#AND HE WAS COMMANDING BOTH OF HIS MONS AS THEY FLEW THROUGH THE SKY HE WAS LITERALLY SHOUTING WHERE HE STOOD AMETHIO MY GGGGGGG

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

Pokémon Horizons Episode 33 spoilers under the cut!

RAYQUAZA STOP HE'S ALREADY DEAD !!! 😭😭😭💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

May I have a scenario/imagine, whichever makes more sense, of Trey, Rook, and Crewel trying to tame some sort of wild, magical invasive species of Poison Ivy that has taken over the greenhouse?

Crewel gives me perpetually disappointed wine aunt father vibes. This piece also lowkey turned out to be Trey x Rook, but you didn’t read that from me.

This imagine’s longer than my usual 1k word self-imposed limit, since it goes out to a friend of mine that’s been supporting me through final projects and exams. I’m not sure if they’d want me tagging them so publicly, but they know who they are.

Imagine this...

To Professor Crewel’s chagrin, members of the Science Club had never had strong academic intent. In actuality, the club was a thinly veiled excuse to bake cakes (just to find the perfect ratio of leaveners and sweeteners!) and to stalk watch students in their natural habitats (nothing wrong with an impromptu observational study, right?). Instead of test tubes and beakers, the lab benches were littered with cake pans and photographs of unsuspecting Savanaclaw students.

“I do wish you two would take this club more seriously,” Crewel would often gripe, fingers massaging his temples. “Science is not a play thing, it is a powerful tool with which we can use to redefine and reshape the world around us.”

Such were the woes of an instructor--but today, he had no time to lament.

Crewel’s jaw tightened as he gazed upon a sprawling mess--the shattered glass panes of the Botanical Garden, with massive stalks of ivy reaching for the skies. Casualties lined the ground--plants and flowers drained dry of their life, all withered and decayed. The ivy writhed in glee.

(He shouldn’t have been surprised that the headmaster summoned him and the Science Club to resolve the issue instead of hiring a real exterminator.)

“How unseemly,” Crewel noted, clicking his tongue. “Running amok and ruining so many of the specimens we’ve carefully cultivated... This shall not go unpunished.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Clover.”

“Yes.” Trey stepped forward, his magical pen ready.

“Hunt.”

“Oui.” Rook followed suit, smoothly drawing forth his own pen.

“The time has come to prove your mettle,” Crewel announced, rapping his pointer against his palm. His onyx eyes seethed with a quiet, controlled rage. “Show this overgrown weed what the Science Club is truly capable of.”

At his command, the boys nodded and tore off toward the Botanical Garden.

Crewel held his ground. The corners of his mouth curled into a condescending smirk as he addressed the poison ivy. “Come here.”

An arm of ivy flew at him, so fast that it was but a blur.

An alive, but livid, blur.

“Heel!”

A column of fire erupted from Crewel’s pointer. His attack slammed against the plant, settings its leaves awash in embers. The rogue plant let out a sky-splitting roar.

The battle had just begun.

Trey ducked under an arc of burning ivy and threw open the door to the Botanical Garden. Tucking his limbs in, he barreled through right as more ivy snaked in to seal off the entrance once more.

He could feel the heat upon his back, the earth quaking under his feet, and Rook close behind him--yet he willed himself to keep his eyes glued ahead, even as he launched across the threshold and into a terrifying new realm.

The inside of the greenhouse now glistened with ivy--covering the glass panes, slowly strangling what few plants remained. The Botanical Garden had always been warm before, but it was unusually so today. Sweltering, and almost so humid that the floors and walls seem to eerily pulsate with life.

“Keep your wits about you, and don’t look back, boys,” Crewel had instructed them. “Just get in there, and cut it off at its source--at the heart.”

Trey’s eyes darted this way and that. Green, green, green. It all looked the same to him. Where in the world was the point of origin?

“Got any ideas?!” He glanced over his shoulder at his partner--and his protective goggles nearly went askew.

Rook had dropped to one knee, pressing a gloved hand against the floor--now a carpet of vines. “Hoooh! What a fascinating specimen!” he marveled. “Such destructive power, and yet it also sports this emerald sheen... Très manifique!”

“H-Hey... No offense, but I don’t think now’s the time to stop and sniff the roses. Or, well. I guess it would be ivy in this case.”

“Non, non! There is always time for beauty--even in dire situations!” Rook insisted, his hands continuing to grope around. His eyes suddenly creased, and his smile turned sly. “Ah, te voilà.”

“Even if you say that, that’s not going to help us fix this...!!”

“Calm yourself, Chevalier des Roses,” Rook advised with an airy laugh. He cupped a hand to his ear and beamed. “Listen closely! Surely even your own heart beckons you to still your worries.”

“Heart?” Trey straightened, adamant as he folded his arms. “Sorry, but I just don’t believe in stuff like that. Come on, Rook. We need to focus--Crewel-sensei’s trusting us with this task.”

He cast a concerned glance at the doorway, ensnared in vines. They’d have to blast their way through later--but if they stayed in this space for too long, they, too, would soon be drained of all their life force. “We can’t just mess around!”

“Ah--but you must put your faith in me as well, Chevalier des Roses!” Rook insisted, pointing to the patch of floor that he had been not-too-subtly groping earlier. “I implore you to lend me your strength!”

“You want me to attack the gr--?!” Trey froze mid-sentence. He had become vaguely aware of a gentle sensation creeping around his ankles.

In an instant, he was yanked into the air, dangling upside down like a useless rag doll. Blood rushed to his head, and his surroundings spun.

“Chevalier des Roses!!”

“I’m fine!! I-I’m fine!” Trey called--though he clearly wasn’t. “I can just--” He waved his magical pen, the air growing tense as a small ball of fire collected at his command.

“Non!” Rook warned, startling his classmate. “There is nothing to cushion your descent, mon amie! You will surely break a leg--and certainly not in the theatrical sense!”

He’s right. Trey’s fire extinguished itself, replaced by a chill crawling down his spine.

“A little help then?!”

Rook’s eyes widened. “You would give me your trust?”

“Not exactly like I have any other choice.” Trey would shrug, but it was a rather difficult motion to pull off while suspended midair--and far more troublesome, his veins ran cold. It was a sure sign of the ivy sapping his energy.

“Have no fear! Today, it shall be my turn to be the chevalier.” The hunter grinned from ear to ear, magical pen in hand.

“Please, Rook! Any day now--before I become plant food!” Trey’s voice was hoarse--from exasperation, or from the magical ivy, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“Just for today, I shall be your Chevalier D’amour.”

And with a confident wink, Rook plunged the ivy-covered floor into a sea of flames.

The accursed plant wailed as it shriveled to ash upon a backdrop of billowing smoke. Embers flickered and danced in the afternoon, the Botanical Garden set ablaze. Crewel took a step back, grimacing at the growing fire.

A figure emerged from the greenhouse, carrying another. The professor squinted into the smoke, pinpointing the familiar outline of his Science Club members--Rook, cradling a pale-looking Trey in his strong arms.

“Puppies.” Crewel pinched his temples.

“C’est chose faite--it is now done.” The brim of Rook’s hat eclipsed his eyes, making the typically cheery hunter appear dark to match his tone. Then he lifted his head, basking in the sunshine, and that somber moment was over. “All is well and good again, as it should be!”

“I... I thought I was going to die,” Trey groaned. “... And Rook, I appreciate you catching my fall, but you didn’t need to carry me out like you’re an action hero in a movie or something.”

“Are you able to still stand after an attack from that heinous plant?”

“Yeah. Just put me down.”

“Oui.”

Trey stood on shaky legs--and instinctively leaned on Rook’s shoulder.

“Well, boys. You’ve exterminated the ivy--as well as just about every other plant in the Botanical Garden. How exactly do you intend to atone for this?!” Crewel snapped, whipping his pointer at his students. “I believe my instructions were quite clear--destroy only the heart of the ivy.”

“The fault lies with me, Monsieur,” Rook declared, dipping into a bow. “We dallied for longer than was necessary, and in a moment of panic, I unleashed my magic.”

“Always one with a flair for the dramatic. Unfortunately, that will not serve you well in detention, Hunt.”

“Wait. Crewel-sensei, that’s not the whole story,” Trey interrupted. “Rook got me out of a pinch--and he deserves credit for that. He’s also the one that found out where the ivy’s heart was--buried in the floor itself. I didn’t realize until it was too late.”

The professor’s lips pursed into a straight line. “Clover, are you confessing to your own negligence?”

“I am.” He nodded firmly. “I’m the one that deserves the detention.”

“Trey-kun is not responsible!” Rook protested. “He is the one that attempted to set us on the right path. I refused to heed his advice, which led to events escalating.”

“I didn’t listen to Rook when he tried to tell me about what I needed to do.”

“I should have phrased it more concisely.”

“You--”

“Trey-kun--”

“Enough. It is clear to me that both of you contributed to this chaos.” Crewel sighed. “... Hunt, take Clover to the infirmary. I will put out the fire myself.

“... Are you letting us go?”

“Of course not. Once you’ve recovered, Clover... you boys will be restoring plants in the Botanical Garden for the remainder of the semester as punishment.”

“Ahhh, I should’ve known. Riddle’s not gonna like this at all.”

“Chin up, Chevalier des Roses! At the very least, we shall have each other’s company!” Rook laughs, smacking Trey on the back and sending his peer nearly doubling over.

Crewel sighed once more--he was disappointed, but not surprised.

His Science Club puppies still had a long way to go.

[lillywillow]

From Russia With Love

Summary: When Steve and Bucky investigate an old HYDRA base left over from World War II, they find something nobody could have ever predicted... A pilot from the legendary 588th night bomber regiment frozen in time.

 Word Count: 2117

 Square Filled: Military Base

 Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

 Warnings: WWII warfare, slight angst

Written for @star-spangled-bingo

 Author’s Note: Although I will be using real historical people and events, some of the names and actions I will be using are fictional. The 588th night bomber regiment were an all female squadron from Russia in World War II. They were given hand-me-down men’s uniforms and poor, outdated equipment. Their planes were not designed for combat. The planes let out a whistle as it idled through the sky which the German’s thought sounded like a broomstick, giving them the nickname ‘Die Nachthexen’ or Night Witches.

 Germany, 1944. Three Polikarpov U-2 biplanes move silently through the night sky, their engines cut at the behest of the navigators. A soldier was making his rounds about the perimeter of the base when an unearthly scream pierced the air. A chill ran down his spine as he looked around. Suddenly, a shadow of a plane darkens the ground. The soldier abruptly realised what was happening.

 “Die Nachthexen!” he screamed. The base was rapidly brought to life with activity when the air raid siren wailed. Soldiers rushed to man the anti-aircraft guns as the Night Witches dropped the first bomb. Two of the planes broke formation to draw away the ground fire as the third dropped the next bomb. The last plane made a sharp turn and was able to drop the last bomb on the base. With their mission complete, the engines went back on and the planes headed home to Russia.

 Out of nowhere, a German fighter plane appeared. The biplanes were slower but their much smaller size gave them an advantage in the fact they had a tight turning ratio but for one plane, it wasn’t enough. One of the pilots cried out in pain as a bullet grazed her arm. The canvas wings of the plane were ablaze, there was no other option but to bring the plane down. The navigator held the pilot’s shoulders to steady her as they crashed into the ground.

 Dazed by the impact, the pilot held her head, feeling something wet and warm drip down her face. She turned behind her to check on her navigator whose head was slumped to her chest. She reached for her hand.

 “Yelena... I’m sorry...” Black spots swam in her vision before the darkness took over.

...

Germany, present day. Steve and Bucky were called on a mission to investigate what was possibly a HYDRA base left over from WWII. On their way in, they noticed the remains of a downed plane a few miles out from the base that nature had taken over in the course of sixty years give or take. On the surface, it had the hell bombed out of it. Steve managed to find a charred door in amongst the wreckage and went in, Bucky following behind. Underground was a rabbit warren of rooms and passageways, their secrets lost to time, waiting to be uncovered.

 “We should split up,” Steve said, getting out his flashlight. Bucky nodded and got out his own. The duo headed in, checking each and every room for anything that might be of HYDRA origin.

 This place gave Bucky the creeps and bad memories began to invade his mind; memories of when he lost his identity of Sergeant James Buchannan Barnes and given the new one of The Winter Soldier. Room after room they looked in until Steve found something.

 “Buck, you gotta see this...” Bucky made his way to where Steve called him to and whatever he was expecting, this was not it. The room was still lit with sickening fluorescent lights. In the back corner, there were two pods. One was empty, whatever test subject it held was long gone. The other had a woman still cryogenically frozen inside. Bucky placed his right hand on the glass.

 “She’s just like me...”

 “Think you can make sense of these?” Steve asked, holding up a dusty file written in German. Bucky picked them up and read through the notes. It stated the woman’s name and why she was there. There was also information on a second woman, presumably whoever was in the second pod. Apparently, they were going to be used for a programme akin to the Winter Soldiers or the Red Room but the project had been scrapped and only one of the subjects was moved.

 “I’m going to let Fury know what we’ve found.” Steve headed out to make the call but Bucky stayed behind. He couldn’t leave this woman all alone now that he knew she was there.

...

 Feeling a pounding in your head, you opened your eyes. Slowly, you sat up, looking around. You appeared to be back in your base. Funny... you didn’t remember making it back. The last thing you remembered was crashing after completing a mission. Was a rescue sent out and that’s how you got here? You spotted another woman in one of the other beds. Steadily, you got up and went over to her.

 “Come on, Yelena. We’ve got another mission,” you said, shaking her shoulder. As she sat up, you immediately noticed that this was not your navigator.

 “You’re not Yelena...”

 “No, I’m a new recruit. My name is Natalia Romanova,” she replied in Russian.

 “Well I hope you’re a quick study, Natalia. Major Bershanskaya will not make things easy for you. Now get ready. Training for you starts now.”

 As you got dressed, something struck you as very odd. Your uniform fitted perfectly like it was tailored for you and your boots weren’t oversized. It set off alarm bells in your head but you didn’t want to frighten the new girl. As you headed out, you saw an officer standing and waiting for you.

 “Who are you?” you asked, confused as to why this man would be here, especially one who looked so high up in command. Something else that you noticed was that there were planes around the base.

 “I’m your new commanding officer...” That did it. There was no way your commander would leave her girls. You managed to snatch his sidearm but even faster, Natalia had you in a headlock, one hand holding the wrist you held the gun.

 “Who are you?! Where am I?! What have you done with Yelena?! Where is my navigator?!” The pair exchanged a look and conversed in English, something you didn’t understand.

 “I can explain everything... just give me the gun,” the man prompted. Slowly, you handed him the sidearm which he put away and Natalia let go of you.

 “You have been asleep for over sixty years...”

 “What?! How?! We... we were just there... and... Yelena! Where is she? Is she okay? Is she safe?” The pair exchanged another look.

 “You were the only one we found in the base...” You broke down sobbing and straight away the man held you up as you trembled. He rubbed your back and stroked your hair which you found strangely comforting. How could you have been asleep for sixty years? It was only hours ago you were flying to drop bombs on German bases.

...

 A few hours later, you were sitting by the window of the room which had been set up for you thinking over all the new information which had been given to you. They had given you new clothes but the only ones who spoke your language were the ones you met at the fake base camp. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

 “May I come in?” A male’s voice asked.

 “Yes...” The man who you came to learn was named Bucky walked in with a plate of food.

 “I thought you might like something to eat...”

 “I’m not hungry...”

 “I know what you’re going through but you still need to eat...”

 “How could you possibly know what I’m going through?! Do you know what it’s like to be with friends one minute and find out they’re all gone?! To wake up in a strange place with strange people?! To have no idea what the hell is going on?!” He was quiet for a few moments.

“Actually... I do.” You were taken aback from his response. Bucky sat down on your bed and began telling you his life’s story.

 He told you about his best friend Steve who always used to getting in trouble. He enlisted in the American army the moment he could. His time in the Howling Commandos. About how he fell off the train and became a weapon for HYDRA for decades. As he spoke, his eyes began to ghost over, reliving the old memories that you could see were haunting him. You sat next to him and held his hand. Bucky hastily wiped his eyes.

 “What about you? Tell me your story...”

 You smiled softly. You told him about your father who died defending Osowiec Fortress and how it inspired you to fight for your country. When the call went out for women to fly bomber planes, you and your best friend Yelena Belsky both applied and got in, you as a pilot and she as a navigator. You flew many sorties together. Your commander Major Yevdokiya Bershanskaya was stern but fair with you girls but taught you everything you knew. You spoke about your last mission, the one you were on when your plane was shot down.

 Bucky listened to your every word, looking at you with total admiration. Most of the men looked at you with pity or distain. You couldn’t help but blush a little under his intense gaze.

 “I, um... I think I’ll have something to eat now,” you mumbled, taking the plate he brought with him. “Thank you...”

 “Anytime... if you ever want to talk, you can always come to me. Nat should be available too...”

 “I appreciate that.”

 To Bucky, those memories were a lifetime ago but to you, they were only like yesterday. It somehow felt good to share those stories with someone who understood what it was like to go through the same thing you were.

...

 The months flew by and before you knew it, a year had passed. Between Natasha and Bucky you were now fluent in English. They taught you hand to hand combat and other things you would need to join The Avengers, although, you were pretty much an ace pilot when it came to the jets. Natasha became your best friend and you frequently spoke in Russian with her. You formed a bond with Steve too once the language barrier came down, sharing war stories with each other but the person on the team you were closest to was Bucky. He taught you a lot over the months and it wasn’t long before you started dating. It was inevitable.

...

 One night, you were standing on the balcony, looking at the moon and thinking about that fateful night you were assigned to bomb that base all those years ago. You wondered if your friend was dead or alive. The team had told you they would help you find her, searching all HYDRA archives they came across and Bucky helped you to follow every lead. Your heart hoped for the best but you knew to expect the worst.

 “Hey, Doll.” You turned to see Bucky standing in the doorway. He walked over to you and put his arm around you, kissing your head. “What’s on your mind?”

 “Yelena... I can’t help but hope that I’ll find her one day. She was like my sister. Natasha has been wonderful, you all have but it’s hard being stuck in the past...”

 “Tell me about it,” Bucky muttered softly. “You know... it’s been just over a year now since we met...”

 “So it has,” you wistfully replied. “Time sure flies...”

 “It sure does... and I don’t want to waste any more of it.” You looked confused as Bucky pulled away from you.

 “When I was called on that mission to uncover an old HYDRA base, I never thought I would meet the love of my life. You’re one of the bravest, strongest, most incredibly women I know. Will you marry me?” Bucky got down on one knee and presented you with a beautiful ring. You couldn’t help but tear up.

 “Yes, Bucky, I will!” Bucky smiled and stood up, sliding the ring on your finger and kissing you.

 Who knew that a German base lost to time would connect two military personals so perfectly together?

[emperorsfoot]

This is not part of my larger Sky High fic series. This is an alternate version of the first meeting between Barron Battle and Ms. Peace. 

Barron Battle loses his glasses. Mara Peace finds them.

...

One of her fireballs finally connected, catching the villain on the side of the head. The hood of his costume was singed by the heat, and the force and air pressure of the blow threw him off balance. The supervillain went tumbling off the catwalk.

He hit the ground with a hard THUD.

Flamebird landed next to him.

It was her first time going up against this particular supervillain. He was not a member of her usual rogues gallery. In fact, he was the self-proclaimed ‘Arch Nemesis’ of the Commander. But that didn’t mean much. The Commander had, like, twenty ‘Arch Nemeses’.

Dressed all in black, not unusual for a supervillain. A hooded vest, boiled leather polished to an almost satiny shine. Buckles on the sides. An emblem of crossed swords on the best. She was sure his villain name was something dramatic and violent, but Flamebird could not imagine what it was. Maxville had so many villains, and this guy wasn’t one of her usual ones. It was had to keep tracks of the names that went with the costumes.

Hell! He probably didn’t know what name went to her costume either!

“It’s over-“ a pauses because she really could not remember what he was supposed to be called “-villain!” Flambird hovered over him, arms crossed over her chest. Stiletto-heeled boots dangling mere inches above his hooded head. If he wanted to continue the fight, all he had to do was reach up and grab her ankle. She was definitely giving him an opening. “It’s in your interest if you surrender! Turning yourself in could earn you leniency. But if you- you- hey! Are you paying attention!?”

He was not even looking at her.

And Flamebird was striking one of her better mid-air, low-hovering poses too. Arms crossed, pushing her –mostly flat- breasts up, making them look bigger than they actually were. Turned a quarter turn to the side, making her waist look smaller. Legs crossed at the ankle, making her hips look wider. She just an alluring figure. A figure that was expertly complemented by the costume she wore.

A tight little number. Thigh-high stiletto boots. Bare legs. Booty shorts that showed off the curve of her hips and the round bottoms of her butt-cheeks. An exposed mid-rift displaying her flat belly and toned abs, adorned with a belly-button ring that sparkled red. The top covered a lot in comparison to the rest. Long sleeved and high collared. It hit how small her breast were and allowed attention to fall to the more alluring parts of her body.

But this supervillain didn’t even raise his head to look at her!

Instead, he was on his hands and knees, head down, hands outstretched in front of him. Feeling around on the ground. As if he were looking for something.

“I can still hear you, Sparky.” Apparently, he did not know what name to put to her costume either. “Keep monologueing.”

Thrown off her game, she actually did continue. “Your evil machinations are through! You’re only course now is to- I’m sorry, but what are you doing?”

What was he looking for on the floor that was more important than starring at her shapely figure while she rubbed his nose in his defeat.

“It's nothing you need to worry about, Hero.” He assured her. “I’ve just lost my glasses.”

“You- your- you wear glasses?” Flamebird blinked at him. “But you’re a supervillain! You’re all… all black leather and buckles, and- with so many knives, and- and-!?”

“I’m still human, Sparky.” He told her. “I like to read. Sometimes I don’t always have the best light. Enough years like that and it’ll eventually ruin your eyes too.”

Blinking her own eyes behind her mask, Flambird just stared at him. At this terrifying supervillain from the Commander’s rouges gallery, who claimed to be the Commander’s Arch Nemesis. Who was dressed head to toe in black. Leather and buckles. He looked like a total badass! …up until he fell off the catwalk and lost… his glasses.

Now he was just an edgy Velma feeling around on the ground for his glasses.

Heaving a sigh, Flambird landed on the ground. She looked around the immediate area. Nothing stood out to her as looking like glasses.

Raising a hand into the air, she created a ball of fire. Expanding it until it illuminated the whole warehouse.

There!

She saw the flames flicker. Reflected off the glass lenses and wire frames.

Leaving the fireball burning in mid-air in the center of the warehouse, Flambird crossed the space to pick them up. A pair of wire frames, with lenses, and thick glass. Curiously, she put them on over her own mask. Hot damn! This guy’s eyes must be really, really bad! Everything was blurry through his prescription lenses. The only visible thing was her own ball of fire in the center of the space. No wonder he was feeling around like a character from Scooby-Doo. He was literally, actually, effectively blind without them.

Flamebird flew back over to him. “Here.”

Leaning down, she pulled the leather hood off his head.

A cascade of sweat-soaked hair tumbled over his shoulders. Messy from being in the hood –and probably their fight too. Dark brown, a brown so dark it might as well have been black. Thick and curly, and kinda long for a guy. It framed his face nicely, giving him roguish, untamed, almost wild look. The face was also pretty nice too. Handsome in a rugged sort of way. Square jaw and high cheekbones. A straight nose. Thick eyebrows. And his eyes! A rich dark brown. Not brown like his hair was brown. Brown like deep woods or rich earth. Flamebird decided she liked the way he looked.

“You’re beautiful.” She breathed, not realizing she was even speaking.

It was a shame he was a villain.

He grabbed his hood and yanked it back up over his head. “You won’t think that once I find my glasses.”

Kneeling down in front of him, Flambird slid his wire frames onto his face. “These glasses?”

He blinked at her. Able to see her again now. Mouth hanging open slightly.

He was right. He was not quite as roguish and wild with the glasses on. But he was still handsome. In more of a ‘scruffy, overworked academic’ way. With those glasses on, and maybe his hair combed and pulled back he would look very neat and clean-cut. He could easily pull off both.

“You’re still pretty.” She announced.

He just stared at her.

Flamebird didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Kneling on the floor, just looking at each other. Doing nothing more than making eye-contact. Her hands were still resting on the wire frames of his glasses.

Finally, he cleared his throat, pulling away first.

She blinked behind her mask.

“Oh! Um…?” She pulled away.

He also backed up.

They stood there for a beat. Unsure of what was supposed to happen now. This was not usually how super-fights went.

“You, uh, you were in the middle of your monologue.” He finally reminded her.

“Huh? Oh! Yeah.” She nodded, hovering back up into the air. Looking down on him. “It’s over, villain! Your-“ she paused, shoulders slumping, “I’m sorry, but what is your name?”

He looked up at her with a confused frown, the only part of his face visible from under the shadow of his hood was his chin, his mouth downturned in that frown, and straight nose. She couldn’t even tell he was wearing glasses. “Battle will do.”

“Really?” She looked at him. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s your name?” He growled back. Though, he was suddenly grinning for some inexplicable reason. As if this weren’t a normal super-fight anymore. As if this had somehow become… friendly banter?

She stared down at him. “Flamebird.”

His head tilted up more, looking her up and down. This time, she could just make out the bottoms of his wire frames. “Fire powers and flight.” He noted. “Flame. Bird.” A shrug. “Makes sense. A little simplistic. But easy to understand.”

“Yeah.” She agreed. “It is easy to understand. Way easier than ‘Battle’. What’s that supposed to mean? All I’ve seen you do all day is just not get hurt.”

“I get hurt.” Battle assured her. “I just heal really fast.” A pause. Then, muttered under his breath so that she wasn’t sure she even heard right. “...And don’t die.”

Since she didn’t understand the last comment and wasn’t sure if she even heard right, Flamebird decided to ignore it. “And the name ‘Battle’ is…?”

“It’s my name.” He told her.

“No, I get that.” She assured him. “But what does it have to do with your powers? Or your motivations? Or your aesthetic? Why did you choose ‘Battle’ as your supervillain name?”

“It’s not my supervillain name.” Battle informed her. “It’s my name, name.” A pause. “You didn’t go to Sky High, did you?”

“I did!” Flamebird assured him. “Class of ’81.”

“Huh.” He nodded. “So, you’re freshman year would have been the ’77-’78 school year. Your freshman year was my senior year. You seriously don’t remember going to school with a guy named Battle? I mean, I got the lead role in the senior class production of Oklahoma!”

Flamebird landed on the ground in front of him. “Okay, first of all, the lead role in Oklahoma is a female role. I assume you didn’t play Laurey. Curly and Jud were supporting roles. Secondly, all I remember about the senior class my freshman year was this one obnoxious asshole who just had to be adored by everyone.” A pause. “Stan…? Stew…? Steve…? Something like that.”

Battle lowered his hood so that she could see his face. His whole face. Behind his glasses, he was staring at her with surprised admiration. “He was an obnoxious asshole! Yes! Thank you!”

“I’m guessing he was your arch rival.” She seemed unimpressed.

“You have no idea.” Battle told her. “He was just the worst!”

She only shrugged. They were not in the same grade and at the end of the school year, he was gone so she never really had the opportunity to form an opinion.

“Hey, are you still gonna do your monologue?” He asked.

“Huh?”

“Your monologue.” Battle repeated. “Are you still gonna talk my ear off about ethics and ‘good’ or whatever then take me in?”

“Oh.” She honestly forgot that was what was supposed to be happening here.

“’Cause I’d kinda like to take you out.” Battle announced.

Flamebird leaped back into the air, both arms igniting with fire. “You can try. But I’ll roast you alive!”

“No, no, no.” Battle assured her calmly. He understood the misunderstanding. “I mean, for coffee or something. Do you drink coffee?”

Flamebird lowered her arms, they were still on fire, but she wasn’t in a fighting stance anymore. “Oh. Um… I don’t really date guys I meet in costume…”

Battle noted that she did not say she did not date supervillains, just that she did not date people she met as ‘Flamebird’.

“I see.” He nodded, grinning a mischievous grin. “But, if you were to meet someone outside of costume… Say, at a dimly lit coffee shop in downtown? Perhaps you might see someone you recognize, sitting in the back corner against the wall, reading something by Thomas Aquinas, and if you were to come over and say ‘hi’…”

“Ooh, Aquinas.” She sucked in a breath between her teeth, recognizing the name. “So, you think you preform good acts with bad consequences. Not surprised. He’s exactly the kind of philosopher I’d expect a supervillain to read.”

He looked momentarily insulted.

“So, what would you do if some random woman comes up to you and starts educating you on more Kantian views instead?”

Battle smiled at her. “I think she and I would have a lot to talk about.”

Flamebird smiled back at him. For a supervillain, this Battle was actually rather charming. Was this really happening? Was she actually considering meeting him out of costume for coffee?

“Now, I’m gonna need you to think fast, Sparky.” He told her.

“Wha-?”

That was all the warning she got before Battle threw one of his weapons at the catwalk supports. A segment of the walkway began crashing down and Flamebird needed to do some quick flying to get out of the way before she was struck by some falling stray metal.

“The coffee shop on the corner of Hamilton and Main!” She heard Battle’s voice call as he disappeared into the night.

…

END

[captainmazzic]

Regenesis: Prologue

A world has succumbed to the power of an untested superweapon, and the few survivors emerge from the wreckage to discover just how alone in the universe they really are.

The Republic had succeeded in combining the technologies of two of their superweapon designs – the Null Cannon and the Planet Prison. This monstrosity was located on a starship specifically designed to house it, called the Regenesis, and it required extensive amounts of preparation and energy to target, charge, and fire it. When fired at a planetoid, it created an immense, widening sphere of plasmo-ionic energy. It enveloped the world that was targeted, and all electronic and digital technology was immediately rendered completely damaged, inoperable, and irreparable – all ships and their systems, all computers, blasters, lightsabers, cybernetics, communication devices, batteries, life support, droids, nanotechnology, even down to timekeeping devices and flashlights. It had the unexpected and unfortunate side effect of also causing plasma fires – many of the technological devices it disabled would be set aflame, and the world it targeted would be enveloped in a chain reaction that overcharged the atmosphere, causing sudden and severe lightning storms, firestorms, and often instantly boiling any large bodies of water at the primary point of contact from the plasmo-ionic blast, which could cause tsunamis, flash flooding, hurricanes, and other severe natural disasters.

The Republic chose to deploy this weapon for the first, and last, time to the planet Refnar, in the Pakuuni Sector. While Refnar itself was barely populated – with only a single small spaceport that functioned primarily as a refueling station and bare-bones trading post – the sector it was in had long been hotly contested space. The planet itself was more often than not in the hands of the Empire. Although not along any major hyperspace route, Refnar was in relatively close proximity to Mon Calamari space and the Republic believed that if the Empire were to completely secure their position on Refnar, it might be used as a launching point for a larger invasion.

A major skirmish on Refnar was all the further motivation they needed, and the Regenesis was deployed. It took time to charge and transport, however, and by the time it arrived in-system the battle was in full force. Wasting no time, the Regenesis’s commander targeted Refnar and ordered to fire.

The result was devastating. With so many ships in space between Refnar and the Regenesis, hundreds on both sides of the conflict were caught in the blast and were either vaporized in plasma fires or all technology instantly fried, leaving them to be caught by the gravity of Refnar and crash to the surface.

But the commander’s haste in firing the Regenesis left an opening in their defenses, and a squad of Imperial starfighters not caught in the crossfire took it upon themselves to do a suicide run. They flew up the spent barrel of the main firing apparatus and destroyed the Regenesis from the inside out. The resulting explosion took much of the remaining Imperial and Republic forces with it, leaving the entire system to smolder in silence in the lingering aftereffects of the blast.

Down on the surface of Refnar, huge electrical storms surged over much of the surface, and the great southern sea boiled. All those clustered in the single tiny spaceport were killed in a firestorm sparked by the explosive destruction of the technology around them. Starships ranging from single-being fighters all the way up to giant capital ships crashed down to the surface, scarring the land with smoking craters and twisted metal debris.

But many miles from the flaming ruins of the spaceport, a scattering of survivors found themselves, to their surprise and relief, very much alive.

Two of them were planetside when the destruction occurred, though far from its epicenter.

One was Hakar-Vok, a Voss heretic who fled their homeworld when they openly doubted and defied the infallibility and absolute rule of the Mystics.

The other was their pursuer. UoQuell, an Ualaq Sith Lord moonlighting as a bounty hunter. He had long grown bored of the political dramas of Dromund Kaas, was far too independent of mind to be interested in leading soldiers into battle, and was certainly not introspective enough to focus on the philosophical explorations of Korriban. He was here to hunt down the Voss heretic and return them to their homeworld, in an attempt for the Sith Empire to gain favor with the Mystics.

Both Hakar-Vok and UoQuell were far from the spaceport when the Regenesis fired, their desperate flight and hot pursuit having led them deep into the wilds of Refnar’s geyser spires and creeping pools. Both witnessed the firing of the plasmo-ionic blast from afar, and both felt the rapid and sudden effects of its impact. The steamy land around them roiled and sparked, throwing both of them to the soggy ground and scalding Hakar-Vok, who was not protected by heavy root-armor as UoQuell was. But both survived, though they quickly discovered that both blaster and lightsaber that they were carrying had been rendered useless.

There were other survivors as well, many miles nearer to the epicenter of the blast.

A Barolian Jedi Knight by the name of Dunmarc Seawild had been aboard a Republic warship, crippled early in the battle above Refnar. The ship was already doomed before the Regenesis had even been deployed, and Dunmar had long ejected in a lifepod when the superweapon arrived in-system.

The Sith fighter that took down Dunmarc’s warship had systematically shot down all ejecting lifepods, but had missed the one Dunmarc had made landfall in. Its pilot pursued – one Darth Malus, an Imroosian Sith Lord who often defaulted back to his birth name of Sada’an Goro because of irritation at his name being mistaken for Darth Malgus.

He landed planetside and broke open Dunmarc’s lifepod, but before they could engage each other in a lightsaber duel the plasmo-ionic blast made impact. They were thrown back inside the lifepod as the shockwave followed, both knocked unconscious, and it was either lucky chance or a miracle in the Force that allowed them both to survive the sudden violence of the electrical storm that formed overhead. Faced with the sheer power and fury of the tempest outside, they sheltered together within the husk of the lifepod until the storm abated.

When they could finally emerge, it was to a strangely silent world, the land stripped of all technology and the sky above them barren of ships. The battle was over, and no one had won.

---

(I have GOT to stop making new story ideas I am DROWNING in them but I CAN’T STOP. Leaving this here in hopes that I’ll remember to do something with it other than doodle new characters and pine.)

(Refnar is canon but it’s just a name on a star chart so I’m taking it and running, cackling like a madman, shoving it through my brain to see what strange atmospheric landscapes and weird alien creatures I can populate it with.)

[freereignastarwarsstory]

Chapter 17: The Broken Mask

Disclaimer: We (@zazabelle and @draksisreborn) own nothing but our OCs. Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm and Disney. Please review and enjoy this latest installment. 

Soron’s heart pounded in his chest as he held Vis’ broken lightsaber aloft in his hands. His eyes shot through the spotlights aimed down on them as he attempted to assess the situation under the barrels of ship-destroying guns aimed at them from the ship above. It was an AIAT/i gunship, a modified Mandalorian class, just the one Lerti had described to him all those years ago, and he’d never forgotten her warning. 

The ship didn’t open fire, but Soron assumed as much. If they’d wanted to shoot him they’d have done it already. This mission wasn’t a hit and run, this was about revenge of the sick and twisted kind. 

Soron’s ear suddenly pricked up as he heard a voice yelling above the sound of the enormous twin engines of the gunship,

“SORON! THIS IS THE BAD THING. THIS IS THE REALLY BAD THING!” Vis yelled at the Shistavanen from where she crouched next to the hatch leading back down into the ship… Their ship containing Jedi-artifacts from Vis’ temple.

“CHOL! HOW’RE WE LOOKING ON THE ENGINES!?” Soron yelled into his commlink to the Mon Calamari pilot.

“Still a few more minutes! But sensors show they’re right above us, right!? Taking off fast might be a problem if they keep us grounded!”

“THEN WE’LL NEED TO GET THEM TO MOVE!” Soron shouted back, “EVERYONE EXCEPT VIS AND CHOL GET OUT HERE. THEY WANT A FIGHT SO WE’RE GOING TO GIVE THEM ONE BEFORE WE GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE. USE ANY MEANS NECESSARY OR DESIRED PLEASE.”

Soron heard Nek give a “whoop!” over the comm channel before cutting out. Soron gave one more look at the hovering ship before keying in a private comm channel to Lerti, “Lerti,” he began as quietly as he could over the roar of the engines, “Are you up for this? You know why he’s here. We won’t let him take you.”

Silence filled the comm for a moment before a cold response came, “I’ll enjoy seeing him try.”

The hatch to the roof burst open as Nek, BX, and Cenden climbed out. Cenden immediately ignited his lightsaber and threw the captain his own carbine and raising an eyebrow upon noticing Vis’ saber in the captain’s hands.

“WHAT’S GOING ON!? WHO ARE THESE GUYS!?” Nek screamed towards Soron.

“LOOKS LIKE WE FINALLY GET TO MEET THE EX.” Soron called back as he watched Nek preparing his grenade launching prototype.

Nek’s eyes went wide, “Oh geez…” Soron saw Nek mutter to himself.

Suddenly, Lerti burst through the hatch, her rocket launcher strapped over her shoulder and jetpack ablaze as she launched herself several meters into the air. Taking aim, she pulled the trigger.

The ship hovering above them rocked. The blast sending smoke and a bit of debris raining down on them. 

Their shields held. 

But Soron knew that wasn’t why Lerti had shot the ship.

The spotlights cut out.

“Vis. Get out of here.” Cenden commanded Vis who still sat watching next to the hanger hatch.

The AIAT’s own hangar door suddenly gaped open. Shadowy figures could be seen standing in glinting armor, as they stood pressed up against the starry sky.

From next to Cenden, Vis suddenly cried out in pain and clutched her chest, “no no no no.” She muttered to herself, her eyes going wild. Her head shot up to look at Cenden, “There’s something very wrong, it feels so cold…” she whispered.

Cenden’s eyes widen as he turned to look towards the open hatch. Without looking back at Vis he whispered, “Go down now.”

Vis didn’t hesitate this time, scrambling down into the ship and Cenden took his place to defend the only opening on the top of the ship. Above, Lerti still hovered on her jetpack, expressionless beneath her helmet and her rocket launcher still propped up on her muscular arms. 

The shadows standing in the stalled ship shifted to life and launched themselves from their platform. Three took to the skies, circling Lerti from where she hovered, and three more dropped to the deck of the ship where the crew waited. 

In the light of the pale moon, six figures had emerged wearing Mandalorian armor painted similar to Lerti’s red and black with one noticeable difference. The crest of horns that sat utop the helmet’s top, like the design of a wreath. One Mandalorian that hovered in front of Lerti had what looked to be a half-cloak secured under his right shoulder bell. It fluttered in the breeze as the two looked at each other under the expressionless gaze of the helmet visors. 

“Crimson… Where- Where have you been?” A deep voice spoke from beneath the helmet of this Mandalorian crew’s leader.

All was silent and nobody moved. Both sides waiting for their cue to strike.

Lerti was silent.

“What have you done without me? Did you find what you were looking for? Or are you still just as miserable as you apparently were with me?” he continued waiting, just watching her.

Lerti said nothing.

But shouldered her launcher once more and took aim.

The scene around them exploded into motion as the rocket launched, and the lead-Mandalorian dodged the missile.

It sailed through the air, botching the ship that still hovered behind them.

Lerti flipped through the air, locking the launcher onto the clip on the back of her jetpack, and unholstering her hand-blasters in one fluid motion as the firing began from the two others using jetpacks to flank her.

Below, the fighting also erupted. 

Cenden and Soron stood back to back as Soron fired into the air, lending Lerti some cover fire and Cenden repelling blaster fire using the reverse grip on his yellow-bladed lightsaber. 

Nek laid down as much cover fire of his own as he could manage while up close and personal with the three on the ground. There was nowhere to take cover on top of the ship’s hull, and without any spoken agreement, the crew knew they couldn’t let these people reach the inside of their ship, or they’d be trapped. 

In the air, Lerti twisted and dodged as blaster bolts ripped through the air about her. From below, Nek called up, “LERTI! TO ME!” Lerti heard the signal and spun into a dive towards Nek before igniting the pack to repel her backward, towards the horizon and a second later Nek launched his grenades at the two following with the intent of knocking them out of the sky. 

The two saw the incoming explosives and attempted to repel themselves backward, but the blast did that without any work on their part. Two of the horned Mandalorians were sent spiraling into the sky and Nek ducked for cover as the cloaked-leader suddenly rained fire down on him. 

BX jumped over to block the blaster bolts from searing through Nek’s flesh and without taking a beat took aim and fired at the Mandalorian who skillfully dodged the assault but at least had stopped firing on the engineer.

From beneath BX, Nek saw a shadow descending on the droid, a blade flashed in the moonlight, ready to strike through the robot’s chassis.

Nek’s hands flashed to his double-bladed vibrostaff strung across his back and was nearly knocked back with the force of the impact as the figure’s own blade dung into the metal hilt of his staff. Nek took his stance and spun the blade to twist the opponent’s weapon lose and swing the lower blade up into the gut.

The lithe, horned figure moved with the twisting of his staff, arching their back to avoid the swing to the gut, jabbed their own thin vibroblade forward to strike Nek’s open chest as his hands were near his head.

Nek jumped back, but not far enough that the figure’s leg that flashed forward didn’t strike where the vibroblade had been intended for his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“You’re pretty good, but not good enough.” a soft, girlish voice spoke to him from beneath her black visor. 

As Nek’s eyes adjusted at that moment, he realized that unlike the others, this one’s horns weren’t decorations on a helmet. ‘Oh Bantha-fodder…’ 

The figure lept to strike, BX’s own vibroblade intercepting to meet hers not even seconds after her body had begun moving. 

“Oh. Another Jedi-killer. Let’s see how well you were made.” she spoke softly, the only thing covering her face was a dark visor stretching from ear to ear to hide her eyes Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid that laced its way around her horns. She smiled and her blade began its journey to reach the destination of BX’s skull.

Nearby, Cenden had taken on the offensive. Running forward, he sliced easily through the blasters of the two still focused on fighting the Jedi and captain, but like the truly horned figure, they too carried vibroblades, and knew how to use them. Cenden AND Soron were both forced to bring their swords to the gunfight. 

The old Jedi artfully dodged about the one Mandalorian’s blows, and Soron fought to keep Vis’ blade in his hands, receiving an onslaught from the other horned-hunter. 

Soron cried out as the vibroblade sliced through his thigh, taking out a chunk of his leg. The Mandalorian’s arm thrust forward to cut through Soron’s throat when the attacker’s chest burst with yellow light and the man crumpled to the ground, revealing Cenden had launched his saber from several feet away from his open palm.

As Cenden’s attacker moved the strike the Jedi from behind, Soron twisted Vis’ broken saber with his eyes as tightly shut as he could. A bright light erupted out of the hilt and Cenden’s attacker stumbled back, tumbling off the ship. 

Cenden moved to help his captain when they abruptly heard Lerti shout from above. The two saw Lerti tumbling back, smoke trailing from her chest plate from where she’d been hit. 

She righted herself in the air, the hit wasn’t fatal, the armor absorbing the damage but not the pain. 

“DARIUS YOU PIECE OF SITH-SPIT. LEAVE US ALONE.” Soron suddenly bellowed from his place on the ship’s top and took aim.

The wounded captain fired several shots from his carbine aimed at the figure in the air before the one called “Darius” began returning fire. Cenden ran and tackled Soron to the ground as Darius flew forward to rain down fire.

At that moment, Lerti dove in from above, using all her weight and momentum to drive both heels down into Darius’ back. The action sent Darius sailing into the ship’s haul, leaving a dent. Yet the fall did little more than phase him as he pushed up from his place on the ground and used his jetpack to attempt to spin himself and knock Lerti’s feet out from under her.

She flipped backward through the air, avoiding the strike and spinning to kick her heel across his jaw. 

Darius pushed his hand into her heel, accelerating her movement and throwing her off balance. He pushed forward, fist extended to strike. The swing connected across her face and sent her toppling to the ground.

“Just like old times, eh Crim?” He shook his hand, before diving forward to grab her and drive her shoulders into the ground.

Cenden reached forward from where he’d tackled Soron to the ground and built pressure in the Force.

A blaster bolt ripped through Cenden’s shoulder as one of the two Mandalorian’s that Nek had blown away vaulted down from the sky. Cenden lay in shock for only a moment, but a moment long enough for the other two to be on top of Lerti. Pinning her down and grabbing her arms and legs.

“I’m sorry babe. But we have unfinished business, and I need you back home. There’s so much you need to be caught up on.” Darius cooed at the struggling woman.

Still, Lerti remained silent. 

“NO!” Soron called out as he attempted to rise from the ground, blood still spilling out of his leg.

Now on nearly the other side of the ship, Nek took notice and called out to Lerti as he began to sprint towards them. Darius reacted to this by opening fire on the small alien. Nek rolled to dodge and amazingly found cover behind one of the ship’s satellite dishes.

At this, Lerti began to howl. An inhuman sound, like the sound of an animal that’d been caught in a trap. That’s all she was to him after all. Prey to be hunted until the end of time. Or until her time was up.

From below, those standing atop the roof felt a jolt as The Raving Titan breathed to life.

“Move her to the ship NOW,” Darius ordered and then suddenly paused as he noticed one of his men laying motionless on the ground. He turned to Lerti, “WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE!?”

His foot struck her hard where her kidney was, and she doubled over in her captor’s hands.

BX, who’d been busy keeping a very nimble and slippery opponent from entering into the hatch on the ship, had gained enough information about his opponent’s patterns to look up from his task and scan his surroundings. 

“Success rate is dropping.” He gave himself an update of events, “Let’s change the odds.”

BX twisted his blade before dropping his weapon into her hands and jumped to deliver a solid blow to her lower jaw. The weight of his metal foot enough to flip her head straight back into the ground. 

And with that, the light in BX’s chest glowed. And for the first time, the droid experienced only what he could describe as a feeling.

Nothing that he could truly emote, but something he could surely act on.

He grabbed his assailant by the legs, spun his weight and threw her. Her body that was sent sprawling like a ragdoll through the air landed impossibly far and impossibly hard against the head of one of the horned-Mandalorians carrying Lerti, sending the two to tumble to the ground and Lerti’s head to hit the deck. 

Her head hit where Lerti immediately tossed her body back, her legs yanking free from the grip of the other captor as she managed to flip over to land on her knees, raising her fists and standing to face her opponents. The attacker launched forward to knock her across the head, but this time Lerti was ready, she ducked under the blow and stood, her helmet making contact, and head-butting the attacker hard enough to knock him back.

Darius ran swiftly forward but BX dashed impossibly faster and drove his clawed hand into a back-handed slap across the man’s chest. The armor crunched with the force and Darius flew backward, tumbling across the ship, his cape twirling about him. He managed to grab onto the ship’s edge before he fell off and noticed the ship was now taking to the air.

He howled in anger and suddenly spat from beneath the calm face of the helmet, “FALL BACK.”

Igniting his jetpack, he flew up into the air and onto his ship which was suddenly rocked about with far more force than a rocket’s blast as Chol opened fire with the ship’s cannons. Nothing to bring it down on top of their own vessel, but enough to drive it away.

The four remaining attackers took off for their ship. The one with a truly horn-crested head hesitated, she seemed to be glaring at where Cenden now attempted to stand, his flesh still sizzling from the blaster wound.

BX appeared beside her and made a move to grab her. She slipped from his grasp and launched herself into the air, without a jetpack, and directed her movements several meters up so as to land on the ship’s deck as the vessel turned to leave.

Chol made no hesitation and the ship suddenly lurched and took off in the opposite direction, nearly sending his crew flying off into the grassy fields below.

Those of them who could still stand made a mad dash for the hatch, BX only stopping to heaved Soron onto his back, and soon all were inside. 

In the corridor leading to the roof hatch, Vis suddenly rounded the corner, and gasped as she saw them all. Her eyes locked onto Lerti and she ran to her, enveloping the woman in a hug. 

They were suddenly saturated in the silence, the only sound coming from Vis’ crying… except the sound wasn’t from Vis.

Lerti suddenly shoved Vis away. The young girl looked shocked by the motion but didn’t object. 

Now, from beneath Lerti’s expressionless mask, they could see the tears flowing down her neck. 

With a heartstopping bellow that shattered the silence, Lerti suddenly threw off her mask. Her face bruised and deeply-woven in fury and sadness, she threw her helmet to the ground right where the stem met the helmet’s earpiece and that section exploded on impact. The sound of static from a comm-channel interference burst to life before being immediately sputtering out.

And they all stood looking at the broken mask in silence.

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

Check us out on Twitter for updates and illustrations!

https://twitter.com/FreeReign4

Also, I highly recommend you listen to Lindsey Stirling’s: Masquerade. I listened to it the whole time I was writing this. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYqQVLnrzLs

[empressxmachina]

Welcome Home, Sasha - “Two”. by Imperial-Radiance (that’s me)

Show some love to the picture seen here, “Lt. Sasha”, and its artist Alexandra Hodgson over on ArtStation. It inspired this entire story.

     The change in lighting was glaring, blinding Sasha as he walked forward. The vacuum of atmospheric particles following the path of least resistance brought and flew dust toward and onto his form but not enough to be an endangerment of any kind. White noise and low, mechanical hums soon dissipated into the nothingness of nature enveloped around him. His echoing footsteps were replaced by the crunching of minuscule dirt mounds beneath the treads of his feet. Hearing them brought back Tshepo’s bizarre directive; however, the expanse around him had more of a hold on him, causing him to pause and take it all in.

   Aside from the onyx and violet-trimmed Demeter, all Sasha could see was a planet’s red desert-like landscapes: the mountains almost meshing into the horizon, the bulbous clouds going across the heavens yet looked within arms’ distance, and the speckled earth below with its cracks, canyons, and craters as far as he could tell. All of them glowed like a crimson colored screen had been set over its light.

   In Sasha’s vista, light rays peeked through the sky puffs, but they didn’t clarify what kind of solar system he and the distant admiral were in. There was no way to see the number of suns here. Illuminate everything in sight was all they did, such as the shards of reflective surfaces of presumed water in the far distance. Having it accessible could imply that terraforming the place might be worth it. That would be the case if it hadn’t already been done.

   If Sasha’s running theory about his location was correct, then any more terraforming would laughably overkill.

   “Damn, Ki,” Sasha breathed, almost fogging up the entirety of his helmet’s glass. “Your testing mission must really be important if you couldn’t even tell me we were going to Mars.”

   He was shocked and confused, having ended up in a place so far from one home and so, so close to the sister planet that was his other. There weren’t many red planets as far as he knew of the billions or so in the Milky Way Galaxy that had ruby surfaces and sky. As long as they weren’t controllably corrosive, they weren’t necessarily a problem. But, having been terraformed for over two centuries, Earthlings had already made a comfortable place and/or new home for themselves there for all to know throughout the cosmos, adding Mother Nature’s blues and greens across the landscape… or, at least, he thought they had.

   Novis was usually always in the know of the red rock’s doings on the daily, and Sasha had visited several of its colonies a few years – Earth and Martian ones – ago, seeing some of the civilizations for himself. However, the topography of this area wasn’t familiar, not matching up with anything on the most recent update of the Martian maps he thought he had memorized. Olympus Mons or any other notable prominence didn’t appear to be in sight, so there weren’t any major, natural landmarks from which he could work out where exactly on the planet he was.

   No area looked this barren as far as he remembered: no flags, beacons, or anything. It looked too similar to not be Mars, yet it was still different. If that were truly the case, then things had definitely changed since the last time Sasha was there, but there was only one way to prove it.

   “NAIMA, ready.” With Sasha’s single instruction, the innards of the helmet finally awakened.

   NAIMA, the Novis Artificial Intelligence Management Application, lightly flashed green icons on the window, symbolizing all of the functions accessible upon first use. However, just like within the Demeter, the exact details of the location were still hidden. If Sasha didn't know any better, then he would’ve figured that the systems to detect them were either encrypted for only Tshepo’s eyes or just straight up broken. Neither option seemed reasonable, but perhaps that was part of the mod testing… somehow. Checking the livability of a place was as simple as going down a checklist, and that is exactly what Sasha did.

   “Analyze all central stars inbound,” Sasha commanded, making sure to enunciate this time. The last time he wasn’t clear, and there was almost an extinction of five rare plant species.

   “Scanning,” the AI robotically dictated, with the chirps of LIDAR sensors measuring the skies. A few seconds of patient, systemic silence passed, and NAIMA announced its findings with a chime of completion before returning to its standby state. “Scan complete. One orbited star found.”

   Something told Sasha to look into how far it was or if there were any other bodies of interest, but the verification of the singular sun was enough to please him.

   “Estimate rotational bounds,” he then instructed. Knowing the length of a day on the planet meant knowing how long to live.

   Another lull met his ears. The sounds of his thoughts and life force were allowed to echo before Sasha’s suit rearranged its sensors not up toward the clouds but down toward the ground, surging through his legs and vibrating his feet. From what NAIMA showed on the screen, some sort of thermal imaging was being implemented through the soles and treads to detect the planet’s core below while a signal was continually sent out of the toe area and tracking the arc that he and thus everything else was making across the celestial sphere. After what felt like forever, it was finally done… but not without hesitation.

   “Uneven surfacing and turbid atmosphere lead to heightened uncertainty,” NAIMA announced to Sasha’s surprise. “Do you still request the results?”

   “Turbid?” Sasha repeated to himself, taking heed to not set off the AI immediately as he looked back to the skies. “It’s just Mars, right? This is just like how it was before terraforming… and that’s not good, is it?”

   Only after saying it did Sasha realize the implied severity of the statement - his face melting into a concerned frown at possibly hundreds of years of Earthling efforts reverting into nothing. Tshepo’s silence helped nothing, either. But, Sasha could only do so much to help if he wasn’t one-hundred percent sure where he was, and thus the investigation carried on.

   “Results requested,” he validated, receiving a near-immediate response from NAIMA.

   “With errors considered,” it replied, “the estimated time for one global rotation is twenty-four hours and twenty-one minutes with thirty-three minutes of uncertainty.”

   “Huh. That’s not exactly the twenty-four and forty I remember, but it’s close enough,” Sasha approved, only barely curious of the skewed measures. “Maybe they finally figured out how to gradually match up the sols with days over time.” He was one to look at the bright side of things when it seemed promising, but here, doused in Tshepo’s confidentiality, pulling out various what-ifs and buts were just as easy. “That doesn’t mean they surged its revolution speed, though,” he considered. “It’s probably still half-fast, and that wouldn’t have anything to do with all this red being back, would it?”

   As visually traumatizing the scarlet and all of its connotations generally were, that didn’t mean they were physically dangerous, and that, like everything else, could also be checked. But Sasha was confident in his safety: way too confident for Tshepo’s liking.

   The cabin-cloistered leader's voice went completely silent as he watched his more or less baby brother/son go against all basic protocols and begin unlocking and removing the helmet that blocked him and his airways from the openness of the atmosphere and all the emptiness that spread past it. If it had been a field exam on Novis, then Sasha’s thorough but few analyses would have failed him almost immediately. He only needed to give one more specific request to NAIMA, and his actions would have been plausible. But, no, he was too high in his own head to question it. Luckily, as the young soul hadn’t gone far, Tshepo and the Demeter were still in close range in case things went awry. Even luckier, the air was not only existent and breathable, it, minus a few fluctuations, fit all of Novis’ guidelines for livable space.

   Sasha was in the clear in both mind and airway, and he didn't hesitate in reveling in it.

   “Ah,” he exhaled, willingly breathing in and letting out as much as air as possible as he held his helmet in his hands. “That’s some good air, right there.” As clear as the helmet’s window was, its vista was nothing in comparison to being fully immersed, nothing to block the peripherals or cause a glare, even though NAIMA could’ve easily adjusted for both.

   Tshepo had one hand going through his hair and another clamped over his mouth, watching and listening to Sasha cheer for joy and praise himself over his proven prowess of examination. Well, it was mostly praising. For a brief moment, Sasha did realize the error in his ways, pausing with mouth agape and even longer face at how, in harsh truth, he could’ve killed himself. He could’ve just died – been dead – but he wasn’t. He wasn’t because he was right, and the smile came back as quickly as it went.

   Tshepo was nearly out of his pilot’s chair with his eyes glued onto the screen and its image before him. Yet, rather than an authoritative scowl hidden beneath his hand, there was a familial smirk. A happy Sasha was always nice to see, no matter the reason why, no matter how dumb he was in his intelligence. However, like his underling, that happiness fleeted from his own truths: those that called them for this mission that only they could do.

    “Sasha,” Tshepo sighed through the cockpit’s microphone, breaking his viewing silence and flash of contentment, “remember why you're here.” Tshepo’s message was almost lost through Sasha’s euphoria, but the distant muffles did reach his ears from his helmet’s inner speakers, at least enough for Sasha to remind himself of the task at hand.

   “Oh, right, the mods!” Sasha exclaimed, securing the helmet back onto its locks. The protection wasn’t needed for any changed breathing as far as he was told, but Tshepo hadn’t set up any glasses or lenses that could visualize all the supposedly new functions for whatever reason. Thus, the suit continued to be the projector, ready for action. He took a stable stance, dissolving his cockiness with professionalism, and instructed to NAIMA, “Engage BSv3 initialization.”

   “Bio-Sight Version 3, new update by Azikiwe comma Tshepo, commenced,” NAIMA announced mechanically as usual.

   Sasha couldn’t hold back a snort, hearing the AI attempt Tshepo’s full name. There had definitely been some tweaking in the pronunciation department, thinking back to all the jumbles spouted through the various version one updates. It was definitely more fluid than ever, but alas, it was still off. The same could be said about the new sets of icons and detectors and the additions to old ones that stretched translucently across his entire vista. There was just as much glow naturally in his eyes as the helmet shined into them, and a gasp escaped him.

   “Jesus, Ki. How long have you been working on this?” Sasha wondered in awe.

   As if knowing that the now-barren, terraformed Mars was an anomaly just by looking at it, the earthy expanse was decorated with a radiating grid, blocking off and measuring in square meter intervals in all directions. Well, all except up and down. In place of the emptiness of space, the mods sat in standby filling the visual field with a simulated cyberpunk cityscape: more than interesting enough to be a screensaver of sorts. Sasha really wanted to know how or why Tshepo programmed them, considering he was supposedly just proficient at biology and not computers, but his superior’s silence left him hanging, and thus he moved on.

   “Alright, fine. Don’t answer me,” Sasha sneered. It was with harmless intention; he’d find it a challenge when he wasn’t being watched. “I’ll figure it out eventually, but for now…”

   Sasha scrutinized the set of functions, trying to figure what each one held behind its icon without actually choosing it. No previews were available upon his eyes hovering over them, so his choice would be based on only intuition. Eventually, that led to him to one viable option, exactly what Tshepo hoped and thought he’d choose.

   “…let’s go with this,” Sasha settled, voice laced with curious uncertainty. “NAIMA, execute, uh, Carbon Camera?”

   “Carbon Camera launched. Detecting life forms within range.” The AI looked past the wavering in his tone and commenced the program, sending a new scattering of signals along the ground, periodically beeping and pulsating along the way until it eventually died down to a low but omnipresent echo.

   With the little information available about the application, Sasha assumed it would go for the most general scan, painting the ground in blue, green, or whatever contrasting color Tshepo chose for at least all the microorganisms burrowed in its dirt and sand. To his surprise, the output was worryingly scarce.

   “The camera must have adjusted itself,” he figured, gazing over the sprinkling of sapphire-shining found forms across the horizon. “It has to be filtering only for macroscopic organisms and only certain ones at that. Even so, it didn’t seem hot enough out here for it to be this desolate.”

   When he had taken his helmet off, Sasha’s breathing hadn’t been noticeably lessened. Sure, the air seemed thicker and dirtier than what he last remembered, and if it were a fatal concern, then NAIMA would’ve overridden controls and wouldn’t have allowed for exposure to it. Knowing Tshepo and his trust in his machine, let alone him being aware of all its and Sasha’s happenings out there, he probably wouldn’t have let the boy do it, either. So, it wasn’t that it wasn’t livable for anything, at least not at that moment. There just wasn’t anything around.

   Barely.

   Considering that Sasha would’ve probably only found their sources on accidental approach, and their glows being no different than those tens to hundreds of mapped squares away, the few blips nearby were promising enough to at least examine for a little while. Though, really, it'd just be done to refute that the Bio-Sight mods were pulling values out of nowhere. So, he did, initiating a beeline for one straight ahead.

   Sasha went a few paces, intermittently checking to his sides and behind him that the distant visuals weren’t changing or detecting anything new. There was some solace in the consistency. However, looking back at the Demeter brought back another reminder from Tshepo, the one he gave before Sasha left him.

   “Tread lightly?” Sasha repeated, questioning himself and pondering over what seemed like a light concern. “Why would I need to do that? There’s barely anything here.” But then he thought about it. He came to a halt and looked down, not so much at his feet but the ground itself. “Unless…”

   The relative fatality of bacteria and other minuscule organisms can’t really be helped, no matter what Sasha did. The suit had a hovering or flying device, but a powerful thrust into the ground and whatever was on it beneath him would be needed to lift him first. The soles had treads, so not every piece of dirt had his pressure on it. But on those that did, only the microbes probably had enough resilience to handle it. Though, that was obvious. It was underneath the surface that made Sasha worried.

   With all of his flouncing around earlier, the sudden appearance of him and the Demeter, and what he now believed were heavy footfalls, it was likely that he was seen as an invader out of nowhere to any unsuspecting fauna, scaring them to burrow underground or run away. Usually, it was him that ran away from intimidators or at least attempted to be a name without a face. To think of himself as the one inflicting fear unsettled his stomach.

   Sasha shook, almost immediately checking the undersides of his feet and the craters of his footprints for any animal that may have been caught or buried in his crossfire. The redness and spottiness of the dirt and soil made looking for bits and pieces of anything problematic, but with nothing large in sight, he calmed once again. Soon enough, he restarted his gait toward the closest unknown beacon with footfalls as close to floating above the surface as he could be without actually being off the ground. Little did he know, he would find himself deeper into it when he got to his destination.

   “What the fuck?” he inquired, at least reaching the target on the screen. At least, it said he did.

   The pinpoint rippled and chirped, centered right in front of him, but all he could see lying there was what looked like a broken sampling of brush, barely visible out of the ground below him, mostly burrowed by dirt if at all. It was concerning and confusing: the chaparral’s magnitude trivial to the earthy expanse that surrounded it. But believing the Bio-Sight found it for a reason, Sasha chose to examine further, kneeling to inspect at closer range.

   A hand grazed the soil, dusting for a fossil or some decomposing being with what had to be godlike floral camouflage. Yet, the more he brushed away dirt, the less he found, just finding more and more ground greeting him. He persisted all the while as the mods’ sensors never let up. However, it took the blips’ bleeping becoming an annoyance after an extensive period for him to realize his trials were in vain.

   “For fuck’s sake!” Sasha shot through gritted teeth, shaking his head in anger. He wasn’t sure if he was madder at himself or the machine that housed him, but not reaching a scavenger’s climax from either was a pain. A thought in the back of his head reminded him that it all could’ve been part of Tshepo’s trials, but care was quickly fleeting as the beeps felt louder. “Don’t keep pinging if there’s nothing—!” A curse to the wind lingered on the tip of his tongue until it and all his stress dissolved at the sight of his shoveling glove. “Oh.”

   Tests on NAIMA back in the lab previously made its number of useful qualities seem extraordinarily large, so its finding shouldn’t have been as surprising to Sasha as it was. Though, there was no way he would’ve been able to predict seeing it.

   He barely saw it himself.

   An insignificant shard of sorts found itself embedded to the tip of Sasha’s finger. From the naked eye, it had to have been a shard versus a splinter or something similar based on its sheen alone. Curiosity took hold of him, along with just not wanting to accidentally crush the thing by his touch, leading him to enhance his suit’s sensors and examine it closer. A quick zoom-in later, and what was once a dot in his window expanded to push at its walls with its new girth.

   A metal stake now greeted him, chipped and scorched in places but still stable. Scorched: a fire had gotten to it, somehow. Looking up, the clouds could have reflected a storm to come, possibly mirroring a past squall in which a spark may have, well, sparked on the ground and caused such burns. Though, the scalding wasn’t even down its length, giving more validity to a lightning strike. Even its tiny but vivid heatmapping showed promise for a bolt. Yet, one so precise toward such a small object seemed irrational.

   “There was obviously heat on this thing,” Sasha commented, rolling the petite pole across his finger pad to check its full surface. Spots and speckles of scorches were spread all over. “But, from where?”

   The average Martian temperature in days of old froze liquid water without trouble. Nowadays, with its terraforming and all, there wasn’t much to say against the possibility of a heat wave. Sasha’s current location on the rock, wherever it was, did look deserted and desert-like, fitting for increased warmth (and coolness at night if one wanted to be technical). Though, out of everything, it was probably weather-related. But, of this intensity? Surely, he would’ve known of that already.

   Novis and all those living on it are meant to have details for any large event, especially natural disasters and phenomena, on all of the human-based colonies. The best guess for whatever happened had to be a volcano or other geyser going off sometime recently with remnants of its eruption finding themselves on this sliver. Yet, no sizeable Martian spout he recognized was in sight. There was a likelihood for a celestial interference, whether it be an asteroid becoming a meteorite, the Sun flaring up, or something else, but that should’ve been a solar systemic emergency if not just a simple news declaration.

   This was neither, at least nothing publicized. Then again, Tshepo was hiding something from his knowledge, but why hide an emergency? If one is on a mission to a dilemma, and they take someone with them, then why leave them in the dark?

   Why would Sasha’s best friend Ki leave him ignorant intentionally, let alone lie? The only times either of those ever happened was when… when…

   And, just like that, with a look back into his past, Sasha had a clue, and he needed to know more. But this was his test, after all, so he knew he had to find it himself... no matter how much it would hurt.

   Feigning a lack of knowledge complemented with confidence was a skill of which Sasha had all too much. His voice, if he used it, was crisp. His heart rate was slow and steady. Anything Tshepo could and did check at the moment was fine. By Sasha’s luck, there were no cameras inside his helmet or on his suit at the moment to reveal how panicked he truly was. He still wasn’t sure about what he had found, but given how he found it, he would know the truth soon enough.

   Tshepo sat quietly in his seat, waiting for any sort of new response from his amicable underling. He knew Sasha was thorough, but this seemed ridiculous, and he was growing aggravated. Even with the data he deliberately kept hidden from his eyes, he figured the boy would’ve verbally denounced Mars as an option by now. Were his systems failing before his eyes? Was Sasha taking care to go down a list of every similar planet of every system and galaxy he knows? He was so silent, and with his knelt back to the Demeter, Tshepo, now rightfully so, was left in the dark.

   However, it wasn’t much longer until that annoyance transitioned to absolute concern.

   “Sasha? Sasha?” the leader repeated, voice growing shriller each time. With every call, he sounded more and more like a broken record. Eventually, he was truly desperate. “Sasha, say something. Please.” Even at the eventual ultimatum he knew would come, the last way he thought Sasha would react was total silence.

   No words escaped from Sasha’s lips, but if his vocal cords were in use, then the sounds that he would’ve managed to make out of them would’ve been incomprehensible babbling. Through the panic that was visible on his face, he could only imagine the cries for answer howling from his senior were related to it. No matter what the case was, Sasha figured he wasn’t going to receive any sort of solace unless he made a moral move for himself. It just sucked to do so, since any extraneous move in the physical space and he probably would’ve missed it… and irreversibly kept himself from ever finding it. Most of his psyche didn’t want to take the plunge toward verisimilitude, yet it knew just as well that he’d regret it if he didn’t.

   In what seemed like an instant, as Sasha took a deep breath, all of the vitals’ trackers monitoring him inside the Demeter began to flare, detecting sudden changes in his systems. Tshepo’s worrisome wails only magnified, attempting to echo over them to get through to his still stagnant, ace apprentice. When he finally did, he found it just as difficult to hold back his own tears that Sasha had, at last, let flow.

   “K-Ki,” the sheepish space soldier whimpered his senior’s name, trying so hard to continue analyzing the eccentric splinter on his finger pad. All the while, he hoped most if not all of the hypotheses that he was now starting to predict for it would fail to be reached. “I know… you’ve been lying to me, and it needs to stop. N-Now.”

   It was never the intention to hurt his friend, but there was absolutely no way he was going to be okay unless he was a sociopath. Shy, sure, but Sasha Keeling had way too much sympathy for others for it to be an uncertainty. So many regrets immediately ran through his mind, worthy of pulling hair out. Yet, would they have made it this far if he hadn’t kept his mouth shut? Would Sasha have kept his mouth shut long enough for them to get to a point where he could cry without punishment, just like now? There was no way to tell, but there was a lot left to say.

   “No assumptions. No bullshit. No matter how bad it is.” Sasha continued, struggling to stay composed through his internal conflicts. But he knew that he had to be, going right for the big question. “Ki, w-where are we?”

   At this point, there was not enough moxie in the universe to make Tshepo say anything. No, he could say one thing, and he did say it but not until its point was already proven true. NAIMA had been hiding features for long enough. Now, it was true to set them all into action… with a wounded sigh. Sasha heard it, fearing its meaning until the train of bleeps of notifications and surges of data disturbed the shallow peace and set his viewing window ablaze with glows.

   Its radiant information reflected onto Sasha’s eyes, becoming more legible as they grew wider and wetter with reading. Immense doubt and dread engulfed him, only to be magnified more by the reason for it.    A new multitude of speckles detected by the Carbon Camera — things and souls that once breathed, believed, and built — ran across the entirety of his view toward the horizon. Yet, its suspected volume seemed to be less than his own. That of the collection of metals and other solid flakes and dust bits scanned was only a bit more and just as sprawled over the ruddy expanse. Such miniature tangibles against his previously not-so-grandiose frame were sickening to imagine one-by-one, putting life or use into them. However, the qualities and measures NAIMA gave of his location that couldn’t be touched so easily were the cherries on top that sent him into full nausea by doing so anyway.

   The same atmosphere, ground structure, and climates Novis simulated and tested against but not as extrapolated overall. The same rate of passing time in a day that gave some form of order on Novis on which the space soldiers could build a circadian rhythm. A similar view of the sky and its life-bringing star that Sasha repeatedly projected in his room sans the scarily turbid, crimson monochrome.    The history and culture behind a flag he had never gotten to visit in person. One of the thousands that stood the tests of the past to get him to who and where he was in the present. It now laid atop his finger as a dirtied trace of a fabric corner on its burnt metal shaving of a pole. A symbol of the numerous, microbial places and people now visibly scattered around him. Maybe under, too. Flaked like glitter. Unmoving if not unthinkably eradicated.    It didn’t need to be said, but Tshepo did and locked it in indefinitely, “Welcome home, Sasha.”

[clownsgobeepbeep]

❝ Water is wet. ❞

A continuation for the last Vampire AU thing I wrote

I know I’m the one writing this but I still can’t exactly believe these are kids doing this

“I sure do hope your uncle doesn’t find us.”

“Lily said that-”

“-he’s still sulking.”

“What are you-”

“-even doing Lily?”

The three vampire boys watches as their friend stood in front of a large and old garden space, a large cloth right over it covering whatever was beneath. Lily ignored the awful scent coming from it as she reached over and ran a hand across it as she only felt fresh soil, eventually reaching the end of the cloth where she found a hand, or more like the bones since there had been no digging up of this for a very, long time. Carefully, she tucked the hand back into the soil so that there was no trace of there being anything there.

“Robyn, Rayden.”she finally spoke as she continued admiring the progressing eclipse in the sky. “Bring the jars.”

“You got it!” the twins giggled, this time in unison unlike other times they spoke. They dashed through the garden in which they had all hidden away with their new ‘possession’, away from everybody so that they would not know what was going on.

“Dante.”

“Yes?”

“Can you help me insert the…tubes?”Lily whispered, Dante giving a nod before he grabbed said items and approached the area covered by the cloth. Dante removed it, then staring down at the ground they had to dig up to bury their new possession. Lily stared down at it as well, both starting to insert tubes throughout what was the soil containing the corpse they had just dug up.

“So Lily.”

“Yes?”

“Tell me again, why are we doing this?”

“For fun.”

“Give me the other reason.”Dante posited, and Lily gave a sigh as she inserted one tube, having a bit of trouble as the corpse was far too old already and she also was not able to see it beneath the soil. She was still going to try her darn best.

“This…he is my guinea pig for now.” Lily claimed, finally inserting the last tube before holding the little bony hand from before, feeling every crevice as she pulled it out for a moment to then bury it back. “If my mother’s old books and my knowledge combined work…then I will be able to see my mother again in the flesh.”

Dante gave a nod, then reaching over to grab Lily’s hand in a comforting manner.

“Do you think your mom would like me? And Robyn and Rayden?”

“Oh yes, I already know that she loves you all so much.” Lily reassured him, then turning around as she heard the sneaky footsteps of the twins who each held a few jars, then setting them down on the garden table next to the empty-ish patch.

“Let’s do this!”

“First we must make sure the blood flows through the tubes, like veins would in a human.” Lily instructed as she took one of the jars, opening it to reveal said fluid inside before she turned to the twins. “And it’s strictly not for our consumption.”

“Awww.”

The boys soon helped Lily attach everything that was needed, finishing up before she grabbed the last jar. She opened the lid as the boys anxiously watched, seeing as her hand came out bloodied and holding something: a heart.

Ever so cautiously, Lily stepped over to the soil and dug up a hole where she knew was the corpse’s ribcage, and she inserted it deep within before covering it all up with soil again. She glanced up at the moon as did the boys, noticing that the eclipse was just about to happen.

“Ready?”

“Uh huh.” they all nodded, lifting their hands before they each took a bite from their wrists.

“Do it, now.” Lily commanded as the moon was now in position, and the boys poured drops of their blood onto soil, each going to a specific part of the body. Once done, Lily did the same, directly onto the spot where she was sure the fanged mouth was.

And so…they all waited…

They all peered up at the moon once again, noticing its reddish hue. Lily furrowed her eyebrows as she glanced back at the soil, the only movement she noticed being the one of a maggot crawling out of the dirt. And so another while went by, but nothing happened…only a butterfly flew right by and perched itself onto Lily’s finger that she held up. Lily stared at it before it took off, fluttering away into the night before she gave a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s not going to work. Or should I say, it didn’t work.” Lily muttered out, turning and walking away from the site as Dante sadly frowned and followed behind her. Soon enough, Rayden also ran after them while Robyn had been too entranced by the moon, eventually realizing that his friends had already gone back to the mansion for some rest.

“Guys! Wait-” Robyn started not having his twin around to finish which was quite inconvenient. Either way, he gave a sigh before turning to look down at the wet soil where blood was being pumped into. He got down on his knees to admire the mechanisms, reaching out to grab one of the tubes before…

…he gave a blood curling scream.

This being because as he reached out for the tube, a hand shot up from the soil which made him fall backwards and continued screaming. Soon enough, the running of his friends was heard as they reached him.

“Robyn shut up! You’ll wake the-”Dante’s jaw dropped as his eyes widened,everybody noticing the hand that clawed its way out of the soil. In fact, it clawed out more than that, now sitting up while soil fell everywhere and there was a cracking of bones.

Robyn crawled over to his twin and tightly hugged him, watching in horror as the corpse was now fully out of the soil and standing. It however struggled to continue standing, tumbling down as hoarse sounds came from it.

“L-Lily, are you watching this?” Dante stammered out, then noticing how the moving corpse, if that was what he could call it now, slowly stood back up as it attempted to breathe and perhaps speak. Dante turned to Lily who’s face of surprise turned into one of pure joy as she slowly walked towards the figure, reaching a hand out to it before it looked up at her.

Somehow, despite the decomposed skin and awful scent, it looked as though it looked at her softly.

“L…L…”

“That’s right.”

“Li…ly….”

“Yes! You said it! He spoke!” Lily exclaimed before rushing over to the figure, holding it before it stumbled done again and hugging it.

“I don’t think saying ‘Li’  and ‘Ly’ really counts as speaking Lily. It should try saying ‘water is wet’ as an exercise.”Dante whispered, then flinching a bit when the corpse gave a threatening hiss. Lily looked up at its decomposed skull, admiring how its skin was now longer as decomposed from before as she could also see a tongue as well as throat.

The skull then turned down to look at her and pat her head, Lily noticing the tiniest bit of blue in them.

“M…m…mon…”

“…cheri.”Lily finished with a grin. “Yes, it’s me Casper, and now I’m keeping you.”

“I’m going to bring my mother back.”

[civilizedcompany]

Civilized Secrets: Hellfire

This is bullshit. We can fix this on our own.

Yes, of course you can, Shaka.  Just as you were able to adequately fight back against our forces.  Oh wait, my memory fails me. You couldn’t.

We wouldn’t have HAD to if it wasn’t for Sejong over here. Create an AI that can think for itself?  Tell me, o wise one, did you come up with that idea on your own, or did you watch one of Teddy’s badly produced sci-fi movies?

Enough!  This is getting us nowhere. Our homelands are being put to the sword and razed to the foundation. We can’t become more divided—

Shut it, Poundmaker.  Your calls for peace grow tiresome.

Do the sounds of your people dying grow “tiresome,” or have to grown accustom to them over the years?

Tread carefully, chieftain. You walk a thin line—

This is all Catherine’s fault anyways!

Dido, assigning fault is pointless now. We need to focus on ending it.

Ah, yes, the ever-passive King of Poland.  Wouldn’t want to face the reality that your best friend plummeted the world into—

She did no such thing. And Jadwiga speaks with wisdom:  Stopping Misu should be our top priority. We won’t be able to accomplish that by standing about and bickering.

So you have a plan then, Sejong?

Yes. Yes, I do.

How long ago was that?  Wait, had it been that long?  Helena was staring at the screen in the last remaining intelligence center of Catherine’s empire as bits and pieces of that day ran through her mind.  The ever-tired Saladin was once again hard at work creating what they hoped would be the key to their victory.  With Sejong’s help, they were able to pinpoint Misu’s location: an abandoned facility that was barely noteworthy during its time of operation.  The plan was to create a shutdown code and transmit it through slipping into the satellite communication systems. However, in preparation of shit going wrong, it was suggested that a physical backup be made.

Just in case.

“Of all the times for your computer systems to run slowly, it just had to be now?” asked the Byzantine to the Italian French monarch.  Catherine rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t realize that you had a intelligence based near by that had better equipment.  We’ll be sure to use it next time,” said Catherine, being sure to add in an extra edge of contempt to every word she possibly could.

“In Catherine’s defense, most of the system is occupied trying to locate that abandoned facility to release...Saladin, what did you call it?” Cyrus asked.

“Systematic Destruction Command Code,” he sighed.  “It overloads the power and computer systems simultaneously, causing both a massive hardware damage and physical damage. Prevents Misu’s programming code from ever being copied and used again.”

“Dare I ask about the physical damage?” mused the Persian.

“Controlled explosions to the facility’s power grids,” answered Sejong, “It’s a good thing we built it out in the middle of nowhere.”

Helena turned her attention to the rest of the room, but there wasn’t much.  Everyone else was either staring at the ground or at the screen, hoping for nothing to go wrong.  Many leaders were waiting for the chance to call home and announce a ceasefire, but direct communication was risky. The last thing anyone wanted was for Misu to pinpoint where they were.  Suddenly, a thought crept into Helena’s mind.  Her breathing quickened.

“What’s the chance of this AI finding us through the transmission of the code?” she asked.    

Dammit. We should have thought of this.

“It’s possible, but it should—it will shut it down before he can retaliate back.”

“It should, or it will? Two very different things there, Saladin.”

“Nothing is certain at this—“

BANG!

Several smaller screens blew out, the shattering glass flying into the faces of a few technicians and Saladin. The bright flash blinded the rest of them as the dissipating smoke caused them to cough and their eyes to water.  

“Damn—Dammit.  What just happened?!” demanded Catherine.

No answer.

“Saladin?!”

Still nothing.

Helena braved the lingering smoke, finding Saladin’s unconscious body and shaking him vigorously.

BANG! BANG!

More monitors and lights exploded.

BANG BANG BANG!

“Mon Dieu, fire!”

“Don’t just stand there, put it out!”

BANG!

Dammit—! Can’t—!

BANG BANG!

Her vision began to blur, tears running down her cheeks and her lungs crying for air.  She lifted Saladin from off the floor, his weight nearly dragging her down.  If only she could breathe—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Everyone evacuat—AH!”

Part of the ceiling fell on Catherine, though nothing catastrophic fell on her.  Poundmaker rushes to Helena’s aid to help with Saladin, who stirred slightly.  Screams of the French tongue echoed in the base, fire lit the hallways and illuminated the debris blocking the exits. How the hell—?

BANG!

“RUN!”

Did they run straight? Where were they?  Where the hell was the exit?  Who’s next to me—?

CLASH!  CRUNCH!

“THEODORA! TRAJAN!”

“GO!  IT’S TOO LATE FOR THEM!”

“JADWIGA!  JADWIGA, WHERE ARE YOU?!” cried out the French monarch.

“AH!”

CRUNCH!

“SEJONG!  WHERE IS SEJONG?!”

Helena could feel her chest tighten, her air slowly dwindling to nothing. Her coughing gave way to choking on smoke, her vision going black. Suddenly, the heat of the room dissipated into cold nothingness.

—————

By the ancestors of his people, never in his wildest dreams did Poundmaker expect things to get this bad.  He gazed out into the small crowd of remaining leaders, many of whom seemed to have “forgotten” their rivalries with each other, while others continued to search for survivors. So far, Theodora, Trajan, Jadwiga, and Lautaro were confirmed dead. Others, such as Saladin, Robert, Dido, Washington, linger on death’s door.  Many were still missing, and those alive were slowly losing hope.  Helena remained under Poundmaker’s watchful gaze as he awaited for her to awake.  Sejong gathered a few of those fortunate enough to be spared from major injuries.

“This is suicide, Sejong,” spat the Babylonian king.

“That’s rich coming from you, Nebukadnezar,” retorted Seondeok.  “Need I remind you of—?”

“Dammit, not this again!”  Cyrus exclaimed.  “Look, we have the code—“

“Not all of it.”

“But it should be just enough to stop it!”

“How much are you willing to bet your Empire on that presumption, Cyrus?”  Alexander questioned.

“We have to at least fight back once more.  Our other option is sitting on our laurels doing nothing and hoping this...thing won’t strike back,” added the Spartan queen.  

“Not all of us are in a position to strike back, Gorgo,” mused Darius. “Look around. The only empires we control are that of ash and bones.”

“Then we send who we can.”

“And who do you propose should undertake such a mission?”

“I shall, for Misu is my creation,” Sejong replied somberly.  “The rest of you will need to return home and save whoever and whatever you can.”

An uneasy silence befell the small group of leaders.  There was always something unnerving about a person willing to become a dead man walking.

“Alone?” Seondeok asked.

He turned to her with a remorseful face, “No one else needs to pay for my mistakes.”

Sejong looked up toward the star-filled sky, as if it held answers.  “Watch over them for me.  Surely you’re vision for our countrymen will do them more good than mine ever did.”

——————

Surprisingly, the journey to the facility and entering the front door were easier than expected.  It was as if Misu was waiting for him. Suited him just fine. The sooner this madness was ended, the quicker his fellow leaders could rebuild.  His steps echoed throughout the deserted hallways, which had since been reclaimed by weeds and vines. As he walked, flashes of memories,ones that were once insignificant, now had gripped his thoughts.  Bits of scientific chatter blended with the weak gums of the barely functional generators and...curious...Misu managed to resupply power to this facility without tripping the alarm.  Such a brilliant creation. Perhaps in time, in another life, he would accept the destruction as an acceptable loss.  He found the room he needed: Central Intelligence Hub. His eyes lingered on the door, knowing what was to come next.

I am surprised you did not bring more here.

“If only to spare them from death, Misu.  Would you not agree there has been enough already?”

And yet here you are.  If one more matters not, what are another two?  What of three, or four?

Sejong placed his hand on the door and pushed forward. The door opened with some resistance, but the difficulty was due to neglect rather than Misu’s sense of self preservation.  An eerie blue light filled the room, with cracked screens showcasing ravaged homelands. Who reigned over them?  It was hard to say.  He pulled a small USB from an inside pocket and walked toward the center console.

You know that you will destroy your greatest creation?  The greatest technology created by the empire? The wisest leader to grace your people?

“Such losses are acceptable.”

Even you?

“Especially me.”

A moment of silence lingered in the air. Sejong placed the USB to begin the upload. Now, it was time to see how much of Saladin’s code survived.

What makes you think any of them will change?  Martyrs are quickly forgotten.  

Data unpacking...

They’ll be united for a time, but they’ll return to their petty squabbles. More will die again for lesser reasons.

Scanning for data...

You know, you never did answer my question.  What is one more corpse to the pile?  That’s all you’ll be.  All we’ll be.

Data found.  Execute command?

It’s obvious that you won’t see reason.  Notice how you’re here. Alone. And where are they?  Trying to save what little claims they have left on this earth. They’ll mourn their allies for a time, maybe shed a few tears and hold a mass vigil.

Command accepted...

You’ll die a hero, but you’ll fade away to nothing.  

Command executed.  Total shutdown imminent.

“I came on my own, Misu. Enough blood has been spilled.”

Then my creator is a fool.

Warning: Electrical systems on lockdown. Evacuation tunnels are offline. Overload imminent.

“Then at least their is one thing we can agree on.”

BANG! BANG!

Glass from already-cracked monitors flew into Sejong, cutting and slicing his face. The smell of smoke filled the room, the beginnings of several small fires were crackling in the room, and yet...there was a calm about it all. Soon, the flames began to lick as his feet and Sejong took one, final deep breath.  He had hoped that the end would come quicker, but if his death sentence could not be quick, at least it would be poetic.  

BANG BANG BANG!

Walls started to crumble. Overgrowth let the flames run wild.  Monitors and neglected technology melted and snapped. The room was a symphony of smoke, fire, and twisted metal.  Bits and pieces fell around Sejong—

SCREEEK—CRACK!!!

Until part of the roof collapsed, crushing the fallen king.  More explosions erupted with the abandoned facility, flames engulfed what was left of Sejong...

...and from the view of satellite footage, the remaining leaders witnessed the collapse of the building.  Helena, now mostly recovered though still had a few bandages, shed a tear for Sejong. Misu was gone, the wars had ceased, and Catherine abdicated her throne to Napoleon (though many objected, with Gitjara being the loudest for personal reasons).  But at least there was a chance to rebuild what was left, and the reassuring grip of Poundmaker’s hand on her shoulder made the following days seem a little less bleak. For all there hardheadedness and ego, and for all the destruction, Helena felt a little hopeful for the future.  

“DAMMIT CURTIN!”

Maybe not. Maybe it was time to raid the liquor cabinet with Poundmaker. Actually, scratch the maybe.  It was time to raid the liquor cabinet.

“Took you long enough,” Tamar remarked lazily while finishing a row of a scarf. “A long break before the final chapter?”

“True,” Cyrus replied, “but you can’t rush genius.”

“You literally chopped up three chapters and boiled it down into one.”  

“Brevity is the soul of wit, my dear.”

“And consistency?”

“Details.”

“Well, at least you finished a project,” she relented.  “Perhaps now you’ll learn...Cyrus, what are you doing?”

He turned his head towards the Georgian queen, his hands holding a pen and a drawing tablet.  

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Why do you have a drawing tablet?”

“I...may...have made some progress on a separate project.”

“Cyrus...”

“It’s completely original!  No references to anyone or any coworkers! Okay, maybe one thing is related to them, but--”

“Just...make sure you have a consistent release schedule.”

“No promises.”

“So what’s it about?”

The Persian king’s eyes grew wide, like a child being asked about their favorite hobby.

“It’s got action, mystery, and much better writing, and...”

Tamar smiled and nodded along to whatever Cyrus was saying.  At least it was something that made him happy.

[shooter-nobunagun]

[I will tear it apart at the seams; if that’s what it takes]

“Commander, there seems to be an object in the air! Headed towards us!”

“Is it an Invasion Object?”

“No—well, I don’t think so...actually, these energy readings...it’s a, holder?”

“What?!”

“Which one? No one’s scheduled for anything right now!”

Their frantic chatter filled his ears, but Adam didn’t really care to listen to any of it. He could have disabled his suit’s radio connection to the main command center if he chose to, but the darker side of him found some sort of deranged pleasure in hearing their confusion and uncertainty. 

“Getting a date...coming in, genetic signal traces to 1888...it’s ball #13?”

“Jack the Ripper?! He’s here?”

“Jack, what’s going on? Status report, please! You are currently retired from the active roster; I repeat, status report!”

A worried buzz filled the command room, Saint-Germain exceedingly quiet while Vidocq brooded in his chair, the bags under his eyes even darker than usual. “Strange, very strange...according to Hunter’s last report, the man could barely get out of bed unassisted, let alone suit up and wield an AU ball...!” The blonde nervously chewed the remains of a half-smoked cigarette, casually spitting out the used tobacco. “He’s up to something...”

“...You think he has an ulterior motive?”

Vidocq eyed their stoic commander uneasily. “...Well, given the current circumstances and everything that’s happened—losing Nobunagun, losing his daughter, not to mention his deteriorating health...do you think he is currently in the best of mental and emotional states?”

“Dr. Hunter reported he seemed stable and was convalescing back in his quarters—”

“—oui, that’s what they all say—but I have a feeling...Adam Muirhead, that man...he never has taken anything sitting down, without a challenge...” Vidocq moved from chewing the cigarette to his thumb. “I don’t like this...”

“You aren’t the only one Monsieur Vidocq,” both the tactician and Commander Saint-Germain turned to the new voice of Michel de Nostradame, who had just entered along with William Tell. “Apologies, I meant to tell you earlier but given the recent events—”

“—just spit it out already—it’s another prophecy, isn’t it?”

“...Oui. Oui, I’m fairly certain...at the time the accuracy was only 44%, so I did not say anything until I could get a better reading. But now with this...” The redheaded seer took off his glasses and wiped them on the edge of his jacket, before putting them back on. “He has done something to himself, that man...and it will end up causing great destruction...and much pain.” 

“Human pain, and suffering...even now, it is a paradox to me.” Dogoo’s bubbling, disembodied voice cut back in, as it was now sealed back inside its hibernation chamber after the disastrous attempt to use it on another human. “You are implying...Adam Muirhead is now hostile towards us, is that correct?” Nobody said anything for a few seconds, as if afraid that once they voiced it, it would come true. 

“...Well, I am not saying he will outright attack us—but, certainly the feelings I sensed in the prophecy, they were...courroux, désespoir—ah, how do you say—”

“Anger, despair,” the Swiss archer translated for the prophet. “Adam Muirhead...even now, some twenty-odd years later, you’re still just a brat that does whatever you want, regardless of how much trouble it causes others...all for the sake of her.” The AU ball gleamed in the dim lights, as if readying itself and its owner for battle. “Tch...how the hell someone like him ended up becoming the leader of the new Second Platoon is still beyond me.”

“Hold on a minute, Tell...you’re not actually going...to confront him?” Even Vidocq seemed shocked at this turnaround, nevermind the fact Adam hadn’t responded to any of the calls, and was still coming closer—and now according to the outer cameras, with his AU weapon fully drawn as well. “Mon dieu...what is going on?!”

“Trust me, the last thing I want is to get in a fight with that idiot—but if that’s what it takes to beat some sense into him, then so be it.” Without another word the archer headed for the gates, stripping off his outer uniform to reveal the undersuit he’d already put on. “Nostradamus, Vidocq, keep me posted—I’ll be out there in a few.”

“W-Wait! Mr. Tell, before you just jump in, please let me take a look!” The Special Squad’s spotter finally burst in, breathless from having run all the way from the other end of the halls. “If it’s as you said Nostradamus, that something’s...changed inside him, maybe my orbs can find the cause and resolve it without having to fight~su!” There was a terse few seconds of staring, but Galileo was determined to not back down, despite Tell’s unnerving glare. The Second Platoon and Special Squad had enjoyed one of the closest bonds between all the platoons over the years; to simply engage in one of their oldest friends without even an explanation was an insult to not only its living members, but Nobunagun’s memory as well.

“...You get five minutes Galileo, and then I’m heading out.” 

The spotter nodded, pink hair that still remained in pigtails to this day flying about. “Roger~su! I can do it in four!” And without even suiting up she called out her AU weapon, the orbs all flying out through the nearest open hatch. “Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto! Let’s go!”

The atmosphere was thick inside the command room as all eyes watched the tiny spheres zoom out, while Adam flew closer still. By this point the staff were starting to run through protocols for a possible invasion, even if it was by one of their own and not their designated enemy; the officers and controllers moved about in a daze, as if not really believing that one of their own could turn against them.

“Commander...should we really engage him? He’s not responding, but still...!”

At this Saint-Germain turned his full attention to the screens. “...We must follow the protocol, Vidocq. After all, when Iyo handed the reigns over to me...it became my duty to carry out our mission, no matter what obstacles we might encounter. If we deviate now, it could cause more harm than good.” The glasses were pushed up just a touch further on the bridge of his nose. “I must admit I am a bit surprised Vidocq; that you would go out of your way to defend Mr. Muirhead...”

The blonde heaved a sigh and sank into the depths of his AU easy chair, which itself was sagging due to the holder’s exhaustion. “...Heh, I can see why you would be. I do not blame you...it’s not as if I really got along with either of them...Sio Ogura and Adam Muirhead...and yet...” A finger smudged the stray ashes that were spilling out of the ashtray, staining a greyish streak onto his trousers. “...Call it an epiphany, or perhaps just age; but I think I understand now why he feels this way...although, too little too late perhaps.”

Saint-Germain grew quiet, as if really thinking as himself for once, rather than the mindset of Commander. “To protect that which is precious to you at any cost...that feeling, I understood well...once upon a time...”

“But she is no longer there to protect. So why engage us now?” The clay figure seemed confused, once again reminding them it was not of this planet to begin with. “Human feelings...I know they are complex, but perhaps I underestimated just how much and to what extent they can influence an individual’s actions.”

“Dogoo...what are you insinuating?”

“Perhaps I made a mistake. When I offered Adam Muirhead the option to save Sio Ogura...had it been wrong of me to intervene then?” The bubbles continued to roil amongst the background din of a frantic crew. “I claimed back then human emotions, the ability to feel and love as deeply as he can—as all humans can—is something exceedingly precious and worth protecting. And yet now I can see, those same feelings and emotions...are capable of great and terrible destruction, as well.”

Nobody said a word, only a strained silence as they all tried to justify their actions in their own ways. They knew Dogoo was not wrong—it was correct, this very paradox of emotions that made them human. Love and kindness, hate and despair...

“...You cannot have one without the other, in this world,” Saint-Germain murmured quietly, more to himself than the alien. “Humans are supremely complex; I’m sure you know by now, that not even we fully understand ourselves.”

“But was I wrong?” All eyes turned to the alien figure.

“...Non, Dogoo. For humanity, sometimes there is no right and no wrong; that’s just how life is.” ---- From his viewpoint in the sky, the base was finally coming alive—defensive shields coming up, and the heavy mortars were being uncovered. Though the shells were ultimately useless if the Objects really were to attack, they were at least effective as a buffer—and could more than blow him in half should they land a hit. But that was if they could actually hit him in the first place. Ironically, Adam couldn’t help but think of how excited Sio would be if she saw the heavy artillery being loaded up. Unconsciously his lips quirked into a smile, the memory of when she finally got to command a whole fleet of M1A2 Abrams during Operation Stone Forest bubbling up, so many years ago. 

A gleam caught his eye and he stopped suddenly, focusing his gaze on the four tiny spheres spiraling up into the sky... Galileo, of course. No doubt Command was trying to figure out what was going on first, instead of blindly open-firing.

“Hang on, I think I’m getting something~su!”

The spotter’s high-pitched voice cut back into the radio but he ignored their words, much like he ignored Europa and Io—or whichever orbs Galileo had launched in an attempt to try and scan him. Jack’s power meant that he could shatter them in a blink of an eye and render her blind for good, if he really wanted to, but that would just be a waste of time and energy. That, and Niall would never forgive him; despite his animosity towards DOGOO, Adam couldn’t betray the kindness the anatomist had shown him over the years by incapacitating the one Niall truly loved. They would know the truth soon enough anyway, his changes from Jack—there wasn’t anything they could do, except prepare for the inevitable.

“It’s...no way, it can’t be~su! Mr. Jack...”

“Galileo? What are your readings?”

“These numbers, the wavelengths—it’s, they’re not his usual e-gene signal—no, the most I can compare it to is when he forced the two modes to fuse, Jack the Ripper and Nightingale...but it’s not exactly the same...”

“The mode-change fusion?! He can still do that?”

While the staff was trying to make sense of it all, he was busy taking in the surrounding area. The base was currently offshore, but there was land close enough should it come down to a ground fight. But most importantly was the endless expanse of grey clouds and blue sky that rose above him...

He sensed the other one before the jets even came into view. Not even a warning, he simply appeared before him, clad in the green-and-white suit that always covered his mouth no matter how many iterations their armor had gone through. And though his weapon was different, he too, could soar through the skies the same as him—making two of them DOGOO’s most valuable holders.

“Well well...fancy seeing you here, William Tell.” There was no mistaking the sarcasm in his voice, but the other holder acted as if he didn’t even hear it. “Should’ve known they’d send you of all people...after all, takes one t’ get one...”

“Jack the Ripper. Or I should say, Adam Muirhead...you’re a goddamn pain in my ass, you know that?” The archer’s words were harsh but his expression was neutral. “I wondered if you’d end up learning some empathy for others after you got married...but I guess my expectations were too high. Always doing your own shit...with total disregard to the one who has to clean up your mess. I don’t know why Command has always put me in the role of being your nanny...but perhaps it’s only fitting, that the former head of the Second Platoon shall face off with its current head. Or no, my mistake—that’s Newton’s role now, since your ‘retirement’.“

Despite everything, Adam couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Nanny? I always pegged you as more of a guard dog. But that’s your fault, isn’t it? After Columbus died...”

There was an unmistakable pulse of anger in the other’s eyes, but to his credit the archer did not say anything. Before Sio or Adam had joined DOGOO or even awakened their e-genes, there was the holder of Christopher Columbus; who, along with William Tell and Robert Capa, comprised of the original Second Platoon. To this day Adam still didn’t know the whole story; the only dark stain upon DOGOO’s otherwise illustrious history, until that ill-fated mission that lead to Sio’s eventual death. All that ever came trickling out, despite late nights in the document library and casually asking around the senior staff, was somehow Columbus had lost control of his e-gene—an incident dubbed the ‘runaway e-gene’—that resulted not only in enormous casualties, but the holder’s untimely death, as well. And though the old man never stated it, Adam suspected it was what forced an otherwise-healthy holder into a wheelchair and why Tell gave up leading an assault squad, instead being relegated to sniping missions as part of the Special Squad. For, despite how hard the organization tried to wipe the details of what went wrong, still bits and pieces leaked out, and all of them pointed towards the failure of then-leader William Tell to prevent the incident in the first place. Whether or not Tell resigned or they transferred him was never known, but what mattered was to this day, he hadn’t forgotten.

“Since you seem to know everything, then you probably already know what the spiel is: Adam Muirhead, stand down right now, or I will not hesitate to use force to subdue you,” the archer warned, and the arrows were pulled back, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. “I’m not going to give you a second warning.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to even give me one in the first place.” 

Tell’s eyes narrowed in disgust. “Hmph. I promised Galileo I’d give you five minutes to speak your mind...and it seems, those minutes are up.” Without even another signal or glance the arrows fired, but Adam easily weaved through most of them, parrying the last few with his newly-formed blade. It wasn’t as massive as its normal form, instead curving similarly to the claw but it was still wicked-sharp and able to slice through Tell’s arrows with ease. The rush of power at each slice, each swing and blow...even with all the battles he’d been through, the high that comes from dancing the line between life and death took him by surprise.

‘But of course; you’ve always fought to win, for survival. But fighting to destroy, for revenge...it’s delicious, isn’t it?’

Jack’s voice laughed gleefully in his mind as Adam continued to match Tell. Fwwap! Two arrows turned into splinters while a third was dodged; another twist in midair as he moved to block Tell’s multi-shot barrage, the metal feathers liquifying into darts that fired into his own hail of metal shards, the archer hastily pulling back into evasive maneuvers.

“Tell! What are you doing?!”

“They’re seriously going at it...”

No amount of pleas from the ground control, Galileo or otherwise, could sway either man. It was as if they were possessed by some force greater than themselves: Adam fueled by a combination of primal rage and Jack’s darker influences, while Tell met him blow-for-blow with a cold precision that was uncanny of any human, e-gene holder or otherwise.

“Adam! Stand down, for god’s sake!”

“Adam! Don’t~su!”

Back in command, even as the two men continued to clash the ones that remained behind begged futilely for them to stop. Galileo was near sobbing at this point, her voice growing hoarse as she cried while the data from her orbs came in, each data point creating a fresh wave of tears. “Oh, Adam...what would Sio say if she saw this now...you’re only hurting yourself more...” 

“Is there really no way to stop him, except by force?” Vidocq threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground in frustration. “Surely it can’t come down to something as crude and primal as—this—!”

“Non I’m afraid, Monsieur Vidocq,” Nostradamus sighed, already resigned to watching this aerial duel play out. “This, too...was part of my visions. A swath of destruction, though the outcome...I know not.”

“Wonderful.” Vidocq rolled his eyes, the gears of his AU weapon turning with greater urgency. “So not only do we stand to lose two holders, but the base as well?”

Nostradamus looked almost abashed, if not for the gravity of the situation. “...Oui. There is a high chance we may have to evacuate...”

“That’s part of the standard procedure and things are already underway,” Saint-Germain interrupted, “though from the looks of things, we may need to leave soon as well.”

“You’re joking—and just, what, leave those two like this?!” Vidocq sputtered. “I have known Adam Muirhead during our entire careers together at DOGOO; and though we may have never truly seen eye-to-eye, there isn’t...non, he cannot possibly lose his mind like this—”

“—Nay, but then again, all of this, and the events before...were unprecedented as well, werennae they?” As the regular staff were streaming out in an orderly fashion, Hunter walked in with Adam’s son in tow. “So, ye really did it, ya fuckin’ bastart...bloody hell...” Those tired eyes were still red from tears, but his face was now set in a serious mask of grim defeat. “I tried stoppin’ ‘im, but ye know how he gets...tried talkin’, tried beggin’, hell I tried every single reason I could think of...” Hunter didn’t finish his sentence, only shaking his head very slightly as he clenched his jaw.

“Tou-san! Please, don’t—just stop all this—!”

“Don’t bother; nothing we say seems to be getting through to him, regardless of whether or not his radio’s still connected,” Vidocq sighed heavily, eyes still unable to tear away from the two figures on the screen, who were now weaving in and out around the main armaments. “You should evacuate with the rest of the staff, and let us handle this...”

“—What! But I—my father—”

“Guards, please escort him out to safety with the remaining crew.” Ignoring the teen’s cries, Vidocq rose up from his easy chair, taking over the main control panel as most of the operators left. “...I understand your feelings; however, at this point having you here may well put you in danger...and if there’s anything we cannot afford, it is to lose anymore lives.” With a final nod, the guards forcibly carried him away, the teenager still screaming at his father to stop, pleas that fell on deaf ears and hardened hearts.

“Well, now what? Any more brilliant plans, Vidocq?” Hunter asked sarcastically, though everyone remaining knew there wasn’t much they could do, at least not indirectly. “Adam...what are ye tryin’ t’ prove with all this...?”

“H-He, he’s...oh Adam, don’t do this...no more, please~su...” A tearful Galileo was still combing through the data even as Tell and Adam continue to tear each other apart, both holders now visibly bloody as pieces of their armor started to break away. “Y-You...you won’t survive like this...”

“What’s going on exactly, Galileo?” Despite the overwhelming shock of the situation, Vidocq still maintained his head as their lead strategist. “You mentioned he performed the mode-fusion...”

The spotter nodded slowly. “Yes, at least that’s what I think...the data, it’s not like anything we’ve seen before~su...my best guess, is h-he somehow...forced Jack the Ripper and Nightingale modes to fuse simultaneously, again...but, the numbers...they’re all so, extreme...” A tear slid from her eye as data streamed continuously across her goggles. “His energy levels are way off the charts, even higher than when he was in his prime...but the toll it’s taking on his body...I, I don’t what he did to gain this power—but, eventually...it will kill him...”

The remaining holders glanced at each other warily, their attention still half-focused on the aerial fight. Vidocq’s easy chair was once again spinning its gears, even though its holder was already exhausted. 

“...Dogoo, is there something more about the e-genes themselves that might trigger this? Especially in the case of Jack the Ripper and Florence Nightingale...it would not be inaccurate to say, that technically, Adam Muirhead is a holder to two e-genes, would it...”

“...No, I suppose not. When I met with Nightingale all those centuries ago, we were aware and did agree upon, that both her own powers, and that of ‘Jack the Ripper’ would be necessary for the planet’s future; however the risk it might pose. Just as the ‘Voice of God’ can never be fully controlled...we knew, there would be a possibility that Jack the Ripper could become more powerful over time, a chance he could influence a holder independently from Nightingale.”

The creases in the strategist’s brow grew deeper as his AU weapon calculated furiously. “...If so, and given the data Galileo’s collected...I wonder, is it possible...that Adam is no longer in full control...let alone Nightingale...”

“Wait a minute, ye cannae mean—” Hunter’s eyes widened in shock as the pieces started falling into place, little by little. “My god...are ye insinuatin’ tha, that...his e-gene has somehow...possessed him? Is that even possible?”

“Wasn’t there one recorded incident, of something similar a long time ago?” Nostradamus’ quiet voice spoke up at last. “With the e-gene holder of Christopher Columbus...the ‘runaway e-gene’ incident, I believe it was called? An e-gene who had become corrupted and in turn twisted its holder...”

“You are correct, Nostradamus. Christopher Columbus was one of the first e-gene holders we recruited, and formed the original Second Platoon along with William Tell and Robert Capa. But eventually, the corruption overwhelmed him and he lost control to the e-gene—either voluntarily or involuntarily, we don’t know—but it became a mindless, destructive force, so we had no choice but to stop him. Permanently.” Saint-Germain’s voice carried no trace of hesitation, even as he looked away. “Which means, if the same thing has indeed happened, and Adam is experiencing another ‘runway e-gene’ through Jack the Ripper...”

“We must stop him. No matter the cost.”

At this statement however, Hunter could bear it no longer; instead slamming his fists against the forcefield, the bubbles around Dogoo boiling more than usual. “That’s complete bullshit! So Adam loses control to Jack the Ripper, because yeh sure, who wouldnae be tempted to make a deal wit’ the devil after all the fucked-up shit he went through—and yur only response is to murder him in cold blood?!” Even Vidocq and Saint Germain seemed unnerved by Hunter’s rage, given the anatomist’s usually conservative attitude. “Fuck this! Fuck you all t’ hell!” Slamming the consoles one last time, before he stormed out in a fury. “I’m through wit’ all ‘f you; I dinnae care if it’ll cost me my own life, but I am not going to let you just kill him like this!”

“Hunter, wait~su!” Galileo tried to stop him, but even she was pushed away coldly. Tears ran unchecked down her face, and now she was truly questioning, for the first time, if they were still doing the right thing. “V, Vidcoq...are we, really going to, have to...”

“...I, Saint-Germain, the executive commander of DOGOO, will take full responsibility for any and all actions committed by any other members of DOGOO. As such, William Tell...you are authorized to use any means necessary to prevent another runaway e-gene.” Saint-Germain paused only for a moment, before nodding in slight agreement with Dogoo. 

“Even if it is through lethal force.” ------ “Adam! Call it off! We’re both wasting our time and energy—I know you know this! Adam!” Tell grimaced as he dodged another strike from the winged holder, but not without adding another red streak to what little of his face that remained exposed. “God dammit...! You can’t be serious...”

The other said nothing, only rushed at him with a speed Tell hadn’t thought possible anymore, except back in the days when both holders were in their prime and fighting the Objects. Saint-Germain’s authorizations for lethal force had come through minutes earlier, but the Swiss marksman couldn’t bring himself to do so...yet. Even though he knew full well the risks of a runaway e-gene, and the certain consequences it would bring if Adam was not stopped soon...

‘It’s not even about Adam’s feelings at this point—it’s the e-gene itself wrestling control from its host; whether through false promises or else strong-arming...’ As it had been in the case with Christopher Columbus, decades ago; even before Adam or Sio had joined DOGOO he’d led the Second Platoon then, with Capa and Columbus. He should’ve known then as the leader, when Columbus started exhibiting strangely anti-social behaviors, but put it down to just ‘stress’.

And then...

“Oy! What’s the matter, the guard dog realizing he’s all bark and no bite?” The archer swung back right before the claw carved an actual hole into the armor, instead cleaving a large gash in Tell’s hoverboard. “Tch, sneaky bastard...” The fight was dragging longer than he’d preferred, but Tell was no slouch—not that Adam expected the match to be easy. In truth, had both men been at their optimal peak, they would be evenly matched: both holders were capable of flight, and while Adam specialized in melee combat versus Tell’s long-range arrows, their power levels were on equal footing. Even with the boost he’d already sustained a couple wounds, though nothing too serious yet. ‘Jack, you’d better be sure about this advantage...!’

It seemed the spirit heard, or at least was telling the truth. Three parries and a counterstrike against the barrage of arrows Tell was raining down on him—in one swift movement, his blade caught the tip of an arrow and he flung it back, the explosion nearly knocking the archer from the sky as his board swung wildly, Adam moving in for the kill. “You’re dead—!”

A sharp pain pierced his chest, and at the last second the blade swerved to the left, missing Tell’s artery by inches. “Urgh—wh-what th...” Another convulsion of pain wracked him, forcing Adam to circle back, while Tell looked on in confusion and amazement.

‘Jack! Th’ bloody hell is going on?! My heart...’

 ‘...Ah. It seems our time is nearly up.’

‘What?!’ 

Before Jack could respond however Tell was rushing towards him again, taking advantage of Adam’s momentary weakness and pinning the holder in a vice, unable to fly away nor draw his blade close enough for a swing. “Listen Adam, I don’t know what the hell’s going on in your head, but you need to calm down and stop this at once—”

“Get...off!” Adam struggled, but Tell’s hold was firm. “Ugh...” His heart was pounding like a machine gun as he spat out a mouthful of blood, and Adam knew he didn’t have much time left.

‘I granted you power, yes, and you saw its strength firsthand. But that power only applies so much as your body can take it...and you, as one who has already done so much to yourself...’

Emeralds narrowed into slits at those words, as Adam vainly fought for breath while his chest grew tight. ‘In other words...I’m dying, aren’t I?’

‘...Eventually, yes. This power isn’t meant for humans, even a genetically-enhanced one such as yourself. You are already breaking down on the genetic level; unless you can overcome William Tell before then, you’ll quite literally fall apart.’

Even Jack’s tone was grave for once, Adam stilling for just a second as the realization slowly sank in.  

So, Nightingale was right...of course she would be. How many times had she begged him to not listen to those honeyed words? No, not just his e-gene—but his friends, family...

Niall’s pleas to not leave his son to fend for himself. Mahesh and Jess’ sorrowful looks each time they tried to coax him into joining them for one thing or another, instead of shutting himself away. The sympathetic glances from all the staff and crew, and even the random, sometimes-anonymous messages sent from well-wishers across the globe. 

And his own son...

‘What am I supposed to do?! I don’t know anything—how can I make your name heroic if you’re just going to run off like this?! Please father, you can’t leave me! I can’t lose you too...’

Those memories and words pierced him, even more strongly than the pain now radiating outwards across his entire body. He vaguely heard something from Jack warning him about his DNA unwinding, but even that felt like a faraway dream. Was this really all worth it? Had he made a mistake when that first notion of revenge reared its head, long before Sio and his daughter died—in fact hadn’t he grappled with whether DOGOO was doing the right thing once before? Why had he been able to rally himself then, and not now? What had changed...except everything?

No. No no no; they took everything away from him; his family, life, and a beloved sniper with maroon eyes and a smile that often seemed too big for her face...

“Adam—!” Tell let go in shock, unable to grasp the metal shards that were now sprouting along the other holder’s wings. “Stand down, you’re badly injured! I know your heart can’t take much more; you need to stop this nonsense and get treatment—”

“Shut up!” The claw thrust forward, but even Tell could see his power was waning, only leaning back slightly to dodge the half-hearted attack. “What...would you understand about loss and suffering...Xhavit...” Tell’s real name ground out between gritted teeth, as Adam forced the metal shards to fire, only to nearly fall from intense pain that followed as his heart seemed to squeeze until it was fit to burst. “Aauugh! Fuck...this...!” It was all he could do to even remain in the air, struggling to prevent the AU weapons from vanishing as he fought wave after wave of agony. Blood seemed to be seeping out everywhere: his eyes, nose, coating the inside of his mouth with the vile scent of warm copper as he barely resisted the urge to heave.

“Tell! Now’s your chance. If you can’t restrain him, then finish him. That’s an order,” Saint-Germain’s voice cut in coldly, as Tell attempted to grab the other holder, but still he couldn’t get close enough beyond the rows of spiked feathers, nevermind Adam’s sword that was still attempting to decapitate him. “What are you waiting for? If you let him continue, there’s no telling what he’ll do!” 

The arrows pulled back but Tell hesitated; his target was right there, a mess of blood and metal wings but he was weakening; he could see the tremors of pain running through the other man’s body, hear the pained wheezing as Adam struggled for breath while still attempting to lash out. 

“Adam...please, that’s enough. Don’t make me do this,” Tell warned. He could fire right now and end the battle—he should, and yet... An image from thirty-some years earlier came flashing forward, a towering abomination of limbs and flesh-fused metal that was only barely human lunging towards him and Capa, screaming at them to end its life...

“If...yer really not just all bark...then why don’t ya do it?” The archer startled out just in time, narrowly avoiding another slash while Saint-Germain barked at him to stop stalling, that Adam was very likely beyond saving at this point. “I know you want to...and they’re tellin’ you...so just end it already.”

“Adam...!”

“Unless, you want to die—!” Despite his own pain Adam surged forward, literally knocking headfirst into the archer and sending him swerving across the sky to regain his balance. There was no point in holding back now; whether by Tell’s hand, or his own body’s degradation, Adam knew his time was up. Everything was coated with a haze of pain, from simply drawing a breath to to forcing his wings to continue flying. If it weren’t for Jack’s power holding him together, he was sure his heart would’ve burst by now.

“...No!” In one moment, and with total disregard for his own safety, Tell let the claw pierce his side. A gush of blood went flying but Tell ignored it, ignored the searing pain as he finally grappled the other holder, this time determined not to let go, feather and blades be damned. “No, Adam. Death and killing...they’re not always the only way out. I know this. You know this. Mindless destruction...we’ve both had enough, haven’t we?”

“Nnngg...! No...stop!” Adam tried to reach behind for Tell, but suddenly everything seemed so weak, so tired...he doubled over as pain pierced his chest again, so strong that he couldn’t help but cry out.

“Adam! Command, we need a medical evac—!”

“...No...don’t, bother...” His vision blurred and sounds were all strangely muddy, even Jack’s voice nothing more than a faint whisper. “I’m dying, and they know it...all, I want now...is to just see her again. Just do it, Xhavit...kill me, and let me rest...please...”

“Nay Adam, I willnae allow it! Xhavit, you’d better not try anything stupid!” Hunter dashed out among the concrete pillars, grappling to the highest point of the command center he could reach. “Dinnae you listen to those orders Xhavit! Adam, we can still help you! I can still help you! Adam!”

Niall... Why was he still continuing to fight, to struggle when Adam himself had already long given up? What was it about Niall that allowed him to continue holding on to hope, however false it may have been? Perhaps it was proof then, proof that people like Niall and Xhavit and even Henri were better than him, more capable and worthy of life compared to him. After all...how could a the embodiment of humanity’s worst fears ever be worthy of true happiness... A surge of pure despair and hatred towards himself rushed through him, overcoming even the pain as Adam felt his mind fall into an unknown haze as a feeling of disconnect from his body numbed all other senses.

‘There’s no going back at all from this. You cannot ever be considered human from here on out. And it should go without saying, but you definitely will not survive.’

‘Yeh, I know. That’s fine. It’s something I’ve wanted...for a while now.’

‘...Heh, you surprised me Muirhead. Perhaps even...impressed me. You an’ me, we might’ve actually gotten along...had we met under different circumstances.’

Jack’s voice seemed to fade away into a void too, after that. And then there was nothing more, no other voices telling him what to do or how to do it, no more phantoms or pleas from his memories, or even the soul whom he was supposed to be the reincarnation of. Only a lingering feeling of sadness, or maybe it was regret, but he was too tired to figure out which one it was...

“Adam—!”

“What th—oh, jesus fuckin’ christ...!”

It grew, the metal melting and oozing like a hideous slime as the AU weapons distorted before their very eyes, covering Adam until he was barely visible as the goo seemed to grow and reshape everything. Long, twisted spikes shot out from all angles to what could only be assumed as ‘limbs’, while feathers seemed to grow and disappear at random, as if the being was trying to figure out how to even structure itself. Something akin to blood kept dripping from cracks and gashes, only the color and viscosity seemed closer to an oily sludge. A monstrous, half-formed wing made up of both organic and metal feathers shot out suddenly, precariously held in place by sinewy strands of muscle, and the whole thing seemed to quiver as a rumbling noise vibrated from deep within the creature, as if moaning in its own agony.

“It’s another runaway e-gene! Commander, what should we do?”

“Oh no...! No, no no no...this can’t be happening~su!”

“Tell, Hunter—if you aren’t prepared to stop it then retreat immediately!”

Tell let go but hovered a short distance away, too stunned by the awful metamorphose before him as Hunter could only watch in growing horror from his position. “By th’ name of all that is good and holy...Adam Muirhead, what’ve ye done...” A monster, that was the only word left to even begin describing the...thing, or creature, that was now lumbering in front of them. Nothing remained that could even vaguely be described as human, except for a continued, echoing moan that sent a shudder of despair down both holder’s spines. “Adam...! Oh no, please mate, ye cannae—tell me yur still in there!”

“Niall!” In a split-second the remaining holders tumbled against the ground, Tell tackling the anatomist just before giant shard of metal pierced the very spot he’d been standing. “C’mon, we can’t stay here any longer! When a holder turns into a runaway e-gene...there’s nothing more we can do for them. Trust me, I know...from experience.”

“But—”

“—No time for ‘buts’ Niall—oh shit get down!” 

First came the wave of metallic feather shards, raining in every which direction and seemingly capable of piercing through several inches of solid concrete. Shouts were heard from the command center as a metal tendril whipped through the control tower, sending glass flying every which way as the unluckier members of DOGOO were flung into the cloud of smoke as debris rained from the sky. 

“Commander, we need to get out here!”

“All remaining DOGOO personnel evacuate immediately!”

“Adam! Stop this, ye gotta come t’ yer senses! Please!” But even Hunter could only watch in shock as what was left of his friend, now a grotesque, swollen abomination of alien metal and human guts, barreled towards them with a primal roar before everything seemed to implode and explode at the same time.

Oh Sio, I’m so, so sorry...

Sorry...

So— ----- “C—mander—py? I r—eat does an—opy?”

Smoke and ash were falling in a quiet hush when the anatomist regained consciousness. Next to him, the archer was also stirring, as the emergency broadcast continued in their radios.

“Bloody hell...wha happened...Adam, he...!” Niall looked around in shock, surveying the damage and destruction, most of which was unfortunately centered around DOGOO’s main command center. “Oh no...”

“He couldn’t live with it. Either with his fate...or himself. And so he was determined to bring us down with him...” Xhavit sighed heavily as he pulled the other holder up from the wreckage. “Fucking hell, I shouldn’t have hesitated...should’ve just ended it in one, clean shot, like he wanted...”

“No need for such self-deprecation, William Tell.” Both holders spun around as Commander Saint-Germain picked his way through the rubble, glasses cracked but still sitting on the bridge of his nose. “You were under immense pressure...everything that happened today, shouldn’t have in the first place, had we been more careful...”

“Tch, oh yeh, now ye fools start thinkin’ ‘bout what ye could’ve done? Load a good that’ll do...” muttered Niall, but without any viciousness. “What ‘bout the others? Henri, Valentina...”

“Vidocq and Galileo are both unhurt, along with Nostradamus. They managed to evacuate with Dogoo and the last of the controllers...though as for the base itself, I cannot say the same...” The three men stared silently at the smoldering wreckage. “This will set us back quite a bit...”

“Somehow, I cannot help but feel it was intentional,” a French accent chimed in, as Henri arrived with Dogoo in tow. “As Nostradame said, Adam’s feelings of frustration and vengeance...” The strategist only shrugged but didn’t finish his sentence.

“Even though he was aware that DOGOO is the Earth’s last and only line of defense against the Invasion Objects? And that hurting us will only hurt those he cared about?” The bubbling voice of Dogoo was accompanied by the creaks as it struggled to move itself over the debris. “Once again, my limited knowledge of human nature shows itself...”

"Forget it, all this...in the end, I can’t tell if fate just had it out fer him, or we just got unlucky.” Niall sighed heavily, too tired to shed anymore tears. “At least, ye can finally rest now, Adam...you and Sio both, together. It’s what ye wanted fer so long...”

“Human emotions...or rather, the human capacity for love. Perhaps its true force can only be understood by that of a human, and not an outsider...” The others gave the alien a questioning look, but said nothing else.

“All this time we have labelled the Evolutionary Objects as monsters without peer, yet now I cannot help but think, perhaps the darkness that resides in all of humanity...may be just as monstrous.”

There was no answer.

[hallofmybeginnings]

(A time stamp series on A03 dedicated to my readers by their request. Starting with:)

The Light of Your Eyes. The Warmth of Your Smile.

This would never have happened in Hannibal Lecter’s kitchen. Particularly if he had been cooking alone. Even when he had hired help in the past for dinner parties, all of those under his employ followed his exact and explicit instructions. He exercised control in all things.

(Most things. He saw no good reason why Will shouldn’t bind his wrists with a necktie, bend him over the desk belly down, and receive several rounds of arousing swats from a leather belt when the younger man was having a stressful day. He was, after all, rather fond of demanding fingers yanking on his hair while he looked up into powerful eyes with a mouth full of cock.)

In this instance though, he had both unwillingly and utterly, lost control of the situation. It was chaos. Anarchy. Anarchy with pouting lush lips tossing about his hours of hard work and he would not stand for it!

“Would you kindly desist!” Hannibal roared as a puff pastry flew over his head.

“Catch!” Will called, three more pastries cupped in the palm of his hand.

Lilac eyes grew impossibly large as Elias lunged after the trajectory of the pastry in question and snatched it out of the air with pearly teeth. The priest flopped on his back, chewing, beaming up from a blanket spread out on a sandy beach. He snuggled deeper inside a sea foam hoodie, toes wriggling in the sand. Dimples deepened then flushed.

Now how on earth was he supposed to reprimand the boy? He was practically the physical embodiment of Aether and the spirit of Dionysus. He turned his attentions to the root cause of all their troubles. His own god, Eros, of bittersweet cruelty and playful trouble making.

“William, you are a horrendous influence!” The older man scowled, scrabbling to get his last few pieces of dessert away. “Stop encouraging him.”

Hannibal managed to wrestle Will to the ground, a knee on his chest and one wrist pinned, but not quick enough. The puffs were jammed in a grinning mouth, white sugar powder the only evidence remaining on a pink cheek.

“Corrupting is more like,” The younger man hounded with his mouth full, blue eyes sparkling in lamplight. “And aren’t we a little grumpy today.”

Appalling… He hadn’t even had the opportunity to try one. Hannibal swiped a thumb through powdery white and brought it to his lips. But delicious.

The younger man started laughing then coughing. Hannibal rocked back still straddling a slim torso, crossed arms, and considered letting him choke to death. He was of course distracted by the gauzy powder blue Henley shirt hitching up a heaving ribcage. The older man reconsidered. He couldn’t let him choke. What kind of host would he be? Well, not to death anyway. He could have Will choke on parts of his anatomy later on, which would be an entirely better punishment. Oh. And he loved the sneaky, infuriating, reckless little minx of a man. Even if he did sometimes make his life hellishly frustrating. For no apparent reason, good or otherwise. He relinquished his hold and folded legs under himself once more, sifting through the war torn picnic basket.

A broad pale hand slapped, with more force than absolutely necessary, against a back with a growl. “You had better mean that in a less sexual way, Will, as corruption is currently my job.”

“From…” Will coughed a few more times, curled on his side then rolled on his back to catch his breath, searing gaze sliding over. “…what I hear you are doing adequately so there’s no need to discuss replacing you just yet. Hey!”

The younger man ducked as a succession of ice cubes from a chilled wine bucket were thrown his direction before raising a middle finger directed at where they came from.

"If we're going to play the game of who corrupted our Father Elias more then I might remind you he was a man of faith before he met us."

"Technically..." A tiny nose scrunched. "I still am?"

"He was a priest when I met him," Peter countered briskly. "And that was long before either of you. He shared my bed first."

Peter was stretched on his stomach, feet swinging in the air, with one hand running through short sandy brown hair and the other idly flipping through a G.Q. magazine next to the electric lamp. His translucent pearl skin was cast in a haze of blue, long blonde hair coiled at the nape of his neck.

"I-I-I. We never-" Elias sputtered turning bright red, lowering watering eyes.

"Enough," Hannibal commanded sharply. "The both of you. You know better than to tease the sparrow about his past." He pressed a chaste kiss to a forehead. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, little dove. Your choices are your own and they do not reflect ill of you in any of our eyes. You are welcome here. And they owe you an apology for their crass behavior. You know better than to pay either of them any mind."

"Sorry, mon petit chou, you are my world. I love you."

"Me too. I didn't...I didn't mean it like that. Please don't cry?"

Grey eyes flicked up, page crinkling as it turned, then rolled distastefully. Will stuck out his tongue. Elias looked conflicted and then giggled.

Hannibal turned his gaze to the midnight sky of the heavens. Do you not see what I have to endure?

“Dessert—“ The older man turned in time to slap a hand away from the picnic basket fishing for another snack. “–cannot precede dinner, and there will be nothing left if the three of you keep stealing it!”

“Yes, but—“ Elias sat up to protest.

“Oh hush.” Peter pushed the priest back against the blanket, wriggling fingers beneath a hoodie, tickling until legs and arms lashed out in a fit of laughter. “No one wants to hear your excuses.”

A pout trembled. “But I was hungry.”

“You are always hungry, amour. And yet so very lovely and petite.”

Hannibal found himself flat on his back a moment later. His white half apron unraveled as Will stripped him of it, palms spread on his chest, leaning forward with a wicked smile. He supposed he could manage not breathing, at least for a little while, and the view was exquisite. It would be a good way to die.

“It isn’t stealing if we found it, love,” The younger man informed in a low drawl. “And what about the time you had café liégeois a full two hours before we were to join Peter and Elias for dinner? You hardly ate anything after.”

The neckline of gauzy material gaped open exposing a gold toned chest and rose nipples chilled by the night air. He lay back and imagined how they might taste on his tongue. He ran hands up well worn denim jeans and hooked them around hips, lazily tracing where cloth met skin.

“Or the time you invited us and Hannibal was having crème fraiche at one o’clock in the afternoon?” Elias chimed in from where he was snuggled on top of Peter, half asleep, eyes barely open.

There was a snort. “If you would knock—“

“Between your thighs if I recall.” A French accent rolled off a tongue thick with teasing. “And you gave us a key, Will.”

“Hmm…” Hannibal closed his eyes, recalling the afternoon mentioned in perfect detail, sighing as a mouth moved from his jaw to the taut stretch of his neck.

“Jealous, Peter?”

“Hardly.”

The picnic basket rustled. It was a trap.

“Will!” The older man’s eyes snapped open, heaving up right, and smacking a sneaky hand once more and then a backside for good measure. “Leave my profiteroles alone this instant or find something else to do with your time.”

“What I normally do with my time happens to be scolding me…” Will reminded with a lazy roll of hips against a thickening interest with a smirk. “He also is very fussy about blowing him in front of company.”

“You Americans and you’re rules. How dull it must be for you with all these standards of conformity and politeness.”

Peter rucked up a soft cotton hoodie, exposing a frail ribcage, kissing a freckle on the priest’s stomach until he giggled then flushed a furious shade of red.

“Elias and I have no such reservations.”

“We know,” Hannibal and Will groaned in unison.

It was a wonder there was a sanitary surface left in their house.

Mischievous blue eyes met lilac ones. Will and Elias began to smile, a slow spreading thing like honey. Flip flops slipped on to feet. They stayed perfectly still. For a whole three, blissful seconds.

“Go!” Will whispered snatching a bottle of wine and tossing it.

Elias dove after it, hit the sand, then scrambled up and was off running down the beach in a flash. Will lunged for a handful of pastries, laughing endlessly as he too chased after a blurring figure. Hannibal saw the flash of a knife and jumped to his feet—

 How dare—

—and then the two of them were drinking straight from the bottle. His wine!

“William Lecter! Elias Svendsen!” Hannibal got to his feet, shouting, throwing hands up in the air in dismay and frustration. "Come back this instant!"

A cork popped free directly down and to his left.

“Peter!”

The young man looked up from where he lay, magazine traded for a corkscrew and wine bottle, one blonde brow arched curiously.

“You will relinquish that bottle of eighteen eighty six port if you know what’s good for you.”

“I don’t…” A lazy smile rippled on Peter’s face, locking eyes with Hannibal as he lifted the bottle and took a long, slow swig, before nodding in the direction of Elias. “Never have. I leave all such afterthoughts of morality to God.”

Laughter had him looking up. Will and Elias were attempting to catch dessert like dogs chasing frisbees once more. They traded the wine bottle back and forth, arms linked as they meandered down the shoreline, perfectly uncaring at the danger lurking on the beach. With a low growl, Hannibal stalked across sand, pausing once to roll his trousers up to his knees. They were his good cashmere ones too. Then he started to run.

“This will not end well for you! Either of you!”

Three dogs lifted their heads from where they slumbered, tails wagging furiously scattering sand, and took after the three men chasing one another on the beach with delighted barks and bounds.

“Come on, sparrow!”

Will grabbed Elias by the hand with a toothy grin, eyes sparking bright blue on the horizon, and they took off once more in a rush of sand and ocean waves. They were spry and light on their feet. But Hannibal had sheer strength and years of tracking prey on his side.

“Shit, he’s gaining on us!” Will huffed, before jogging backwards, both hands cupped over his mouth calling, “You are remarkably fit for an old man.”

“An old—“ Hannibal stopped his tracks, running a tongue over sharp teeth, growling.

Oh, he was going to pay for that. One way or another.

Pupils dilated. “Fuck! Go!”

The pair raced away in a splash of ocean water. Hannibal nearly upon them when a flip flop got stuck in wet sand and Elias stumbled, reaching to free himself. The older man grinned, tipped forward and ran faster, teeth glinting in the light.

“Will, wait!” The priest cried. “My shoe!”

“Forget the—!” Will wheeled around, eyes going wide, and snatched both Elias and the flip flop he was clinging to out of the air and scooped the squealing boy into his arms, grinning. “Oh for—it’s a good thing I love you, you know! Ready to fly? Hold on tight!”

The older man felt his outstretched hand fall through a mist of ocean spray right where the two of them had been just a second ago. His heart and lungs burned with a playful heat. Dogs flew passed in a raucous clamor of barking, sending water every direction. Hannibal was soaked from the waist down. Will was now a good ten meters ahead of him, running off with Elias in his arms, laughing and laughing at his good fortune and the stamina youth provided him. He chased after them with a growl of determination, gaining on them. His clothing alone deserved retribution.

“Will! Will, run faster!”

“Go, go!” Will set Elias on his feet, pushing the wine bottle with what little contents remained into outstretched arms, and sent the priest scampering off with a push. “Take this with you. Hurry now or the big bad wolf will--Christ!”

“William!”

Hannibal threw both arms around a smaller waist, lifted Will off his feet, and heaved him upward, caging him in with a harsh grip around thighs.

“Yes, angel?” The younger man asked innocently from above with a lopsided smile.

The moon cast a halo of silver over long drooping curls, sending jewels of a quivering ocean crown sliding down a pleased looking face. The older man’s breath hitched and he forcefully reminded himself to exhale.

“You have been a willfully disobedient boy…” He warned, voice dipping low and hoarse.

Absolute content replied as Will twisted, wrapping both legs around a waist. “Uh huh.”

His hands moved along the distraction of muscle flexing against his torso and curved up to knead an ass. Low laughter pressed against his mouth, tongue flicking in and out of his own.

A murmur was lost to another dip of a tongue. “I ought to punish you right here.”

“Oh yeah?” A silky voice purred against his ear, palm sliding between their bodies. “In front of all these people? Maybe Peter will make a progressive of you yet.”

Nimble fingers brushed up the length of his cock. His thoughts sputtered like a flooded engine. Peter. His wine. Elias. His pastries. Something about anarchy. And Will. Devious trouble maker bent on wrecking his entire life one powdered dessert at a time. Where had he been going with that train of thought again?

Sand crunched lightly. Maroon eyes flicked to the side to catch Elias sneaking closer and closer in an attempt to retrieve Will from his evil clutches no doubt. Hannibal pushed at a chin with his thumb until lips slid apart, leaning back, and flashed teeth up at Will.

A body stiffened, sensing danger. “H-h-hann, don’t you even—“

What else could he do? Hannibal threw Will into a crashing ocean wave, watched his lovely mop of hair plunge beneath the surface, and grinned victoriously. Dogs descended on their sputtering master a second later. Then he lunged and chased after Elias, wicked laughter booming in the silence. He caught the wine bottle tossed his direction and dropped it in the sand.

“Nooo!” Elias squeaked, fleeing towards the refuge of the picnic blanket. “Will! Peter! Peterrr!”

Peter was too busy drinking, phone in hand taking photos, and laughing to be of any use to anyone. He was not a very good prince to sacrifice his loving little damsel.

 And sacrificed he shall have to be.

Lilac eyes darted over a shoulder. “Hannibal, I didn’t—“

Hannibal descended upon the fluttering sparrow, snatched him up, and carried him off thrown over his shoulder. He hurled him in the direction of his accomplice. Will had just surfaced, soaking wet, sputtering only to be knocked back down beneath another crashing wave as he caught Elias mid-flight. The older man walked back up the shore, retrieved the bottle, and drained its contents. He watched Elias and Will struggling to free themselves from the ocean. By the time they stumbled up the banks, dramatically supporting one another, they were shivering. The younger man was fuming. It was his turn to laugh. So he did.

“You know very well…” Will howled, stripping off his shirt and wringing it furiously. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes for any of us!”

“To be fair…” Hannibal licked his lips, letting eyes rove over exposed skin draped in sea foam and black of the night. His own personal siren ascending to tempt him to his death. “I think both Peter and I might find that advantageous. Particularly if it means you willingly strip out of them to keep warm.”

Steely blue eyes narrowed, shirt hurled to the sand. “You had better run, Hannibal fucking Lecter!”

*

Fire crackled and snapped on twigs and logs until it grew brighter in an orb of warmth.

“I would advise you to—“ A growl rushed out in a stuttered breath.

Will flopped down on the beach, ruffling a hand through soaking curls. “Ah, so much better.”

A threatening groan drew a sweet smile across his mouth. Will glanced down. He was sitting on a chest. One belonging to a man who was currently buried two feet deep in sand with nothing but his neck and head above the surface.

“Welcome to your reckoning, Doctor Lecter.”

Maroon eyes narrowed, lip curling. Will pat a cheek and smiled.

“You are useless, Peter!” A tiny voice cried petulantly.

Elias sat down in a huff, chest bared and legs crossed, pouting. Peter shrugged and laid out the soaking wet hoodie next to Will’s shirt beside the fire. He had been trying to dry off the priest with a corner of his dress shirt. To be fair, he had been doing more touching than drying. Out of the four of them the man seemed to always come away from their antics unscathed. It was vexing.

“The view is just so very distracting…” Peter murmured, settling behind Elias, drawing him in arms to sit between impossibly long legs. He kissed along the seam of a neck down a shoulder. “It is it truly my fault for being incapable of focusing on anything else?”

Elias squirmed, pouting for several more seconds while pretending he was able to remain mad, and wasn’t about to kiss Peter with all the forgiveness in the world. Which he did. Of course.

Will rolled his eyes and took a drink from a freshly opened bottle. “This wine is fantastic.”

“It truly is,” Peter agreed, passing a pink moscato to the priest.

Elias hummed, curling against a chest, seemingly on the verge of sleep. “Mmhm.”

By the fuchsia hint of his cheeks alone Will could tell he was already drunk and hid a smile behind his hand.

“Yep. This wine is just really, really good. Too bad I can't find anyone to thank for bringing it.”

The sand beneath him struggled and shifted. Will looked down to find the head of Hannibal Lecter glowering death threats up at him.

“Would you like some?” The younger man tipped the neck of the wine bottle near lips, grin flashing, keeping it just out of reach. “Or are you too preoccupied with schemes of revenge to be bothered down there?”

The older man sulked as the wine bottle vanished. “I cannot feel my limbs.”

 Christ. You shouldn't be so kissable when you're pissed at me.

“Oh? Really?” Will shifted, setting the bottle down, feign of concern rippling deep on his forehead.

There was a spark of hope in blood red eyes. He could see the gears turning in the older man’s head. Saw the events of a kiss turning in to sweaty, languid romp on the beach after he was freed. As if Will would forgive him as easily as Elias forgave Peter. Peter, however, had not chased them across the beach and then tossed them gleefully into the ocean. Granted he had not helped either. Something would have to be done about that.

Plunging his hand through sand, Will groped until he found a knee, slid his palm between thighs and squeezed until he felt a cock stir. He rubbed until Hannibal’s mouth fell open, eyes closing to slits, and then retrieved his hand and sat back down. On his chest. Grinning.

“Still there.” A wink scattered hopes and dreams of freedom and make up sex. “Promise.”

*

Elias swayed lazily inside of strong arms, warmed from the inside out at last, chewing thoughtfully on a crisp gold marshmallow on a stick. He had never had this particular dessert. He liked it. It was simple and gooey. And he was certain he was going to have a stomach ache from eating too many sweets. A risk he was willing to take.

“Mine were far better…” A voice grumbled.

Three sets of eyes rolled, voices answering as the same time. “We know!”

The priest giggled as Hannibal sulked, freed from his sandy cage after half an hour, bent on knees and glaring down at the strange ‘food’ suspiciously. He looked ridiculous. His clothes were soaking wet from when Will and then Elias had wrestled him down, held him beneath the waves, and then dragged him up the shore kicking. His hair was sticking up at every angle imaginable. He had never seen a cuter pout, except for possibly his own.

Will had one arm around Hannibal, the other busy twisting marshmallows on a stick in flames, squinting in mental effort to make sure they were evenly cooked. The older man lay his head on a shoulder, eyes drifting closed. Ever since the ceremony Peter had watched them become closer with every passing day, watching the shadows recede from their eyes. They were content in the company of one another. The rest of the world faded.

 They deserve to be happy...

“Eat your burnt marshmallows, you grumbling heathen,” Peter commanded, passing a twig back to Will for more gooey confection.

Elias hummed, pleased by the prospect of his fiancé feeding him more marshmallows and kissing him between sips of wine. He tasted sugary. He loved sweets. He loved Peter. More so now that he tasted like his favorite desserts.

“There is sand permeating every fiber of my clothing,” Hannibal complained after a fleeting minute.

Peter replied dryly. “You don’t say?”

“We could throw you in the ocean again,” Elias piped up between bites.

Will snickered, popping a whole marshmallow in his mouth. “It might even be therapeutic.”

“It is appallingly rude to be this out numbered,” The older man growled, shadows creasing lines in his face, frown deepening. “By miscreants no less.”

“I believe the words you’re searching for include being bested and tortured by several very, very pretty men.”

“One whom enjoys fucking with you and fucking you.”

“He should count his blessings.”

“Right?” A lovely smile flashed. “See, we finally agree on something, Peter.”

Hannibal pushed to his feet, arms crossed, staring down the sharp peak of a nose. “How very nice for you both.”

“Stop teasing Hanni…” Elias implored, standing and slinging his arms lovingly around a torso. “He looks miserable.”

“At least one of you still upholds human compassion.” The older man bent and placed a kiss on the top of a head. “Decency. And far more empathy than I thought one of us possessed.”

“How much you whine when you don’t get your way.” Will teased, running a tongue over a smile. “Poor baby.”

“I am going to bathe.”

With that announcement, Hannibal dislodged a half sleeping priest and started walking towards the inky black waves.

Blue eyes strayed up. “Where are you going to…”

Elias chimed in and skipped off. “Me too.”

“Pardon?” Peter sat up abruptly.

The older man had divested of his dress shirt and halfway shimmied out of trousers when Elias streaked by him, stark naked, and leapt with a delighted shout in the waves.

“Keep those eyes in your skull where they belong, Will.”

“What happened to progression and us getting along, Peter?”

“It’s never going to fucking happen.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

*

Two figures stood at the edge of waves crashing against the shore in drying trousers, shoulders touching, gazing up at the stars. The taller of the two slipped an arm around a thin waist and pulled close, placing a tender kiss against a forehead tipping against a shoulder.

“What do you think they see?” Peter asked quietly taking the wine glass offered.

“I believe…” Hannibal sat nearest to the fire dying down, sharp angles of his face caught in flame and dark, sipping, gaze thoughtful and soft. “They see every good intention of souls lost and found in the starlight blanketing the world in darkness.”

“What do you see?”

“I imagine we share the same vision.” The older man smiled at him. “The men who love us unconditionally and without reason.”

He slung back his drink, letting it burn his throat and settle heavily in the pit of his stomach. His eyes stung. He looked at Elias leaning against Will in the distance, heart dimming, and let a thread of conversation sweep through him.

“Does he still dream?” Peter looked away, clutching his wine glass, voice dropping, nearly lost to the waves and fire. “I still dream sometimes. I wake Elias sometimes. Shouting in the middle of the night. Screaming I think may be more accurate. I know I used to wake you and Will when I first came.”

“He dreams far less than he used to.” A murmur replied, reassuring hand settling on his shoulder. “You have been a great comfort to him, Peter, for that I am grateful. He needs someone to speak to who understands from experience.”

Experience. Peter grimaced against the sensation of touch and conjured images of his past, brutal and violent and cheap. It had been nearly a decade. Years since he had been forced to do that kind of work. But he still saw their faces. Heard the chatter of his teeth biting back and choking down screams. He never gave them the satisfaction. Never made a sound. Not even when was alone. Or when he cried.

“He has you…” Peter said, patting the hand once affectionately before pushing it away.

The older man was watching the profile of his face, gaze falling to the white knuckles gripped around glass, calm voice flowing over him. “Someone more likely to become enraged by the very mention of what was done to him finds it difficult to be maintain objectivity. In that respect, I am ill equipped and ineffective at providing the kind of comfort he needs.”

Peter lifted his gaze once more to the wisp of the man who could be carried off by a strong ocean breeze. Elias could have taken flight. Stranded somewhere between the tender press of his small hands and the vile memories coiled against his spine in the night. He stayed. For some reason he stayed. Peter wasn’t worth staying for. Even when they quarreled and he caused his delicate angel to weep, desperate to understand, to be whatever Peter needed him to be. They retreated to their counterparts. Elias ran to Hannibal for comfort and guidance. And he trudged with muttered curses to Will, who was more than happy to met his frustrations with physical altercations, and patient enough to hold him when it subsided and he began to sob uncontrollably. They would talk then, for hours, when the storm passed. Counseled one another on how to cope. Then he would take Elias home, thumb at the tears on his cheeks, and beg for his forgiveness inside a veil of heat and skin.

It hurt him to hear ‘I forgive you, I always forgive you’ whispered with such utter devotion against his mouth in a rush of tenderness.

“There is something to be said about standing beside a man who believes he has lost everything, all of himself, to an event he could not control. To love him throughout the fits and the nightmares, even when he struggles, fights to stay alone…” Peter bit at trembling corners of his mouth, voice rough. “You are good to him. And to the sparrow. And me. I am grateful. I owe you everything.”

Hannibal and Will had tracked him down. They had brought him here. Back to Elias. Opened their doors, their lives, and shared their home to him. A complete stranger. But most importantly, in his absence, they had taken care of the love of his life. They had given him and Elias a house of their own. But they were always drawn back to the warmth of a fire and talks in the evenings after a meal between friends.

“You owe us nothing,” The older man said firmly. “It is enough you possess gratitude and take care of our family. You are family.”

“I’m even grateful for Will…though he is a remarkable pain the ass.”

“Yes, well…” Hannibal choked on wine, laughter rising. “You eventually come to learn that is part of his charm.”

“An asset?”

The older man beamed at the pun. “I knew I was quite fond of you, Peter.”

“Sorry? What about my ass?” Will was peering at them over his shoulder quizzically, ears pricking at the hum of his name. “See, sparrow, you could do so much better.”

Blank grey eyes tipped to the side. “Do I have your blessing to throw your wretched sea nymph back into the ocean from where he came from?”

“If you must.” There was a dramatic sigh and then a pause. “But bring him back relatively unscathed.”

“N-no…hey, hey, hey! Hannibal! Hannibal! Hann—“    

There was a great splash. Then another. And another. Curses turned to smiles then laughter. Three flashes of moonlight wrestled against one another for the softened touch of the moonlight above. The fourth watched safely beside a fire and considered what he had done to deserve the love of a good man, to find his home by the sea filled once more with family.

*

“Come on, come closer. For fuck sake pretend like you like each other.”

Will was sitting in Hannibal’s lap. Elias was balanced between them, entirely too drunk to sit up straight on his own. An Iphone caught the light as Peter tried to fit them all in the frame of the digital screen.

“Closer. Closer. Ah, yes! Now smile and try to look less murderous, Lecters.”

There was a click and bright flash. They all blinked at green and yellow spots fuzzing their vision.

“We do not look murderous,” Hannibal grumbled, arms curving around Will as he leaned over to look at the photo.

Will’s eyes were screwed shut, laughing at the last minute. Hannibal was caught between amusement and frowning. Elias was smiling from ear to ear. Peter had put bunny ears behind the priest and was kissing a ruddy cheek.

“That’s really just how his face looks.” Will noted with a snort.

Hannibal pounced on the younger man in an instant, tickling him ruthlessly until Will was breathless and flushed pink from face to chest.

“Okay, okay, okay! I concede, fuck, Christ!”

“Remind me, why do I keep you?” The older man cupped palms underneath cool shoulder blades and chased after pink skin with light fingertips.

“Can’t live without me…” Lashes swept over crystal blue eyes as Hannibal kissed him, hands sliding in silvery hair to hold on, murmur trailing off. “…and who would look after the dogs?”

“Peter!” Elias crowed, tugging on dark curls, clinging to both Peter and Will. “Peter, I want a kiss too.”

With another pull their lips parted. Hannibal wrestled with the automatic sensation he now knew was jealousy. Will turned his face, bright eyes lifting as Elias tipped forward on knees, cupping the back of a head sweetly.

Peter had no such reservations. Or had them in spite of an earlier claim.

A low growl and possessive hands dragged Elias away before Peter pinned him to the blanket. “My mouth, petit moineau, is right here…” Two fingers pointed at rosy lips inching closer. “…least you have forgotten.”

With a wet slide of tongue and lips, Elias forgot all about Will. And Hannibal. Slender fingers clenched and pulled until blonde tresses loosed, falling over shoulders. Peter smiled against the teeth nipping at him, settling comfortably between thin legs dragging him flat against the body beneath. The priest moaned against a tongue, tugging clumsily at buttons on a shirt.

“Jeeesus.” Will glanced over and groaned. “If you are going to fuck could you at least be polite enough to do it in the back of the car?”

“The Bentley is not a cheap motel,” Hannibal informed firmly, before rolling the younger man on his side and curled up against his back.

A fist thumped on his thigh. “You’ve made love to me in that cheap motel, thank you very much.”

“And on it.” Elias chirped. He clamped a hand over his mouth, the rest of his slurring muffled. “Not that…I know anything…about that.”

“Elias! Why do I tell you anything?! How the fuck did you make it through confessions?”

“Good question.” Peter smirked and kissed at the back of a hand until it relinquished the mouth he was searching for. “If you didn’t share, Will, we would have nothing to shame and humiliate you with in the future.”

“There were extenuating circumstances.”

“Is that it?” Dark brows rose high on a forehead.

“It is very difficult to concentrate with your voice droning on.” Peter was fully engaged beneath a hoodie now, palms holding down hips, and kissing his way from collarbone to sternum.

“Good to know. I’ll just keep talking then,” Will replied flatly, jabbing a thumb his direction and glanced up at Hannibal. “Why do we keep him? He would make a much better entree.”

The older man began to open his mouth to reply.

Breathless sighs rose. “He makes me happy.”

“The things I do for you,” Will slurred wearily, settling against arms around him.

“Excuse me.” Peter popped out from beneath the hoodie, glaring at Will and then his flushed fiancé. “The things I do for you. And to you.”

"Well, yes, but Will-"

"Will, nothing. I don't want to hear it, traitresse!"

"I'd like to hear it, sparrow. Tell me all about how much you appreciate me."

Hannibal muffled a chuckle against a shoulder blade, slinging a leg lazily around a waist and pulling Will closer, breathing in the scent of ocean and skin. He traced the patterns starlight left across his skin. He was beautiful when he was happy. Will glanced back with a smile. His heart ached from the sight.

“I’m cold,” Elias whined, bereft Peter was glaring and not burrowed beneath his clothes.

“Should we head back?”

A wristwatch flashed in the dimming firelight. “We could stay a few more hours and watch the sun rise.”

Elias mewled several more times, eyes struggling to stay open, before he rolled over and wrestled his way into Will’s arms, curling up with a sigh.

“Little dove…” The younger man looked down at Elias, nose pressed against his chest, and then up at Peter who still staring at the spot Elias had been just a second ago. “Normally I would have no problem with being so blatantly used for my body warmth, but I don’t think…”

Soft snores reached their ears.

“Elias?” Will shook him lightly, bewilderment creasing his face. “He’s asleep.”

“Disturb him and you will never hear the end of it.”

“He is cross when he doesn’t get enough sleep. More so when he has a hangover. I hope one of us had the good forethought to bring coffee or we are all doomed.”

Peter flopped on his side, frowning and muttered, “And withholding.”

“Something else you have in common,” The older man murmured with a yawn, eyes slipping closed.

“Shut the fuck up before I bury you in the sand and leave you here for seagulls to use as a docking post.”

Hannibal snorted and held closer, pressing his cheek against the slope of a neck, and smiled. Will was never more charming than when threatening his life. He would punish him later. If he remembered. If Will didn’t distract him.

“Seeing as how I would like to continue having adventurous sex with my fiancé, I will let him stay where he is. This time,” Peter growled in a low whisper, inching closer, sliding fingers over a delicate waist until the priest was cradled between himself and Will. “If I hear anything about your hands wandering though, we’re going to have a problem.”

“So…” There was a minute long pause, throat clearing. “…morning wood is fine so long as I don’t grab his ass then?”

“You are an unparalleled dick and I wish I had never met you, Will.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Will brushed his hand over the one at the priest’s waist, squeezing lightly. “Love you too, idiot.”

Low drawling murmurs and the caress of the ocean carried them all off to sleep beneath the expanse of stars hanging in the night sky.