#Anyways have silly pixel voices I made in less than an hour. Later

[skhardwarevers1]

Disappears for the rest of the day

[producerguk]

pendulum

→ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader 

→ genre: angst.

→ warnings: swearing.

→ word count: 3,5k 

:: the one where you get your heart broken after some rumours. 

→ a/n: this is the first piece of writing i’m sharing. i would also like to thank @kathrynwynterbourne, @btsflufflysmut, @pinqaliqo, @blueliab, @rilakoya and @jimins-light for helping me during the process. i hope you enjoy it.

→ playlist

 Sitting alone at the table designed for eight, you'd lost count of how much wine you had. You weren't a lightweight, far from it, but lately, wine was the only drink that could calm you down. And boy, did you need to be calm.

It's not like you hadn't been warned. In fact, from the moment you announced his name to your parents, you knew you were doomed. Of course, a flicker of recognition appeared in their eyes, just to assume the darkest tone you'd ever seen less than ten seconds later. 

 But you were young and completely enthralled by the way he'd looked at you across the room, his doe eyes shining brighter than any star in the night sky. He made your stomach flip when he touched you, his warmth sending shivers throughout your whole body. You were completely in love with the way his hands ran through your hair in the middle of a movie marathon, his chest so still and comfortable under your head, much better than any pillow you could ever buy.

You loved the way he sang while making breakfast, swinging his cute butt to the beat playing in his head, with nothing but sweatpants on. Or the way his eyebrows scrunched together when he was in deep thought, a little pout forming on his sweet lips, that never failed to stop time.

You fell even more in love when he would notice that you weren't fine as soon as he saw your face, asking right away what was wrong but not pressuring you into telling him, just bringing you closer and wrapping his arms around you, letting you sob into his chest. Even more when he came home and would just throw himself around you, in any way he possibly could, as if he’d been gone for years and not just a couple of hours, not letting go until he was dead-ass hungry or something.

You didn't even fight often but when you did, it was over silly things like who would get the last serving of food, who had cheated on the game or who loved who more. You were happy when your parents abandoned their judgments and opened their hearts to the man who had yours right in his hands. And it didn't take long until he had theirs as well.

So you just couldn't wrap your mind around what had happened or why. And that's why you were fighting to keep your eyelids open after so much alcohol and so little food. You needed an answer and the only way you could get through with the confrontation was if you had no filter on.

Your butt was already numb from sitting in the chair for so long, but you only moved to the couch when the wine ended. Your heart was broken and you were butthurt, but you’d be completely damned if you spilled a single drop of the red remedy on your recently bought white couch.

You turned the TV on just to check the time since you had thrown your phone right into the wall when you read the rumours, smashing it as if it were your own head instead. Because you were told that would happen sooner or later, and yet you chose to stick with your feeling.

Your eyes locked on the white pixels, making your heart race. It was a little past three in the morning and you hadn't heard a single thing from him since all hell broke loose right on your doorstep, not even two days ago.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you mumbled to yourself, throwing your head back on the arm of the couch and curling up into a ball, letting all you kept inside rush out on your face through tears.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, with nothing but the white noise of the TV to keep you company.

You were awakened by the smell of recently brewed coffee and bacon, but you didn't open your eyes. The sour taste on your mouth reminded you of all the bottles of wine you had chugged alone and the reason behind it, quickly setting that awful weight on your chest and over your shoulders, even though you told yourself you were already numb. The sound of footsteps soon followed until it stopped right beside you, although you kept your eyes shut in an attempt to delay the inevitable.

Cold fingers soon ran along your scalp, while his other hand brushed soft patterns on your arm, his cologne intoxicating you and his warm lips leaving soft kisses on your face. For a moment, you almost smiled. For a moment, your heart raced, with the warm feeling on your belly causing shivers to run through your body.

“Hey, I made you breakfast,” Jungkook said when he noticed you had opened your eyes, subtly rejecting his warmth as you clung more to the fabric of the couch than his embrace.

“Thanks,” you murmured, bringing your knees to your chest while he offered you the mug of coffee, an anxious look painted on his bare face.

You took your coffee strong and without sugar, so anything slightly different from that could ruin your whole day. He knew that from the first time he dared to surprise you with breakfast in bed, the drink so sweet that it almost had you spilling it all over your white bed sheets. Now, anytime Jungkook would decide to make you a surprise involving coffee, he’d watched expectantly to see if it was to your taste. He loved to see you close your eyes and inhale the scent as deep as you could, the warm drink settling in your stomach and eliminating any trace of sleep left.

Jungkook let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you eagerly took another sip, unaware of how badly you wanted to get rid of the sour taste.

“Your friends were here yesterday?” he asked softly, wiping away the stains of mascara under your eyes.

“What?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“The bottles of wine left on the sink”, he explained, giving you a sweet smile. “I mean, I know you could drink it all and probably not even get a bit tipsy, but you don't have any reason for that, right? It just makes more sense.”

You could nod and give him a smile and a made up excuse your friends certainly would back it up. You could pretend nothing ever happened and keep yourself happy, on the same routine you had grown so fond of. You would get over it eventually, you knew you could.

Jungkook was offering you a way out of all the heartbreak and pain. You both knew that. His eyes were still wide, and he couldn't stop biting his bottom lip. His anxiety wasn't over the coffee. He knew you were aware of what happened and that didn't surprise you one bit; it's not like you had been hiding it, anyway.

“You wish, huh,” you mumbled, giving him a half-assed smile that didn't meet your eyes.

You could, but you wouldn't.

It wouldn't be fair to yourself to live a lie for someone else. It wouldn't be fair because it was against everything you believed in. It wouldn't be true.

“So, when were you going to tell me?” you asked, putting the mug down on the rest table. He didn't say anything, locking his eyes on the wooden floor. “Or you weren’t going to? Because you didn't.”

“I didn't mean it, I-”

“You what, Jungkook?” Your tone was higher, but you didn't mind. “You fucked her by accident? You were forced? For fuck’s sake, just take responsibility.” His head snapped at you, his eyes filling with tears, gulping hard at your words.

“Can I explain?” he asked, mimicking your position with his knees close to his chest.

“Go ahead, there's nothing I want more,” you said, not even flinching when his eyes met yours. You were numb, despite what his touch and caring led you to believe.

He took a moment to arrange his thoughts, but you didn't take your eyes away from his figure. You should’ve guessed this was bound to happen, no matter what he led you to believe. Jungkook was much more than you could’ve had. He was beautiful, talented, successful and gentle. Heads turned every time he walked into a room, eyes fixating on his every move as if just blinking could tear them away from never-ending happiness. He just had this aura of peace around him, that seemed to embrace everyone around him, even if in situations like this one. He could make anyone drop to his knees with so little as a tilting of his head. He could have anything he wanted handed to him in a matter of seconds. Jungkook could have anyone.

You should've known better.

“I’m not going to give any excuses,” Jungkook started, shifting on his seat. “And I don't want to hurt you more than I already did, so please, if it's too much just tell me to stop and I-”

“Get this over with,” you interrupted him, ignoring the uncomfortable warmth on your chest. “I don't want to know everything, but I deserve to. It's the least you can do.” He flinched at your harsh words, not failing to notice your cold tone.

“I thought I didn't love you anymore.”

His eyes didn't move away from yours, watching attentively to your every reaction. It was your turn to flinch, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Biting your tongue to not cut him off again, you tried to ignore the tight grip his words left around your neck.

“I thought I didn't feel the same anymore. We saw each other every night, fucked every other day and that was it. You didn't talk to me like you used to, or-,” he sighed, trying to sound as distant as he could.

“We talked about everything, Jungkook. Don't try to blame me for your fuck ups,” you interrupted him, voice filled with anger. “Or did you suddenly forget about all the nights I sacrificed my sleep to listen to you rant about how fucking awful it is to get paid to live the dream?”

“It’s not about me, though,” he continued, ignoring the way your eyes carved holes in his head. “You never talked to me about anything. Every time I got the chance to learn about your day, you’d shut me out. I wanted to go out, but then you’d be sleeping like a fucking bear. I wanted to be with you and you were out with your friends; and you didn't even bother to invite me.”

“How could I invite you when you’d fall asleep five minutes after you got home? Did you want me to fucking overwork you? What the fuck, Jungkook.”

“It's not about that!” He screamed, staring at you wide-eyed, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his erratic breathing. “I thought you didn't love me anymore, so I didn't want to love you at all! I fucking begged Jimin to take me with him to one of those motherfucking clubs he's always at. I drank more than I probably should and I found a girl completely different from you. She wore those dresses that are supposed to be sexy, but it ends up leaving half of her ass uncovered, and she bit her lips like it was supposed to be fucking hot, though it was pathetic, at best. And she was everything you would never be.”

You didn't interrupt him this time. You were too busy fighting your own tears to try to fight him. His words lacerated your heart. They tugged so deep into your heartstrings that you weren't sure you could ever recover.

“So I went and I fucked her. In the bathroom, on Jimin’s car and at her house. I wanted to get you out of my system because I was sure you already had me out of yours,” he didn't stop when tears traveled down his face or when his voice cracked, almost as if he was the one being choked and not you. “But I couldn't because you were on my mind all the fucking time. I didn't even cum once, for fuck’s sake.”

“Stop,” you begged, your voice not louder than a whisper over your sobs. “Please.”

You were both crying your hearts out in front of the other. You wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you and feel his warmth against you, his arms wrapping so tightly around you as his way of telling you he would not, and he could not, let you go. You wanted to kiss him and to apologize for ever letting him think you didn't want him. You wanted to embrace him and promise him that everything would turn out okay, that you both could get through that and grow together.

But the only thing you did was hug your own knees and drop your gaze to your jeans, not able to hold his and your own feelings anymore.

You didn't know how much time had gone since you begged him to stop, but by the headache threatening to settle, you figured it had been a lot. The silence between both of you wasn't in any way uncomfortable or unbearable, despite everything. It was probably because he was still there, you thought. If you stretched out a hand, he would take it. If you closed the distance, he would take you. If you kissed him, he would kiss you back. If you said that you loved him, he would tell you he loved you just as much. If you said it was okay, he would never let you go.

You knew why he did it, even though you didn't want to acknowledge it. You knew you had shut him out after he came back from tour because you felt you could never be enough for him, although he would stay up all night, despite the time zone he was in, talking you out of your worries through FaceTime, just so you could see he meant every word he said.

But when he came back beaming with happiness and so full of stories and passion for everything he’d seen, you couldn't help but feel disposable. You could never give him such happiness. Then, you believed he could never love you as much as he loved his job.

So you went back to going out almost every weekend with your friends, filling the emptiness you felt with alcohol and food and came home to an empty bed, because he was still working for the comeback. On his free days, you were too busy with paperwork that you willingly let accumulate, or going through awful hangovers that kept you within a foot of the toilet, and a teasing Jungkook to take care of your mess.

He never questioned you once. Instead, when you were too drunk to make it to the bed, he got up and took you, making sure to give you pills for headache and a whole bottle of water, cuddling with you after you succumbed to sleep. So you thought he didn't care that much with the way things changed. You chose to believe he didn't mind at all.

But now, hearing his sobs and staring at his swollen face, you wanted to beat yourself up for it. Because you were just as much at fault as he was. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to say something.

“You saw it on TV?” he asked, his voice raspy and cracked, wiping his tears away.

“Your fans mentioned me like crazy on a tweet and then Yoongi texted me saying he was going to beat you up.”

“He tried to,” he said, with an embarrassed smile. “But Jin cut him off and took me out of the practice room before anything happened.”

“I would’ve told him he didn't need to, but I smashed my phone before that.” You told him, looking back at the wall that had to face your anger.

“I’m not surprised, you were always hot headed,” he smiled, truthfully this time.

“You're not wrong, but come on, if you were in my place you would've done worse.”

“She snapped a photo of me, somehow. I didn't see when she did, but then Jimin broke down the door of my studio shoving his phone at my face and then all hell broke loose.”

“What was her name?”

“I don't know,” he said, scratching his neck. “I don't think I asked.”

You were doing good, so far. It amazed you how you could still keep a civil conversation with him. The tears on your face had dried and although it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, the air surrounding you didn't resemble harmony.

Would he have ever told you if he hadn't been taken by surprise? Or would he have let things go on like before he had fucked her?

“I was trying to figure out a way of telling you when Jimin almost broke half of my shit. Taehyung almost hit me, too.”

“Yeah, it's not like you didn't deserve it,” you laughed, taking a sip of your now cold coffee. “But it shouldn't have happened.”

“None of it should,” Jungkook said, sitting more closely to you, throwing his head back on the couch.

“It did, though,” you reminded yourself when he took your hands in his.

You were so weak for him, and he fucking knew that. Jungkook could probably shoot you and you would forgive him, jumping in his arms at the first chance you got. His lips were red after all the crying, and yet all you could think about was to drown yourself in them, in him.

He leaned down to press a kiss against your forehead and the uneasiness settling in your belly made you remember no matter how badly you wanted him, you shouldn't.

Had he done that to her, before he left her house? Jungkook said it’d been just a fuck, but did his heart race when he was fucking her? Did he leave marks on her body? Did he moan for her like he did for you? Did he remember how she moaned his name? Did he fuck her like he fucked you?

The hands wrapped against yours had roamed her body, touching her everywhere. The lips still pressed against your forehead had been on her lips and god knows where else.

You backed off, not able to shrug the feeling. Jungkook seemed so broken when you got up, his hands still where yours were supposed to be. You found yourself fighting the tears back once more.

“What can I do to make it right?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“You can't,” you forced yourself to sound certain.

You wouldn't be able to live with yourself around him, no matter how brief their encounter was. He had been with someone else and that fucking broke you. You would see the faceless woman every time he touched you. His warmth was what could heal you, but how could he touch you without bringing her ghost back to haunt you?

“____, please, there must be something I can do,” Jungkook begged, getting up from the couch. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll do anything, please!”

“I can’t do this to myself,” you let out, wiping your tears away angrily. “I’m just gonna see her every time you’re around me and I already have too many ghosts haunting me to hold yours too.”

“You won't do it alone, I love you,” he tried, leaning against the wall. “I’ll do everything I can to make you forget this, I swear.”

“I love you too, but I have to love my sanity more, Jungkook,” your voice cracked and you weren't able to look at him anymore.

“I love you more than anything, please,” he begged once more, his voice no louder than whispers followed by choked sobs.

“You can sleep here, I’ll stay with one of my friends,” you were desperately trying to find your wallet, cursing your drunk self when you found it on the dining table.

“I love you so fucking much.”

“I’ll have my things out by the end of the weekend, okay?” you announced, opening the door.

“Please.”

“I don't hate you, Jungkook,” you said, trying to comfort him while forcing yourself to get out of the place you used to call home. “But I can't do us anymore.”

You wanted to say you understood and you forgave him. You wanted to say you loved him and nothing he did could ever change that. You wanted to say he would be okay.

“I’m sorry,” was all you said, before closing the door behind you and allowing yourself to collapse in tears outside, fighting for air.

The vision of him leaning against the wall with his arms wrapped against his own frame and ugly tears staining his face fucking killed you. You couldn't deal with having caused him such pain.

You forced yourself off the wall and ran out of the apartment complex because you knew you were on the verge of knocking the door down and taking him in your embrace.

 “It's gonna be okay,” you mumbled to yourself, hugging yourself.

[aworldawordatatime]

Original Content Day 1: The Disreputables

This entry was originally posted January 1st, but I moved it to this blog to keep track of my entries.

Also, if you want to try writing for yourself, here’s the prompt: 

Prompt 1: A short story that starts with dialogue.

“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing? And…is that some sort of crown?”

Maka froze at the computer console.  There wasn’t supposed to be anyone passing by for the next ten minutes.  She’d timed it precisely after analyzing hours of data. She looked up at the guard, a vein bulging in her forehead.  Apparently this one was immune to the whims of data analysis.

“I’m not thinking of doing anything,” she said, grabbing a small tube from one of her pockets and shaking it gently from side to side. “I’m afraid I’m a bit past that part.”

The security guard raised her weapon, but Maka merely sighed.

“For the record, I’m sorry I have to do this,” she said, twisting off the top.

A spray of giant, fuchsia foam erupted from the tiny container and expanded almost instantly, acting like ballistic gel for the rubber bullets that the guard had fired upon seeing it. The thick viscous material surged like a wave, covering the security guard and plastering her against the wall.  

“Also, for the record, it’s not a crown. That would be silly. It’s a hyperglass lens array and it took me three years to build it!” Maka said, even though she knew the guard could not hear her clearly through the wall of foam. “So perhaps you might understand why I hate it when people call it a mere crown.”

Maka turned back and began typing even faster. That level of noise would not go unnoticed by the others.  Sure enough, she began to hear the sound of alarms only a minute later. Or maybe it had been thirty seconds. She hadn’t been counting because she was trying to get through this bloody— the door opened and she sighed, her body slumping with relief.  She cracked her knuckles and slipped her gloves back on. They’d be mostly useless now, but at least she’d have better grip on the precious cargo inside.  Without looking, she pulled a small green pill from another pocket of many on her strange, patchwork outfit and slipped it under her tongue.  Wincing at the bitter flavor, she waited until her skin had gone the proper shade of purple (a curious but harmless side effect) and strode into the vault, grabbing the large, metal tube that hovered inside over a red raised base.  She could see a few bubbles floating in some sort of bluish-green fluid through a tiny porthole, but that was it. Oh well. She could be curious later. She lifted the entire thing over one shoulder with a grimace and then pulled down a large amber lens over one of her eyes with her free hand.

“I need a hole at the following coordinates,” she said, watching numbers flit over the glass like pixelated ants. She reached back and pushed a button on the side of the device where it covered her temple. “Sending now.”

Moments later, a blue light began to shine in a circular shape around one of the far walls and she cursed at how long it was taking.  She was going to have to adjust the lasers when she got back to base.  By the time they cut through, Maka had just thrown another foam vial (this one was banana-yellow, and smelled obnoxiously of the fake super-sweet orange flavoring that she’d always despised as a child), which caught a wave of surprised guards and sent them slamming against the wall as well, but she knew that they’d be bringing heavy artillery any moment, so it was best to escape rather than fight.  Besides, Maka hated killing low level employees or grunts if she didn’t have to.  After all, she and nearly everyone she knew had been forced into being one at some point.  It was simply the cost of starting out in the world, and she’d have been pretty bummed if some dashing and intrepid coat-for-hire had ended her before she could move onto bigger and better things.

“Are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to hand that to me?” A man with electric blue hair and eyes the color of dust reached out an overly long robotic arm towards the massive metal canister she was carrying.

Maka eyed the arm with disdain and wondered why he always seemed to be so determined to be such a show-off with his hydraulic appendage.

“Neither, actually,” she said, swinging it around and forcing him to duck to keep from being smashed in the face with it.  “My Exponential Strength pills should last me for at least another twenty minutes.”

He shrugged and turned his embroidered collar up to his chin; a sure sign that she’d riled him but he was saving it until later. “Suit yourself, Maka.”

Maka clucked her tongue at him, then ducked as a blast of white-hot energy nearly incinerated her head. The man swore low and reached behind his back to draw out a strangely thick device that looked as though a bunch of high voltage insulators had been merged into one, long barrel.  Two silent magnets floated and spun, instantly creating a giant blue charge that fired at the remaining guards, knocking them unconscious.  He slipped it into the back holster with a smooth movement and grabbed the end of the cannister, steadying it to guide the length of it through the hole in the wall.

Maka waited until they were through the external gates of the facility to ream him out. “And what was that? You’re getting sloppy, Coop. You would have stunned that one before they got the chance to get either of us in their sights.  Or are you that determined to get rid of me?” She was scowling, but her tone of voice was somewhat playful. It was an old argument— one without any teeth.

“Ah, save it for when we’re back on the ship.” Coop ran his robotic fingers through his hair, which seemed to make it stick up even straighter than before due to the residual static charge running through the metal.

Maka rolled her eyes behind him and silently mimicked his words.

“I saw that!” Coop exclaimed.

“I know,” she replied, sticking out her tongue as well.

“Why do you have to be taller than me?” Coop complained. “It’s hard helping you carry the goods.”

“If you’ll recall, I told you I didn’t need any help.”

“Even with your wonder science, you’re still going to get tired,” he shot back.

“I’ll be tired later,” she said, turning her head to the side and eyeing some lights growing larger in the distance, “Shut up, and keep running.”

They almost got to the ship before Maka’s enhanced strength began to fail. Her skin had faded to a soft lavender, but she was more focused on trying not to drop the canister as it seemed to grow heavier and heavier with each step.  Even Coop was panting loudly, and he was used to hoisting stuff in their stock room without breaking a sweat, so she felt slightly less bad about that.

Finally, the hatch doors creaked open, and Sumia waved to them, red-bay door button in hand as she smacked her gum.

“Got anything for me to add to the collection?” she asked, shaking her wrist, which was covered up to her elbow with varying styles of bracelets as they huffed by.

“Close the doors and tell Reg to punch it,” Maka growled back.

“Fine, fine,” Sumia said, pushing the button a bit too forcefully.

“What the hell is this thing, anyway?” Coop said. “It’d better be worth the trouble we went through to get it.”

“Oh, it’s worth it, all right,” Maka said, sipping something bright green and smoking that nobody was willing to ask about. It made smoke curl out of her nostrils as she spoke. “All the reliable intel suggests that those fascist bastards were in the midst of a breakthrough new tech that would transfer matter into energy and back instantly with minimal loss.  Once I analyze it, improve it, and figure out how to replicate it, we will be able to sell it off to the highest bidder, though not before we replicate the tech for ourselves, of course.”

“Are you sure we’ll be able to, though?” A shiny, ghostly figure floated over to Maka and looked into the small window canister curiously with slightly glowing eyes.

“I may have retrofitted you with enough software to assist me in my lab, Dezo,” Maka retorted, “but you are still primarily a medical synth. I say it’ll work, so it’ll work.”

“Forgive me for being skeptical. I forgot that you know everything,” Dezo replied, doing a very good eye-rolling impression.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let Sumia teach you sarcasm,” Maka said.

“Don’t look at me!” Sumia said, holding up her hands in mock-surrender.

“You’re going to open it, aren’t you, Maka?” Coop said, from where he was sitting on a crate, buffing out the scuffs on his boots. “Need I tell you how bad an idea that is given the information you’ve provided?”

“I’m a Disreputable Scientist, Coop. Not Mad,” Maka replied dismissively. “But yes, I’m going to open it.  You’re free to leave if you don’t want to see.”

“I’m not done with my shoes yet,” Coop replied. “Suppose I’ll see whether I want to or not.”

“Last chance to leave!” Maka said, glancing back to see a tall, bulky silhouette near the back of the room. “See? Even Reg is here!”

The shadow nodded.

“Erudite as always,” Sumia said with a smirk.

“Quiet, you,” Maka said testily as she twiddled with the console. “I’m trying to do science here.”

With a deep thrumming sound, the canister began to rise into the air.  Maka twisted a few knobs and dials, then held out her hand over a slot at the top of the console, catching the clear tablet that shot out of the top. She tapped and rubbed her fingers together and a stylus made of light appeared in her hand.  She began to write various characters and then slid the tablet back into place.  The door on the canister popped open, and the fluid was poured gently into the grates below, where the material would be pumped into a sterile vat and analyzed. Maka had already analyzed everything for radiation and toxicity, but found that things were rather less interesting than advertised.

Laser gently cut along the seams in the canister, removing the bottom and top. Then splitting down both sides and popping it in half lengthwise.

“And now…the moment we’ve…” Maka trailed off as she saw what was drooping over the edge of the bottom half of the cannister.

“Is that…what I think it is?” Coop said, his boots all but forgotten.

“A bird?” Sumia asked hopefully.

“I don’t think so, unless you know of a bird with human feet,” Dezo pointed out, extending an arm to point at the brown toes hanging over one side.

“But…that’s impossible,” Maka whispered, twisting a knob to slowly lower the remaining piece to the floor.

“Says the scientist. Who, last time I checked, told me she thinks that anything is possible,” Coop countered.

“Looks like Mr. Impossible is waking up,” Sumia said, blushing somewhat pink at the sight of the obviously unclothed winged man.

They were feathered wings, though they dripped with the fluid that had been removed.  His whole body seemed to have a slight bluish tinge from being covered in slimy solution.  Dark ringlets of hair cascaded wetly down his shoulders, sticking to his neck and back. A stray strand of hair stuck to one cheek as he stirred.

“This seems…like a bad idea,” Coop said, standing. “You did say infinite energy, right?  What if…this thing…”

“He’s not a thing!” Maka snarled, fury and anguish coloring her features.

She turned the console’s key, shutting it down, and ran towards the man.  As she came to stand at his feet, his eyes opened.  Dark pupils regarded her ringed in molten gold and fire, and Maka had to tell herself to breathe. With a flourish of fabric, she pulled her lab coat off of her shoulders and draped it over one arm.

“Here. Take my hand,” she said softly, holding it out to him. “You’re safe now.”

“Maka—”  Cooper went silent as she flashed him an expression of cold fury.

“Ma…ka?” The winged man said, his head tilting to the side.  He reached out and took her hand, allowing her to pull him up to a sitting position.

“Maka,” Maka repeated, pointing to herself. “Here. You’ll need this.”

She draped the cloth over the front of him, as the wings were still twitching and randomly shuddering against the wetness.  The white of her coat contrasted with the darkness of his skin, and she wondered at the gray feathers that peppered his shoulder blades and disappeared up his neck where they were hidden by his hair.

“Coop, you’ve got to get him cleaned up.” It was not a request.

“Why should I—oh fine! Just stop looking at me like that!”  Coop left his boots on the crate and walked over barefoot. “Come on, then, bird brain.”

“Don’t call him that,” Maka said scathingly.  “Sumia. Prepare a meal.  Nuts and berries, mostly. Other fruit if we have any left.”

“Roger, boss!” Sumia said, speeding off.

“I’ll get to sewing something with wing slits,” Reg said, his deep voice rumbling out from the shadows.

Maka smiled.  She’d been fairly sure that she wouldn’t even have to ask Reg and she was right.

“Maka, how do you know what to do?” Dezo asked, hovering in a puzzled sort of manner.

“I’ve seen this before.” She balled her hands into fists and squeezed tightly. “Those bastards do not have the right.”

“The right to do what?”

“They would make his kind work for the universe instead of the other way around.”

“And his kind is…?”  Dezo made a confused whirring noise.

Maka pulled her hair away from her neck, revealing the lightest hint of dark gray down.  “Does this answer your questions?”

She walked purposefully out of the processing area with Dezo hot on her heels.

“Not at all!” Dezo beeped mournfully. “I seem only to have more.”

“You and me both, synth,” Maka muttered. “You and me both.”