed his wrist again.

“Go find Alan, honey.”

A glance between his father and grandmother. “Okay, Grandma.” His hand wrapped around hers. “Comm me.”

She nodded once and let him go.

A nod, a smile at his father and he spun on his heel and strode back down the corridor.

Worry on his heels.

-o-o-o-

Sally Tracy was tired. But all the Tracys were tired so this was nothing special. Until all her boys were healthy and back with her on the Island, she wouldn’t be happy.

Jeff was overdoing it, of course. Her five grandsons inherited their stubbornness honestly from both sides of their gene pool. Lucy had been just as bad.

She looked up at her son and as always wondered how he had gotten so tall. She would always remember the tiny baby in her arms oh so long ago. He had grown into a man of who she was ever so proud, but the crick in her neck was becoming chronic.

Gordon was a relief.

Not that she would ever tell him.

“Jefferson, you should go home.”

“I plan to.” It was said with such depression her heart skipped a beat.

“Has something happened?” There had been something in his voice over comms, there was everything in his posture and expression now. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Mom.”

Hands on her hips. “Don’t you lie to my face, young man.”

“I’m not a young man anymore, Mom. I’m tired. I’m going back to the house.” He gestured towards the door. “Scott asked for you. He’s still a little disorientated. Be careful around the subject of Alan, he’s still forgetting his brother is safe.”

Sally grabbed her son’s wrist, a part of her mind registering the differences compared to Gordon’s

‘Worn’ was the word that came to mind.

She sought his eyes with her own. “What is it, Jeff?”

He twisted gently and wrapped her hand in both of his. “Scott needs you, mom.” A distinctly forced smile. “Go look after your grandson.”

Her lips thinned and she took his hand in hers and led him back into the hospital room. She didn’t miss his frustrated sigh.

“Grandma?”

The fear in Scott’s eyes brought her up short. She knew the symptoms of concussion, had even experienced some herself. She had hoped for some improvement.

She dropped her son’s hand and moved quickly to her grandson’s side. He was sitting up and hugging her before she even had a chance to say his name.

His broad shoulders were trembling. “Scotty?”

He didn’t answer, but his arms tightened. His hair brushed her cheek.

Her hands gripped his back, the hospital gown thin and crinkling under her fingertips. “Scott, honey, talk to me.”

A single sob on her shoulder. Harsh breathing. The tremble became a shake.

She clung tighter.

Behind her the door clicked shut leaving them alone together.

-o-o-o-

Virgil needed coffee.

Virgil needed a bucket of coffee. A swimming pool of coffee.

He needed a brother to get well and stop hurting.

Two brothers.

He sighed and leant against the elevator wall. Jeremy, his security guard, politely kept his eyes on the doors.

Virgil closed his. “I’m sorry, Jez. I’m not much company at the moment.”

“Understandable, Mr Tracy. No need to apologise.”

“Thanks for the early start.”

“Part of the deal, sir.”

Virgil opened his eyes at that. “Sir? Since when am I a ‘sir’?”

Jeremy snorted. “You will always be a ‘sir’, Mr Tracy.”

“You’ve never called me ‘sir’ before.”

His security guard smirked. “I use it as needed, sir.”

“Really? Well, quit it, Jez, or I’ll tell Gordon.”

The mock fear on Jeremy’s face did manage to draw out a small smile on his own lips, which was probably the purpose in the first place. “You should be afraid, very afraid.”

Jeremy dropped the fear and grinned just a little. “I trust you with my life, Mr Tracy, sir.”

It was Virgil’s turn to snort. “Would my squire like some coffee?”

Jeremy shrugged. “If Sir deigns it to happen, it will happen.”

Virgil rolled his eyes as the doors opened on the cafeteria floor. “Mocha or latte?”

“Mocha, thanks, Mr Tracy.” But the answer was distracted as they moved into the crowd, Jeremy’s eyes ever vigilant. The bustle around the elevators was tight and Virgil had no patience for it. It was a relief to break through the crowd into the café itself.

The surprise was to find Gerald, another of their security staff, seated at a table just inside the door. “Gerry? Who’s up here?” Virgil’s eyes tracked the tables and the answer was delivered to him as he caught sight of a lone figure in a dark corner. Pulling out his wallet, he fished out his credit card. “How long?”

Gerry was quiet. “About ten minutes, Mr Virgil.”

The credit card was absently passed to Jeremy. “Jez, get yourself and Gerry some coffee.”

“What about yourself?”

Virgil’s eyes didn’t leave the hunched figure of his father. “I can wait. Please give us some privacy.”

“Yes, Mr Tracy.”

He trusted them. They wouldn’t let him or his father out of their sight, but they would give them some distance and confidentiality.

He approached the table quietly, stepping around patrons and chairs. An ignored holoprojector spat the daytime broadcast from one corner, the sound adding to the drone of the room.

“Dad?”

His father startled, but visibly relaxed when he caught sight of Virgil. “You planning on sneaking up on your old man often?”

“I didn’t sneak, Dad. You okay?”

The sigh of frustration that hissed out between his father’s teeth was loud. “Virgil, for the last time. I am healthy and sane. Can you please stop asking? I’m not about to keel over because my day has been less than perfect.” That last came out quite loud and, if anything, was proof that his father was exactly the opposite of what he said he was.

Virgil kept his mouth shut and didn’t respond. Instead he stepped around the table to the opposite chair. “Is this seat taken?”

“Of course not. Sit down.” His father peered up at him. “Did you sleep last night? You look dead on your feet.”

“I don’t think you can talk, Dad. You didn’t even go home.”

Grey eyes levelled a stare at him, but his father didn’t say anything.

“How’s Scott?”

Something flickered through those eyes before they flickered away. “Not good. Your Grandma is with him.” Dad suddenly found his coffee particularly interesting.

“Still disorientated?” Virgil had already harassed the medical staff regarding Scott’s ongoing issues, but the only answers he could get were that his brother just needed time and rest.

It hurt to see Scott so distressed.

“His memory is erratic. He is terrified for Alan.”

Virgil sighed. “I was on my way to see him.”

“Your grandma has him in hand.”

There was something in his father’s voice. He looked up to find his father frowning at the table top. “Dad?”

“I’m sorry, Virgil.” It was quiet and parched.

“For what?”

The table top kept his father’s attention. “For leaving you.”

It was Virgil’s turn to frown. “It wasn’t your fault. We’ve been over this many times, Dad.”

“Yes, we have.” An indrawn breath. “Doesn’t change the fact I left all six of you to fend for yourselves.”

“We’re adults, Dad. We’re likely to do that anyway.”

Grey eyes slowly looked up and glistened in the fluorescent lighting. “Not like this.”

Virgil nearly didn’t hear the words that passed his father’s lips and as the man shook himself and straightened, he got the distinct impression that he wasn’t supposed to.

The engineer straightened his own shoulders in echo. “Dad, what is going on?”

Those eyes caught his for a split second before turning away again. A sigh. “Nothing, son. Now, you need either a bed or a bucket of coffee. At a guess you’re going to go for the latter, no matter what I say.”

Virgil levelled his gaze at his father, not willing to let the conversation drop.

“Exactly.” He stood up. “Name your poison.”

“TRACY!”

Both men jumped and on the other side of the room the two security officers leapt to their feet.

“How dare you challenge me, Francois Lemaire, in such an infantile manner. If you think I will go down without a fight, you are mistaken. Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war, I say!”

It took Virgil too many alarmed seconds to realise it was simply the ‘projector in the corner yelling the challenge across the café. Lemaire was outlined in light talking to a reporter. “I will not surrender. You hear me, Tracy? This is war!”

Virgil stared at the hologram.

What the hell?

-o-o-o-

End Part Four

[durrzerker]

Taskmaster: The Line. Chapter 8: Submission

Hey everyone, I know it’s been a couple weeks since Chapter 7. There’s a reason for that! Chapter 8, the finale of Taskmaster: The Line, is supposed to reflect a mega-sized comic, so it’s a mega-sized chapter! Chapters 1-7 were between 2000-2500 words. Chapter 8 is over 7000! I hope you enjoy the final entry in this story, and there will be more to come soon! 

--

The submarine was completely unmarked. No flag. No sigil at all revealing its loyalty. Ironically, these were all the details that Taskmaster needed to be sure that this was another one of Thunderbolt Ross's little projects. The old man had always been as secretive as he was brutal, and this reeked of his style. Without hesitation, Taskmaster drew his sword and shield and started towards the looming colossus of steel before him. "Ross! I know that's you, ya overgrown son of a walrus. Come on out of yer big metal cock and face me!"

Tony had to admit, he was a little surprised when the hatch swung open, its silence in doing so a testament to how well-maintained the submersible was. Rivulets of water continued pouring off the sides of the vessel, its hull extending so far that Taskmaster literally couldn't see past it. After a few seconds that felt like much longer, a large older man with an aggressive moustache and round face climbed the ladder out to stand on the hull. That was him -- Thaddeus 'Thunderbolt' Ross, perpetual thorn in the side of the Hulk in the distant past. These days, he seemed to have his fingers in just about every pie that you could imagine, from working alongside Captain America to forming his ridiculous Thunderbolts squads to do his dirty work for him. Briefly, Taskmaster wondered if the Wrecking Crew were supposed to be Thunderbolts; ultimately, he decided it didn't matter. They had hopefully drowned by now, every last one of them.

Tony wasn't in the kindest mood, which made Ross's first words all the more effective.

"Tony Masters," the older man called out coolly. "Amazing to see you walking -towards- a fight for once. I don't see the Scions with you, so I suppose this isn't the apology that you owe me."

"I don't owe you shit, Grandpa Genocide," Taskmaster snapped. "I dunno what all this is about, but those kids're safe and you ain't ever gonna see them again. The hell is wrong with you, Thaddeus? This is low, even for you; and that's sayin' something for a man who works with Zemo for -free-."

Undaunted, Ross took off his glasses and started to wipe them clean. "It's true, then; you really do have amnesia. I thought Fury was just full of shit, trying to get in my way. He still was, of course - but it seems he was at least right about this. Amazing. They try to call you the most dangerous mercenary alive, and you're just - what, a mindless enforcer for Merced? She always was the brains of you two. She whispering in your ear right now?"

Leering aggressively at Ross from behind his mask, Tony didn't respond for a moment. Apparently, he had to add yet another person to the list of 'everyone knows this shit but me' regarding The Hub...though if he was lucky, Ross didn't realize the woman was apparently his wife.

Man, he really was struggling to internalize that. It stuck in his craw like a piece of food that just wouldn't go down; could he call her? Promptly, Tony realized that was ridiculous to even be considering right now. He had bigger problems than getting his head screwed on straight, and almost all of them were right in front of him. "Gimme one good reason I shouldn't kill you right now, Thaddeus."

"Because if I'm even half-right about how your last few days have gone, you're too curious; otherwise, you would have thrown one of your ridiculous ripoff toys at me already. Come on, Masters. Just get in the sub and we can talk this out like the adult that I am and that you pretend to be."

Shrugging off the insults - when they came this fast they were pretty much just like a gentle rain, especially from Ross - Taskmaster made his way up onto the submarine. "Fine, but you try anything on me, and I'll run ya through. I know you can't Hulk out anymore, and the power of arthritis ain't gonna save ya if you pull yer usual crap."

"You really seem to resent the fact that I've lived to an old age, Masters." Ross sounded amused as he let the mercenary descend the ladder into the submarine first, following after. Despite his age, Tony marveled at how much of a tank of a man Thaddeus was; Tony was still a little taller than the not-so-good general, but Ross had to be nearly twice as wide as him, and he looked like he still had the strength to match it. Taskmaster made a mental note not to underestimate him if this did get violent - Red Hulk or no, this was a man who had tangled with the best and come out with his ridiculous facial hair intact.

"I think everyone on God's Green Earth resents you still being alive." Impossibly, the damned submarine seemed even bigger on the inside! The gargantuan seacraft's interior was more cavernous than he had expected; as soon as Taskmaster had set foot on the metal floor of the highest level, he could tell that at least this section of the ship was a single enormous hallway, wide enough to drive a tank through and sparsely populated with only a few men and women milling about reading reports, checking equipment, and saluting Ross as he approached. The old general led Taskmaster in a direction that he could only vaguely parse as towards the bridge of the vessel, if his itching familiarity was anything to go by.

"Hilarious. Remember this place yet?" Ross asked, sounding legitimately curious. Adjusting his cuff-links before leaning down to take off his glasses and get read by a retinal scanner, he straightened as a bulkhead opened, leading them towards a small fleet of what looked like sleeker, militarized golf carts. "Come on. I'm too old to be walkin' like this, and you're gettin' there yourself."

"...I don't," Taskmaster admitted honestly. "But I've been here, haven't I?" He didn't even need to ask the question, he could tell. When his specific memories failed him, the muscle memory didn't; he knew the layout of this place. He wasn't lost, and he could -feel- like he knew what was coming, which only made the mercenary more anxious as he stuffed himself into the cart that was far too small for both him and Ross.

"Been here? Son, you spent six months in this sub training the Scions. This here's the home of the United States' greatest super-soldier project since Steve Rogers himself; and if ya knew how many shots we've taken at that particular target over the years, you'd understand how impressive that is. Hell, even you were an example of the Krauts tryin' to get in on the action, until ya stole their big bad serum."

"I like to think I rescued it," Taskmaster corrected as Ross drove them through the submarine. The first few chambers were nondescript, full of nothing more than the extensive supplies and equipment that a vessel this size needed to remain underwater for months at a time. As they approached the bridge, however, things got a little more interesting. Tony caught sight of men and women in strange gas masks, with bulging muscles and aggressive body language, being herded by handlers into a series of cargo elevators; he saw tanks full of human beings being studied by scientists, readings being checked and one of them even awake and looking distinctly panicked. "Speaking of rescue, the -fuck- are you doing to those guys?"

"Saving their lives, believe it or not. If they weren't in those tanks, they'd be dying of oxygen poisoning due to a rare mutation they've developed."

"Developed during one of your little super-soldier experiments. Real noble of ya." Taskmaster sighed. This place was wearing him down more by the minute, aggravating his already explosive temper, and he wondered vaguely if Ross was hoping for that result. All the more reason to stay on his guard. "Look, quit baitin' me and spit it out. What'd I do here? And -why-?" Dread laced his words, even though he tried to avoid it. As much as Tony hated to admit it, he was a little scared to find his own history on this project, and with the Scions...

...But not enough to avoid finding the answer.

Pulling the cart up to the bulkhead outside the head of the submarine, a digital screen displaying the ocean around them and betraying that they were moving -quite- quickly through the water, Ross stepped out and gestured for Taskmaster to follow him. As the caped mercenary tread at his heel, the general flashed his eye at another retinal scanner, then his palm print at another. Whatever this was, it had even heavier security that the chambers they'd already passed through, and as the pair stepped into an elevator, Ross finally replied to him.

"Well, first and foremost, ya ought to know -- this is YET another one of SHIELD's old messes". The elevator didn't have even a single button; it clearly was designed to exclusively travel between two destinations, and if Taskmaster's experience with SHIELD told him anything, this was the -only- way in or out of the other location. Wherever Ross was taking him, it was the kind of government secret that even Nick Fury would have a hard time getting access to. "Well, SHIELD's and yours. You ever wonder about how much of a mess you leave behind when your memory resets, Masters? Or do ya really trust The Hub to clean up after you? 'Cause I gotta tell you, she does a fine job - but not a perfect one."

Tony didn't respond to the comment about his wife. He could tell he was being baited. Instead, keeping his eyes on the prize, he asked, "Get to the point before your heart gives out, gram-gram. What happened?"

"You happened, Masters. When you took that serum that gave you your photographic reflexes, it was when a laboratory full of the stuff was exploding. The kraut bastard who told you what it was capable of told you it was the last dose, right?"

"Fuck if I know," Taskmaster answered honestly.

"Exactly. So shut up and listen, boy. That facility was at the top of a mountain - and a great deal of that serum that was 'destroyed' in the blast actually leaked into the water supply. The Hub knew about this; something about a 'village of Hitlers', which I definitely do not want to know more about." He shook his head as the elevator opened into a dark hallway. In fact, it was pitch black until some overhead lights came to life one after another, exposing black walls and smooth floors that reminded him of what he'd heard of the Red Room. "That woulda been the end of it -- except it turns out about ten years ago, water from wells near the village was gathered en masse by the suppliers for some disaster aid groups. You figure out where this is going?"

For a moment he didn't, but as they proceeded down the hallway, Taskmaster's eyes widened down his mask. "...The Scions."

"Children from families in poverty or disaster-stricken areas across the last decade," Ross confirmed. "Each displaying unusual capacity for perfect mimickry of complex tasks -- photographic reflexes, previously only known to a select handful of individuals, including you, Masters. Your serum got out into the world, and now little Task-babies are sprouting up. Russia, Ireland, Brazil, even Wakanda after Namor wrecked the place. We found them and brought them here -- to the greatest training facility in the world."

They passed through a security checkpoint with a couple of silent, armed guards flanking them into a gargantuan arena that seemed too massive, too awe-inspiring, for even the gargantuan submarine that they were inside. Curved walls and ceiling reminded Tony of a stadium, right down to what almost resembled bleachers along the edges of either side. The 'field' was littered with what must have been a hundred different types of training equipment, from futuristic-looking weightlifting machines to obstacle courses that Taskmaster immediately recognized as his own design. He'd made them some years ago to test not his students, but himself and the limits of his photographic reflexes. To have them here meant only one thing:

"...So you brought in the best teacher to train them," Tony said with resignation. Had he really agreed to this? Had The Hub?

"Exactly," Ross nodded in agreement. "We might not get along on a personal level, Masters, but there's no denying your credentials. Given actual time and resources, you've sculpted some of the finest government agents we've ever had: John Walker, Spider-Woman, even Crossbones before he went rogue. Besides, there's no one else who's as much of an expert as you on photographic reflexes. Some of the other people in charge of this project wanted to bring on Echo or Finesse, but they were considered a little too...sympathetic."

"Yer flatterin' me," Taskmaster deadpanned. "So glad I'm the one you think of when it comes to tutoring kidnapped children." They descended a long ramp towards the training machines; was Taskmaster imagining something, or did he see a dried bloodstain in the combat ring? Before he could focus on it, the earpiece hidden in his mask came to life, a crackling signal of a few rapid, stuttering sounds. It was The Hub, reporting through an old Cherokee code that they used to send messages back and forth when the risk of being overheard was high. Translation?

'The kids are safe. Black Ant's coming to back you up.'

It was a good thing, too. TESS wasn't going to be the reinforcements he needed, she didn't fare too well at getting underwater. Eric, though...well, sometimes he wondered if he really did need to give the guy more credit. They'd have to talk about this once he was done here, if he survived his insane plan that was forming now.

"I'm not flattering you," Ross growled out, stopping in front of the combat ring. "I'm guessing that you've already figured out this didn't exactly end well. You know how long you were here, Masters? Three months. And it turns out that for all three of those months, as you were training those kids, you were preparing to abscond with government property. Remember that part, Masters? When ya tried to steal from us?"

Tony saw Ross rounding on him, sensed the agents approaching him from behind with batons in hand. It should have been a fight he could manage, even an -easy- one...but he couldn't move.

Suddenly his memory came rushing back, so powerful and overwhelming it nearly brought him to his knees. He couldn't even lift a hand to defend himself as he heard the attack coming, felt the rush of wind of the baton smashing into the base of his skull from behind. Stumbling forward before collapsing right onto his face, Tony looked up and saw Ross one last time before the darkness took him.

--

"Tasky."

When consciousness returned, it brought explosive pain with it, a shooting star that begun at the base of Tony's neck and erupted in every direction from there. He groaned and tried to bring his hands to his suffering temples, only to find that he was tied down; bound by steel cables to a stretcher, he could barely wiggle his arms and legs. That got his attention.

The mercenary opened his eyes, which felt bleary and unfocused. He was definitely still aboard the submarine, in what he recognized now as the interrogation room. Dim lighting, an assortment of torture devices nearby; this wasn't good.

"Tasky!" Came a tiny voice, directly in his left ear. He winced at the severity. It could only be Eric.

"Black Ant...?" He murmured. Had he been drugged? He felt sluggish, even moreso than he should from having gotten whacked across the dome. "How'd you find me so quickly?"

"I didn't," Eric replied; he was barely the size of an ant, really living up to his name, sitting inside Taskmaster's ear. "You've been here for four days. I had to wait for the submarine to surface at a hidden base near the Everglades before I could sneak on board. They really messed you up, man. You gonna be good to go?"

Trying to figure out what Eric meant, Tony looked down. His costume was gone; he was wearing...well, nothing, and a number of fresh wounds marked his skin every few inches. The effects of the drugs had exacerbated his amnesia, but now he remembered; they'd spent hour after hour torturing him, driving implements into his flesh and drowning him to get the answer to one simple question:

"Where are the kids?"

He felt a surge of pride, spiteful and strong, as he realized he hadn't told them a damn thing. "I'm fine. Can you get me out of here?"

"Yeah," Eric replied, "But it'll take me a few minutes. They really didn't take any chances; I'm gonna have to use my fusion cutter. Keep still, alright? I already looped the camera feed, and they usually only come in here once an hour. We've got plenty of time." He felt the tiny merc jump out of his ear and start to grow, pulling a device that looked much like a miniature welding torch out of his belt. As he started to cut his way through the cables with the intense blue laser that it emitted, Taskmaster spoke up.

"Thanks for coming for me, little buddy."

"Of course. Thanks for not breaking; would've been a real hassle if we had to deal with the Yellow Submarine here. Besides, it's my job."

Tony was grateful, but with his memory returned...he had to ask. "...And because you feel guilty, huh?"

Eric almost paused the cutting with the torch, he was so surprised. "What do you mean?" Taskmaster could sense some brief hesitation as he finished the job, cutting enough of the cable so that Tony could take the fusion cutter and free his own legs.

"You knew this whole time what happened here," Tony responded calmly. He didn't sound angry; he didn't FEEL angry. "...You were here, too. They brought you in for another job, figured since we were partners, it'd be fine." Now Eric -did- stop cutting. Taskmaster could tell the younger mercenary was stunned, that now, of all times, he didn't expect this to come up. "You came in and saw me training the Scions...found out from The Hub I was planning to help them escape. Together, we were gonna do it. We were gonna do something good for once in our lives, Eric."

"Tony..." Black Ant's mask came up, the automatic visor lifting to reveal his face. He looked terrified, legitimately so, even with his messy red hair covering half his face. Tony didn't stop, rising from his bindings. Something about his presence, despite the blood matting his hair and the fact he was naked, must have been striking; Eric backed away.

"...We were almost out, weren't we? We'd almost saved them when Ross's heavy hitter came. It was a tough fight. So tough, I had to use my photographic reflexes to stop her...and it fried my brain, as it tends to do. I forgot what we were doing. Forgot we were trying to -save- those kids." He advanced a step; Eric retreated one. Tony didn't sound angry.

But he felt pretty angry.

"...We had to get out of there," Eric accused. "You were suddenly operating on auto-pilot, Tony. You think I WANTED to leave the kids behind? But we were ALL gonna die, them included, if we didn't bail! You don't know what it's like!" Eric's fear turned into anger of its own now.

Eric was right; Tony didn't know. "...You could have told me later. We could have come back for them."

"And what, heard you call me full of shit? Your BRAIN. IS. BROKEN!" Eric roared. "HOW ABOUT YOU TAKE IT UP WITH THE HUB! IT'S HER FUCKING JOB TO KEEP YOU IN CHECK, NOT MINE! AND YET HERE I AM!"

"...Yeah. It should have been The Hub," Tony agreed, looking around the interrogation room. Damn; they hadn't been stupid enough to keep his equipment nearby. "...Or ya mean, my wife?"

Eric didn't respond to that, averting his eyes. A tense silence hung in the air for awhile between them before Tony finally spoke.

"We got pretty loud, they're gonna check this out. We...can talk about this later. You came for me, O'Grady. We're still a team. I'll do my best, but without any weapons, this ain't gonna be easy."

Happy to change the subject, Black Ant tossed something so small Tony's way that he barely caught it even with his uncanny reflexes. "Here. It's not much...but I was able to sneak this in." As he triggered the Pym Particles, Taskmaster broke into a grin. He hadn't seen -this- thing in awhile...

It was his energy generator, old SHIELD tech that could take any shape at the will of its wielder; he preferred to have a larger arsenal on hand, so he'd eventually abandoned it, but right now? It was exactly what he needed. Strapping it to his forearm, the mercenary straightened as he heard footsteps rushing towards the interrogation room. "Thanks, little buddy. Let's do this."

Relieved, Eric didn't hesitate to crack a joke. "Can that thing take the shape of pants, by chance? I don't really feel like staring at your glazed hams for this whole fight."

"Sorry, I'm going balls out for this one. Literally." With that, Taskmaster broke into a sprint just as the bulkhead door opened; the first thing the agent who entered saw was a very naked, very muscular brown-haired man leaping into the air, just before the jumping snap kick borrowed from Batroc the Leaper broke his neck. As he went down hard, another of the guards went for the alarm, but Black Ant was already leap-frogging over Tony's shoulder, shrinking and then growing in rapid sequence to slip right through the crowd and tackle him.

"Help!" The man cried out. "The prisoner's escap--" He was cut off as Eric's fusion torch was shoved into his mouth, evaporating his tongue and boiling his brain in seconds. "Ew," Black Ant commented, even as he leapt backwards and drove his elbow into another sentry who was approaching him from behind.

Taskmaster had the rest under control. He had a feeling these guys were trained to fight him; that was a mistake on their part. Instead of his first instinct to turn his energy generator on into the shape of Cap's shield or Black Knight's broadsword, he dug a little deeper. He could tell it had been a good idea when a heavily armored soldier reeled back in surprise as the form of Shang-Chi's nunchaku came to life, whirling like a tornado to deflect an oncoming strike from a stun baton before taking most of his teeth out with a vicious swat across the face.

The pair were a blur of motion, perfectly coordinated until the last of the guards had fallen. They'd come a long way from accidentally hitting each other like the first time they'd faced Spider-Man together, that was for sure.

"That's better..." Taskmaster breathed, dismissing the energy nunchaku. "I remember the layout of this place; we're dead in the center of the sub. Even if we fought our way out, thing's on the move right now, isn't it?"

Black Ant nodded. "Yep. We're back at sea; I barely had time to get on board before Ross was moving again. Even being able to track you, it was hard to infiltrate this thing...I can see why he likes it."

"Then escape ain't an option. We gotta commandeer the sub."

"How?" Black Ant asked. "There's hundreds of soldiers here, not to mention Ross himself and whoever he's hired as his elite security. We won't be able to hold the bridge that long."

Taskmaster considered this. "Good point. I'll head for the bridge. You go to the Engine Room. If we can't conquer the submarine, we'll hold it hostage. You can threaten to blow the engines, sink the whole thing, unless they let me take us to the surface. Even if they try to rush the engine room, you can shrink down and start causing trouble to get them to back off."

Eric thought about it, then nodded. "...Risky, but our best option. You'll be taking most of the heat, though; Ross is gonna be on the bridge, and he'll call reinforcements to save his wrinkly butt. You sure you'll be okay? You look pretty roughed up." The concern was touching; it reminded Tony he needed to give Eric the benefit of the doubt. He wasn't sure he could let what had happened slide entirely...but he didn't need to punish the mercenary for it.

"...I'm good. Thanks, Eric. We'll get out of this together, alright? See ya on the other side." He extended a closed hand.

Smiling, Black Ant bumped his fist with his own. "Yeah. We got this."

With that, they split up, unsure if they'd ever see each other again.

---

By the time Taskmaster ran into the next pack of guards, he wasn't even thinking anymore about the fact he was completely naked. At first he thought it'd be funny, surprising these assholes with some full frontal nudity before kicking their asses, but he was just angry. Angry, cold, and ready to show them exactly how big of a mistake they had made.

Two of the sentries had guns, high-tech air rifles designed to be lethal without risking the integrity of the submarine. He took them down first, generating shuriken and flinging them with enough force to go right through the men's hands and send them to the ground howling in pain.

A Bullseye special. A second later, he was bringing forth a little trick from Zaran the Weapons Master, cleaving through his assailants with the wickedly curved blade of a chinese hooksword. Hawkeye, Iron Fist, Daredevil; these men were clearly expecting those heroes, had trained and prepared accordingly. He could read it in their movements.

As the last one fell, gurgling as a hole poked in their throat surged with blood, Tony shook his head. "Fuckin' amateurs. You think I've spent my whole life doin' this and I only got five people's moves? I was bein' -nice- before." He was close to the bridge now. A little longer, and he'd knock Ross out, tie his moustache to a radiator or something, and be done with this.

"Nothing nice about what I'm looking at, Taskmaster." Tony nearly froze. He knew that voice. It was the only one Thaddeus could have hired to reasonably stop him -- the only mercenary alive he considered to be on his level...and the one he'd been forced to throw everything at just to survive last time.

Elektra Natchios, clad head to toe in black leather armor save for the red mask around the lower half of her face, stood between him and the entrance to the bridge.

"...You again," he growled. She didn't lose her composure at his obvious venom, though she did seem visibly amused.

"You remember, then. I suppose that means you know this won't end well for you. Give up, Taskmaster. You're out of your depth here; you don't even have that ridiculous suit of yours."

"...I thought you had a soft spot for kids, Elektra. This doesn't seem like your kind of job." Tony gripped the energy generator on his wrist, considering what to summon. What could he really use to surprise the world's greatest assassin?

"Don't pretend you know me," she countered. Unsurprisingly, her signature sai were her weapon of choice; she rarely -needed- much else, drawing them from her hips and twirling them in place. "Who are you to talk? You ruined those kid's lives already, blowing up that facility and letting them develop your powers. I'm trying to help them; -Ross- is trying to help them. Do you realize they're already starting to get your memory problems? I don't like Ross, but he's the only one working on a cure. Psychics, scientists, the whole nine yards; he's saving them."

"He's turning them into weapons," Taskmaster growled. "You're fucking deluded if you think he's doing anything because he has their best interests in mind."

"Not as deluded as a naked supervillain who thinks he's the hero here. No more words." Elektra rushed at him, her body little more than a black-and-crimson blur. Even having faced her multiple times, Taskmaster was always alarmed by her speed; it was like trying to battle a waterfall, all its weight bearing down on you...and just as useless to try and hit.

She didn't stop, didn't run into him; she dashed right past him, swinging her sai for his shoulder. Turning and summoning his Captain America shield on reflex, he realized immediately that was her whole plan, to push him into falling back into his faithful moves, his reliable ones. Too late; she was already pirouetting like a dancer, bringing her other dagger up and driving it into his back. It would have run through his kidney and ended the fight right there if he hadn't caught on, but he managed to turn and instead have it driven straight into the muscle group behind his ribs instead.

No time for pain. He swiped with the shield, missed as she deftly ducked, but he was back in control. On the backswing, the shield became a gauntlet, enveloping his fist. Elektra's eyes widened in surprise as she was clocked across the face by a classic move from The Destroyer; she recovered quickly, rolling with the momentum and whirling her leg up in a kick that stopped him from being able to pursue. Now on guard, she closed in once more, this time protecting herself with one sai while thrusting with the other.

A katana. A boomerang. A large, bouncing ball that rapidly whacked Elektra in the forehead and then bounced back into his hand to intercept an attempted cut. Taskmaster pushed himself to his limits, conjuring the most esoteric and obscure techniques he'd ever picked up, desperate to keep Elektra from overwhelming him. As her nose ran red with blood, the same red that trickled down his wounded back, the mercenaries circled each other.

"I always respected you for being able to keep up," Elektra admitted. "Put anything in your hand and it becomes a deadly weapon."

"Bit late for flattery," Taskmaster replied, preparing to  summon the next energy weapon...but he didn't get a chance. Elektra dove in, went low with a stab for his thigh. When he stepped back to avoid it, she came up, smashing her skull into his chin and nearly making him bite his own tongue off, sending him staggering. Reflexively, he moved to summon his shield again - damn it - and she punished him for it. Instead of trying to stab his less vulnerable head, she shoved her sai right through the energy generator itself.

It sputtered, sparked...and died. Suddenly, Taskmaster was weaponless.

"It wasn't flattery. I was explaining your weakness. You're a mimic, Masters...a vague shadow, always one step behind those of us who push ourselves to be the best." She wasn't haughty, wasn't arrogant; just stating facts. Every word stung as true as her dagger as she started towards him. "You gave up everything to be the greatest fighter alive...and you failed at even that."

She lunged. It was all Tony could do to keep himself away from the vicious points of her weapons; he took a kick, a backhand, a pommel smack across the temple in his desperate attempt to block her myriad stabs and cuts. She was a whirlwind of speed and aggression, not reckless but wholly confident that he couldn't keep up with her without a weapon, couldn't spare himself getting run through and land a blow against her at the same time.

Realizing she was right, Tony took a deep breath...and charged head-long at her. He'd told himself there was no way he could truly copy someone like Wolverine; he'd tear his body apart.

But right now, that was a worthy price. As Elektra tried to guard herself with a vicious cross-up slash, Tony suddenly reversed his momentum, trying not to scream in pain when one of his ankles cracked from the sheer speed with which he re-directed his momentum. The assassin couldn't keep up as he whirled in a capoeria kick that smashed her across the jaw, sending her spinning.

She was correct. He couldn't copy his way out of this one. There was one thing, though, that Tony had that even she couldn't match. "You know why I'm the only merc who hasn't fucking -died- and come back by now?" He growled through bloody teeth, rushing at Elektra again. She caught him, intercepted his oncoming punch with her sai. Pain shot through Tony's hand like lightning as the blade punched between his knuckle like a sick inversion of Wolverine's claw, thrusting all the way down until it emerged from his wrist.

But he didn't stop. Taking advantage of his greater weight and raw, adrenaline-fueled strength, he used the fact her blade was stuck in his hand to -yank- her towards him, smashing his forehead into her nose. Elektra reeled, bringing her other sai up into his ribcage; he felt the sick, liquid heat of the wound opened in his liver, then swatted his right hand up with staggering force to box her in the ear, causing her to issue forth a scream of pain that she couldn't even hear as her eardrum exploded.

"Because for all the shit you talk about being better...none of you know how to -survive-. None of you know what it means to really be outgunned, to be against a better opponent...and to take them the fuck down."

Again.

Again.

He beat her. He savaged her. She kept ripping away, giving up on her sai embedded in his flesh and clawing at him with her nails, biting him like a wounded and angry animal, tearing flesh off a chunk at a time.

But he drove his fingers into one of her eyes, slammed his knee into her stomach, and ripped out one of her sai, finally shoving it into her gut. Wavering a moment, Elektra looked down at her wound...and finally collapsed.

It was all Taskmaster could do to not mimic that, too.

"You'll live," he muttered, wiping a frothy mix of his saliva and both of their blood from his face. "As for me...remains to be seen." Taking both of her sai, bleeding from a dozen wounds and running purely on adrenaline, Taskmaster advanced towards the bridge. One brave soldier, a survivor of the previous fight, took aim with an airsoft gun -- he never even saw the dagger that was thrown directly between his eyes, killing him on the spot.

The bulkhead of the bridge hissed as it opened. Thunderbolt Ross was on a mic, shouting himself hoarse. "NATCHIOS! COME IN! IS TASKMASTER--" Hearing the door, he turned around and cursed. "Fucking christ, Masters...you look dead already. ...Hey!" He didn't expect the sheer speed with which Tony closed the gap, driving the sai into his shoulder and literally pinning him to the wall. As he started to struggle, Tony twisted the weapon, narrowing his good eye; the other one was swelling shut, more purple than brown by now.

"We're surfacing. The Hub's going to pick me up. You're never gonna see those kids again. You wanted to know where they were? They're..." He paused, remembering Laura Kinney's last nod to him as she boarded the quinjet.

"They're with an -actual- hero. They're safe, and they're out of your reach."

"Who do you think you are, Masters?" Ross spat. "You'll bleed out before we even breach. You got no idea who the fuck you're messing with, Uncle Sam's--"

"--Uncle Sam isn't gonna do shit. I remember everything now, Thaddeus. This project? It's your little pet. Off the books. No accountability...but no backup. You'll be disowned; thrown out of the military if you're lucky, into The Raft if you're not. And ya know what? I came up here fully intending to bury this fucking dagger in your skull...but I've seen what it looks like to actually give a shit about human life, even worthless ones like yours. So I'm gonna let them."

He jabbed his thumb into a pressure point he'd picked up from Shang-Chi years ago, and Ross fell silent. Stumbling to the controls, he grabbed hold of the mic, even as his photographic reflexes took over and automatically went about commanding the enormous vessel to breach. It was optimized for Ross himself to pilot, all the sub-systems that would normally require a staff of dozens to manage redirected through this very console. A strength...and a weakness.

"Black Ant...this is Taskmaster. I got the bridge. You good?"

He heard gunfire, and for the first time, legitimately felt a pang of fear. Then the speakers crackled. "I'm good. No one else here. You sound like shit."

"Yeah, well...shove...shove it up yer ass, O'Grady."

Taskmaster collapsed against the control panel, just as the submarine began to gain altitude.

                                                                                       EPILOGUE

Tony woke in a stark white room, hooked up to so many machines that he couldn't tell where his arms ended and the needles and cables began. Nauseous with pain and barely able to lift his head, he was greeted with not only the faces of Black Ant and Wolverine, but even the hooded mask of Spymaster and Mara, the young leader of the Scions.

"No one was sure you'd make it," Laura said. "But I said you were pretty damn tough...for a supervillain." Her smirk was wry; maybe it was too optimistic to say it was fond...but it showed relief that he was awake. More than he'd expected.

"...Where am I?" He groaned.

"Albino's hospital," Spymaster explained. He almost collapsed again with relief. There was no one he'd trust more to patch him up after a fight like that. "Don't worry, you haven't been out for another four days...only one this time." Tony winced at the lost time, but it was better than being dead.

"...Ross? The sub?"

"I arrested Ross myself," Laura confirmed. "He's in the Raft awaiting trial. The Scions have agreed to testify, and with that, it's pretty much certain he'll never see the light of day again."

"Hell yeah," Tony replied, then glanced over at Eric. "You make it out alright?"

"Better than you," O'Grady affirmed, then lifted the t-shirt he was wearing to expose an enormous hole in his torso. Tony could see cables and machinery all around the wound. "Except for this. But sometimes being an LMD is kind of awesome, huh? I'm on my way to the repair shop now, but wanted to check in with you first."

"Thanks, buddy."

"...Well, we might not see each other for awhile, after all." Eric averted his eyes, then narrowed them at Laura.

"What do ya mean?" Tony looked curious, then felt a surge of panic as he realized that he wasn't too weak to lift his arm: it was cuffed to the bed.

Laura, her eyes apologetic but her voice firm, didn't make him wait. "...Ross isn't the only one I arrested," she began. "Elektra is also in jail...and you will be too, as soon as you're able to walk."

"Are you fucking--" Taskmaster started, but when Spymaster held up a hand, he stopped.

"Let her talk," Spymaster pleaded. Furious but silent, he nodded for Laura to continue.

"...You have to be tried for what you did, Taskmaster. For a lot of it. But this isn't supposed to be revenge. I told you the Scions are going to testify against Ross..."

Mara picked up where she left off, "...But we're going to testify for you, too. Spymaster explained everything on the Quinjet. About your memory issues. About how you really did want to help us...but you didn't know we existed after you fought Elektra."

Laura nodded at that, then added, after the first hesitation she'd shown this whole time, "...And I'll be testifying, too. I'll tell them about how much of a bastard you are...but also how much I think you can change, if you really try. If someone gives you a chance. You're not well, Tony." It was the first time she'd used his name, -really- used it. "You don't need to be in prison...you need help. And I think if you got it, you could really do a lot of good. But this can't keep happening. You can't keep forgetting who you are, then going right back to mercenary work. I'm hunting The Hub now. She has to account for how she's been controlling you...and if she really is your wife, if she's trying to help you do good as well...then she needs to do better. She needs to bring in professionals. You're not a good man, Taskmaster...but maybe you could be, someday. With help."

Tony tried to look mad, but it didn't work with the tears starting to well in his eyes. "...Why you? Of all people?"

Digging into her pocket, Laura tossed something familiar onto his chest. It was barely as big as his pinky. "After you shot my sisters and I took you down, I wondered about why you seemed so reluctant to fight me. I found the 'bullet' you hit Gabby with. Airsoft pellet...wouldn't have done more than knock her out even if she hadn't been wearing armor. I realized that on some level, even you know you can't keep going on like this...and you don't want to be the villain you let yourself be made out as."

Taskmaster didn't say anything. He couldn't think of anything -to- say. Staring at the deformed pellet, he just laid his head back on his pillow. Smiling faintly, Wolverine gently patted the side of his bed.

"Alright. He needs to rest," came another voice. It was Albino, a sharp-featured and white-haired woman dressed in a pristine lab coat and with a complete lack of fear as she entered the room. "If you want him able to attend this ridiculous trial of yours, I suggest you let him sleep. Out."

Tony watched them go, even weakly lifting a shackled hand to wave at Mara. Black Ant lingered, then leaned down to whisper, "And if they -do- try to put you away, I'll spring ya, buddy. We'll go on the lam together. It's win-win!" With that, he skipped out with the rest.

For the first time in ages, Tony was smiling - sincerely and wholly - as he fell back asleep under Albino's loyal care.

--

Black Ant had gone off for repairs, and Mara had already been escorted away; upon being informed of Akeja's location, Black Panther had quickly contacted Wolverine and agreed to bring all of the Scions to an Academy in Wakanda, where their burgeoning memory issues could be addressed and they could get the care and education they needed after the year they'd missed since their kidnapping. Attempts would be made to find their families, but they would be well cared for regardless.

Now it was just Laura and Spymaster, who stopped the heroine as she was about to leave. "Kinney."

"What?" Laura turned back to face the hooded woman, narrowing her eyes. "Just because I'm helping Taskmaster doesn't mean we're friends. We're finished here."

"...No we're not," Spymaster replied. "In fact, I suspect you're going to want to have a long talk with me." She pulled down her hood, then lifted her mask. Laura had never seen her before; it wasn't someone she recognized, a latina woman with a shock of black hair, stunningly intelligent brown eyes, and the most long-suffering, yet confident quirk of the lips she'd ever laid eyes on.

"...My name's Mercedes Merced. I'm Taskmaster's wife -- and The Hub."

[birchstreetsystems]

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[hogtown-socialist-alternative]

East Germany 1989: The Berlin Wall Comes Down as Power Lay in the Streets

  By Ingmar Meinecke -November 9, 2019

On November 9, 1989 the Berlin Wall was pulled down in dramatic scenes. In the latest of our series marking the events of 1989 in Eastern Europe, Ingmar Meinecke of SAV (German section of the CWI-majority), who as a teenager participated in these events, explains what happened.  

“Dear friends, fellow citizens, it is as if one has opened the windows after all the years of stagnation, of spiritual, economic, political stagnation, the years of dullness and stale air, of phrase-mongering and bureaucratic arbitrariness, of official blindness and deafness. What a change!”

With these words the socialist writer Stefan Heym began his speech on November 4, 1989 in front of more than half a million people on Alexanderplatz in East Berlin. Just one year lay between the mass demonstrations in the former East Germany (German Democratic Republic -GDR) at the beginning of October 1989 and the unification of the GDR with the Federal Republic of Germany on October 3 1990. In this short time, the GDR’s government was overthrown, the Berlin Wall that had been erected in 1961 by GDR’s Stalinist rulers and had since served as a barrier between the two systems was opened and the then West German currency, the Deutsche Mark was introduced to the East.  

Initially, it seemed the whole GDR population was passionately demonstrating, with the aim of creating a new society based on real socialism. Yet just a few months later, a new government led by the conservative CDU set off down the road of capitalist restoration and the GDR disappeared from the map. How was it possible that the train of revolution was diverted off of the tracks into the direction of capitalist restoration?

Growing discontent

Following the defeat of Germany in the Second World War and the division of the country by the occupying powers, a new regime was formed in the East in 1949. Although the GDR rejected the capitalist form of economy, the state itself was modeled on the Stalinist bureaucratic dictatorship in the USSR. Calling itself socialist, it was far from being a socialist democracy, run instead by a group of elite bureaucrats. Their real nature was demonstrated by the brutal suppression of the heroic workers’ uprising in 1953. Even after 1953, society in the GDR was never completely calm. Yet the ruling elite did all they could to maintain control.

By the mid-1980s, there had been mass strikes in Poland, led by the trade union Solidarność. In the USSR itself, the new rhetoric of Perestroika and Glasnost had begun to appear and the news fell on fertile ground in the GDR. The GDR’s ‘communist’ leadership tried to stop this: when the Soviet magazine “Sputnik” criticized the pre-war Communist Party of Germany’s approval of the pre-war Hitler-Stalin Pact, it was banned in the GDR without further ado.

But three events in 1989 fueled the growing mood of discontent. It was widely disbelieved, when in May, the GDR’s ruling party the “Socialist Unity Party” (SED) claimed that 98.5% of the population had supported it in local elections. But people became angry when party leaders justified the brutal suppression of the workers and students protesting in China’s Tiananmen Square. And then, following the example of the Czechoslovak and Hungarian people, there was an accelerating wave of people fleeing the GDR. By the end of September, 25,000 had already left the country.

This wave of refugees started a discussion: why are so many people leaving? What kind of country is it that people just run away from, leaving their belongings, friends and family behind? The official reaction of “not shedding one tear for these people” disgusted many.

The opposition is formed

On Monday September 4, 1200 people gathered outside the Nikolai-church in Leipzig after the weekly “prayer for peace” for a demonstration. Their slogans were: “We want out” and “We want a new government”. Security forces intervened. This was repeated the next Monday. By September 25 there were already 8000 people and their slogan “We want out!” was replaced by “We stay here”!

In September the first opposition groups were formed. The New Forum issued an appeal, which 4500 people signed within the first fortnight, with the demand for a democratic dialogue in society. By mid-November, 200,000 signatures had been collected. But party leader Erich Honecker and the SED leadership did not want a dialogue. The demands of the New Forum were rejected. But that made the group even more popular.

The masses out on the street

When sealed trains of refugees from Prague travelled through Dresden to the West in October, there were serious clashes between demonstrators and the police at the station. On the evening of October 7, the 40th anniversary of the GDR, several hundred young people gathered on Berlin’s Alexanderplatz, before moving towards the Palace of the Republic, where Honecker and Co. were celebrating. Two to three thousand people chanted “Gorbi, Gorbi!” (referring to Gorbachev) and “We are the people”! By midnight, special units of the People’s Police and the State Security had started to attack, arresting over 500.

This raised the temperature. Two days later, on Monday October 9, all eyes were on Leipzig. Would the GDR experience its own ‘Tiananmen Square’? Three days earlier, a threat had appeared in the Leipziger Volkszeitung: “We are ready and willing (…) to stop these counterrevolutionary actions finally and effectively. If necessary, with weapons.”

But cracks appeared in the state power. Three secretaries of the Leipzig SED district leadership took part in a call for de-escalation, which was broadcast in the afternoon on city radio. As a result, Leipzig experienced the largest demonstration to date with 70,000 people. The call “We are the people” sounded powerfully over the Georgi Ring. The Internationale was also sung. On the same evening 7000 people demonstrated in Berlin and another 60.000 in other parts of the country.

Now there was no stopping the acceleration of the protests. The demonstrations continued throughout the week: 20,000 in Halle and as many again in Plauen, 10,000 in Magdeburg, 4000 in Berlin. The next Monday brought a new record: 120,000 in Leipzig alone! Now even the official GDR state newspapers started, for the first time, reporting objectively about the demonstrators, who, just a week earlier they had called ‘rioters, hooligans and counter-revolutionaries’. On the same day, employees of the “Teltower Geräte und Reglerwerk” company resigned from the FDGB, the official state trade union federation and announced the formation of the independent trade union “Reform”, calling for others to follow their example.  They demanded “the right to strike, the right to demonstrate, freedom of the press, the end of travel restrictions and official privileges”.

Erich Honecker resigned as General Secretary of the SED on October 18 and was succeeded by Egon Krenz. But this did nothing to calm the masses, rather they took to the streets in larger and larger numbers. Krenz was met with suspicion by the masses. On the Monday demonstration in Leipzig on October 23, attended by 250,000 people, the slogans were “Egon, who asked our opinion?”, “Free elections”, “Visa-free to Hawaii!” or “A leading role for the people”! But these were no longer just demonstrations. At the riot police barracks in Magdeburg, the conscripts elected a soldiers’ council. Pupils acted to annul disciplinary notes on behavior and timekeeping and abolished Saturday lessons.

The breakthrough

The demonstrations in Leipzig continued to grow – 20,000 on October 2, 70,000 on October 9, 120,000 on October 16, 250,000 on October 23, 300,000 on October 30 and finally 400,000 on November 6. There was also a demonstration of more than 500,000 (some say up to one million) in East Berlin on November 4. By the end of October, the protests had swept the whole country: in the North and South, large and small towns involving workers and intellectuals. The main demands included free travel, an investigation into the state violence of October 7/8, protection of the environment, an end to the privileges and monopoly on power of the SED. The government finally resigned on November 7. On November 8, the entire Politburo followed.

On the evening of the November 9, politburo member Günter Schabowski spoke to the press. Shortly before the end of his speech, at exactly 19:07, he announced that the GDR had opened the borders. Excitement spread. He explained that from eight o’clock the next day everyone could collect a visa. People, however, did not wait for visas, but began to besiege the border crossings to West Berlin. The border guards were surprised. By midnight, individual commanders were opening the crossings in the face of pressure from the masses. The Wall fell. Over the next few weeks the entire country travelled west.

The ‘Tug of war’ and the opposition’s hesitancy

Now a tug-of-war broke out between the masses on the streets, the opposition groups and the state bureaucracy. The question that nobody really dared to say out aloud, but which hovered over everything, was “who has the power?” The state and party apparatus increasingly lost influence, but the opposition groups did not take up the reins of power. At first, the masses expected that the leaders of the opposition groups, often accidental figures who ended up at the centre of attention, as well as some SED reformers, like the new head of government Hans Modrow, and well-known artists and intellectuals would do this.

When the full extent of corruption was revealed in early December, workers were more determined than ever to get rid of the whole of the old establishment. They had just seen how, in Czechoslovakia, a two-hour general strike quickly brought the Communist Party there to see reason. Now the New Forum in Karl-Marx-Stadt also demanded a one-day nationwide general strike on December 6. Immediately this call was condemned in unison by the FDGB, the official opposition parties and Bärbel Bohley, one of the national leaders of the New Forum. They were all afraid, that the situation could get out of hand. The call was withdrawn. Nevertheless, a two-hour political warning strike of workers in several companies in Plauen did take place on December 6 accompanied by independent strike actions in other places.

The Modrow government now tried to involve the opposition in order to stabilize the situation. On November 22, the Politburo of the SED spoke in favor of organizing a “round table” with the opposition. It met for the first time on December 7, issuing a statement which stated: “Although the ‘Round Table’ does not exercise any parliamentary or governmental function, it intends to address the public with proposals for overcoming the crisis. (…) It sees itself as a component of public control in our country.”

But control is not the same as governing. Surprised by the pace of developments, the opposition groups wanted to continue a dialogue with the SED and the state authorities instead of taking power themselves. Rolf Henrich, co-founder of the New Forum, said in an interview with the newspaper “Der Morgen” on the October 28 that for the time being the movement could do without a comprehensive program. Instead he advocated a topic-related dialogue that would no longer take place on the street alone.

This half-heartedness and indecision by the opposition evolved out of their failure to answer two fundamental questions. Firstly: how could the old top and the bureaucracy really be driven out of power? Secondly: what should the new society look like, especially its economic system, and what would be the role for the other part of Germany, the capitalist West-Germany? These questions were now permanently on the agenda and not always clearly defined, but interwoven.

Until November, the GDR revolution was clearly pro-socialist. This could be seen in the statements of almost all opposition groups, the banners, chants and speeches at the demonstrations. The writer Christa Wolf said on November 4: “Imagine a socialist society where nobody runs away” and got a huge applause for it. “Unlimited power to the councils” was written on a banner. But how was this “better socialism” or council rule to be achieved? There were no answers. Power lay on the streets. But the opposition of autumn 1989 left it there until it was finally picked up by the West-German Premier Helmut Kohl and Co., opening the way to capitalist reunification.

The economic situation proved to be decisive. From December, reports about the ailing state of the GDR economy began to accumulate. From then on, secret figures and facts about the country’s low productivity and indebtedness became known. Visits to the West made the GDR workers aware of the higher standard of living there. Social divisions in West Germany faded into the background. The mood grew against starting another ‘experiment’ after the ‘GDR experiment’. The self-confidence of the working class was severely weakened by the poor condition of the state-owned enterprises. Added to this was the lack of leadership as described above.

From December, the Federal government and the capitalist class in West Germany made a turn. Until then, they had been cautious about going too brashly in the direction of reunification. They had considered a slow transition of the GDR towards capitalism to be less dangerous. But it gradually became clear to them that a GDR with open borders could destabilize the Federal Republic. At the same time, they recognized the weakness of both the crumbling SED bureaucracy and the GDR opposition and saw an opportunity to enter this vacuum, integrating the entire GDR into the Federal Republic, and thus opening up a new market.

The majority of GDR workers did not want any more experiments in 1990. But then they were exposed to the experiment of capitalist counterrevolution, the smashing of a state economy that led to millions of unemployed as a result of factory closures, privatization and the devaluation of the currency. This has become an almost permanent state of affairs, in which the East is still disadvantaged in many respects in comparison to the West.

The missed opportunity

Until November 1989 and even after, many elements of the political revolution that the Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky considered necessary to implement against Stalinism, this bureaucratic distortion of socialism were to be seen in these events. But in the end, the other outcome that Trotsky had considered possible developed: capitalist restoration. The decisive factor was that no opposition force had developed strong roots among the workers and employees that could point the way to a viable concrete and truly socialist society.

Stefan Heym summarized this missed opportunity a few years later: “Don’t forget, there was no group, no organized group that wanted to take power. (…) There were only individuals who had come together and formed a forum or a group or something like that, but nothing you need to make a revolution. There was no such thing. And so it all imploded and there was no one to take power except the West. (…) Imagine that we had the time and opportunity to develop a new socialism in the GDR, a socialism with a human face, a democratic socialism. This could have been an example for West Germany and the development could have been different.”

[fireintheforest]

Behind the Blue: chapter 1

It was just another average night in The Gray Mare inn in Chorrol, packed to the brim with customers. Now and then footsteps of patrons and employees walked across the wooden floor, sounds of septims clinked against wooden tables to pay for a room, ale or a warm meal, and the ever present noise of conversation, laughter and mumbling in different languages and dialects hung in the air. There were perhaps 2 empty tables in the whole establishment, so amongst all the Imperials, Bosmer, Nords, Argonians, Khajiit and the Orsimer group, it was understandable that at first glance nobody saw the Dunmer and the hooded figure that were sitting at a corner of the inn. Then again, this was also justified by the low wall that covered this table somewhat from the prying eyes of others. The Dunmer seemed to have been here for a longer time, since the level of his drink was low and the hooded figure was only now taking a seat. The Dunmer waited for the figure to have sat down before he spoke.

“So I’m guessing there’s a reason for the messenger in the middle of the night, corner table of the inn and the hood.” Toivon began.

“You guessed right.” The female voice coming from the hood said in an uncertain, low voice, “Is…is everything alright?”

“…yes, why are you asking?”

“Well, you look…you look concerned. Angry.”

“Madame, this is just my face.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it swiftly, “Oh. I beg your pardon. Well! Let’s get on to business.” She straightened up, blinking and feigning that the embarrassing moment hadn’t happened, “This…is a matter that I’d prefer be handled with the utmost discretion.”

“Not a word will be spoken out of here to anyone else.”

“Not just out of here. The whole affaire must be done with extreme care. You can’t be caught or suspected on. Your identity and mine cannot ever go to the public. My name and my family’s has to stay away from the scandal that will come.”

“Sounds serious. No one will know. Now tell me, what do I have to do?”

The hooded figure pushed her hood slightly back as she leaned forward in her seat, only enough for Toivon to see her face better. She had crow’s feet, some fine facial lines, bags under her gray eyes and some gray strands mixed among the rest of her black hair. She had a single beauty mark in the top right part of her forehead.

“My family,” she began, “the Ferchants, have been members of nobility since Evermor’s beginnings. We have contributed greatly to the city’s economy, our ancestors have been members of its history and served our community. Then, Emmanuel Hawkcroft came to my life when I was around the 15 years of age. My father helped him greatly get the title, lands, riches and honor he has now in exchange of errands and missions to do for him, as is usual, in High Rock, when it comes to people of his….economic position. His whole life is indebted to my father, who took him in as a son, who grew up with us as another brother. We thought he saw us as family as well, so naturally, when my family was in trouble, we turned to him for a favor that could’ve not just helped us but also kept face. Just until we could be stable. He refused, and because of him we lost everything.”

“Ouch.” Maybe it was the expected answer, or maybe it was Toivon’s deadpan expression, but the woman didn’t catch the sympathetic sarcasm.

“Hawkcroft amassed his fortune via piracy, scams and investments in transport, and yet after all we’ve gone through, there’s not a look, not an apology, nothing. We only got back to barely what we were thanks to my husband’s family and my brother’s wife’s.”

Toivon leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, “Mhm” Just his luck to get a Breton, these people talked sermons before getting to the point. The only ones worse than them were the Altmer.

“His fortune is simply ridiculous, he became richer than my father was, he’s part of the Evermor elite. I just thought…after having shared with him as a brother, as a friend, I thought he’d think of us in the end. That he’d remember us and mend everything right. But he didn’t.” she shook her head, as if still in disbelief, and sighed as she leaned back on her seat, “He didn’t.”

“Ma’am, not meaning to say this isn’t interesting, but get to the point.”

“When I investigated, I heard nothing but good word about you. They say you are one of the stealthiest in the business, but you stand out specifically for discretion. I need both skills from you. I will pay 7000 Septims for you to steal La Zadine and bring it to me, and 2000 to your team members.”

Toivon blinked, “How much?”

“Seven thousand Septim to you, two thousand to your associates.”

“Huh, I heard right. What exactly is La Sadine?”

“La Zadine, sir, La Zadine!” Toivon didn’t move a single muscle of his face, “It’s a famous sapphire in Evermor, it belongs to Hawkcroft. He came across it in one of his voyages, during a trip my father sent him to, and was one of the jewels he presented my cousin, Edwynne, as a gift to ask her for her hand in marriage. It’s just the most coveted sapphire in the region.”

“So, let me summarize. You are willing to pay me 7000 Septims, just so I can steal a rock. A sapphire, to be exact. Lady, this is a lot of effort for one rock. Not saying I’m rejecting the contract, but…If you want to hit this bastard where it hurts, wouldn’t it make sense to steal all his money? Leave him in poverty? Begging at the main street in nothing but the clothes he has on?”

The woman gave a small yet cruel chuckle through tight lips, “I’d love to see that, but even if we wipe his bank account clean he’d still have his business and lands to give to his children, both most likely on his will, now that he knows he’ll die soon. I know Hawkcroft, despite appearances he’s as sentimental as a weeping bride and he placed a lot of emotional value on that specific sapphire. Especially since my dear cousin passed.” She leaned forward, “He can get into business. He can call his rich friends, he can do investments, but he’ll be devastated to find that rock missing.”

“Cold.” Toivon said, then nodded, “Alright, I can do the job. I’ll just need to know where I can find Hawkcroft’s estate.”

“The manor is located in the outskirts of Evermor. Hawkcroft is planning a grand dinner in honor of his daughter, Avelle, and her name day. He will be too focused on the guests and the preparations to pay mind to La Zadine in his room. You can take this night as an opportunity, having the party as a distraction.”

“Wait, how do you know the rock is in his room?”

“Three years back I sent my most trusted maid, Sorcise, to work at his estate so she could report back to me his moves until we could find something that were of his weakness. She told me there’s a chest underneath his bed that he guards jealously. Chances are, La Zadine is kept there. He’s never trusted banks to guard his things to begin with.”

“If it’s as easy as breaking into his room, why has your maid not done it yet? She can walk around the house, no?”

“The chest needs a key, one that Emmanuel has with him at all times. Sorcise is discreet, but she’s not an experienced thief. And despite her claims, she’s got nervous fingers. Emmanuel would feel her trying to grab the key a mile away with how her hands shake. This is something an expert needs to do.”

Toivon nodded, contemplating the information that had just been given to him in silence. To fill the void of conversation, a table to their right burst in a roar of laughter that settled down enough for Toivon to say, “Breaking into a house in the middle of a party. That’d also involve higher security, but I’m guessing that with your maid’s help I may be able to bypass it.”

“Precisely.”

Toivon bit the inside of his cheek as he looked away, then looked back at her and said, “I’ll be risking a lot in here. My hide, my men’s, your maid’s, your name and three years of careful planning. I’d raise the price for my associates to, say, 5000 Septims.”

“Per person?” Madame Ferchant’s eyes widened, “I can pay 2500 each.”

“Still low. I can leave it in 4000 if you’ve got a tight purse. If you want me to steal La Zadine in a party, it won’t be that many men. I’m not going to scam you. It’ll be me, your girl and two more and that’s it. It’s already cost you three years without Sorcise, careful planning and keeping appearances up. Besides, how much does the gem by itself cost?”

Madame Ferchant sighed, her lips tightening a bit. “Fine. I can pay 4000 Septims, but only for two of your men. Not more, not less.”

“Rest assured, you’ll get your jewel. Quietly.” Madame Ferchant nodded and pulled her hood back to cover her face.

“Your pay will arrive to you once the jewel is in my hand.We will meet in Evermor the night before the party, in around a month.”

“…the party is in a month?”

“Of course! You need proper time to prepare a proper party. Otherwise it’s just a gathering. And Avelle is known for going over the top.”

“Fine, right.”

“I’ll see you in a month, monsieur.” And with that, she rose from her seat, walked around the table, and left. Toivon leaned back on his seat, mulling over the details of the operation as he drank. The tavern was still noisy, still merry with laughter and arguments and discussions and plates banging, cups clinking, mouths chewing, orders being tossed, the fire cackling and warming whoever was closest.

[maharashtrajobs]

महाराष्ट्र राज्य सुरक्षा महामंडळ ७००० जागा भरती २०२०

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नोकरीचे ठिकाण (Job Place):महाराष्ट्र राज्य…

[musical-chick-13]

you opened up the things I shut (cersei x melisandre)

Hello, @multifandomfix. It’s me! Your asoiaf rarepairs Secret Santa. (I’m sorry this is so much closer to the ending deadline/is a day after I said I’d get it to you; I might have gone a bit overboard in writing this because this thing is like 7000 words long, lmao.) Thank you so much for participating, I really enjoyed writing this! :D (I will also put this on ao3 for easier access, but I wanted to make absolutely sure I got this to you first.)

Lady Melisandre still mourns the loss of what she thought she had found at Dragonstone. Someone so committed to his goals, so willing to listen to her, that he would do anything. A man so concerned with justice and following what he believed to be the preordained will of the universe that he was willing to listen to her. Understand her.

Love her.

Feel something toward her that wasn’t disdain or abject fear. To give her a name other than that of “fanatic” or “lunatic.”

And as much as she loves the Lord, as much as she wants-needs-to do right by Him, she won’t delude herself into thinking that any of those other things were unpleasant or inconsequential.

Would he believe in her now? she wonders, If he were still here? She has lost her faith. Broken her own heart. She’s not sure she even believes in herself anymore, which is more terrifying than anything she has ever experienced. She has been the one earthly constant in her life, the only person she could trust, and the only thing aside from God she could every truly rely on.

But she will see this through to the end. It is her duty. She understands this. If she has no cause, she has no purpose. But even still, the thing she sees before she goes to sleep is the way Davos had looked at her after he found out what had happened to the little girl. And Jon. Everyone else at Dragonstone save Stannis.

“Terrible,” they called her. Mad. Poisonous. The manifestation of ruin itself. Poorly-hidden criticisms of every choice she had ever made followed her through every corner of Westeros, even now, especially now.

So when whispers turn to discussion of this Lannister lady, who they call “mad” and “loathsome” and “malevolent,” unable to make sensible choices if the world itself hung in the balance, it all sounds almost disturbingly familiar.

She can see the rage that underlies everything the Dragon Queen does. Perhaps she will shirk her family’s legacy. Perhaps she will not. All of that is in the hands of a far more powerful being than her. But Melisandre knows that she must be prepared should Daenerys succumb to the Targaryen curse.

Nothing the Lord wants is transparent anymore. And in light of the extreme strictures of conventional morality everyone else so desperately wants to hold her to, Cersei Lannister might be the most understanding ally she’ll be able to find.

The current queen of Westeros (well, half of Westeros, if she were to take to heart a somewhat-distant warning from her twin brother—which she was not) takes in her visitor. Hair as red as fire, a dress to match, a spidery necklace that Cersei suspects is much more than just a necklace.

She has heard of her, this fire priestess. Some foreign name that begins with an “M.” Previously aligned with Stannis. Cersei had never considered her worth any further investigation; she can only imagine what this woman wants with her now.

“Why are you here.” It’s somehow not a question. More a demand for transparency. She can’t afford to trust anyone anymore, and for all she knows this woman is here to try to assassinate her.

“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Wonderful…One of those.

After everything that had transpired regarding the Sparrows, Cersei hopes she never has to hear any mention of religion ever again.

“Lady…” she frowns.

“Melisandre,” the visitor supplies with an enigmatic smile.

“ ‘Lady’ Melisandre. I do not have time for riddles. Tell me why you are here or I will have my guard escort you out.”

Melisandre spares an uninterested, cursory glance at the menacing specimen in the corner, face hidden, armor dulled from a mixture of dust and blood. Others have cowered in fear in the presence of “Ser Robert Strong,” but this Melisandre person seems bored. Unbothered.

Intriguing.

Still, she elects to give Cersei an answer anyway. “I cannot know what the Lord wants. I assume it’s to bring the Dragon Queen and Jon Snow together, but I need to start forging down multiple separate paths in case I am wrong.”

Incredibly, (very credibly), this still doesn’t answer the question of why she is here.

Cersei’s skepticism must show on her face, because Melisandre continues, “Perhaps they are not the true heirs of Westeros. Perhaps the Undead will have to be defeated by another. I am here to make sure you are prepared in case these tasks fall to you.”

“And why would you assume the Lord’s” she practically spits out the word, “Plan would fall to me. Haven’t you heard what they say about me?” Cersei allows a restrained, yet feral grin to grace her countenance, “They think me mad.”

Melisandre echoes Cersei’s smile, “I think you are committed to your beliefs. And will do anything to uphold them. Even if they don’t align with mine, I can respect that. Sometimes, we must do what needs to be done. Not everyone is up to that task.”

For the first time in years, if not decades, Cersei feels a small knot of something-something that isn’t panic or rage-tightening in her chest. If she were less cynical she might call it security or validation.

“Very well.” Cersei isn’t willing to give her more latitude than that. Not yet.

“I will return.” And as suddenly as a leaf blowing away in the wind, Lady Melisandre is gone.

These three words stay on Cersei’s mind she retires to bed a few hours later. When she slips into sleep, the last thought she remembers having is There could be worse things.

Melisandre had a very incomplete idea of what to expect when she actually met the queen regnant in person. And upon arriving in King’s Landing and meeting Cersei’s eyes, she knows that will probably always be the case. Wrath colors her green eyes in a way that makes it clear exactly why people are so terrified of this woman. She does not tolerate nonsense. Will not accept half-hearted explanations. Under no circumstances will she bow to any will but her own.

She imagines that people must look at Cersei the way they used to look at her. Perhaps with even more vitriol. But underneath her rage, Melisandre can just make out fear, born of extreme pain and frustration. Something she finds within herself every time she’s unfortunate enough to be alone with her thoughts.

But in spite of all this, Cersei is committed. Committed to ruling and keeping herself alive in a way Melisandre has never seen anyone commit to anything. Not even Stannis.

Not even herself.

Lady Melisandre will, in all likeliness, have to seek out the Lannister queen again. She is almost looking forward to it.

In the meantime, she decides to investigate Cersei further. What exactly has she done? Why, precisely, do they call her “mad?”

She gets her answers very quickly. Everyone is quick to jump at the chance to criticize this woman. Melisandre, for once, might have found a woman more publicly hated than herself.

And this awakens a touch of uncharacteristic sympathy. Because nothing this woman has done sounds like anything Melisandre wouldn’t also be willing to do, given the right circumstances.

Melisandre thinks of Cersei, and all she sees is a woman dedicated to a cause and willing to do absolutely whatever it takes to accomplish it. Melisandre sees a woman broken by a prejudiced, violent world that explicitly refused to appreciate her. She could never truly hate a woman like that. To do so would be to hate herself.

So the first time Daenerys burns alive a valuable ally—a seemingly reformed, previously Tywin-Lannister-obsessed “bird” of the bald eunuch’s previous circle, with intel that could easily help her claim the throne and procure resources to protect the world from the Undead—Melisandre, as promised, returns to Cersei. Perhaps this action of the Dragon Queen’s was a simple misstep. A brief, uncommon lapse in judgment. But the time of reckoning is quickly approaching, and Melisandre cannot afford to place that much trust in her.

“The Dragon Queen has burned an informant.”

Cersei’s eyes narrow, assuming this is revelation of information is a test. Or perhaps she doesn’t believe her at all.

“Why?”

“He loved your father.”

The queen regnant closes her eyes for the briefest second, allowing herself some sort of internal sadness Melisandre knows she’ll never be able to dissect or understand.

“Why are you telling me this.”

“She isn’t prepared to do whatever it will take to get what she needs. I think you are.”

Cersei looks…almost surprised at this, with her eyebrows slightly raised, jaw clenched to reign in any sort of responsive noise that might wish to escape from her throat. But after a few moments studying Melisandre’s face, she concludes that her not-entirely-welcome visitor isn’t saying this to make a joke or bait her into a response, and her visage retreats to a neutral expression. Something passes between them. A flicker of what feels like understanding.

And Melisandre shivers, ever-so-slightly.

One of the handmaidens has been looking at her strangely. Coming entirely too fast when Cersei calls for her. Greeting her a bit too loudly. There are ugly, shadowy pockets of discolored skin under her eyes that can only be from lack of sleep. She even caught her trying to make off with an old piece of correspondence between her father and the not-so-fashionably-late Olenna Tyrell. An act she repaid by having one of her guards cut off several of the girl’s fingers.

Many would call her paranoid. She would call herself reasonably distrustful.

When she finds out the girl has run off in the middle of the night, her suspicions are all but confirmed.

Cersei does not want to seek the red woman out, but she sees no other option.

Meeting anyone was a thoroughly detestable experience. People with their small talk and shallow observations and empty, deceptive promises; men staring at her the way her girlish self had once wished Robert would; women considering her a traitor for daring to do what men had gotten away with doing for centuries. But Melisandre seems to be the first person Cersei has had the displeasure of meeting who didn’t immediately decry her as “mad” or perverse.

She knew better than to assume anyone was trustworthy. But if she was going to locate this treacherous girl, she needed someone who would not dismiss her on sight.

It doesn’t take her long to find Melisandre, as Qyburn’s spy network is vast and eager to please.

Melisandre doesn’t seem terribly surprised to see her. This annoys Cersei quite a lot.

“What do you need from me?”

“Why assume I need anything.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

And, like before, it’s not a statement of judgment. Just a fact. A genuine observation. It’s a nice change from the way people usually talk to her, if Cersei were in the mood for candor.

“One of my handmaidens has run off. Presumably to help your little friend in the North. I need you to find her.”

“Why not find her yourself?”

“If you think that I would leave King’s Landing and risk someone using my absence to usurp me, you’re much more boring than I assumed. Even being here now is dangerous.”

The woman in red looks…not amused, but some nearby emotion. Cersei doesn’t care enough to puzzle through what that means. She doesn’t know this woman, nor does she have any worthwhile reason to.

“And why would I do this for you?” Melisandre replies, after entirely too long of a pause to be considered polite.

“I wouldn’t doubt Senna knows plenty of information. She wouldn’t have left if she didn’t think she could be useful.”

“I understand why you want me to find her. What I want to know is why I would want to.”

If Cersei still had any hair to tear out, she would. She plasters a sickeningly patronizing smile on her face instead. She hates this world and everything in it. But she particularly hates how clever everyone always thinks they are.

“You said yourself you don’t know if the Targaryen girl is fit to lead. Do you really wish for her to have information that could easily win her a war when you don’t even know if you want her to win?”

Melisandre tilts her chin up marginally. She has almost immediately shifted from close-to-amused to impressed.

“You said you wanted me available in case the girl and the bastard fail. I can’t be of any use to you or your ‘Lord’s’ cause if the North destroys us in a single battle due to extra intelligence. Surely you know that.”

Cersei makes a point to slip the smile off her face. She allows herself to settle into the feeling of power she loves to revel in, the one that almost fills the void in her heart that has existed ever since she was born. Cersei is serious and will not accept a refusal, and it is necessary that this woman in front of her knows that. “Doing this means I and any resources I have will remain to provide you with assistance should it come to that.”

And, for some reason Cersei doubts even the gods themselves know, Melisandre smiles. “Very well. I will find her.”

Two days later, Senna the handmaiden is found dead in one of the castle’s stables. Seemingly trampled by a horse.

Cersei doesn’t know how Melisandre managed to get the girl back inside the city. Cersei doesn’t care.

It’s not until after this that she realizes she never once threatened violence or death if her not-quite-an-ally didn’t comply with her wishes.

She staunchly refuses to think about what that means.

Ch. 2

 Melisandre does not like the feeling of doubting herself. It’s been there ever since Stannis’s death, and though the joining of Jon and the Dragon Queen had alleviated it to an extent, it is now back, stronger than ever.

Which is why she finds herself in King’s Landing again, seeking out a certain wrathful, green-eyed ruler.

“The Targaryen girl has destroyed several key food and weapons stores in the North in order to win a battle against a few underarmed loyalists.” There is no preamble this time. Like the woman in front of her, Melisandre has no time for meaningless greetings or stalling through cleverness.

Cersei’s eyes do not change, and Melisandre, for all of her gifts, all of her intelligence, all of her everything, cannot even begin to fathom what she is thinking. “I see.”

Her back is now turned, and she leisurely pours out a goblet of wine. Some part of Melisandre knows that she is simply executing a power play, as she herself has done so many times before, occasionally even toward the woman in question. That doesn’t make it any less aggravating. “If she had any concept of strategy, she wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice so much ‘collateral damage,’ as she calls it,” Melisandre continues.

Even though she’s facing front again, the queen doesn’t even so much as half-glance toward her. Melisandre appreciates her feigned stoicism. And her loathing of the queen’s desire to stroke her own ego is tempered by a rather vulgar admiration at just how good at this she truly is.

After another agonizing minute (Melisandre knows her expression is getting progressively more desperate, but she craves certainty and resolution too much to fix that), Cersei looks up. She asks, simply, “And?”

“The people will be left that much closer to starving and defenseless during the coming Winter. She has proven she does not care about fighting the Undead. Only about increasing her own power.”

“What do you expect me to do about it. Supply resources to my enemies?”

“I expect you to beat her.”

“Yes, that is my intention.”

Melisandre rolls her eyes. (If she doesn’t, she might laugh. But she doesn’t think Cersei is trying to be funny. Or maybe she is. That was quite a thought: Cersei Lannister, agent of comedy.)

Somehow, Cersei lets this gesture pass without comment before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. The expression makes her look tired. She probably is, given how many different groups of people are trying to kill her at present.

“Why have you come to me? You’re afraid this girl is a tyrant. People say the same about me.”

“Even knowing what I know, I doubt you would be that careless.”

“You know I burnt an entire religious cult by gathering them in a church where I was supposed to stand trial.”

Melisandre can’t help but turn one of the corners of her mouth up at that. “They were not real believers.”

Cersei’s eyes move fractionally toward their usual position. Melisandre would say she looks almost…enchanted, if she thought the queen were capable of such an expression.

“I have executed many others.”

“Who have personally wronged you or your children. You have been willing to ally with others when needed. You would not kill potential informants on sight.”

“Has she done that again?”

“Many times, now. One came with a large supply of Dragonglass, the only thing we know can kill a White Walker. She incinerated all of it.”

The queen regnant blinks a few times. She looks almost pained with the thought that her greatest foe is nothing more than a naive child, play-acting at an overindulged fantasy. It’s all Melisandre needs to know that she has made the right choice in coming here.

“I have destroyed entire houses protecting my family.”

“And I burned a child alive.”

Cersei pauses. Takes a long, genuine look at Melisandre, eyes sweeping thoughtfully from the ground under her feet to the top of her red hair. And there is another moment of understanding. No hatred or fear or even disgust. Merely… acknowledgement, as Cersei would do the same if pushed far enough.

Melisandre’s gaze doesn’t quite falter under the queen’s eye. But it almost does.

“Why should I trust you,” Cersei responds at last.

“I’m probably the only person who won’t demand a marriage agreement from you.”

Cersei almost laughs at that. Or, at the very least, Melisandre can tell she wants to; the corners of her mouth relax, and her fiery-green eyes brighten just enough to be noticeable. And Melisandre finds herself smiling fully at the unexpectedly warm response.

When the queen speaks again, quite a bit of her characteristic venom is gone. “Very well. Return in three days. We’ll discuss this further. I have a council meeting to attend to.”

For the first time since Stannis, Melisandre allows herself the luxury of hope.

These meetings have become almost distressingly frequent. It seems as if every slight change in the political landscape, no matter how meaningless, is used as an excuse for her and the Red Woman to meet for discussion.

And as adept as Cersei has always been at keeping herself in denial to cope with the worst of the world, she knows it’s not only Melisandre’s doing.

Fortunately, the latest atrocity actually does necessitate a meeting. It seems the Stark girl has released a prisoner against the Targaryen “queen’s” wishes (indeed, she was just like her mother, it seemed). Things were mostly under control at present, but a small riot had broken out.

“The people are getting tense. This is not good.”

“Not good for whom? The more tense they are under her alleged ‘reign,’ the better for me.”

“Not if the Undead claim you first. Every moment she spends embroiled in political affairs is an extra advantage they gain over us. Not even you can survive them, though I’m sure you’d put up an excellent fight.”

And much to her own surprise, Cersei smiles. It’s not a very pronounced one. But a brief examination of herself reveals that the ends of her lips are unmistakably pulled up.

That hasn’t happened in quite a long time…

“Do you possess the tools to defeat her?” Her visitor presses.

“Yes. But I cannot guarantee there will be enough resources left to kill all of the White Walkers when I’m done. Nor can I guarantee the safety of the resources you already have.”

Melisandre nods.

“I had an idea about that, though.”

“Oh?”

It’s not lost on Cersei that this is the first time she is willingly sharing information with the woman across from her. But considering that her family had used wildfire as a weapon twice in the public eye, now, she presumes that letting someone know there was still more to use wouldn’t be giving away too much.

And it isn’t as if she’d tell her where it is. Age may have dulled her optimism, but not her discretion.

Mostly.

“I assume you’ve heard of wildfire?”

Melisandre’s face shines with recognition, then with something that Cersei thinks looks far too much like pride.

“I hadn’t thought of that. Do you think it would work?”

“Well, you would know better than I would.”

“It would likely kill the wights. But the actual leaders? The original Undead? Probably not. Only Dragonglass or Valyrian Steel can do that.”

“Or dragon fire.”

“Or dragon fire. But I assume you have an answer for that, too?”

She does.

“I wouldn’t have started this conversation if I didn’t.”

The fire priestess looks up at Cersei expectantly. And Cersei hesitates. This is the first time she has asked someone for a favor in…decades, at least, possibly her whole life. Everything else has been an order, a demand, or, in the case of her father, a plea. Never can she remember simply asking someone for something. She loathes it and never wants to do it again.

“You possess…abilities, do you not?”

And Melisandre, unanticipatedly, simply looks at the ground with something akin to self-reproach. “Yes.”

“Then perhaps you could use them. Change the nature of the wildfire, somehow combine it with Dragonglass-you’d only need a few pieces for that. Or, if not, use the fire to focus some sort of death charm.”

“All of which might not work.”

“Then what’s your idea?”

Her eyes drift toward the ground once more. This time, she doesn’t say anything.

As Cersei had thought.

She does not have time for this. She has a country to rule, wildfire to collect, and battle plans to oversee. “Well?” This time, she is forceful. Asking for the aid of her magic might be a favor, but asking for an answer to the question of that aid is not. She already has given far more chances than she’d care to admit to this woman, for some completely indiscernible reason.

“I’ve never done something on that scale. I don’t even know if I could.”

“You brought a man back from the dead.”

She hates how impressed she sounds when she says this.

But, apparently, this display of emotion that isn’t hatred or rage or grief moves her red visitor. “I’ll do my best.” And the accompanying smirk catches Cersei so off-guard she almost drops her wine goblet.

Melisandre takes her leave, and Cersei is left to wonder why her heart is beating so quickly.

Today, it’s some minor Northron lord who made an indecorous comment, which Melisandre tries to use as proof that the North is dividing further, but they both know is just an excuse to see Cersei.

The conversation has evolved into Melisandre talking about how she once tricked a man into handing over his horse. It’s a story she’s never told to anyone; she’d never thought it important, and it reminds her of a time when she was considerably younger (and thus very foolish and inexperienced), besides.

In truth, the only reason this is happening is because they are both far more drunk than they should be, but Melisandre imagines this is what “normal” women do (women who can just live, free of constant doubt and crisis of faith, women who don’t have potentially the fate of the country resting on their shoulders), and that feels…nice.

“And then he says, ‘When I mentioned things were getting too monotonous, this isn’t what I meant. Oh, he was livid.’ ”

Cersei chuckles, though Melisandre suspects that this, like everything else she does, even while under the influence of particularly strong wine, is carefully measured.

“What did you say?”

“I told him now that he finally had something worthy of telling his wife, perhaps she’d pay attention to him for more than two minutes because she probably wouldn’t let him out of her sight again.”

And Cersei abandons all pretense of restraint and absolutely cackles, slamming her free hand down on the table with an ear-piercing THUD. It seems that even in laughter, the queen is hard and fierce, not to be trifled with.

A thin, pink sheen wisps across her (admittedly stunning) cheekbones, and Melisandre thinks Cersei ought to laugh more often.

Perhaps they both should.

But, to quote the most cliché of expressions, all good things must come to an end, as Cersei’s expression, if not her body, suddenly sobers up completely. She is staring at Melisandre, but there is no feeling of familiarity, no understanding. It’s almost as if Cersei is studying her, and Melisandre, in her wine-induced fog, can’t make sense of why.

She gets her answer, though in a much less jovial way than she might have wanted.

“Why are you here?”

“What?”

“You and I both know that you had no real reason to come today, so why are you here? What do you want?”

Melisandre should probably be a little afraid. Cautious, at the very least. She is not. It’s probably the wine.

“I wanted to.”

“No one ever wants to be here.” And Cersei looks sad. Broken. Melisandre knows that expression well: it’s the one that’s been on her face every time she’s looked in the mirror since Shireen.

“I…” But Melisandre doesn’t know what to say. For someone so good at giving speeches, inciting crowds into action, for a woman who could make one of the most powerful men alive follow her without a second thought, she cannot think of any words to reasonably continue this conversation.

After a few minutes pass, the best her hazy brain can supply is, “Your…brother…wanted…?”

“Don’t talk about him,” Cersei growls.

And Melisandre is, once again, silent.

(Although, not out of fear. This silence comes from knowing she’s touched upon a sore spot, and she has no reason or desire to keep prodding it further.)

“I know you’re only here to lay out some sort of trap for me. You should leave while I still allow you to.”

“What reason have I given you to distrust me?”

“Everyone has reasons to distrust them.”

She supposed that wasn’t entirely wrong.

“How do I know you aren’t trying to entrap me?”

Cersei scoffs. “What use would I have of that?”

Melisandre tries not to interpret this to mean that she is ultimately unimportant, but she is painfully unsuccessful.

“I know what my reputation is,” the queen continues. “And I know why I have it. I don’t regret any of the things I’ve done to earn it.”

“Neither do I,” Melisandre answers, softly, pained. She probably should regret a lot of things. But she can’t. She was only doing what she had thought was R’hllor’s will. The right thing.

Cersei closes her eyes, grips the table until her knuckles are white. It is now that Melisandre notices the dark circles under her eyes. Likely due to many sleepless nights. Broken faith and extreme responsibility will do that.

“If you distrust me so much, why didn’t you dismiss me? It can’t be because you have any sort of affection toward me. I was under the impression that you didn’t really like anyone.”

Cersei opens her eyes, and their normally brilliant shade of green is diluted with a scattering of unfallen tears.

“I liked my children.” A deep breath. “I loved my children. Every single thing I ever did was to protect my family.” And with that, the tears fall. Followed by many more.

Before Melisandre even has time to process what is currently happening, Cersei begins sobbing quietly.

This is not a situation she knows how to fix.

There was a difference between comforting someone like…Selyse, and someone like Cersei. Selyse would be placated by empty compliments, reassurances that everything was proceeding according to plan, a prayer. None of that would appease Cersei.

She considers leaving the queen to her onslaught of emotions, letting her stew in her bitterness. But some part of her whispers that that’s not fair.

And so she walks the few steps over to the table with the wine to gently pry the crying woman’s hands from her face, before letting her arms wrap hesitantly around her. Because that was a thing people sometimes did when other people were sad, and it seems like a good thing to do. And, well, she doesn’t have any other ideas.

And from the way Cersei immediately clings back and lets her tears fall unrestrained into Melisandre’s hair, punctuated by a breathy “Thank you,” heavy with so many indecipherable emotions, she realizes just how much this woman has needed a hug.

They stay like that for quite a long while. It is deep into the night when Melisandre finally leaves.

After that night, everything changes. There are no more pretenses for their meetings. No charade of discussing politics. Everything is more familiar, softened, easy. Many days they don’t talk of the war at all.

Cersei suspects this is what having a friend must feel like. She won’t pretend that it’s unpleasant, but she knows it’s only a matter of time before something happens. Or before Melisandre abandons her, like everyone else.

…But that doesn’t necessarily mean she can’t indulge right now, does it? It’s been so long since anyone outside of her family made her feel something that wasn’t excruciating disappointment.

The servants are starting to talk, crying out that “history is repeating” and “has she learned nothing from Stannis.”

If Cersei were capable of simple leisure anymore, she would be laughing almost constantly. Stannis, with his over-inflated sense of responsibility and one-sided justice. He never needed the Red Woman to cause his own ruin. He had only kept himself alive as long as he had because of Melisandre’s council, divorced from his obsessions with keeping the realm pristine and with drawing lines no one was allowed to cross

With everything Stannis pretended he was, he could never have truly appreciated her.

It is late, and she has met her visitor just inside the gate. They begin their walk back to the Red Keep, passing two stable boys who have just finished repairing one of the walls. The younger of the two looks at the woman cloaked in red, expression a mix between panic and barely-suppressed anger. They run away as fast as their small legs can carry them, and the older one whispers something about “the fall of House Baratheon” just before they vanish out of sight into one of the many dark alleys that adorn this part of the castle.

Cersei hears a sharp exhalation beside her, and Melisandre’s face, made at once both smooth and angular by the glow of the moon, looks how Cersei imagines her own had upon hearing of Tyrion’s escape.

“I think it best I should leave.” Her friend ally guest occasional conversation partner speaks tensely, almost as if she could shatter at the insult, were she too uncareful. She whirls around and starts moving back toward the gate.

“Melisandre,” Cersei says, and they both freeze. They both know this is the first time she has openly addressed her by name, without an accompanying title or epithet.

And the tension instantly slides off Melisandre’s face, as simple as a flame being extinguished by a puff of air.

Cersei looks at her inquiringly; Melisandre meets her eyes, nodding stiffly. They stroll back to their customary meeting spot, and Cersei feels a nervousness she can’t name creep up her neck and around her skull. She thinks she hears her escort of choice breathe observably louder than usual as they step over the threshold into the room. She isn’t sure what this means, other than it makes the dreadful feeling worse.

She tries to think of something to say, but her mind is blank. As if someone has burned away all the thoughts in it, or spilled an inkwell over any pages of conversation she might have pre-written, rendering them unreadable.

To give herself something to do, she decides to light a few candles. But she finds herself so distracted by whatever-in-the-Seven’s-name this is that she burns her finger, a small “Aarh” escaping her mouth, unbidden. Melisandre glances over in concern, and-upon realizing what has happened-gently walks forward to help. At this point, Cersei is scrambling to light a second candle. Quite ineffectively, as her finger hurts too much for her to use it for anything.

Red hair brushes over Cersei’s arm as Melisandre takes the candle and the stick used to light it. Their hands brush during this exchange, and for some curious reason, Melisandre keeps her head down, pretending to be fascinated by the tendrils of smoke peeling off from the candelabra as she transfers flame to the rest of the candles.

She pulls a handkerchief out of some fold of her dress (red, always red, like the color of Cersei’s house or the blood that runs through her veins), and, instead of merely handing over the scrap of fabric, gingerly winds it around Cersei’s injured finger with utmost care.

“There,” the Red Woman murmurs. Her hand is still on her makeshift bandage, curled around Cersei’s finger; her eyes are wide, her lips pressed tightly together, as if trying not to say something.

A minute passes and still neither of them lets go.

Shrouded in the half-light of the candles, Melisandre continues to keep her gazed fixed to the ground, and Cersei feels an increasing need for her to, instead, train her deep blue eyes on Cersei’s green. There is no practical reason for her to want this, other than an inkling that, should it happen, the strange and terrible feeling will lessen. Eventually, she is rewarded for her patience; Melisandre seems to resolve some inner conflict before looking into her eyes unwaveringly, taking her available hand and hesitantly tucking a lone, stray thread of hair behind Cersei’s ear.

Cersei’s breath catches, and she realizes just what that feeling is.

Melisandre nearly crashes her hand back down against her side in a rush to get it away from Cersei’s face. The skin around her eyes is taut, the rest of her face colored with trepidation. She looks…

…Afraid.

That was not an emotion she had ever thought she’s see on Melisandre’s face. She had somehow thought her incapable of feeling such a thing. A thrill rushes through her at the idea that, in a world containing the Undead, dragons, endless stretches of war and struggle and death, she alone was responsible for this expression gracing the Red Woman’s face.

She can tell Melisandre wants to leave, convinced she has crossed a boundary that cannot be uncrossed. And if it were anyone else, she would gladly tell them to get out.

But that isn’t what she wants.

It’s been quite a long time since she’s truly gotten what she wants.

So, before her conversation partner guest ally friend can so much as turn around, she frames her face between her hands and kisses her.

Melisandre responds enthusiastically, fisting one hand in Cersei’s short hair, the other wrapping around her waist in an effort to pull their bodies closer together.

Cersei thought kissing a woman would be…different…somehow. And it was. But not as drastically as she had assumed. It was an odd contradiction of having an intimate knowledge of what was effective (such as running her thumb over Melisandre’s cheek here), and being acutely aware that the body pressed against hers was of a different shape and construction than any of those she had previously allowed this close to her.

It’s intoxicating.

All she feels a heady sensation a thousand times more powerful than even the strongest wine, and everything, everything is Melisandre.

She is no longer foolish enough to believe in the existence of happiness. But perhaps this comes close.

 It’s not as pronounced of a change in their relationship as last time, but it is, undoubtedly, a more meaningful one.

The remnants of stilted distrust have given way to a new openness between them, one punctuated by languid kisses and running soft fingers through the other’s hair.

Now, when Cersei’s eyebrows knit together while revising a battle plan, Melisandre can place a gentle hand there to smooth them out. When Melisandre experiments with fire, Cersei is there to tell her (bluntly, with a hint of irritation) when she is breaking her focus and to ask her what more she needs.

They have formed a cohesive unit; their plans to stop the Dragon Queen and the Undead have reached their final stages. Melisandre is practicing what magic she can, and when they are not finding solace in each other for a few precious moments, they are reviewing and re-reviewing war tactics. The end is near. For some, if not all of them.

“We attack tomorrow,” Cersei pronounces. Resigned. Resolute.

Everything that had happened over the past year had been building up to this.

Cersei’s newborn son has been sent away with one of the only knights the two of them have agreed she can trust. If God is kind, the boy will be tucked away in the far southwest, on the coast of an unmapped island, cared for and defended.

Everything is in place. Except for one small item of discussion.

“Absolutely not.”

“I am not asking you to spare anyone else. Just the girl.”

“Why should I spare Sansa? How could I justify that?” Cersei turns from the window she had been staring out of. The wind ruffles the top of her head and she looks graceful, poised.

(Beautiful.)

“We are not allowed to pay favorites in war, Melisandre.”

“She has been nothing but an agent of peace. Every single thing the Dragon Queen has done, she has been against. If we need anyone left alive on our side when this is over, it must be her.”

Cersei remains unconvinced.

“Her sole motive has been to protect her family and vanquish the Undead. Surely you can understand that.”

The barely-perceptible droop in Cersei’s shoulders indicates that she does.

“The world is not done with her yet. She simply wants to be left alone. She won’t disturb you if the North is safe. If you want to protect your child, sparing Sansa Stark will help do that.”

“Very well. I will spare her. Only. Her.”

“Promise me. For the love of this country—”

“I don’t love this country. I love you.” Her eyes drift wistfully out the window once more, mind temporarily lost in a dream of some other, happier, theoretical life. “I love my child. More than anything. More than my own life.” Cersei’s eyes shift back to the here and now, her gaze piercing, but almost as if in a show of bravado. She is posturing, trying to undo this show of vulnerability. And as Melisandre takes in her rigid back; clenched hands, with sharp, leonine nails digging into them; eyes fighting desperately to stay open instead of closing to indulge in some other, less ferocious emotion, she realizes that Cersei is afraid she’ll leave. Even now.

Extreme, non-pious emotions have never been something she wore well. But she cannot let this woman stand here and doubt her loyalty. She cannot let her think her trust and love have gone unrequited.

“I assumed I would never know what it meant to love something that wasn’t God. I never thought myself capable. You proved both of those things to be false. Thank you for that.”

The smile on Cersei’s face is sweet, tender, almost beatific in its loveliness.

When she turns toward the window again, her demeanor has changed into something almost unrecognizable. She looks oddly calm for someone about to end a war years in the making.

Melisandre takes a few steps and joins her, surveys the starless sky, feels the icy, uncomfortable breeze on her face.

And as Cersei quietly threads her hand through hers, Melisandre feels that strange sense of calmness wash over her, too.

For, whatever happened, they would face it together.