#YES THE TURRETS WERE NUMBER ONE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missshirophantom · 1 month

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From the author : hello everyone! A few days later, but I'm done with this part. It took me a while... And I wrote twice as much as I originally planned. But since the part itself was thought out in terms of what was going to happen, I did not dare to divide it into two parts. This work was written based on my yandere Seb post. Have a nice read.

English is not my native language, I apologize for the mistakes.

Warnings : g/n reader, description of violence, description of injury, hint of harassment (but that's in the past), mention of strangulation, possessive behavior, paranoia, kidnapping.

Number of words : 6 593

There you are

So much has happened in the last months of your life that you're almost sure you're in some kind of B-movie of whatever genre.

Being accused of a violent crime that you didn't commit, disappointing your family and loved ones, being sent to prison, and then strange people coming promising release for a "small favor." All you have to do is get a certain crystal for them, avoiding unknown threats and return back with an undamaged object.

It sounds pretty easy and the reward is pretty tempting, right?

Even though you knew that your family was disappointed in you and rejected you right in the courtroom, you still wanted to return to them. To prove to them that this crime was committed not by you, but by someone else. Although it did not occur to you that there is no evidence of your innocence anymore, and your family has been inspired with blatant lies about you. So much so that it is impossible to convince them, despite all the warm relations in the past.

But you are young. Naive and just enrolled in a prestigious college, how do you know how bad and terrible things can be in the world? Only from those romanticized series.

But now... This is your reality. Your life, which you absolutely did not want. You would be glad to forget this beginning horror, but you can't. Every time you opened your eyes and saw the wall of your cell, reality crashed down on you like cold water in the middle of a dream.

So... Yes, you had good reasons to accept a strange offer from the same strange people.

All in order to get back to the family. Or at least to your usual, normal life.

You exhaled softly and shifted a little on the hard, spring-loaded mattress before closing your eyes and taking a little nap before going on a mission with the other prisoners.

* * *

You are very sorry that you agreed to this.

Your thoughts were spinning wildly in your head as you struggled to breathe, cowering in the closet and holding the doors tightly so that the creature could not open them and pull you out.

You squeezed your eyes shut when the ugly and distorted face of the fish continued to scream at you when it sees you through the small cracks in the door.

Time seemed to freeze under this terrible scream in your ears, and your hands began to hurt when you used all your strength to hold the doors in place. But after a while, that scream died down, as did the attack on the closet where you hid on pure instincts.

You didn't immediately understand when it was finally over, and even if you did, you would have sat there for some time, trembling all over and gasping for air. Tears of fear threatened to spill from your eyes, but you held them back, biting your lip and suppressing a quiet sob.

You weren't exactly sure which room you were in, which door you went through, hell, even how much time had passed when you got out of that damn submarine. About the threats, you thought that these were ordinary security systems in the face of the same turrets... Although they were controlled by some kind of reasonable AI.

But damn it, these people weren't talking about real monsters!

At first, some people are statues pretending to be walls and sneaking after a person to eat them later. Then there are a bunch of strange creatures making loud noises, breaking the lamps in the room, which are rushing like crazy. And one of them is actually trying to get you out of the locker. Or a creature with tentacles that hides in the closet itself, waiting for an inattentive prisoner.

Although the worst monsters you met were: a creature behind a fake door, a giant fish with a bunch of eyes and a creature trying to get you out of the closet.

If it weren't for the "kind" prisoners you met along the way and not trying to kill you, steal your collected research and food, or do something much worse, then you wouldn't know anything about these monsters at all.

However, you still had to give away some of the precious food, even if it was granola bars. And the collected research, although you didn't fully understand why they were needed. But the information was more valuable than the food and the data that can be found before you die unknowingly.

The statue people were Wall Drawers and would sneak up on the man from behind to then eat him. All I had to do was turn around and listen often.

And the bunch of creatures that fly like mad across the room were Angler, Blitz. There were also three, but you did not encounter them. The creature that's trying to get you out of the locker is Pandemonium. Good People is that monster from the fake door. Eyefestation is that giant fish with a bunch of eyes.

One of the prisoners who was in a small group kindly told you about them and how to deal with them. It was quite useful, even if you mourned a little for the loss of food and some research, even if they were useless.

However, it was a pity about the latter after you learned from the words of other prisoners that you were not here for the first time (which is surprising for you) and that somewhere here there is a small store where you can buy a first-aid kit with batteries and other things, and the payment is just for these studies.

You didn't even have to sacrifice anything, because there was a newcomer among those prisoners and they told him about a certain intelligent being who runs this store and calls himself Sebastian. Of course, you didn't really understand anything, but you took note of this useful information.

Although you are still worried about the further words of the prisoners about how scary and rude this seller is. The saboteur, as they also call him. There was also a rumor that he was the one who organized the pogrom on this huge base under water.

Although you thought more that this was just a typical way of bullying the elders over the younger ones, exaggerating or inventing what is not there. Although... Considering the whole situation, perhaps the prisoners were not exaggerating.

After that, quite a lot of events happened, so you forgot about a certain store and a mysterious seller in time.

Especially when you have just experienced the 5th meeting with Pandemonium.

After that, you still wonder how you miraculously survived. Especially when Pandemonium was quite persistent, chasing you through every room.

You carefully opened the closet door, finally getting out of it when you started to feel a little claustrophobic. Your legs could barely hold you up, so you just sat on the floor, catching your breath and trying to somehow regain your strength.

You couldn't help but look around for a threat every couple of minutes and hold your breath, listening. It was pretty quiet, which should have been relaxing somehow, but it's completely wrong. It feels like there will be an even stronger storm after such a strong lull.

You are not exactly sure that there will be something much scarier than Pandemonium and a fish with a bunch of eyes.

I have no other way out. You exhaled softly, took off your helmet for a short time to quickly eat a small granola bar that you found next to the gnawed body of one of the prisoners when you avoided meeting with Wall Drawers the day before. You refused to admit the idea that you might end up in this prisoner's place if you weren't vigilant enough.

A skeleton in a uniform and diving equipment lying in the middle of the room.

You barely swallowed a piece of a hard and dry bar, ignoring the nausea caused by hunger and the horror of memories, and struggled to stand on trembling legs. You held on to the locker, feeling a little dizzy, and after standing there for a while, you started walking again. Even if it's not as fast as at the beginning, but with the maximum vigilance that you have, despite the lack of at least some sleep over these days (and maybe weeks... Your sense of time is blunted, and the clock is almost not there), hunger and a generally exhausted state.

You looked through every desk and staff lockers in search of data and useful items, by type of flashlight and flash. Maybe you will be lucky and there will be something to eat, except for granola bars, which are not so healthy. Or a bottle of water that didn't have time to spoil.

However, you have been very unlucky lately. Either because other prisoners who took everything managed to walk here before you, or there is simply nothing here... Or here it is in a slightly different case. Who knows.

In any case, it upset you, especially when your condition worsened every day, that at any moment you simply would not be able to walk. Or worse, but you preferred not to think about it.

You were almost absently examining tables, cabinets and shelves, passing through each door, trying to save energy for running.

It must have all played a role that you almost missed another couple of steps behind you. If it weren't for your instincts flaring up, you wouldn't have noticed Wall Drawers literally a meter away from you. You instantly turned around, looking at the creature with barely concealed alarm and hurriedly walking backwards, groping for the door to the next room.

However, the day could have been even worse, because you got on a fake door, too focused on Wall Drawers to hear breathing outside the door.

In the next second, a scream was heard and you fell to the floor, clutching your injured hand, while Good People mistakenly grabbed Wall Drawers instead of you. Although before that, I managed to cripple your leading hand. Not much, but being in the current situation, it causes great inconvenience.

You didn't fully realize what happened in just a second, but Wall Drawers must have managed to grab your hand and take a bite before you jumped back and Good People managed to accidentally grab them instead of you.

What a stroke of luck.

You couldn't hold back a quiet sob and whimper, clutching the wound on your arm. You saw a dark red, almost viscous liquid flowing out between your fingers, staining your uniform and dripping onto the floor. Pursing your lips and holding your breath, you carefully removed your palm and restrained yourself from crying out how terrible the wound was.

You hastily returned the gaze, trying not to look at the wound a second time and rummaged in your bag, trying to find at least something that will help you to bandage the wound for the first time.

There was nothing useful, because you couldn't find a first-aid kit the whole way, so you had to tear off the rest of the sleeve and bandage the wound. It turned out to be a very clumsy bandage made with one hand. In theory, you should have made another small bandage over your head so that the arm would remain motionless and not get in the way too much, but there just wasn't enough fabric for that.

You barely ignored the terrible pain in your arm, which seemed to pierce to the very bones (which is not entirely far from the truth), and barely got up from the floor, trying to come up with a plan of action.

You definitely really need a first aid kit. And to have a needle and thread in it, because the wound looked like something that needed to be sewn up. And even if you didn't go to the doctor and didn't touch on such medical topics in any way, but something had to be done. Even if you end up relying on the movie. What can't be done, but there is no other choice.

Hissing softly through your teeth, you continued walking, holding your hand and trying to be more attentive when you were injured and bleeding. You weren't exactly sure, but you had an idea that the smell of blood might attract someone from these many creatures. You prayed very much that if you were noticed, you would have had a first-aid kit by that time. I don't care about a safe place, the main thing is to take care of the wound, through which some infection can get.

After about a few doors behind, you suddenly heard a voice from which you yourself stopped for no reason. You hurriedly looked around, pressing your back against the nearest closet, thinking that either this was a hallucination, or a group of prisoners whom you needed to avoid more than anything, because not all of them are kind. Especially when you are injured and clearly in a pretty deplorable state.

There was a short silence in which you listened intently, then the voice sounded again. You may not have been able to make out the words completely, but judging by the tone of the threat, there was no threat.

Involuntarily, I flashed memories of those prisoners who talked among themselves about the store here, where you could buy from simple batteries for a flashlight to a first-aid kit. This involuntarily filled your heart with a little hope, although your instincts literally screamed over and over again that it was better not to go anywhere, because danger was possible.

But you didn't pay much attention to it, especially when everything hurt and the blood continued to flow. You needed this first-aid kit, if you have to go through danger for it, then it was worth it. At least you won't die so soon because of this.

Despite the fact that due to blood loss, you barely understood the words, but walked towards the voice, which led you to a small vent. Frowning weakly, you sat on your knees and tried to figure out how to crawl through it carefully so as to disturb your hand as little as possible. After sitting there for a few seconds, you were startled when the lamps blinked several times, which foreshadowed the appearance of one of the fish creatures flying across the room. This caused your sluggish body to move and you hurriedly crawled into the ventilation. The voice trailed off, which scared you a little, but you're sure you heard it here.

You were breathing heavily when you crawled through the vent and stopped briefly when you got out of it.

— Welcome! Welcome, newcomer, — the voice sounded literally above you. It was a little unexpected for you, which made you start and raise your head.

It was... The creature is humanoid. More precisely, you somehow don't want to name another being, especially when he spoke. Despite what he was about... More than 10 meters? It is quite difficult to determine when his long sea snake tail curled up a little in this almost small room, which made it seem smaller than it was.

His skin (or is it already scales?) She was light blue, had short black hair that was tousled. The facial features were sharp, with fins instead of ears... A fish mouth? Although, considering that he has an anglerfish esque, a third arm and a third eye, this is a much less strange sight, especially in a place like this.

The man was wearing a dark brown jacket, a white shirt with a frill. Your gaze involuntarily caught on the holster with a shotgun on his belt and a small bag. You also noticed that there was some kind of strange bulky device on his back, but don't know what it is. Your gaze turns away again and gets stuck on the medicine cabinet in one of the many bags on his long tail.

Ah.

This must be the same store with a certain saboteur.

You flinched when the other intentionally coughed loudly into your hand, and then you were embarrassed by his words:

— Have you enjoyed the view enough?

— Uh, excuse me... Hello, — you squirm a little, involuntarily squeezing your injured hand harder, remembering politeness.

Although what kind of simple politeness is worth talking about in a place like this? But you're a good person.

— Well... Ahem, welcome to my store. You may have already heard about me, but don't believe these stupid rumors, my friend. You can call me Sebastian. You can buy items here for the research that you managed to collect before coming here. They are useless to you, but they will be much more useful to me, — the salesman says matter—of-factly and even a little sarcastically, putting two hands together, clearly not caring that you were literally dying of blood loss in front of his eyes.

Strangely, you don't feel anything from this realization. Indifference is somehow better than those who take advantage of such a position in the terrible sense of the word. You shuddered a little from the memories and gathering your thoughts in a bunch, you asked:

— How much do you have a first aid kit for?..

— 200 studies, — the other immediately replied, somehow cunningly twisting the edges of his mouth.

You look down, groping for your bag and open it to get the right amount. In your opinion, the price was not very high, but within reasonable limits. It's better than buying a first aid kit from other prisoners for their heavenly prices. After transferring the required amount of research into Sebastian's clawed hand, you waited a little while for him to nod, count, and silently take the first-aid kit from his bag.

You carefully opened it, checking the contents and relax a little, seeing what you needed. After closing the first-aid kit and putting away her bag, you nod to the other, muttering softly "thank you" and go back to the ventilation.

— If it makes you feel better, there is a small office space nearby where you can close. The lock is intact there, so you'll know right away.

You were startled by the suddenness and involuntarily looked back at the seller, whose voice sounded... Strange. It was also mocking and indifferent, but something was wrong that made your instincts alert. But the fish-man looked quite normal, mockingly narrowing his inhuman blue eyes and grinning from the corners of his mouth.

— How much?..

— What? — you can see how he obviously feigned incomprehension tilted his head to the side, blinking slowly.

— For the information.

— Ah. Consider it free, — he almost growled the last word through razor—sharp teeth, frowning.

You look at him doubtfully for a few seconds and reopened the bag, taking out 100 studies and putting them on the nearest iron box and this time hurriedly leaving through the ventilation, muttering "thank you" out of habit. There was only stunned silence in response, but you didn't care. You didn't want to get into trouble, especially with a newfound acquaintance for a "free" thing.

Sebastian wasn't lying, and literally across the hall was the very office space that you recognized due to the whole lock, thanks to which you could close the door.

It was... It's such a relief that you could finally just close the door behind you and relax a little. As long as you don't make any noise, no one will try to break in.

Maybe after you took care of the wound, you could get some sleep.

Under the office desk in the corner and in the shade, so that in case of anything you would not be noticed.

* * *

You barely opened your eyes and did not immediately realize where you were, but then the memories reached you, from which you exhaled and squeezed your eyes shut, throwing your head back.

You successfully sewed up the wound, even though it was terribly hard and you lost consciousness several times due to the hellish pain and blood loss. But fortunately you coped in the end and hardly remembered how you bandaged your arm.

Although...

When you open your eyes and turn your head to the side, you see how your helmet was lying next to you on the floor. Even with a small crack in the glass, which definitely wasn't there. But you must have missed it when you were attacked by Good People.

You can't remember when you managed to take off your helmet before you fell asleep under the table. But you were too tired, so you didn't think much about it. Moreover, things were more important now.

With such a wound, you definitely couldn't keep moving. At least until the pain is less and signs of healing are visible. So you will definitely have to stay in this area for a few days.

Which leads to another task.

You frown weakly, carefully sitting down and pulling your bag towards you, rummaging through numerous secret pockets, pulling out all the food and water supplies to calculate how much is left and how much more is needed.

It is quite poor, without taking into account the fact that there used to be more and you gave this part to the prisoners for information about this place.

A few dry and hard granola bars, a liter bottle of water, and by some miracle a canned food with sprats was found. Which you hate. And you also don't have a can opener.

There will be no problem with water. There was a half-filled cooler in this office room, which is enough for these days and you won't die of dehydration, but here's the food... Considering your current condition, you definitely needed something better than muesli and canned sprats. Moreover, this will be enough for two days at most.

So you definitely need to go out and explore this part of the territory in search of food.

You frown a little at this thought, upset, because the risk of bumping into someone is high. And especially when there was a store nearby, the risk of meeting prisoners is higher than usual.

— Damn, what a disgusting day, — you involuntarily swear under your breath, putting things back into the hidden pockets of the bag and clumsily get up.

Which you immediately regretted, because you almost fell back to the floor, barely managing to grab an office chair.

Okay, you definitely need to just sit for one day to start at least thinking about going somewhere.

You swore under your breath, sitting down in an office chair with irritation and leaning back, staring at the ceiling.

You sat there for an unknown amount of time before falling asleep, which was not very good for your back. Although when you woke up, you felt better and could finally stand. After quickly eating a granola bar and drinking water, you put your helmet back on and carefully opened the door, listening.

It was quiet, which disturbed you, but you couldn't do anything about it and quietly left the room, closing the door behind you. Looking around and listening all the time, you came across a door, behind which there was something like a dining room and a kitchen.

This cheered you up a little and you began to inspect the room, collecting research on the machine. When you reached the kitchen and examined the drawers, you found a slightly bent can opener and another tin can. But thank God not with sprats, but with corn. Pretty good, if a little unhealthy.

In addition, you found already moldy bread and already rotten fruits on the table, the smell of which made your stomach shrink a little and you hurriedly moved away from them.

In general, you were able to find some food in the face of canned corn and some miraculously preserved sausage in the refrigerator. You considered this a victory.

You hummed softly to yourself when you put the food in your bag, deciding to eat the sausage first, which spoiled faster, and also so as not to get soaked in its smell and not run into trouble with people with excellent nose. You definitely don't intend to fight giant prisoners over sausage in your current state.

* * *

You are not sure exactly how many hours have passed since you stopped in the office room. It was a bit of a blur for you, because all you had time to do was explore the nearest rooms, come to eat and fall asleep. And you also looked into the store again to buy a Flash Beacon from Sebastian, a couple of batteries and again a first-aid kit. You spent all your accumulated research, but you didn't regret it.

After all, you still managed to get an infection.

And instead of staying and getting cured like a normal person, you decided that this was the perfect time to continue on your way. And you had your reasons. First, here, next to Sebastian's store, there is a high risk of running into a crazy prisoner or even a group. Which is very bad in your position. Secondly, there is a risk that you will not be able to cure the infection and eventually you will die. Third, you had some kind of unpleasant feeling in the back of your head that you were being watched and something in you said that you should leave as soon as possible.

It was a little sad, because the store clerk was a bit of an interesting conversationalist. When he's not trying to humiliate you at every opportunity, of course. And when this dialogue lasted at least a minute during your next two visits. One because of the strange sound of a gunshot, and the other because of shopping. But for you, it was a little breath of fresh air, after a long conversation with criminals in prison, as well as small skirmishes with them here. And monsters...

You involuntarily recalled your conversation with Sebastian when you bought a first-aid kit and other items. And it ended up being pretty... An unpleasant note.

— Ah, do you intend to go further? With such a wound? — He asked casually, bowing his head and propping it up with one of his hands, looking at you.

You shrugged a little, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, almost studying. Mentally, you reminded yourself that you were wearing a helmet, so he could not know about your appearance, which was well preserved under all the disgusting conditions. To your confusion.

— Yes... Uh, I feel much better. So I won't dare linger here, — you lied a little, grateful in secret that your face was not visible, and your voice was indifferent enough to betray the truth.

You looked up, catching the man's skeptical look before he rolled his eyes.

— Then don't you dare let Wall Drawers bite your hand off again, — he almost growled softly, strangely squeezing his hands tighter.

— What? — you blinked, thinking you misheard.

— I say, come into my store again, you idiot, — he said with a grin and louder, narrowing his eyes maliciously, — or are you deaf?

You pressed your lips together in silence, looking away from Sebastian, saying nothing.

It was at this moment that you heard a noise in the ventilation that made you freeze. The next second, a prisoner who was clearly passing by got out of the ventilation.

You pressed yourself imperceptibly against the wall, silently praying that you would not be noticed immediately and that you would have time to leave before you ran into trouble. And before anyone thought you were a coward, you had strong justifications for behaving that way, especially with other people.

You barely noticed the faint curiosity in Sebastian's gaze before he spoke in his usual sarcastic voice:

— Welcome, friend.

You heard a contemptuous snort from the prisoner before he came over to get the batteries, casually throwing the research. Before you had time to realize that you need to leave unnoticed through the ventilation, you suddenly recognized this person.

Oh shit, the universe really "loves" you, right?

— Who do I see? Is that really our rat, huh?

You flinched when you stopped near the vent.

— Are you completely deaf? You weren't taught to greet your friends, were you? — There was a little anger in the gruff voice.

You curled your lips, but remained silent, turning your head towards the other person. The tall man looked down at you with disgusting amusement.

— What do you want, Chris? — You answered with difficulty in an indifferent voice.

— Why such coldness, huh? Did you really forget your cellmate, huh? — the criminal giggled, smiling broadly and showing his crooked teeth.

— We weren't cellmates, — you corrected coldly.

The other person's face twisted at your tone, clearly not expecting this.

— What, the eggs of the industry during your stay here? Decided to show your teeth, rat?! Have you forgotten who's in charge here? — The prisoner growled through his teeth, clearly restraining himself from running into you with his fists.

You frowned a little, but it was not visible because of the helmet.

How did he even recognize you with the helmet and uniform? Maybe he saw you putting on a helmet at the beginning of the journey? Or how was it given to you along with the uniform?

Although it doesn't really have to do with when to leave. You didn't really want to piss Sebastian off because of that arrogant jerk, even if it wasn't your fault.

It is strange that now you did not feel fear of this prisoner, who spoiled your life, as you were put in prison. So much so that the prison authorities had to put you and him in different cells after his attempt to strangle you in the dining room.

Although it is strange that you two were resettled and you received a solitary cell, because other prisoners, despite all the conflicts, were not resettled... But somehow you didn't think much about it.

You probably didn't think he was particularly scary right now after encountering monsters here. Or you were just tired under the influence of a found painkiller and an increasing infection, despite the fact that the wound was intact and there were no signs of rotting.

Whatever it was, you knew for sure that you had to leave.

— If you want to start a fight, it's not right in the store, — you said indifferently.

Well, you didn't want to inconvenience Sebastian yet, even if he didn't care about what was going on in front of him. But you knew Chris, and you knew what he could do when he was angry. If he accidentally destroyed something here, you didn't know how the seller would react.

But with the condition that during the last meeting you heard a shot here...

It's better not to think about it.

— Ha! Do you still dare to tell me what to do? Have you already made friends with this monster? — the prisoner replied with a laugh, putting his hand on the handle of the Flash Beacon, — you haven't changed at all, you always take care of others. That's why they put you in jail, you stupid rat.

The unpleasant feeling in the back of your head has intensified, which is why your hair has lifted a little there. The developed sense of self-preservation during his stay in prison confirmed that something very unpleasant was about to happen.

And let nothing happen to you, thanks to the dark glass on the helmet that protects you from bright light, but here is Sebastian with his unusual anatomy...

And even if you don't know him, but as a good person, you didn't want him to be hurt and others too. Just like that, even if you didn't feel anything special about him.

You just opened your mouth to stop him, but you didn't have time because at the same second he pulled out a Flash Beacon and pulled the trigger.

In those few seconds, several things happened and a loud sound sounded.

When the lights went out, you saw that the Flash Beacon was lying on the floor, literally broken into splinters, and the prisoner was coughing, clutching at his throat.

— Don't do that again.

You flinched at the absolute fury in Sebastian's voice and raised your head. His mouth was folded as if he was growling and ready to bite at any second, and his eyes were heavily squinted, betraying the degree of rage and slight blindness due to the bright flash.

You swallowed nervously and hurriedly crawled into the ventilation, muttering quiet apologies.

After that, you spent another day locked in the office room, as you waited for your "good friend" to leave either forward or backward. And you didn't know yet how Sebastian would react if he saw or heard you. You may not have cared about it, but you didn't want a bad relationship with the seller of important items.

Stupid people who make him angry. It's going to go sideways for them.

You squirm a little in place and then get up when you put everything in a bag and hung the weapon on your belt to grab it faster. Although Flash Beacon is not really a weapon, but it can blind anyone for a few seconds.

You stood in place for a while to let the dizziness go away and finally left the room with a quiet but fast step. It was a little hard, because there were no pills in the medicine cabinet, and a slight fever had been holding for the second day. But it was bearable enough to continue on the way.

Although you had some very unpleasant feeling in your heart.

* * *

You've. Made. A. Mistake.

Not only did you start to feel much worse, barely thinking because of the rising temperature, but you also stumbled upon Chris.

And even if there was no direct meeting, because you quickly hid so that you would not be noticed, it was still dangerous.

You could hardly restrain yourself from cursing as you crawled behind the tables to get to the open but broken door, hearing curses from that prisoner and those people who were with him. You tried to ignore his words, because they were very unpleasant, especially when they referred specifically to you. More accurately... They are vulgar and in a rather unpleasant way that makes you frankly sick, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You stopped for a moment when your head started spinning again, and black dots appeared in front of your eyes for a moment.

It was at this moment that the universe decided that your situation was quite deplorable, so everything went fine.

You were able to crawl out that door and get up as quietly as possible and also quietly hurried away. As you passed through each door and room, you quickened your pace. At the same time, your breathing accelerated, and your lungs ached quite a bit. However, you tried not to pay attention to it, continuing to walk and hastily looking through tables, drawers and cabinets, almost casually stuffing what you found into a bag.

You went through the next door at number 89 and got stuck a little bit, because you had to find the key card. You did not intend to use a code cracker, believing that it would be useful in a critical situation.

You were weakly looking through tables and drawers, wondering how many more doors and rooms you have to go through before you finally get to the crystal. The optimistic part said there wasn't much left, while the realistic part said there wasn't yet. It's not enough to get the crystal, you still need to go back... In such a weak state.

You made a little face thinking about it when you got up from your knees to look through the cabinets. At the same moment, you felt the floor move away from under your feet, and a gust of wind hit your face.

You blinked dazedly, not immediately realizing with your sick brain what had happened before a damp cloth was pressed to your nose and mouth. This caused your body to twitch instantly, which is why whoever grabbed you and held you at a height had to make efforts so that you would not slip out of their grasp.

You barely heard the grumbling above your head, too panicked to understand the words.

The sweet smell of the liquid on the cloth penetrated your airways as you twitched, writhing in the hands of the invader. It didn't do much and you weren't sure what kind of liquid it was, but you weren't intending to let it have any effect on you. You gripped the invader's hand tightly, which pressed a rag to your mouth, and with the other clumsily hit the obviously large body behind you until your hand weakened and fell on the object on your belt. You immediately grabbed and pulled it out, pointing it back and pulled the trigger.

At the same moment, there was a scream and you fell to the floor. You didn't have time to look around and rushed forward, coughing and gasping for air, clutching the handle of the Flash Beacon tightly.

— You little shit!!..

The voice was very loud and full of anger, but you didn't dare stop, even when it seemed familiar to your brain.

You heard a crash behind you as you ran across the room, skirting tables and deliberately knocking over chairs to slow down the attacker, which was a bit effective, judging by the wave of curses and curses, as well as the subsequent cracking sound. Your heart was pounding wildly, which hardly made you hear anything while you were running in a panic.

When the door, the exit, literally appeared in front of you and almost instantly took out a code cracker, pressing it against the panel with a trembling hand. You were breathing hoarsely, barely holding back a startled sob due to the noise and growling from behind, while the panel was making beeping sounds.

A second later, a small squeak was heard, indicating a hacking error.

From this sound, everything inside you froze, as well as all the noise around.

As if in a fog, you raised your head uncomprehendingly, almost desperately looking at the screen with the number of the next room. But instead of numbers, you saw a sad smiley face, as if sympathizing with your situation.

The last thing you saw after that was how a big shadow covered you, a sweet smell mixed with a strong smell of tobacco penetrated your nose before you lost consciousness.

#pressure roblox #yandere sebastian solace x reader #pressure roblox x reader #roblox #sebastian solace x reader #yandere oneshot

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dystopicjumpsuit · 10 months

Text

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 14

The Eyes are Sunlight

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings and tags: suspense, action, some angst, a nightmare, a little fluff

Suggested Listening:

Summary: Nemec's extraction hits a snag.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

There, the eyes are sunlight on a broken column

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

They reached the rendezvous point well after nightfall. Once the sun set, Nemec took the lead. He guided Cerra quickly across the terrain using his helmet’s night vision, their speed increasing the closer they got the rendezvous point.

“We’re going to make it,” Nemec called back to Cerra as she jogged a few paces behind him. “Only a few more klicks.”

Cerra didn’t respond, too busy trying to suck enough oxygen into her aching lungs. Her legs throbbed with every footstep, and her feet felt like they were on fire. She kriffing hated whatever Imperial laserbrain had chosen these boots for the officer’s uniform. Gritting her teeth, she put one foot in front of the other, her mind chanting only a few more klicks over and over. She’d come this far, and she’d be damned if she missed the rendezvous because she collapsed at the last minute.

Nemec skidded to a halt in front of her, the dust and gravel crunching loudly beneath his heavy boots.

“Listen,” he hissed.

Cerra held her breath so she could hear. Distantly, a mechanical whine broke the silence. Echo and Fireball? It didn’t sound like the freighter. It sounded like—

“Shit!” she exclaimed, breaking into a run. “I thought you said they wouldn’t scramble the V-wings!”

“They normally wouldn’t!” Nemec yelled. “Blowing up the speeder must have made them jumpy.”

“If they’re after the freighter, Echo and Fireball must be close. It’s going to be a tight pickup.”

“We’ll make it,” Nemec said grimly.

Adrenaline dulled the edge of Cerra’s agony. She sprinted at top speed, Nemec keeping pace next to her. She knew he could go faster, and he was holding back on purpose so he didn’t leave her behind. She was torn between gratitude and irritation, but she saved her breath, knowing that he wouldn’t leave her even if she ordered him to. Loyalty ran deep in the clones, whether by nature or by design.

“Is that them?” Nemec called as a freighter roared by overhead.

“Yes!” Cerra shouted. “We’re not going to make it!”

“Kark yes, we are!” Nemec said.

He grabbed her hand and sped up, dragging her behind him. The shriek of the V-wing engines was so close behind that she didn’t dare turn to look. The freighter fired at the V-wings, and one of them exploded into flames and careened toward the ground. She stumbled in the darkness, but Nemec didn’t let her fall, just tugged her back upright and kept running.

The lights of the freighter were just ahead. She could see the ship descending, its ramp lowering as the turret gun continued to fire at the other two V-wings. Close, so close, so close!

A V-wing fired and clipped the freighter. The ship shuddered and swayed as it hovered a few meters above the ground, but the deflectors held. Nemec dropped her hand and whirled to fire at the V-wings with his DC-15.

“Keep going!” Cerra screamed. “We’re almost there!”

The freighter’s turret gun fired over their heads, and Nemec turned and dashed toward the ramp. He passed Cerra, and when he reached the ship, he whirled and grabbed her by the waist, tossing her up onto the ramp. She tucked and rolled as she landed, scrambling to her feet as Nemec jumped up after her.

“Cerra! Get on copilot!” Echo yelled from the cockpit.

“On it,” she panted as she slammed the button to seal the hatch.

She stumbled to the cockpit and strapped herself into the copilot’s chair as Echo took off. Fireball manned the turret gun with impressive accuracy, and a second V-wing erupted into flames as the freighter soared into the sky. Cerra programmed the hyperdrive navicomputer as Echo piloted them out of the atmosphere. The last V-wing pursued, but they cleared the planet’s gravity well and jumped to hyperspace before it reached firing range. Cerra sat back in her seat, gasping for air.

“Nice flying, Echo,” she said, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

He gave her a small smile, and she turned to check on Nemec. He removed his helmet as Fireball slid down the ladder from the turret gun and pulled him into a tight hug.

“I didn’t think I was going to see you again,” Fireball choked.

“You should know me better than that, little brother,” Nemec replied.

Cerra turned back to the viewport to give them some privacy. Echo wordlessly handed her a canteen of water.

“Miss me?” she asked, nodding her thanks.

“Only because the only two songs Fireball knows are ‘Vode An’ and ‘99 Bottles of Ale,’” Echo said.

Cerra laughed and drained the bottle. “Kriff, that’s good. I think I swallowed about a kilo of dust on that moon.”

“Then you must not be hungry,” Fireball said as he joined them. “I was going to offer you a ration bar, but since you already ate—”

“Fireball, you give me that food, or I swear to the Maker herself, I will shave your eyebrows and dye your mohawk a stunning baby pink,” Cerra threatened.

“All right, all right,” Fireball laughed, tossing her a ration bar.

She tore into it and crammed half of it into her mouth.

“I think you’d look good with pink hair,” Nemec mumbled around a bite of his own.

Cerra swiveled her chair around to face him, finally getting a look at him without his helmet. Nemec was definitely older than Fireball, as she’d suspected. His dark hair was speckled with gray at the temples and long enough that he wore it braided. He had a short beard, and for a brief, heartbreaking moment, Cerra imagined that this might have been what Tup would have looked like if he’d lived.

“It’s settled, then,” she said, pushing the thought firmly away. “You hold him down and I’ll get the hair dye.”

“I can’t believe you’ve only known my brother a day, and you’re already trying to turn him against me,” Fireball said in an aggrieved tone. “And after I saved the good ration bars for you!”

“Damn, those were the good ones?” Cerra asked. “What do the bad ones taste like?”

“Nothing,” all three clones said in unison.

“Jinx, you owe me a Coke,” Echo said, watching Cerra out of the corner of his eye.

She stopped chewing for a millisecond, then resumed with a tiny, crooked grin. Maybe I can do this after all.

It was a day and a half hyperspace jump back to Coruscant. Once Cerra and Nemec had eaten, she grabbed the medkit and kicked her boots off.

“Kark me,” Fireball said, eyeing the bloody, blistered mess on her heels.

“Yeah. Those boots weren’t made for walking. Can’t wait to launch them out the airlock,” Cerra said. She disinfected her wounds and slapped a bacta patch on each heel, offering the medkit to Nemec. “Need anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he said. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

She shrugged. “There was nothing we could have done about it, and complaining wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“I have an emergency medpack in my field kit,” he said. “We could have patched you up out there.”

“Solid point,” Cerra said. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I have to walk halfway across a kriffing star system in shitty shoes.”

She sighed with relief as the bacta soothed the fiery sting of the disinfectant. Now that they were safely aboard the ship, the rush of adrenaline ebbed from her body, leaving her exhausted and wrung out. Her eyes drooped heavily.

“Got any caf?” she asked Echo.

“No,” Echo said. “Get some sleep. That’s an order. You too, Nemec. Fireball, you’re on copilot.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Cerra said, imbuing her voice with as much insubordination as she could muster. It seemed Rex’s habit of command was contagious, and she wouldn’t want Echo to succumb without a fight. It was for his own good, really.

She barely got her bunk folded down from the wall before she passed out, so Echo may have had a point. She didn’t know how many hours she slept, but they were still in hyperspace when she jerked awake, panicking as Fireball pinned her shoulders to the bunk.

“Cerra!” he bellowed. “Wake up!”

She lurched backwards out of his grip, cowering against the durasteel wall. Nemec sat on the bunk opposite hers, his face drained of blood and his shocked, wide eyes fixed on her.

“What’s going on?” she croaked.

“You were screaming,” Fireball said in a shaken voice. “I couldn’t get you to wake up.”

“What the kriff happened to you?” Nemec whispered.

Cerra glared at him and sat up, rubbing the grit out of her eyes with trembling hands.

“Everything all right?” Echo called from the cockpit.

“Fine,” she replied.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Fireball asked uncertainly.

“No,” she snapped. When hurt flashed in his eyes, she gentled her tone. “Sorry, it’s just a lot. I think—I need to hit the head.”

Fireball nodded and stepped back to give her space. In the cramped refresher, she splashed water on her face and took a few deep breaths, infinitely grateful that she hadn’t hyperventilated without Gregor to talk her down. When she finished, she arranged her features into a carefully blank facade before she rejoined the men. Fireball had gone back to the co-pilot’s seat, and Nemec sprawled across his bunk.

“How long was I out?” she asked.

“A few hours,” Nemec said, apparently understanding her need to change the subject. “But somehow you slept through Fireball singing all ninety-nine verses of ‘99 Bottles.’”

“I need to teach you boys some new songs,” Cerra said. “You know, Corellians have almost as many drinking songs as we have distilleries. And we have a lot of distilleries.”

“I didn’t know you were from Corellia,” Fireball called from the cockpit. “Is it as bad as everyone says?”

Cerra laughed at his tactless question, grateful for the distraction. “Depends on what part of the planet you come from. My dad’s family did all right, but my mom had to claw her way out of the slums.”

“Do you miss it?” Nemec asked.

“I miss the sea sometimes,” Cerra said. “I haven’t been back in a long time.”

“Why not?” Nemec asked curiously.

“Nothing to go back for,” Cerra hedged. She changed the subject. “All right, Fireball, let’s expand your musical horizons. This was the first drinking song I ever learned after I joined up. I was technically too young to drink, but Corellian drinking age laws have always been a little… Hmm. Negotiable?”

“If you were old enough to fight, you were old enough to drink, in my book,” Nemec said.

“That was certainly my philosophy,” Cerra said. “My commanding officer may have disagreed. He put me on latrine duty for a month when he overheard me singing this song, so you know it’s a good one.”

She sang a ribald tune about whiskey and women and certain anatomically improbable acts, and by the third time she got to the chorus, Fireball and Nemec howled the lyrics along with her, shouting with laughter. Echo shook his head from the pilot’s seat and adjusted the settings of his cranial implant, presumably tuning them out. When she got to the end of the song, Nemec and Fireball cheered loudly.

“If you ever teach that to Omega, I will toss you down the underworld portal myself,” Echo said.

The first thing Echo saw when the group walked into the garage was a ship docked in the maintenance bay.

Cerra whistled appreciatively. “Not bad.”

“Thanks,” Gregor said with a smirk. “But what do you think about the ship?”

Cerra snorted and chucked her empty canteen at him. Gregor caught it effortlessly and returned fire with a jogan fruit. Cerra caught it with considerably less grace and took a large bite. Echo rolled his eyes at their childish antics.

“What’s cookin’?” Cerra asked. “It smells amazing in here.”

“Pan-seared pelikki breast with a salakberry gastrique and roasted chokeroot,” Gregor said.

The entire group stopped in their tracks and turned to him.

“Holy sith,” Cerra said. “Will you marry me?”

Nemec shouldered Cerra out of the way. “Hello, my new best friend. I’m Nemec.”

“The audacity,” Cerra gasped. “You already have a best friend. You can’t steal mine!”

“What am I, chopped bantha liver?” Fireball asked in pretend outrage.

Echo sighed and looked to Rex for support. Rex’s grin was tinged with a hint of vindictiveness, and Echo suddenly remembered some of the escapades he and Fives had pulled after they finished ARC training.

“Mission was a success?” Rex asked mildly.

“We accomplished our objective and nobody got shot,” Cerra said. “I’d say that calls for a celebration. Rex, Nemec. Nemec, Rex. Fireball, get your fingers out of that sauce! If anybody is doing quality control, it’s me.”

Gregor pulled the kitchen towel off his shoulder and snapped it at Cerra, who leapt back with an indignant shriek.

“Nobody’s doing quality control, or there’ll be nothing left for dinner,” he said sternly.

“How is there not enough for dinner?” Cerra demanded. “There’s enough food to feed an army in here.”

“Chuchi and her guards will be joining us any minute,” Gregor replied.

Echo looked up quickly at that, his heart beating a little faster. Riyo. Across the room, Cerra looked at Echo and smirked, then darted a hand out to dip a finger in the gastrique, patently undaunted by Gregor’s dictate.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Gregor said. He grabbed Cerra around the waist and pinned her against his body, then seized her wrist with his free hand and pulled her finger up to his mouth and sucked the sauce off of it.

“Gross!” Cerra exclaimed, whooping with laughter. “Get that out of your mouth! You have no idea where it’s been.”

“Then you shouldn’t be sticking it in the food that we all have to eat,” Gregor said. “And you called me a heathen.” He squeezed her into a tight hug and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you’re home. Now get out of my kitchen.”

“Yes, sir,” she said in a saucy tone as he pushed her away from the food.

A strange expression flitted across Gregor’s face, but he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Go torture Rex instead. He’s had too much peace and quiet with you gone.”

Cerra’s face glowed with laughter, and Echo had a sudden and blinding realization that THIS—This is the Cerra that Fives fell in love with. The change in her demeanor could not have been starker. Echo had been confused before about what his exuberant, joyful brother could have possibly seen in Cerra, and now he understood. Fives’s Cerra was not the same person as the Cerra Echo knew. But as he watched her tease and banter with Gregor, Fireball, and Nemec, he thought maybe the old Cerra was still in there somewhere.

Echo noticed that Rex was also watching her with a strange, almost pained expression, which he wiped away, showing nothing but a smooth, dispassionate mask when Cerra turned to him.

“Debrief, Cap?” she asked.

“In my office,” Rex replied. “Echo, you too.”

They followed Rex into the cramped little room where he had set up his headquarters.

“Report,” Rex said.

“Uneventful mission for the most part,” Echo said. “At least on my end. Just three days of Fireball singing a karking annoying song, a brief skirmish, and then two more days of Fireball singing a different karking annoying song thanks to Cerra.”

“I aim to please,” she said.

“Tell me about the skirmish,” Rex said.

“We were pursued by three V-wings when we entered atmosphere,” Echo said. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“That may have been my fault,” Cerra said. “I had to blow something up, and Nemec thinks it had them on edge.”

“Did anyone see you?” Rex asked.

“No,” Echo replied. “Our cover should be safe.”

Cerra coughed. “Uh—about that.”

“What did you do?” Rex asked ominously.

“I didn’t do anything,” Cerra said. “I followed the plan to the letter.”

“But?” Rex prompted her.

“Nax saw me. Right after I got through security at HQ.”

“What?” Rex demanded sharply, his brows snapping together. “Did he recognize you?”

“Definitely,” Cerra said. “He called me by name, but then he let me go. I don’t know why he didn’t call it in.”

“Kriff. This could be bad,” Rex said.

“What if he wants out?” Cerra asked. “Shouldn’t we help him?”

“If he’s lost confidence in the Empire, he might be willing to join us. Be our man on the inside,” Echo said.

“And if he’s still loyal to the Empire, he could blow our entire operation,” Rex replied thoughtfully. “Besides, I already have someone on the inside. But… It’s Nax. Kriff. He was at Teth.”

Echo shot a hard look at Rex at that tidbit of information. Only six clones had survived that battle—including Rex. That wasn’t an easy bond to break.

“And just who is this mysterious contact of yours, by the way?” Cerra asked.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Rex said in a tone that indicated he and Cerra had had this conversation before.

“If Nax wants out, we have a duty to help him,” Echo said. “We can’t pick and choose which clones to save based on how useful they are to us.”

“I agree with Echo,” Cerra said. “If he is still loyal, why didn’t he blow the whistle on me? He didn’t have anything to gain from helping me, and he had a lot to lose if anyone found out he’d covered for me.”

“I’ll reach out through my network,” Rex said. “It’s a big risk. Normally, the clones who want out are the ones who initiate contact. If Nax was just doing a favor for an old friend, he could expose us.”

“Then we’ll be careful,” Echo said. “Use an intermediary. Set the rendezvous off-planet.”

Rex nodded. “I’ll set it up. Now, how soon can we get Nemec’s inhibitor chip out?”

“Any time,” Cerra said. “The surgical pod is up and running. I figured I’d let him eat dinner before performing brain surgery, though. Tomorrow morning?”

“I’d rather not wait,” Rex said. “Can you do it tonight?”

“Rex. Everyone lived. Nobody got hurt. Can we not take five minutes to breathe?” Cerra asked.

“It’s too dangerous,” Rex snapped. “It needs to happen now.”

Cerra blinked, taken aback, and then that perfectly flat, neutral expression Echo had grown to despise slid into place. “Right away, Captain.”

She stalked out of the room without another word.

“You’re really good at scugging her off,” Echo observed.

“Yeah,” Rex said tiredly. “I’ve had a lot of time to practice.”

---

Next chapter

#tbb echo #captain gregor #captain rex #riyo chuchi #clone trooper fireball #clone trooper nemec #oc: cerra kilian #star wars #the bad batch #sw tbb fanfic #dystopicjumpsuit writes #stars beyond number #Spotify

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angelasscribbles · 1 year

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The Dark Kingdom Chapter 2: The Dark Lord

Series: The Dark Kingdom

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Liam x Riley (the dark lord x the runaway princess I mean lol)

Word Count: 1,377

Rating: MA for eventual adult themes/trauma mentioned

Warnings for this chapter: none

A/N: Stăpâni is Romanian for master.

My other stuff: Master List.

They made their way through the night, Drake and Leo effortlessly and noiselessly; Riley stumbling to keep up with Drake. Every time she lagged too much, Leo shoved her from behind. Leo scared her so she struggled to stay closer to Drake.

“Fuck humans are slow!” Leo complained, “At this rate, it’s going to take until morning to make it home.”

Drake stopped walking abruptly and Riley ran right into his back. He tilted his head as if listening to something she couldn’t hear. Then he turned to her and said, “I’m going to carry you. When I pick you up, put your arms around my neck and hold on tight.”

“What?”

He never answered. Instead, she found herself swept into his arms, her eyes wide as she stared up into his, their faces inches apart. Her arms went around his neck instinctively. Her heart rate accelerated as he pressed her close to his body and she silently chastised herself for noticing the strong jawline and broad shoulders.

As if reading her mind, he smirked down at her, “Don’t let go,” he said then he took off at an impossible speed. The scenery was dizzying as it rushed by, so she tightened her grip around him, squeezed her eyes shut, and buried her head in his chest as they ran.

She had no idea how long or how far they had gone when he slowed down to something closer to human speed. She lifted her head and took in the castle in the distance.

It was dark and foreboding with towers and turrets everywhere. Nestled into the side of the tallest mountain she’d ever seen, the lighting spilling from it was anything but warm and inviting. Her pulse quickened again but from fear and curiosity this time.

Her attention was pulled upward as a deafening roar sounded above them. She watched in awe as what could only be a dragon glided overhead.

When they reached the portcullis, two guards grasped the metal rings on the impossibly large and heavy doors and pulled them open as if they weighed nothing.

Drake stepped over the threshold and lowered her gently to the floor, the stone cold on her bare feet.

“This way,” he commanded then turned and strode further into the castle, not bothering to look back to see if she was following.

She glanced behind her to see Leo ogling her menacingly from the doorway. She scurried quickly after Drake.

After several minutes and a confusing number of turns, he stopped in front of an ornate door and pushed it open, “In here.”

She stepped out of the darkened medieval hallway into a different world.

The study was brightly lit from an unseen source, a fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace and the opulence of the room itself rivaled anything she had ever seen at the palace.

Despite the grandeur of the furnishings, the room was almost cozy. A red velvet settee faced the fire, books were stacked on an end table and spilling from the shelving units.

There was a movement to her right as a man rose from a giant oaken desk, “This is the interloper?”

His voice sent warmth and electricity cascading down her spine. She froze in place as he stalked toward her.

“Yes, Stăpâni,” Drake replied.

“And there were no others?” The man moved closer peering at her intently. The dark lord looked like an ordinary human, but he didn’t move like one. He was tall with raven hair and ebony eyes, his movements more fluid and graceful than any man she had ever seen.

Her insides liquified under the intensity of his gaze.

Drake answered as the dark lord continued his appraisal, “No, we searched the borderlands and the buffer zone. The others turned back at the perimeter.”

The raven-haired man directed his next question to her, “Why were the others there? What did they want? Why did they turn back? And don’t lie to me, I’ll know.”

Staring up into his eyes, she believed him. She quailed under his scrutiny, “They….they were chasing me, sir…Lord….They turned back because they thought I wouldn’t have been foolish enough to cross the partition.”

Surprise flitted through his eyes, “You were running from them?”

“Yes, my Lord,” she lifted her head and jutted her jaw out as she answered. She would not cry. Come what may, she would face it head-on. She told herself that she was no longer afraid, that she had left fear behind when she had fled the palace. If death was the sentence for crossing the partition and breaking the treaty, then she would willingly pay it.

The dark lord took a step nearer and peered at her closer.

Her dress was mulberry silk with hand-stitched embroidery, wildly expensive and indulgent. Her dark auburn hair was long and glossy, her skin glowed with good health, and she had an adequate amount of weight to her. These things screamed that she was from a family of means and her basic needs had not been neglected.

And yet.

The hem of her dress was filthy and torn, her feet were bare and caked with dirt and blood. Her hair was disheveled, her arms were covered in scratches.

He could hear her heart pounding in her chest and smell her fear and yet she stood ramrod straight, her chin thrust defiantly out belying the sheer terror he read on her scent. She was strong and determined. Traits he admired.

His gaze fell to her fists, clenched tightly at her side.

“Let me see your hands,” he commanded.

“What?”

“Your hands!” the man behind her shoved her for emphasis.

“There’s no need for that,” the man in front of her shook his head at the other before turning his gaze back to her and adopting a gentler tone, “Your hands please.”

She shakily lifted and then thrust both hands out toward him, palms up. Dirt and blood were caked under her ragged, broken nails, her fingertips were raw, her palms scraped.

His head tipped to one side as he studied them, his eyes flicking from her hands to her face before reaching out toward her, “May I?”

She nodded meekly.

He grasped her right arm, his fingers sliding across the velvety softness of her skin to run soothingly over the abrasions.

She shivered as his touch somehow eased the pain and sent little shocks of pleasure jolting through her.

“You did this climbing up the mountain?”

She nodded.

Liam Rys had lived a very long time. Not many things surprised or confused him anymore, but both those emotions washed through him as he studied the quaking girl in front of him.

She was scared, but not of him. She had left a privileged existence to scale a mountain at great physical cost to herself and now stood before him with an almost challenging air about her, seemingly unphased by her physical wounds.

“Why?” He asked quietly.

“To get away from my family,” she whispered, eyes finally dropping to the floor.

Liam felt something startling and unexpected fill his chest: protectiveness. Something unthinkable must have happened to her to make facing his wrath the better alternative.

This human woman was a stranger to him. Her mere presence in his lands was a violation of a treaty, a threat to a decades-long ceasefire. The delicate balance between the human lands below and his own was always precarious, this was an added wrinkle neither side needed.

She shouldn’t be here, and he couldn’t harbor her if she was running from some wrongdoing. He would be within his rights to execute her on the spot for her transgression and return her dead body to the humans. It would serve as both proof and a warning that the Dark Kingdom still honored the terms of the armistice.

He knew what he should do, but as he studied her oddly compelling mix of vulnerability and strength, he found neither the resolve to harm her nor the inclination to return her to the human realm, consigning her to whatever hell she was running from.

He found himself captivated by her bravery and deeply curious about her situation. He wasn’t ready to judge her yet.

Information, he decided. He needed more information.

#trr au #trr au fanfic #the royal romance #trr poly #liam rys #drake walker #riley brooks #the royal romance fanfic #angelasscribbles #trr #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices #the dark kingdom #dark romance #paranomal #paranormal romance

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cursedalthoughts · 4 months

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Priority Research 7 Predictions - Eagle Union

I remember a few years ago, when I tried to do predictions for PR3 back on Twitter, I realized the Eagle Union didn't have many choices. Kearsarge wasn't a thing back then, so Seattle, Georgia and Anchorage were pretty much the only real options they had at all.

That has changed a fair bit now, with PR7 right around the corner.

USS Minnesota

Minnesota is not a good battleship.

When talking about big battleships I sometimes mention how they're "big, slow, and slumbering." In most cases, that's an exaggeration on my part. That's not the case with Minnesota.

With a top speed of 23 knots, Minnesota is one of the slowest ships of her tier, if not the slowest. That's not the only slow thing about her, as her main guns - twelve 406mm guns - have a reload of 40 seconds. You can genuinely go AFK and do things in real life while the guns reload.

Her guns, however, are a bit more accurate than average; although that is the only saving grace she has.

If she gets added to Azur Lane as a PR, she'd be of PR rarity.

USS Vermont

Vermont is a T10 copycat of Minnesota. You might think "wow, she's also terrible, right?"

Yes. She's even worse. Same top speed of 23 knots, same 40s reload on her main guns, etc, same weak side armor, same glacial turret traverse of 45s, everything is the same, just bigger.

The only difference is that her main guns are 457mm. "Does that actually matter?"

Oh boy.

Those 457mm main guns are the only thing that moves Vermont from a pretty terrible battleship, to an excellent battleship. Her main offensive tool is patience. Vermont is a persistence hunter. A good Vermont player will choose a good flank to reside in and stalk the enemy. If you're on one end of the map and the enemy Vermont gets lit up by firing her main guns on the other side of the map; only island cover will save you. 15.7k damage per AP shell, 12 AP shells, incredible accuracy; a well placed shot will detonate any enemy with a citadel.

I do not have a Vermont myself, but I have seen the trail of destruction she can leave behind. Full health battleships 25km away exploding without warning, perfectly angled cruisers taking 50k or more damage in one hit, Vermont is one of the scariest battleships to face against if the right conditions are met.

Vermont would make for an excellent DR battleship, a diametric opposite to Kearsarge.

USS Austin

A super-Atlanta, Austin has a potential sistership in the shape of Jinan - more about her here.

Austin is an excellent spammer. Being able to fire HE and SAP, there's very few targets she can't run down. However, her base reload is 7.5s, which is rather atrocious for a main gun spammer.

The saving grace of Austin is that she has access to a unique reload boost. Once activated, her reload drops down to less than 2s for a period of time; the uniqueness of this boost coming from the fact that it is unlimited. Once the reload boost has finished, it enters its cooldown, after which it can be used again without any maximum number of uses.

Austin is also really small - here's a size comparison with other T10 light cruisers made by Ch0m1n.

Austin is a fascinating little ship. Oh, also, she's surprisingly tanky despite being a light cruiser. Definitely DR material.

USS Puerto Rico

Puerto Rico is simply a bigger Alaska-class. When designing the first large cruisers of the USN, one of the preliminary designs was CA2-D:

CA2-D had a total of 12 305mm main guns in triple turrets, as well as an overall larger displacement. Puerto Rico could be an interesting half-sister of the Alaska-class, of equal DR rarity.

USS Congress

Congress, much like Puerto Rico, is a discarded Alaska-class design. In particular, she seems to be a variation of the 12-Inch Gun Cruiser Study, CA2F:

(excuse the different formatting, i've been fighting with tumblr for 40 fucking minutes and i can't seem to replicate what i did above)

Congress, much like Puerto Rico, would be a PR variation of Alaska.

USS Illinois

Illinois is one of the most interesting battleships in the game. She's an Iowa hull, meaning that she shares a lot of similarities with the other 4 Iowa hulls in the game (Iowa, Missouri, Delaware and Wisconsin - Georgia and Rhode Island are a bit different). The thing that makes her unique is that she doesn't have battleship calliber guns. No, she also doesn't have 305mm guns either.

Illinois has 203mm guns. To be specific, she has 3 quadruple 203mm gun turrets that use the same guns and ammo as Des Moines.

Even if Des Moines has considerably better damage per minute and utility (Des Moines has radar and hydroacoustic search, Illinous has neither); Illinois is a battleship hull. She's the tankiest standard heavy cruiser in the game.

I can see her being a PR in Azur Lane, her gimmick being something like being the only battleship in the game that can be placed on the vanguard fleet. Also, she would only be able to equip heavy cruiser main guns. I can see Drake's or Hindenburg's guns being amazing on her already.

USS Rhode Island

Rhode Island is a jack of all trades, master of none.

A small rundown of all the gimmicks Wargaming cramped into this ship:

Quadruple 365mm guns also found on the T7 battleship Florida, which is herself a downgraded version of North Carolina. These guns have amazing HE performance but underwhelming AP damage, due to the fact that she is Tier 10.

Radar. She has radar. That means she joins the already rare club of battleships with radar. To the best of my knowledge there are only 4: Missouri, Constellation, Borodino and lastly Rhode Island.

She has the same secondary gun performance that Georgia enjoys.

She has a speed boost. Just like Georgia.

Honestly, the only two real downsides of Rhode Island are her atrocious armor and her subpar AP performance. However, she has 22 seconds of reload, and her AP can stil wreack cruisers with ease up to certain distances.

If added to AL, she would be a DR due to the sheer amount of gimmicks she has.

USS Ohio

If Vermont's horrendous 40s reload and 23kts speeds personally offend you, Ohio is an alternative worthy of consideration.

Ohio is based on the Montana hull. There is sufficient evidence to believe Montana could be a gacha UR in Azur Lane, however, Ohio is mostly made up by Wargaming.

When designing the Iowa-class, the USN briefly considered equipping them with six 457mm guns instead of nine 406mm guns. That consideration gave birth to Georgia in World of Warships, who has a slightly different hull design than the Iowa-class. Ohio takes Montana's guns and replaces them with Georgia's, giving her eight 457mm guns with Super-Heavy AP shells.

On top of that, Ohio enjoys a much improved secondary gun performance, better than Georgia's and Rhode Island's in many regards; and a full secondary gun build does not sacrifice much of her impresive main gun accuracy.

On top of that, Ohio has the same sort of heal party that Massachussetts has - it lasts for longer than average and has a shorter cooldown, meaning you can repair the ship more often for more health points.

I am tempted to say Ohio is a DR shipgirl, but considering Georgia is PR and New Jersey is UR; I think Ohio could end up being another PR shipgirl, while Montana becomes an UR. However, Montana is extremely far away, while Ohio could come at any moment.

#azur lane #gacha #gacha game #priority research #world of warships #eagle union

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ev-rebound · 16 days

Text

Chapter 4: The Council

Sonic, now with cuffs on his hands and legs, and Nine are brought to the egg castle and pushed into an elevator, the jackals on all sides, and Zero in front. Sonic tries not to grin; they were taking him straight to eggman! Soon he’d be kicking his butt all over again, and then he’d make him fix this.

“One more thing” Zero says, Sonic looks up in time to see him holding a remote, the jackal presses a button and everything goes dark as the cuffs shock him.

Meanwhile, Knuckles and Rouge sit in the back of a truck heading for the egg castle, the council had a number of citizens working there. Human and mobian, but they were relegated to just operating security doors and bringing supply shipments in and out. Of course a number of them also worked with the pair.

“You sure about this Rouge? I mean he’s fast, but it’s not like he’s the only special one in this city”

“Exactly! We can’t let him fall into the Council's clutches, they’ll just abuse his power. We need all the help we can get”

Knuckles crosses his arms, “All I’m saying this is a lot of risk for one hedgehog”

Rouge smirks, “And when has risk stopped us before?”

The pair sit there until the truck comes to a stop and a moment later a human woman with short blonde hair signals for them to get out. “Thanks Topaz” the pair slip out and make their way into the ventilation system.

Back in the castle Sonic wakes up in a large dark room, his arms and legs strapped to a table by powerful clamps, the jackal squad and Nine nowhere in sight. “Argh!” he hisses as lights suddenly go on stinging his eyes, he shuts them and when they open….

A part of him wishes he kept them shut.

He’s surrounded by the Jackal squad again, but that’s not the worst part. Up on a raised platform stands five familiar wicked faces. Zero, Sage, Zavok, Dr.Starline, and in the center of them all stands the mad doctor himself. Eggman grins down at Sonic, he sports a more militaristic version of his usual attire, all five of them do. Doesn’t matter.

“Ah the rodent finally awakens” he drawls as Sonic glares up at the doctor. “Oh shut it! What have you done to my friends?!” Sonic growls.

A metal fist slams down next to the blue blurs head, “You will show Lord Eggman and the rest of the Chaos Council respect” a familiar, yet lifeless, girl's voice says.

-No…- Sonic watches in horror as the fist lowers and Amy steps into view, everything but her face, ears, and one of her eyes is metal, her quills look like a metal helmet, and the rest is all silver and red. The Jackals all back away as she walks towards Sonic staring at him with no recognition or life behind her eyes, sweet Amy rose…reduced to this.

“Amy…?” “Rusty Rose” she stops a foot away from him then turns to look up at the council, “Scans show that he contains energy similar to that of the shard”

Sonic can’t hear her, he sees red, he feels a fire burning in him as he grits his teeth and begins to struggle against the restraints, he needs to get free! He needs to make Eggman and the rest of the council pay for Amy and everyone else they’ve hurt! “AHHHHHH!” he’s shocked for his efforts but he continues, Zavok tilts his head, “We could certainly make a warrior out of this one”

Starline hums in agreement, “Yes but there is still the matter of that energy, we must be sure its the same as the shards and not whatever gives him his speed”

Rusty glances at Sonic then back up at the council, “Perhaps a series of grueling tests?” The council all agree with wicked smiles as Sonic is tossed into a room with a treadmill and a blast proof glass wall slides in front of him.

Sonic growls as the floor below him begins to move faster and faster, he runs able to keep up and soon out speed it. Sage’s eyes glow and soon obstacles begin to appear in his path and turrets from the ceiling. He kicks off the wall and bounces off all the turrets shattering each one with ease.

The next test has Sonic run around in a metal ball that seems to generate power as it spins the more he runs. The council now all stand near it watching it glow.

“These power levels…are something else” Sage says with wide eyes, “We could power even stronger machines! Expand our reach even farther across the world!”

Sonic growls at this, Eggman had taken over, his friends had changed and didn’t even know who he was!

“Oooh here’s something you should test for! What happens when you push this hedgehog TO HIS LIMITS!”

He runs even faster now. Blue sparks and multicolored energy following him and enveloping the orb. The energy reader in front of the council begins to beep in warning. “Sonic! It’s broken!” A voice shouts and what looks like a ghostly blue silhouette of Shadow the hedgehog appears next to him. “Shadow…?”

“Sonic! I’m stuck in the void! It's all broken!” the hedgehog shouts in desperation.

Broken..? The void…? “What are yo-”

The energy can no longer be contained as it explodes from his body in all directions.

First-Prev-Next

#sonic fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime #sonic prime rewrite #zero the jackal #tails nine #shadow the hedgehog #sage #dr eggman #dr starline #rusty rose #zavok the zeti #jackal squad #rouge the bat #knuckles the echidna

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pochapal · 10 months

Note

I shall tempt fate!

Thoughts on the thirteenth doctor?

I didn’t like the era much but 13 is awesome imo ^^

[approximately 1 trillion turrets taking aim] okay SO the thing with 13 is that everyone who watched her and hated her was a needless redditbrained loser who didn't understand a thing. yes she was kind of mid in the end BUT not for a single reason any of her detractors like to espouse.

she was on track for a very good slow burn tragic arc of over-correcting twelve's flaws (he got too attached and this burned him over and over and over again) where in her attempts to protect her companions from the same doomed fate as every previous human to enter the tardis she ends up not showing how she really feels at all until it's too late for it to count because whether or not she's attached or distant all humans die in the end and to travel with the doctor is to in part indulge in a death drive because by nature of being a companion it means eventually you are going to collide face first with tragedy. all the pieces for this are there very much in her first two seasons and this reading even explains why the finales were kind of lacking oomph (her distancing in attachment also extended to Being The Doctor on some level; this could have compounded with all the latent Gender stuff real nicely but didn't) since it was kind of all building to one core tragic break.

this likely would have happened in her third season but then covid kind of destroyed production and obviously every ambition/plan had to be downscaled into flux which was like. fine??? nothing really bad to say about it other than it feels a touch truncated but that was mostly due to pandemic filming restrictions than anything else (and will never be as terrible as the parts of the moffat era which suffered extensively as a result of sherlock existing and taking up the lead writers/producers time and effort). only issue with it was that it shifted tone/direction in a way that kept all of 13's era on this same flat note right at the moment when this naturally should have been shifted up a gear for the third act.

unironically in an ideal world we got a full length third season for thirteen and the one thing that needed to happen was yaz dying. like i liked yaz and everything but girlie needed to die so badly in some episode and for her to die thinking that the doctor never actually cared about her, forcing thirteen to realize becoming disattached doesn't prevent tragedy from happening it just deprives her of love. continuing this ideal scenario the next beat that needed to happen was thirteen absolutely fucking snapping as yaz's death serves as the catalyst for all the other billion emotions she's been pointedly Not Feeling in this incarnation - this in turn would allow us to see shades of the rogue doctor or whatever her name was (renegade doctor? fugitive doctor? exile doctor?) and create an interesting interplay between the two. this'd then lead to an "Oh Fuck I Have Really Fucked Up At Being The Doctor Huh" moment where she starts aggressively Being The Doctor (maybe strongarming dan into being a companion semi against his wishes to fill the void?) and maybe fucking with her own history/reputation or w/e which might've fed into the timeless child mystery thing somehow (don't ask me i'm spitballing on half-remembered information). also identity crisis heartbroken thirteen at the end of her life reaching back into herself and re-using ten's face as a kind of "second chance" at all the parts of herself that ten embodied and she didn't (the absolute love for companions and humanity) where the tension is now whether or not fourteen ignores the literal centuries of history separating himself from the last time he wore this face and that feeding into the new rtd era.

even a small number of these things would have made thirteen probably one of the best doctors in the series in all the metrics that really matter but we didn't get that so we have to contend with what we do have and that was mostly just...okay. thirteen for me is like. she was brimming with potential to go down a certain route i would have eaten up but things never quite fell into place. probably a whole bunch of reasons behind the scenes why thirteen's era fell short of total greatness but i still enjoyed good chunks of thirteen more than certain doctors who i can and will name (doctor eleven they could never make me like you) so she has that going for her at least. also can't be fully mad at the writing because i actually have an unjustified soft spot for chibnall (this is my biases talking but the countrycide episode of torchwood top 1 piece of doctor who media and i'm so mad he didn't lean back into the folk horror aesthetic again for the witch trials episode in thirteen's run) and overall thirteen's era was just. it was consistent. i really wish covid hadn't fucked over the final season so the nascent themes in her arc could've come to a more satisfying fruition because i will always be a forever truther thirteen's era was slow-building up to something really good. the haters will never convince me otherwise.

#coolstuffiseverywhere #my thinking is guided by the sole principle that doctor who is only good when it's both melodrama and tragedy #this might be because i infinitely prefer melodrama/tragedy over scifi. this is also because i am huge brained and beautiful all the time

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rinwellisathing · 4 months

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Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh: Part 5

“Ah, the scholar from Creche K'liir returns.” The tall dark haired woman guarding the door greeted Octavia with a smile. “You and your kin are welcome, but these Istik...” “Oh! Yes.” Octavia glanced nervously back to Gale and Karlach before giving a bright smile at the guard and switching to her native tongue. “[They are my servants! The strong woman with horns is my bodyguard and the flimsy staff wielding man translates foreign tongues for me. My kin and I acquired them after defeating their party in rigorous combat! They were the only ones who lived.]” “Ah! Of course, you did say your sister was a fearsome warrior. I look forward to perhaps fighting by her side.” The woman gently placed a hand on Octavia's shoulder and leaned in to whisper to her. “[ Jhestil Kithrak Voss rides near! He is in search of an artifact that is important to our queen. Your arrival is very timely.]” Octavia nodded. “[Wonderful! We will assist however we can!]” The doors opened and Octavia led the way inside. “Now if I remember, the infirmary is this way...” She turned a corner leading down a hallway where a portrait of Vlaakith leered down over the Creche. Kroger and Lae'zel stopped to gaze in awe and lower their heads respectfully while Octavia waited patiently for them, Gale stepping to her side to observe. “Bit dour for a queen, isn't she? You'd think she'd be happy being in charge and all.” Karlach chuckled. “Our battle against The Ghaik threat is most serious, she has no time to enjoy her position, in fact it is one of great responsibility as we are all united in her service.” Kroger explained.

The party continued along the way to the infirmary, passing a group of children throwing a yowling box back and forth with mage hands. Gale noted Octavia tensing a bit and walking by a bit faster and hurried to catch up with her, gently placing a hand on her arm, earning a grateful smile from her. He smiled back and nodded his head. “School wasn't easy for me, either.” He said simply, knowingly. “Yes...my upbringing was...difficult.” Octavia confirmed, nodding her head. “At any rate, here we are. The Ghustil...and the Zaithisk...should be beyond this door.” She gently began to push the door open, stepping slowly and quietly into the room, where a dark haired woman in robes and researchers' gear leaned over a strange device, observing what appeared to be a milk white tadpole.

“It's such a lonely place...” Jaina whispered, lowering her head. The party had taken a moment to rest in the dusty living quarters of the old tower. The turrets had done quite a number on them and Sentry and Shadowheart were hard at work performing healing magic on their companions. Jaina had faired best against the arcane turrets, her skin naturally made to repel damage more easily, a trait common to tieflings native to her home island, the tough shark-like flesh hard to penetrate. She was walking amongst the book shelves and tables, delicate fingers brushing over old books and letters, eyes dancing over the letters slowly, expression mournful at the sad life that seemed to have ended here. “While we're resting, we do have that Noblestalk Halsin mentioned...” Wyll reached into the leather satchel, producing the strange blue mushroom. “Eww, once again, no thank you. I can't stand mushrooms.” Shadowheart shook her head. “Oh come on, we'll split it.” Sentry suggested, accepting the mushroom from Wyll and tearing it in half. “What if we've got memories that'll help us on this little jaunt?” He offered one half to Shadowheart. She frowned, eyes narrowing, and then inhaled deeply. “Fine. On three...” Sentry nodded, slowly starting to count down and finally, he and Shadowheart both bit into their mushroom halves.

Sentry's eyes widened, pupils becoming tiny pinpricks. His mind swirled as his broken brain. As quickly the world around him went dark, it began to slide back into focus. He was in a workshop, at least from the looks of it. There was a boiler, a few work benches lined the walls, and tools of all kinds hung from the walls. He was pressed against the wall, and there, holding him close and kissing him deeply, was the man from his drawings. Light brown skin, dark hair, calloused hands, burly arms. Sentry felt...happy, safe, at peace in this man's arms. “I wanted to show you something, dear Sentry.” The man smiled as he pulled back from the kiss, gently guiding Sentry over to the work bench. “I've been working on some upgrades to the gift you gave me...” He unfurled a scroll with a schematic on it showing several things that looked to Sentry's eyes like torture devices. The next scene that crossed his mind was Sentry sitting at a table with a beautiful dark haired elf with almost black blue eyes, a girl with pale hair, eyes, and skin, and a tall tiefling woman with deep purple skin and pale hair. They were served by the diminutive figure that Sentry recognized, the one who had given him the strange red cloak. He poured tea and served strange, small cakes to the group. “So, Orin, I liked that painting you did across the alley wall, what was your thought process?” Sentry asked. He looked youngest member of the group. “Slaughterkin, It simply came to me. I was hilt-deep in my target's flesh-meat and such wonderful colors and shapes came to me.” Orin replied, grinning widely. “You both realize my poisons can change the color of blood, if you were hoping for a wider pallet for your little projects.” The pretty elf giggled. Sentry nodded. “That could be fun. What do you say, Orin? Shall we send Fel with Tomi next time and have him collect some new colors for us?” “Oh my malicious master, consider it done! I do so enjoy your fine, fine works.” The butler grinned widely revealing his sharp teeth. Sentry blinked as he felt his body being shaken by multiple hands, he shook his head and then shook his body off like a dog. “Sorry, sorry, I definitely remembered something, though.” He admitted, rubbing his aching head as he looked around. “Hey, Shadowheart, are you okay?” She looked up at him, shutting her eyes tightly and wincing before slowly opening her eyes and taking a deep breath. “Yes, I...remembered a friend of mine, a tiefling boy, he had short horns and purple hair.” She spoke slowly, uncertainly. “What was his name....” Sentry nodded. “Yeah, I didn't get the name of someone important I rememebered either, but...I think I had sisters...Orin and Tomi...I remember those names.”

Jaina frowned a bit. “Hmm...I think I've heard those names before...I'm not entirely sure where, though...Ah well, I'll think about it. I'm sure it'll come to me.” “Tomi is familiar to me. There was a woman in Baldurian high society, Tomi Kisaragi. She's a Kozakuran noble who's been living in the city as a diplomat for years.” Wyll spoke up. “My father always said she was a very private person, but always knew how to command the attention of a room regardless.” “Huh...Maybe she was taking care of me after my mum died or something, I was pretty young in the memory.” Sentry pondered, cocking his head to one side. “Maybe Fevras was right then, I am a...um...” “A marquis, darling.” Astarion snorted with a laugh. “Albeit an unconventional one. I've never encountered one as....casual...as you are.” “And you knew a lot of nobility, Astarion?” Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “Cazador threw many, many soirees looking for victims. So yes, I did.” He replied, arms folded across his chest. ---

“Excuse me, Ghustil.” Kroger approached the woman at the table, clearing his throat to make his presence known. “I'm sorry to bother you in the midst of important research, however my sisters and I have become....infected...with Ghaik tadpoles. My name is Kur'rugar of Creche K'liir, Ghustil in training. We have need of your Zaithisk.” The Ghustil narrowed her eyes in annoyance at the interruption for just a moment, but her expression soon became one of interest when Kroger mentioned the tadpoles. She turned and looked him over, examining his face and peering behind him to where Octavia and Lae'zel stood. “I see...And you have never used a Zaithisk yourself in your training, boy?” She asked, looking Kroger up and down, eyebrows raised with suspicion. “No, I had not yet reached that part of my training.” He confirmed with a shake of his head.

“Ah...” Her expression brightened to an eager smile. Gale was sure he noticed something sinister behind that smile, but the Githyanki didn't seem to notice and neither did Karlach. “well then this should be quite the education for you. Right this way...” She led him towards a strange machine in the back of the room, placed on a platform towering over the rest of the equipment. It was a bizarre thing, fleshy and mechanical all at once and the foreboding taint of Illithid influence permeated it. “Are you sure this is wise?” Gale leaned in, whispering in Octavia's ear. “That machine appears none too friendly and by his own admission even your brother isn't sure how it actually works.” “This is how our people cleanse ourselves of Ghaik infection.” Octavia replied. “It must be safe, it must work!” “And have you ever met someone who'd used one successfully before?” Gale asked. Octavia frowned, pausing a moment. Her eyes narrowed in thought and the expression on her face slowly journeyed from thoughtful to concerned as she watched Kroger take his seat in the machine, laying back his head and allowing himself to be positioned.

The machine loomed over him, but Kroger closed his eyes and focused, breathing deeply through his nose. “Ch'mar, zal'a Vlaakith” He whispered softly, focusing his mind on the tadpole. He winced but kept quiet through the agonizing pain that shot through his head. “I don't like this, soldier, get out of there!” Karlach called out, eyes wide as she watched the machine envelop Kroger, glowing and sparking unnaturally. “Yes, focus on the tadpole! The Zaithisk is responding.” The Ghustil grinned with manic glee as she watched Kroger begin to squirm and writhe. 'I must endure, I must endure...If this fails, what will happen to my sisters?' Kroger gritted his teeth, wincing in agony. 'And what will happen to Wyll?' He had to keep going, for them. If he stopped now, it was an admission of defeat, giving in to the Ghaik corruption. But it hurt so badly, it was like sparking metal pins in his brain.

“That's enough! It's killing him!” Gale grabbed Octavia by the shoulder, his expression frantic. “He's right! Stop this! Kroger, get up!” Octavia shouted, eyes wide in horror. Kroger cried out in agony, eyes wide and glowing an electric shade of white blue, saliva and blood dribbled down his chin, practically frothing as his body spasmed in pain, convulsing in the chair until finally he was propelled forward as the Zaithisk exploded into pieces. Lae'zel caught her brother, examining him carefully before turning towards the Ghustil.

“Your machine was tampered with! You tried to kill him!” She hissed, amber eyes narrowed with fury. “The machine worked as should, the only outlier was your brother and his tadpole.” The Ghustil sneered, her gaze matching Lae'zel's. “Excuse me a moment...” She turned and quickly hurried from the room. Lae'zel helped Kroger stand with surprising tenderness and began to look him over for permanent injuries as he groaned and shook his head. “The...the Zaithisk failed...the Ghaik tadpole is still here...why?” He managed weakly. “That Ghustil is H'sharlack! She clearly tampered with the machine. We must inform the Kithrak.” Lae'zel frowned, gazing towards the door where Karlach was awkwardly fiddling with the handle. “Um....so, interesting turn of events, all, she's locked us in. Want me to break it down?”

“Now, what I don't understand is why we're taking orders from a mushroom.” Astarion rolled his eyes, absently looking into the murky water beneath the boat as Sentry kept watch and Jaina piloted the ship. “Because that gnome girl we healed said there was a lift to the surface at this fortress and we need to get topside...Also because slavery is wrong and I plan to do what we promised and free her friends.” Jaina replied. This work came easily to her, even on a strange, murky river in The Underdark, she felt at home. Water was familiar, water was safe. Steering a boat was practically second nature, she'd been doing it since she'd been a toddler learning at her parents' knees aboard their own vessel and even on a Duergar vessel, she was sure she could do this blindfolded. Her expression was more serene than it had been in days as she closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and imagined the sea air whipping her salt-kissed hair about in a pleasant ocean breeze. She imagined the cries of sea birds and the flicking splashes of tiny fish breaching the water every now and then. Wyll watched her intently, a small, sad smile crossing his face as he thought of how distant she'd been since learning who his father was. He wanted to show her he was still the same Wyll she'd met at the gates of The Grove, that nobility wasn't part of who he was. In truth it never REALLY had been, he'd always been an adventurer at heart. He inwardly chastised himself, telling him it was a selfish thought, but after all he had been through and all he'd given up, being with Jaina had felt like a break in the storm, finally something good amongst all the bad. He couldn't lose her.

“Hey, um...we've got company off the...” Sentry coughed into his hand and mumbled something incomprehensible. “...bough” “Which bow?” Jaina sighed. “Um....That one.” Sentry pointed vaguely, but his finger did point in the direction of another Duergar craft making its way towards them through the dark waters. Jaina weighed her options, the ship wasn't particularly equipped with any weaponry to speak of and while she was perfectly capable of steering while casting, it wasn't ideal. She allowed the other ship to come up alongside and stepped down to meet with the captain. Sentry stood at her side, acting as body guard and first mate. “This is Gehk's ship, so where's he and what are a bunch of devils and elves doing on his craft?” The Duergar growled. 'Oh master, wouldn't it be amusing to give just a little push? To see what comes a-feeding in these murky waters?' a little voice giggled at the back of Sentry's mind. Jaina was about to respond to the Duergar's question, when Sentry simply pressed his hands to the dwarf's chest and gave a hard shove, sending him toppling into the drink. Astarion couldn't hold back the loud peel of laughter as he watched. Splashing and screaming ensued as dark red painted the murky water and something big writhed beneath. The duergar still aboard the ship stared in mute horror at what was left of their captain, stunned at the sudden, erratic action. “What the hells was that about!?” Jaina demanded, gazing with wide eyed shock up at Sentry. “I...um....I thought it'd be funny...” He admitted sheepishly, eyes darting as he noticed the other Duergar on the enemy ship were drawing their weapons. “I mean...Astarion thought so...” “Diplomacy would have been the wiser option.” Jaina sighed. “Can't be helped now, though.” She conjured lightning in her hand and the wind began to whip her hair and robes as she rose a few inches off the ground. Sentry took a running leap onto the enemy vessel and drew his halberd, focusing holy energy through it as he crossed blades with one of the very angry dwarves.

“Kithrak, you must listen to what my sister has to say!” Kroger insisted as Lae'zel stormed up to the war table where the Creche's leader stood. “What is the meaning of this interruption, kin?” The woman glared, eyes moving from Kroger to Octavia and then to Lae'zel. She ignored Gale and Karlach as if they were beneath her notice. “Your Ghustil has tampered with the Zaithisk, she attempted to kill my brother with it. You are lucky we dispatched her for you before she could sabotage our queen's goals and harm our kin further.” Lae'zel narrowed her eyes. “That's what you've come to disrupt my work with? Our queen has far more important matters that require focus at the moment.” The armored woman rolled her eyes and tried to wave Lae'zel away. “Yes, the Ghaik invasion, which will be far more successful with traitors on the inside!” Lae'zel snapped, slamming her palms down on the table. “I...am aware of these Ghaik, yes...” The Kithrak frowned, looking away. “And yet that isn't the problem our queen would have us focus on in this moment...” Octavia interjected, hurrying up beside Lae'zel. “And you don't find that the slightest bit odd? That a full on attempt at their Grand Design is somehow beneath her notice? What could be more important?” “An artifact, a strange object with twenty sides to it, which was stolen from our queen.” The woman explained. “Tell me, scholar, have you seen it in your travels?” Octavia frowned, biting her lip and looking to Lae'zel for guidance. Lae'zel looked back at her and then to the Kithrak. She stepped forward, drawing herself up to her full height, standing protectively in front of her kin. “We will only speak of that with the Ch'r'ai.” Lae'zel insisted, her expression stern and unyielding. The other woman's expression darkened and she spat on the ground in front of Lae'zel. “Than I will simply take it from your corpses.” She whistled and a pair of massive wolves joined her side, several of the Creche's other occupants entering the room as well.

Karlach and Lae'zel took combat stances, blocking access to the casters as best they could as Gale and Octavia summoned the power of The Weave to their fingertips and Kroger conjured a glowing spear to his side. --- “You know, we ain't actually IN Menzo, matter of fact, I doubt you're welcome there much more than I am given your oath breaking to The Spider Bitch.” Jackal rolled his eyes as he dropped yet another log on the fire. “I'm not your slave boy.” “As long as your sister placed you in my service, you are.” Minthara's eyes narrowed. “You will continue to do as I say or I will cut your ankles and throw you into the darkness myself.” She spoke with authority, but she was tense. Jackal could see under all the blustering, she was afraid of what their return to Moonrise would bring. It brought a smirk to his lips and he gave a low, mocking bow. “Of course, your ladyship. So sorry for speakin' out of turn. Don't suppose you plan to summon the freak any time soon to guide us there with a bit less trouble?” He snorted, peering around into the eerie fog that covered the land. His violet eyes closed a moment as he shuddered involuntarily. This place frightened him, he had to admit. He still remembered when Sentry was in charge, how he'd awoken in this place under some necromancer's scalpel, screaming and spitting dried blood and rot. “You claim you know some of these people who thwarted our assault on The Grove. Perhaps you should take this opportunity to tell me what you know so we have a bit more to report to General Thorm than your miserable failure to retrieve the artifact and aid me in combat, leaving me with nothing but miserable goblin scum.” Minthara commanded, sitting by the fire Jackal had started and warming her hands, her hears pricked up and twitching a bit at every sound in the distant dark. “Well, there's the so-called 'Blade of Frontiers', little human ponce playing hero outside the city. Stuff shirt little noble thinking he's hard. Then there's some fancy wizard, a Sharran, some various Githyanki, now they've got your little druid captive as a little pal...Then some bitch with an engine for a heart, then of course the vampire spawnling, some school teacher, and finally...Sentry Ojeda....little lord Chosen of Bhaal...least before Orin stabbed him in the brain-meat.” The drow snorted out a laugh. Minthara stared into the fire, considering Jackal's words and trying to place each adventurer Jackal had mentioned and match them to the people she had seen inside the camp. The flames flickered in her red eyes as she considered her course of action, what to do about these meddlers.

The desperate cries in the distance should have been more enjoyable for Jackal, should have reminded him of his years of victims and made him feel at home, safe, comfortable, but there was just something about them that was unnatural. He felt his body shaking a bit and he instinctively dug his sharp nails into the log he was sitting on. All at once he was certainly glad he didn't need to sleep anymore now that he was technically undead.

---

The arrival at the docks of the strange forge had been quite a less than warm welcome. Sentry had fought tooth and nail to keep his urge in check the moment the Duergar has begun to antagonize him, but luckily, Jaina had taken point. The pirate was a master-class in hiding her emotions behind protocol and diplomacy, her pale eyes had focused just past them the entire time she spoke and she kept a placid, even smile on her pretty face. It was almost eerie and Sentry could feel the rage and a different but powerful urge for violence behind her calm exterior. She was barely a hair's breadth away from tearing these slavers to pieces. As they party left the docks and made their way through the encampment, Sentry paused a moment, dropping fully to a crosslegged sitting position and gazing intensely forward with a look of pure focus on his face at a small, cobwebbed corner in front of him. “What is he doing?” Astarion murmured to Jaina through gritted teeth. “I'm not sure...But we can't just leave him there.” She replied, folding her arms across her chest and watching Sentry. His body blocked her view of the area in front of him for the most part. Wyll frowned, tapping his chin a moment as he observed Sentry carefully, his good eye, newly possessed of a Tiefling's dark vision and facing a bit around Sentry, with a better view in front of him than Jaina or Astarion had, picked up on what had earned the paladin's focus. “He's...watching the spiders?” Wyll explained, his tone revealing that he still wasn't sure entirely why.

The party watched him a moment, unsure if he should be interrupted, by now they were aware of what he referred to as his 'curse', and no one wanted a blade to the gut. Sentry's voice startled them when he spoke up. “[No, yeah, she's right! You lot would love Menzoberranzan. Had a brother who was a drow and they are all about spiders there.]” He grinned, his fingers tapping gently at the silken threads of the webs, his mouth making horrible hisses and clicks, nodding his head sagely and folding his arms across his chest. He was silent again for a few moments as his friends watched incredulously as he began to make hideous chittering sounds. “[Well, I mean, look at how these Duergar treat the Rothe` they've got. Hells, look how they treat other people. Is it really a stretch they'd treat you badly too if you upset them? In Menzo, they kill people for mistreating spiders.]” There was a chittering and a rapid excited scuttling of legs and the spiders stampeded past Sentry, causing Jaina to yelp and leap to the side, nearly losing her balance but for Wyll extending an arm to catch and steady her gently. Her eyes met his and she caught herself blushing. “Ah...thanks...I'm...I know it's stupid since I'm comfortable around crabs and lobsters and things, but spiders...they just....” She cleared her throat and took a step back. “Anyway...thank you.” “Of course.” Wyll gave a small bow and a warm smile. Sentry slowly got to his feet and returned to the group, a satisfied smile on his face. “Well, it's on to a better life for that group. And one less threat to worry about when these Duergar inevitably turn on us when they realize we're here to collect Nere's head and free their slaves.” “Wait just a moment, we're here to find that lift to the surface. Who said anything about playing hero?” Astarion held up a hand, gesturing Sentry to pause and take a step back. “Darling, think of the effort we'd be putting in and how does it benefit us?” Sentry blinked, pausing a moment. Images of Duergar bodies piled on the floor, blood flowing like a trickling fountain, mingling with the flowing lava with a little hiss of steam. A smile crossed his face and his eyes glazed a moment, but quickly, he realized what he was doing and shook his head, inhaling deeply and holding up his hands, shaking them a bit nervously. “Because it's the right thing to do.” Wyll replied for him, raising a brow and folding his arms across his chest as he gave Astarion a gentle, chastising look. “I think you know that too, Astarion.” “Right, thanks, yes...The right thing to do!” Sentry nodded quickly. “As a paladin, of course that's my reasoning.” But his eyes darted nervously and his ears twitched just a bit, tail raised and anxious. “Besides, if you absolutely have to look at it pragmatically, every person we help is a potential ally in the days to come. My grandmother was always very particular about the importance of allies when she was in charge of the island.” Jaina added, slipping past the rest of the party and walking along the docks.

Shadowheart followed her wordlessly. This whole time, her eyes had been focused elsewhere, as though the architecture itself was something familiar but in a way she wasn't entirely able to place. Her entire focus had never left the walls of this place and the statues and runes that decorated them. ---

The Ch'r'ai smirked in amusement at the three Githyanki who stood before him and their istik attendants. “You've come a long way, Lae'zel of Creche K'liir, you and your kin. I have heard a great deal about you from your Kithrank, your future is promising...” He paced slowly, methodically, like a stalking displacer beast, his eyes never leaving Lae'zel. “I am sure you wish to please your queen, so...the artifact, please.” “I do not have it in my possession, Ch'r'ai.” She replied with a frown. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Lies are unbecoming of a future Kithrak, Lae'zel.” He extended his hand. “Give it to me, now.” “She's telling the truth.” Kroger frowned. “The artifact is with a companion of ours, we went our separate ways just briefly, but if you give us some time, we could---” His eyes snapped towards Kroger. “I was not addressing you, boy.” He hissed, turning back to face Lae'zel and advancing towards her. “The artifact. NOW.” “It appears your wits are addled, since you cannot understand what we're telling you.” Octavia frowned, folding her arms across her chest. “Your impudent tongue has guaranteed your death, girl.” The Ch'r'ai sneered, drawing his blade as his companions drew their weapons as well. Lae'zel frowned, but quickly drew her sword, stepping between Octavia and certain danger. The siblings prepared for battle as Gale and Karlach joined them. Spells, arrows, and blows rained down and the scent of blood and magic was heavy in the air, but in the end, the party stood triumphant, if a bit worse for wear, as a booming voice filled the room. “Most impressive, Lae'zel of Creche K'liir....” The party all at once turned to face an imposing figure of light and magic projected in the middle of the room. An impossibly old and powerful Githyanki woman, crowned and armored. All at once, Kroger, Octavia, and Lae'zel went to their knees before her, heads bowed.

“My queen....”Kroger breathed. “We are honored.” Lae'zel added. Octavia was silent, peeking nervously up at Vlaakith and then looking hesitantly back to Gale and Karlach. Gale slowly followed suit and knelt down, Karlach gave an awkward little wave and a half grin. Octavia forced back a giggle as Lae'zel rolled her eyes and Kroger looked mildly horrified. “I come to bestow upon you a task of great importance. The artifact your party carries was stolen from me. Inside is a prisoner, a dangerous being who would threaten our people. Enter the artifact and kill them on my behalf.” Vlaakith commanded. Karlach raised her hand awkwardly. “So...you're a goddess and all, yeah? So why can't you do it yourself?” Kroger's eyes widened and his lips went thinner than anyone thought possible even for a Githyanki. Lae'zel openly gaped in disbelief, brow furrowing. Octavia's expression was thoughtful with consideration. “You will do as I command!” Vlaakith snarled, leaning down and glaring directly at Karlach. “Yeesh...okay, alright, I was just asking questions...” Karlach raised her hands defensively. “Touchy!” “Karlach, I am begging you as a friend, please stop.” Kroger winced, his voice small and strained. “My queen, there is one small problem: The artifact is currently not in our possession.” Lae'zel bowed her head reverently. “But if you give us time--” “I did not ask for excuses! Your incompetence is not my concern.” Vlaakith boomed. “If you have not killed the being within the artifact before leaving this room, you will be declared H'sharlack, and our people will know you as my enemy.” “But---” Octavia began.

Vlaakith did not respond before disappearing in a flash of light. The only sound in the room was Kroger's heavy, panicked breathing as his eyes darted around for any kind of deus ex machina, anything at all. Lae'zel clenched her fists and spat. “T'skva! I knew we should have insisted on bring the artifact with us...” She clenched her teeth. “It always returns to Sentry, though.” Octavia pointed out.

“Then we should have insisted he come with us! Now we are cast out by our own people because of this artifact!” Lae'zel hid her fear well, but Octavia knew her sister well enough to see that she was shaking beneath her armor. The less said about how Kroger was holding up, the better. “We should probably get out of here before the entire Creche decides we'd be excellent training dummies.” Gale suggested, looking towards the door as he noted the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer.

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lily-janus · 1 year

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Someone Like You - chapter 2

Chapter 1 | chapter 2 | next

Summary: Roman is being... nice? And he seems to want to work with Janus? ...what's going on here?

Pairing: pre-romantic roceit

Warnings: disabillity, mentions of murder in the context of the play. I think that's it for this chapter, be sure to let me know if I missed anything.

Word count: 1,059

The second chapter is here! Still written by @prince-rowan-of-the-forest , not me yet, next week my part will start at the half of chapter 3. Hope you enjoy! @tsspromptmonth

It had been a few days since then. Janus had texted the number Roman had given him at lunch that day, since he didn't really feel like eating, Roman had replied with an indistinguishable string of emojis that Janus still had no clue the meaning of.

They had arranged to meet up at a local coffee shop that weekend to work on planning, he wondered why the hell Roman seemed so eager to meet up with him to work on this, usually his partners would get annoyed with his constant backwards talking and pessimism and give up on working together at all. This was new to him and he couldn't help but think this was some kind of long-winded trick.

He was just about to take a bite of his sandwich when he felt a tap on his left shoulder- his blind side. Completely on instinct Janus dropped the sandwich and whirled around as best he could in the chair and lashed out at the attacker, who yelped in surprise.

"Woah!" he said, "Sorry for startling you!"

And of course it was Roman, perfect, great, absolutely fantastic.

"I thought you would've seen me coming," Roman said sheepishly.

"Yes well being blind does make that slightly difficult," Janus said with a shrug before picking up his dropped sandwich from the table, "Did you actually want something or did you just come over here to make a fool of me like everyone else,"

"Make a fool of- no! Oh whatever, I came over here because I had some ideas for our project that I wished to share with you!" Roman said, "And also I noticed you were sitting alone which is kinda depressing so I thought I'd come over here and make you look less like a loner,"

"Gee thanks," Janus said, rolling his eyes, "Whatever would people think of you if they saw you with someone like me?"

"Not that I need anyone's permission or approval to talk to you," Roman said, sitting down on the table next to him. Janus shifted so he was just a little further away, "But I told my friends I was coming over here to work on our project so, no-one who matters actually cares,"

"Right… and what was so important that you had to interrupt my lunch to tell me?"

"Well!" Roman said, opening his bag and pulling out his notebook, before pushing it over to him, "Have a look!"

Janus raised an eyebrow at him before shaking his head and taking the book before pulling his glasses out of his pocket and putting them on. At least he’d remembered them today. .

The title page for their project was tabbed with a thin pink post-it note and upon opening it Janus found that the page had been decorated with colourful artwork that referenced the play, the three witches, a castle turret, some blood and a knife, he hated to admit it but it looked very pretty. Underneath the title Janus identified the writing as both of their names.

"Did you do all this?" Janus couldn't help but ask, pointing at the artwork. Roman nodded, "Where the hell do you people find the time for these things…"

"Turn the page!" Roman said with a smile, he seemed to be attempting to contain his excitement. Janus just shook his head and did as told. On the double page spread he found a title that read 'Roles and Costumes'.

"Is this- us?" Janus asked, looking at the two figures drawn onto one side of the page, he noticed that the drawing of him had his signature bowler hat that he wore everywhere and the picture of Roman had a little floating crown about his head.

Janus supposed those were to mark who each of them were, because the rest of the figure was just a base with no details, based on the title he could guess it was so they could experiment with the costume ideas.

On the opposite page was a list of the play's characters in order of significance and next to them, written in pencil, were either Janus' or Roman's name.

"I can't believe you put this much effort into this," Janus huffed. He had meant it as an insult, because who in their right mind puts this much effort into an English class project, but it only made Roman smile more. Janus hated to admit it made his heart flutter.

"Yes, well! I thought it might be best for us to go together on Saturday to have a look at a couple of locations I had in mind for filming, and I thought it might be helpful to have a vague idea of which of us would play each character beforehand,"

"You pegged me as Lady Macbeth?" Janus said, raising an eyebrow.

"Indeed! She's the cunning mind behind the murder plot after all," Roman said with a wide sweep of his arm, "And besides, I believe you'd be able to perform her soliloquys and muster her attitude better than I ever could,*

"And also you want to be Macbeth, Mr Main Character," Janus said, a small smile subconsciously pulling at his lips, Roman went red.

"Well- maybe…"

"And I see you get to murder me on multiple occasions," Janus pointed out where he was listed to play both Banquo and King Duncan.

"Hey! You get to murder me too! Don't you make out that this murder is one-sided!" Roman cried, pointing at where it said Janus' name next to Macduff, Janus smiled.

"Alright fine," Janus said, shaking his head, "You can have your way,"

"Yes!" Roman cheered, "So I think we should keep the more important characters consistent, but as for side characters, we'll need to switch around based on who is in the scene," Roman explained, Janus nodded.

"We're definitely not going to struggle with acting this out as just us two," Janus said, closing Roman's notebook and handing it back over.

"I'm sure we can find a way! Maybe we could use- puppets, or something, I dunno yet," Roman smiled, standing up, *Don't worry your pretty little face about it, see you Saturday!"

And he turned and walked off into the lunch crowd, leaving Janus staring after him. What the hell did that last statement mean? His face was anything but pretty, and he wasn't little, thank you very much.

#Someone Like You #chapter 2 #sanders sides #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #pre romantic roceit #macbeth #tw murder mention #tw disability #written by prince rowan of the forest #wip exchange #ts janus #ts roman #janus sanders #roman sanders

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identityflawed · 10 months

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captain rex character study

tw: battle scene, death, gore, odd thoughts

---

REX SOMETIMES FELT small. Laughably small, inanely so, like a tick on the mane of a manka cat, plucked off by a tamer and squished thoughtlessly between their fingers. Dead in an instant, with no knowledge of just how vast the real world was. No funerals for the bloodsucker, no mourners for the soldier.

Such emotions were an irregularity, almost certainly carried into his mind on the backs of war machines and mass destruction. Back on Kamino, in the barracks he shared with his birth cohort, he’d never felt like this. The pristine halls of Tipoca City were claustrophobic, despite the height of the Kaminoans that so often traversed them. He’d asked his brothers, in their quieter moments, if they’d experienced this oddity. Some said yes, some said no, others said they had no clue what he was trying to say.

Even his accelerated growth modifications did little to allay this… feeling. If he thought about it for too long, his head would begin to hurt. The complexities of his existence — twenty-four years of life, training and biological processes in a mere decade — were utterly useless in the face of a droid army’s blaster rifles and rhythmic footfalls.

And that was what he stared down now, so he stowed away his foible and ran headlong into battle alongside his men.

Christophsis, by all accounts, was a beautiful city with less-than beautiful people. Rex was born and raised seeing nothing but identical faces and his long-necked creators, and he'd thought that he'd be able to enjoy the new people he might meet while fulfilling his duty.

Not here.

Christophsians had a tendency to look down on those who immigrated from off-world, employing them as slaves or underpaid labor workers in the crystal mines that mapped the underside of their capital, Chaleydonia. Once renowned for its glittering crystalline skyscrapers and impeccably-made jewelry, the so-called Crystal City now sat in ruins, blue-green fragments breaking under Rex’s boots.

The buildings at the center of the City Plaza had suffered the most damage from Republic artillery, cannon fire shaking the ground from behind clone forces with distinct pauses between. Rex could picture his brothers hoisting steel shells into the cannon, calling aloud to send another streaking bolt of blue towards the clanker ranks.

He shook the image out of his head and focused on what was in front of him. His helmet HUD lit up in a frenzy, identifying standard B-1s, silver SBDs, the spindly legs of rotating spider droids and the rumbling overture of approaching tanks. Packed in as he was with his men on a standard frontal assault, it was difficult to bob and weave from the blaster fire. In his periphery, a few clones were shot down. Headshots sent a static noise through their shared comm line, but Rex found it within himself not to wince.

Droids numbered in the thousands as they surged through the ruined city, spewing superheated scarlet volleys towards them. A new squadron of spider droids reached the forefront of their attack, their turrets firing in sluggish, powerful bursts. Rex dove to the side to avoid the onslaught, and the ground where he’d been standing was instantly scorched and scarred by the shrieking hyphen of gas.

He rolled over his shoulder and popped back up just in time to see a darkened silhouette landing atop the spider droid’s sloping carapace. A pillar of sky-blue light illuminated in the figure’s hand, driven straight into the droid’s head. In one smooth, coordinated move, the silhouette hung from the saber and dragged it down the droid’s head, before sweeping it wide and relieving the machine of its only weapon. A final slice at the legs on the way down, and the droid crumpled in a whining, whirring heap, smoke and sparks pouring from the question mark -shape drawn across its body. The droids caught beneath it in its dying collapse let out shrieking wails as they were easily dispatched by nearby clones.

General Skywalker couldn’t deny himself a dramatic entrance, and Rex was glad that his commanding officer had skill to match his melodramatic flair. The golden-haired Jedi found Rex in the mess of things, but recognition was fleeting as he was swept back into the tide of battle.

Rex opened fire once more with his twin pistols, reloading them without pausing in his own miniature onslaught for even a second. Muscle memory allowed him to pop out cartridges with a hard flick of the wrist, and then angle his blaster so he could slide the next one in by lining it up on his hip. One then the other. As soon as that was done, he followed his general into the fray.

Another bout of cannon fire shook the ground, taking out a whole squadron of droids on the left, and several more on the right. Rex landed a series of shots on several battle droids, and watched with grim satisfaction as fire burned holes in their metal hearts, spewing glistening oil from the hole as they imploded. If he really focused, he could see his men doing the same with their repeating rifles. At least one — Patchwork — had managed to repair their only flamethrower, and was carving a path of destruction down the eastern front, noxious smoke gushing out into the air. Another — Strale, telling by the eye decal on his helmet — had fashioned a makeshift grenade launcher out of an SBD chestplate, and was launching them wantonly into the enemy lines.

A world’s worth of effort, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Rex felt himself zoning out, his body moving for him. Briefly, he could imagine a bird’s eye view of the skirmish, reducing each of his men into white pinpricks versus taupe and gray, their battlefront into a warring division of red and blue. That’s all he was, one in many. Just a number.

And whatever that meant for him… he found it mattered less as the man beside him was obliterated by a spider droid round. Blood splattered on his helmet, and his visor cleaned it immediately. So what if he was just one man? He had a job to do and a Republic he was proud to serve. Men he was proud to protect, a general he was proud to follow.

All he needed to do was shoot, and shoot to kill.

#captain rex #clone wars #character study #rex #star wars #christophsis #anakin skywalker #clone wars movie novelization #idflawed writes

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starwarsweaponssystems · 1 year

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A guide to galactic ships: Y-wing starfighter

Hello everyone, my name is Jeff and I created this guide to help fellow travelers find their most suitable ship and what ships to avoid to navigate the wonders of the galaxy.

Ever since Supreme Chancellor Palpatine federalized the banking system during the last year of the Clone Wars, the galactic republic and the empire after it has been continually printing credits in order to sustain a massive military industrial complex. Of course, this comes at the expense of the average citizen. If you were not lucky, smart, or rich enough to get a placement in one of the imperial academies in the inner rims of the galaxy, you’ll probably have problems earning a decent wage. More importantly, all of that rampant spending has caused hyperinflation, which makes all your saved credits worthless at this point. So what do you do in this situation when you can hardly afford last week's bread prices.

Introducing the BTL-series Y-wing starfighter.

The Y-wing is a starfighter bomber produced during the Clone Wars and it is a well-balanced ship with plenty of armor, a large payload, and enough maneuverability and speed so that it didn’t need an escort when going on attack runs. While the BTL Y-wing had mechanical issues, including problems with its finicky engines, the Rebel Alliance and even the Resistance would still fly variants of the BTL-series Y-wing. One of the major reasons for this was that this ship was built in massive numbers and readily available to be taken from the many imperial weapons stockpiles. A brand-new Y-wing is estimated to cost around 135,000 credits and around 65,000 credits if bought used. But honestly, depending on the condition of the Y-wing, you can find one for even cheaper, I’m talking about a few thousand credits. I mean sure, you’ll probably have to fix up some things and replace some parts but you can pull a rebel move and steal one from a junkyard. This ship is hyperdrive-equipped and it even has a rear turret in case you want to bring someone along, the bomb bays can be emptied as well for extra storage. Keep in mind, this starship is officially a military craft, which means a much stronger space frame, better armor, and better power output. Overall, with a lot of armor, a good amount of storage, and with its fast and maneuverable speeds, I'd say the Y-wing in one of the best single to double seated ships in the galaxy.

#star wars #y wing #affordable

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annwayne · 2 years

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The Red Logs: Return to the Temple Ch. 11

Chapter 11: Strength

Last Chapter <- -> Next Chapter

Fem!OC X Crosshair

Word Count: 3669

Fic Summary:

There are benefits to owning a clone bar. Underworld lords don’t threaten you to pay for protection. Clones are great company. And the drinks taste great. However, there are also risks to owning a clone bar. Like, for example, becoming the fuck buddy of a special clone task force member so your life gets threatened when a Separatist puts out a bounty for your capture in order to use you as blackmail. Also your sleep schedule get’s wrecked. But Anya Tougt is a little more capable than an average bar owner.

Ao3 Link Here

Warnings apply to whole fic:

Canon typical violence, descriptions of panic attacks, alcohol, swearing, 18+ themes (eventual smut), trauma, religious trauma parallels, mild gore

Authors Note:

I just realized, my word count is likely off because I’ve started including my html coding for when I post to ao3. Opps.

28 BBY. That kid started following me around. Anakin Skywalker. He’s not as bad, once you actually get to know him. Actually, I think we’ll continue to get along fairly well. He was getting a little restless inside the temple today, so I took him out to my favorite dinner. Obi-Wan’s reaction once we returned was better than I expected.

Dry air scraped my throat with each inhale as we ran across the red landscape. With nightfall came a pleasant chill that almost made me shiver. Our footfalls, heavy breathing, and the billowing wind at our backs were the only sounds to disturb the mesa formation. All the sand dancing in the air made me all the more grateful for the helmet that kept my identity a secret.

Hunter and Tech led us, with Wrecker following beside me and Crosshair behind. Despite his many declarations of feeling fine, I noticed Wrecker clench his fists while we ran. If I noticed his discomfort, then the others would have as well. Hunter had said nothing against Wrecker when he suited up for this mission, but somehow that silence said enough.

After several minutes, Tech lifted his hand to indicate we were nearing the coordinates. We gradually slowed our pace until we came to a stop behind a large rock formation. I peaked around the rocks to get a look of the building. Instead I found another mesa with several turret droids perched along its cliff face.

“My scans indicate there are two entrances. One there,” Tech pointed towards the base of the cliff. From my angle I could barely make out massive black doors, hangar doors. “And one up there.” His hand lifted to the flat top where a single lift door jutted out of the ground.

“How many droids?” Hunter kept his eyes on the lights that dotted the cliff.

Tech fiddled with his datapad before answering. “Outside the caves there appears to be ten droids, eight of which are the turrets along the cliff. Inside, however, I cannot yet get a clear scan.” Through yellow tinted lenses, hazel eyes narrowed. “Something is blocking my signal.”

“Only ten droids?” Wrecker let out a boisterous laugh. “The Seps are holding out on us!”

“Yes, well I don’t believe we will be running into many droids, even inside.” Only a nudge from Crosshair snapped Tech’s head up from his data pad. Upon seeing multiple buckets aimed his way, the clone elaborated. “After the destruction of the moon base Dukoo greatly diminished the number of droids assigned under Vekek’s command, I found the order in the files.” He said all matter-of-fact as if the information was well known.

Wrecker let out a low groan. “Aww, this is going to be so boring then.”

“We’re blowing up the whole base!?”

“What about life signs?” Hunter returned the clone’s attention to the mission at hand.

Tech shook his head. “Also unsure, I believe these winds are disrupting my equipment.”

Hunter’s helmet dipped down. Beside me Crosshair looked through his scope. “I could easily take them all out.”

“And alert Vekek to release the Doashim?” I turned my head to look his way.

“Said I could, Commander.” He didn’t even bother looking up from his scope. “But if you have any ideas, please share.” Each word dripped with snark.

Unfortunately, I did. But there was no guarantee that plan would work, so I kept my mouth shut. With my silence as an answer, Hunter began editing the plan he shared with us on the Marauder. Crosshair and I would scale the cliffside while Tech used an EMP blast to temporarily disable the droids outside. Then the others would take the front entrance. With both exits cut off the chances of Vekek escaping would be much slimmer. Once she was in our custody and we were all clear, Wrecker would detonate the bombs he and Hunter would have set while Tech uploaded a virus into the terminals. But that plan had no contingency if Vekek released a modified Doashim. Hell, any Doashim.

There was that itch again, the same itch I felt back in my bar when bounty hunters attacked. This status as a Jedi- no, not the status. My power meant that I could help these clones. Just like I helped on the moon. And that nearly ended in disaster. Then a soft voice I hadn’t heard in years brushed my ears.

Reach out.

Immediately I whipped my head around looking for the source. Crosshair’s helmet turned towards me.

Anya, feel through the force for them.

She spoke again. None of the other clones reacted in any way that indicated they heard the voice. Great. I was hallucinating. Hallucinating my dead Master’s voice, no less. Then the flashes of her guiding hand, those light footfalls that were so easily ignored by those less trained, and that look of determination that swelled in her inky eyes while teaching me came to mind. But, unlike the normal sporadic flashes, these all came from one memory. It wasn’t a hallucination, it was a memory. Instantly the strewn pieces snapped together like a magnetized puzzle.

I knew what I needed to do. Before Tech could finish analyzing the weather- admittedly I had no idea how that related to our plan- I closed my eyes and focused. Almost immediately I was overwhelmed by cosmic power, but a gruff huff and clenched fists steadied me. Reaching out in the force was a messy affair. With so many emotions flowing in I had to narrow my field of view. Master Tali had taught me to shrink my reach, like looking down a scope. So I lifted my hand towards the secret base and envisioned a barrier around it.

“What’s she doing?” Wrecker’s voice created a pocket in my sight.

“Jedi shit.” Crosshair answered.

“And it requires focus, so please.” I hissed through the weight bearing down on my mind. There was movement beside me, but I paid it no mind.

Finally I managed to connect with the life forms inside the caves. “Six.” I gasped as the connection dropped with my arm. “There should be six living things inside that cave. At least, six things big enough that they wouldn’t be a pest.”

From under his goggles I could see Tech furrowed his brows. But Hunter spoke first. “You’re sure?” My breath was still heavy as I lifted a hand into a so-so motion. Hunter’s helmet stayed on us for a moment before turning towards the base.

Goggles bounced as Tech took the pause from his sergeant as a chance to share his thoughts. “My instruments can barely pick up a handful of droids from within the caves,” Oh, I must have missed that development. “Due to all the interference from the wind!” As if to prove his point, a strong gust slapped against our armor. “And you’re saying from a feeling you know how many Doashim are in there?”

My head shook as I attempted to explain. Like they were weighed down, my hands hovered at chest height switching gestures with each answer that came to mind. Out of all the choices, only one was true if I was being honest with myself. “I don’t.” Tech’s shoulders stiffened. “In fact, there’s plenty of reasons my number could be wrong. But an estimate is more than nothing.”

While my words didn’t seem to satisfy the exceptional clone, beeping from his datapad tore his attention away. “Hunter, a large enough squall is coming. They need to move now.” His helmet jerked towards Crosshair and I. Hunter nodded at us. It was time.

Together we sprinted across red earth towards the spotlights of the turret droids. Crosshair kept his pace steady despite the lights fixed a few meters before us. Even with the burn in my lungs and the sense of danger ahead, I matched his stride.

Four meters.

The lights remained steady.

Three.

I clenched my jaw and forced my legs forward. Everything screamed to turn around.

Then, darkness.

That wash of blue light snapped out of existence as a massive blast of wind practically lifted my feet from the ground. Crosshair veered left while I remained on my path towards the right column of droids. We scaled the walls with rushed precision. Blaster fire would be too loud, so instead Tech had given us little chips to place on the droids. Something about making sure our exit would be a quiet one. Once I was close enough, I threw two of the chips onto the backs of the lower set of temporarily deactivated droids. Then, with the aid of the force, I jumped up to the next viable handhold and repeated with the higher pair.

“We’re inside.” Tech’s voice came over the comms. “Just as I saw on the scan, no droids behind the hangar doors.”

That seemed. Odd. Before I could give it more thought, the droids below me began sputtering back to life. A rush of panic spurred my body forward as my gloved hand landed on the clifftop. Burning in my abs slowed my rise until I gained enough height to roll unceremoniously over the clifftop. I threw my arms against the red rock and attempted to catch my breath.

“Impressive display of strength, Commander.”

Crosshair’s voice snapped my body up. With my lungs still burning for air, I opted to throw up a lazy bird his way while rearranging myself to stand. As I dusted the red gravel from my exposed skin, that thought I couldn’t give more attention to before came to mind.

“Hunter, we’ve finished up here.” Static answered my buzz. “Tech, Wrecker, what’s your status?” Again, no response. Crosshair’s confident posture stiffened as he held his rifle at attention. We ran towards the lift. Before we got there I used the force to push the call button. “Did Tech mention our comms would be affected by the winds?” Crosshair answered by shaking his head. Lift doors opened in front of us.

“What are you thinking?” Beside me Crosshair remained still, if a bit stiff. I, however, was a jitterning mess.

“Why would a hangar have no droids guarding it? Even if Dukoo reduced the amount of droids, there should be at least one in that hangar.” Beside me Crosshair raised his rifle as the lift came to a slow stop. I followed suit, pulling out my lightsaber and holding it across my body. Then, gray doors opened.

Metal scaffolding clung on cave walls across from thick horizontal bars that sparked a sickly green. Those bars separated us from five normal Doashim stalking three modified clones. Immediately I closed my saber and lifted both hands towards the predators below. That familiar weight caught my breath as the Doashim slowed their-

“Shit!” A blaster shot threw my shoulder back and dropped my focus.

“No time for Jedi magic,” Crosshair dropped three tan droids. “We’ve got our own problems.”

“Clearly.” I hissed through the dull pain. Any attempt to calm the beasts below needed to wait until the droids were dealt with. Before another bolt could meet its target, I used my saber to deflect the red blast. Reverberating metal announced more droids climbing the steps that led to our position.

My blade sparked as I plunged the plasma through the dark plating of a super battle droid. Next I sliced another gray droid in half and deflected a shot from a lower step. Behind me, Crosshair threw a small reflective disk that landed on a droid in the middle of the next group approaching. One shot later that droid fell to its knees. Another shot reflected off that silver disk and bounced through three more droids, deactivating them all. From our perch by the lift we confirmed the last droids had been dealt with, but Vekek was nowhere to be found.

Below us Hunter was hanging on the back of one Doashim, struggling to bring his vibroblade to the eye of the creature. One of the beasts laid still against the other cave wall, but its shallow breathing twisted my gut. Wrecker managed to grab one by the tail and threw it into another readying to pounce on the strong clone. The stumble caused the pair to fight each other and ignore the clones around them. With the last Doashim, Tech was slowly backing up into a wall while looking up. Right as the creature pounced Tech rolled between its legs and pressed a detonator. A small explosion detached low hanging rocks that landed with a sickly crunch.

These Doashim were about a meter taller than the clones, a massive difference from the monster we fought on the moon. “Damn, that growth serum really did something huh?” I mumbled. Those energy beams would block any blaster fire, so we needed a way to shut down the power. “Crosshair, the control panel.” I gestured towards a silver box attached to an amplifier pylon.

“Wait!” Tech yelled from below. “That’ll open the doors!” Behind him the rubble stirred.

“Tech!” I yelped.

Wrecker dived into his brother, landing them out of the way of a visibly injured Doashim. One arm was completely limp and the side of its head was smashed in, yet it still raced through the cage looking for a fight.

“They are modified, they can’t leave!” Together Tech and Wrecker fired shots at the injured beast. One of Wrecker’s Doashim lifted its head in victory, purple blood covering its jaws. A pair of red eyes landed on the two clones.

A long yell caught my ear as I watched Hunter rocket through the sky, purple liquid covering his gloves. His Doashim was covered in cuts leaking that deep color, but didn’t seem bothered at all. With a terrible thud, Hunter landed against the wall Wrecker and Tech were backing into.

“Their pistols aren’t doing enough.” Metal steps rang out as Crosshair paced the platform. At some point I must have holstered my lightsaber since I felt my empty hands shaking. Those dull thuds stopped and then there was movement beside me. A few objects flung through the air and landed with clinks. “You can control them, right?”

My eyes stayed glued to the approaching Doashim. A few of them snapped warnings at each other, but the one with the purple stained jaw roared for their cooperation. Hunter hadn’t moved since he landed. Wrecker and Tech stood directly in front of him. As if aware of our struggling situation, the previously incapacitated Doashim rose with a shake of its head.

“Annie!” Gray armor stepped into my view. A firm hand gripped my good shoulder and shook me. “Get the Doashim to stop moving, I’ll do the rest.”

I snapped up to his visor. “Four? No I can’t-”

“You did before!” There wasn’t anger in his voice, only urgency.

“Instinct, not-“ My eyes darted back to the group of Doashim, now poised in a terribly familiar position. “Be ready.” I threw both arms up once again. A shot of pain ran through my right arm. But that didn’t matter.

Black covered my vision as I slammed my eyes shut. A rush of anger, pain, and fear threw my head back. Through the mess of emotions I found the four Doashim, more afraid than the clones at their mercy. Calm. My teeth gnash down as I lowered my chin. The only sound was the faint whispering of wind outside. Still. As my thoughts enveloped the Doashim, they turned to look my way. Beside me I felt Crosshair move and then-

Four dull thuds followed a single blaster shot.

Immediately, I dropped to my knees and folded over. My chest heaved as bile threatened to escape my stomach. Another shot brought the sound of fizzing power. I focused on the fading sizzle until nothing remained. Carefully, I brought my knee up to stand. When I lifted my head I was met with a gloved hand.

Crosshair stood silently looking over his shoulder towards his brothers with an extended hand my way. The shake in my limbs encouraged my dominant hand to meet his. With a single pull, he brought me to my feet.

“Good?” Our boots clanked in unison as we walked down steps littered with damaged droid parts.

“Yeah. Just, it was…” My chest tightened. “Intense.” Even though I managed to recover myself, my heart still pounded at a pace that was certainly not normal.

As we landed on red ground, Hunter stepped out from behind a massive terminal and waved us over. There were tables, abandoned equipment, and a mess of neon liquids contained in various glass containers lined up against the cave walls. Two deactivated insect droids laid in a pile together. One sputtered with electricity as Tech messed with its back panel. Hunter stood behind him with crossed arms. Wrecker watched on while leaning against the cave beside the protocol droids.

“Vekek was never here, only her projection.” Hunter shifted his weight as we approached. “After giving us a speech about how we’d die horrible deaths, she deactivated these droids and ended the call. And that’s not all.” We stood around the deactivated droids as Hunter talked. I crooked my head at his words. “She’s Ardennian. Looked like two of her arms were working on something unrelated while typing in commands for the droids.”

“Ardennian?” I mused. Short six limbed sentients that were known in the galaxy for their agility. Not someone you wanted to be caught in a fight against.

“Everything is gone.” Tech’s voice snapped my focus back. “I can’t lift anything from this.” He huffed as he stood to full height and stretched out his back.

“So coming here was useless?” Crosshair turned his head at my words. Normally that was his line.

“Not exactly.” Tech held out a hopeful hand. “Because of the length of her speech I was able to hack the broadcast and trace her location to a ship in orbit above Ryltoh.”

Even still, my helmet dipped. Tech continued, talking about the possibilities of Vekek’s potential actions. Hunter asked a question and Crosshair made a comment, but my attention turned to the clone who had yet to say anything. Wrecker’s relaxed posture was given away by the hand holding his stomach. I circled behind the droids and leaned against my own patch of wall beside him. He towered over me, nearly half a meter taller.

“Did your stitches open?” I spoke in a near whisper, as much as a droid can whisper at least.

“Tech already gave me a shot of bacta, no need to worry about me.” Despite his positive tone, I furrowed my brows and crossed my arms. “What about you?” Two red nines turned to face me. The drippy paint was smudged and darkened from time.

“Just my shoulder, but nothing too bad.”

Beside me the clone shook those nines and turned to face me wholly. His head tilted. “But you collapsed after Crosshair killed those beasties.” Wrecker’s confusion increased his volume. “We all saw.” He gestured towards the others, who were now watching our conversation.

“What we saw was likely Annie experiencing an anxiety attack.” For a second, I worried Tech could see through my helmet, because he stepped forward when my face froze. “Likely related to her success in subduing the Doashim through the force.” He continued as if he was talking battle statistics.

Finally I caught up. “But now I’m fine.” My hands itched to mess with my hair. “So there’s nothing to worry about.”

Tech nodded once. Wrecker shifted, clearly unsatisfied with the end of this topic. Now it was Hunter’s turn to step in. “Wrecker, Cross.” He lifted a guiding hand at his brothers. “Get to planting explosives. There’s still plenty of functional equipment we can prevent the Separatists from collecting when they return here.”

Even the prospect of explosives didn’t fully distract the large clone, but still he stood and clasped his hands together. Crosshair followed behind with long strides

“I’ll bring the Marauder to the top of the mesa, Hunter.” Low thuds followed Tech’s words. My eyes watched as he navigated the messy steps to the lift door. A soft whoosh later he disappeared behind those doors. But my gaze lingered.

Something about Tech felt different. Not that I could even pinpoint it. We didn’t have many interactions since that conversation on the marauder. But the way he stepped in felt-

“I came to while you were, er,” Hunter’s voice snapped my eyes back to him. He waved a hand towards me. “Well, doing whatever you did.”

That earned a buzzing laugh from me. “So you caught the end of the show.”

Hunter’s low laugh joined mine. “Hell of a show. Cody’s job is about to be a lot less stressful with you around.” He crossed his arms and shifted his weight while speaking.

My laugh fell. “Not really.” I lifted a hand to rub the back of my helmet. “Obi-Wan’s not likely to bring me on many missions. This was a,” Through the helmet my drawl sounded like a low buzz. “Unique situation.” Across the cave I watched Crosshair throw bombs that latched onto the celiing with expert precision. At the other side Wrecker threw his explosives into a sporadic pattern.

Hunter’s visor met mine before he lifted his helmet off and held it at his hip. He turned to look at the other’s when he spoke again. “That’s a shame. If anyone will bring an early end to this war, it’ll be the Jedi.”

I couldn’t hold back my scoff. “Don’t tell me you actually believe that bantha crap.”

“Not really,” He turned to face me. “But strength can make the difference between a win and a loss.” A low rumbling turned our attention above us. Hunter whistled to Crosshair and Wrecker, who lightly jogged to the steps that led to the lift doors. He turned, ready to join them, but stopped. “And Jedi have strength.” Then he followed his brothers.

Dividers by Djarrex

#The Red Logs: Return to the Temple #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #sw tcw fanfic #sw the clone wars fanfic #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #crosshair x oc #oc x crosshair #crosshair x fem oc

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wil-is-done · 2 years

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The Audacious Tales of the Lost Cipher and Her Daredevil Crew - Scenario 2: Ragna Drive

Summary: Ever since he was a child, Wybie always has one dream: building the first ever giant robot. Now, an opportunity presents itself to make that dream a reality.

Word Count: 9.561

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a repost.

This tale began with a boom.

And another boom. This one, not nearly as dangerous. Only caused by a vault door falling flat on the floor, once the first boom had blown it off its hinges.

Wybie was the first to emerge from the smoke, caution cranked to eleven, peering down the opened doorway, a compact shield strapped around his left arm - a trusty aegis ready to be deployed with the press of a button.

"Huh." He cocked his head to one side. "No turrets, no drones, no cybernetically-enhanced rodents? This is going a lot smoother than I expected."

"Yes." Dipper joined his friend. His eyes, as they were wont to do in these situations, narrowed, forever critical, eternally analyzing. "Almost... suspiciously smooth."

"Lighten up, captain buzzkill." Raz walked, nay, strolled up to them. His stride was long, and confident, and would have you believe he's not breaking into the most secure facility in the sector. "Just means we planned this down to a T."

Eggs rushed to rejoin the others, skittish like a mice in a maze, palms growing sweaty from holding his electric rod a tad too tight. Being part of the away team wouldn't be his first choice, but the little tinkerer hated disappointing his friends. "And didn't you say the line about how this place is run by geniuses was complete bollocks?"

Norman coughed, waving away the smoke. With his constitution, it was ill-advised for him to join the excursion, but when the chance for answers presented itself, the temptation was too much, and no risk was too great. "Dipper will be Dipper." Norman smirked, but a moment later, as he met Dipper's eyes, something altogether more genuine shone through. "At the same time, Dipper is Dipper."

Dipper reciprocated. A moment of warmth, genuine and tender, in the midst of chaos, between close friends. Or so both parties insisted. "Thank you, Norman."

"I'm not saying we go full Rambo or anything." Raz shrugged. "Just gotta appreciate the small victories."

“There’s some logic to that. Surprisingly.” Dipper ate up the pointed look Raz shot him. And the delicious dance of one-upmanship continues. “But now is the time to think big. I’m sure Wybie would agree.”

Wybie affirmed the notion with a snort. “Big. I get it.”

The five pirates stared down the path granted to them by a few strategically-placed explosive charges. They still had a long night ahead of them.

But let's rewind a bit, shall we?

The location, the Extra Terrestrial Technology Investigative Institute. Referred by most as simply, ETTI Institute. A lunar base on the moon of Vadim VII, where the Federation's best, bravest, and brightest study excavated ancient alien technology. Or so the pamphlet would have you believe.

The time, ten minutes past midnight, Vadim VII Time. A time for rest, recuperation, and slumber. A time where many, many facilities are operated by only the minimum number of staff.

The quarry, the blueprint of an experimental engine reverse-engineered from alien technology, said to produce power on a scale hitherto undreamt of, dubbed the 'Ragna Drive'. Enough to fulfill the power requirements of, say, a giant humanoid robot.

The reason, to fulfill the boyhood dream of one Wybourne Lovat. Refer to the line above for a hint of said boyhood dream.

The plan, to separate into two teams. Team one - Wybie, Dipper, Raz, Eggs, and Norman - will infiltrate the vault of ETTI Institute and extract the Ragna Drive blueprint directly from their database. Team two - Coraline, Lili, Mabel, and Winnie - will take the staff hostage to prevent them from activating the automated defense, or worse, notifying the Federation. Neil will stay on the Lost Cipher; keep it running and ready for a rapid exit. Currently, the plan had unfolded much, much smoother than any of them had expected. Almost suspiciously smooth, to quite the Lost Cipher's intel officer.

"Why are we getting dragged into this again?” Raz placed his hands behind his head - a gesture one such as you would be familiar with. “It’s Wybie's Valentine's gift. Dragging Coraline in, I get - she got you the coordinates in the first place - but far as I know, things between us are strictly platonic.”

Eggs stared at him like he’s stupid, which was only marginally true. "Because we're best friends?"

Raz laughed. Couldn’t argue with cold, hard facts like that. "Alright, alright." He pointed a finger towards all the boys present. "Next Valentine's, you guys are getting roped into my plans."

A small shrug from Wybie hid the deviousness of his retort. "Fine. Then you don't get a turn on the giant robot."

The change was instantaneous.

"Kidding!"

The reaction, the look, the way Raz’s voice rose by an octave at the last syllable - it was too much for Wybie and Eggs. Giggles were had, and they were joyous.

Dipper watched it unfold, purposefully placing himself a meter behind the group. His traitorous lips curved upwards, despite his best efforts. What a crew. What a family.

“Captain, we’re in the vault. How’s the situation on your end?”

“Under control. No joke.”

Self-deprecation was not a good look for a captain, but Coraline couldn’t seem to help herself. Not that anyone could blame her. One of the Federation’s top institutes for xenotechnology, currently storing the only known blueprint of an extremely powerful experimental engine, no less. Infiltrating that would be next to impossible, even for the crew of the Lost Cipher. And yet, here they are.

“It’s quiet here too.” Dipper’s voice came after a moment of dead air. “I don’t like it.”

Coraline could picture it clear in her head. The swivel-eyed manic of the intel officer. “You don’t have to like it,” she said, then waited. He knew how the phrase ends.

“You just gotta do it.” A sigh. “I’ll check in again in ten minutes.”

A beep signaled the end of the transmission. The hand on her earpiece returned to the hilt of her cutlass. She leaned back against the desk, and finally met the expectant eyes that have been boring holes into her for the past minute.

“The boys are doing fine. Everything’s going according to plan.”

Lili made a hum, an affirming noise, heard from across the room. “First time for everything.”

A jab at the boys would have usually followed, but the captain just didn’t seem to have it in her tonight. Might have something to do with the way her gut’s been sloshing worse than the typhoons of Endecalus. Repression had never been her strong suit.

“This doesn’t feel right.” And the truth was out there. “Federation’s shitty - I know that, but holding a place of learning like this at gunpoint… I don’t like it.”

Lili looked ahead, and only then realized the distress on Coraline’s face. She really had been too reliant on her powers. The signs were all there. Of course the good captain’s conscience wouldn’t sit well with this scenario, even if it was for the sake of her beloved.

“And once again, the folks at the bottom are the ones getting hit, when the problem’s all the way upstairs.” Coraline sighed. Chose to stare at a random dot on the wall. “These poor folks didn’t do anything wrong.”

Lili smacked her lips. “Well.” The ever-present dilemma reared its head once more. Lili had no answer for it, long term, but for the current situation, she had one that might suffice. “That’s why we brought Mabel.”

Coraline hummed - it sufficed. In the room adjacent to this one, Mabel was fulfilling her duty, and to an extent, Neil’s duty. The unfortunate staff of the Institute - mostly researchers who stayed overnight and night shift guards - sat on the floor, pensive and bewildered, watching the notorious space pirate holding them hostage laying down what was essentially a picnic basket before their very eyes.

“Sorry again for this whole hostage situation thing, it’s nothing personal. My friend just has this thing he wants to build, but to do it he needs a thing that you have, and this thing isn’t something you’ll hand over ever, even if we asked pretty please with a cherry on top, so. I’m gonna make this the best dang hostage situation of your life.” Mabel clapped her hands together and rubbed them. The fine spread she laid out watered even her mouth. “Our chef is a god at what he does, and I’m not saying this just because I’m his BFF forever and ever and ever. And don’t be afraid to ask for seconds! He went all. Out.”

And off she went, going from one befuddled hostage to the next, handing out packets of cookies, bagels, cupcakes, pretzels, stuffed bread, and small containers of water, milk, tea, fruit juices, all the while maintaining a big, toothy, silly smile. A smile unfitting for an average Federation civilian’s perspective of a space pirate.

The scene, bizarre as it was, was oddly touching. A reminder of where their true allegiance lies. And Lili’s heart grew warmer that night. Coraline’s didn’t, but only because she was paying attention to the other half of the room.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have paired her with Winnie.”

Indeed. Any goodwill Mabel gained through snacks and niceties was understandably mitigated by the fact that Winnie stood tall behind her, glaring, clad in full combat armor, and wielding a heavy machine gun half her size.

Lili expanded her perspective. When the moment struck, she cringed. “To be fair, we were expecting something a little more… intense.”

“Eh. It’s a standard ‘good pirate, bad pirate’ play.” Coraline wanted to continue, but paused. A thought just clicked in her mind. A thought that she should’ve had long before this juncture. “They… do know that’s what they’re doing, right?”

Indeed, they are not. There was no coordination. No communication. Mabel’s intent when she entered the room was to serve, to ease the predicament of the unfortunate staff in whatever way she could. Winnie’s intent when she entered the room was to intimidate, to make clear the consequence should any funny business arise. Their very different goals clashed, and it showed.

Case in point. A fresh, baby-faced night guard tore his bread in half, made a face upon seeing the contents, put the pieces back together, and placed the bread beside him. Winnie, who caught half of the act, promptly marched over to him and shoved the business end of her machine gun against his chest.

“You trying to be cheeky, mate?” Winnie shoved the gun harder, just to emphasize. Not that it was necessary. The baby-faced night guard could only sputter and stammer, because a massive machine gun was being pressed against his chest.

This only provoked the beast. “No, no, don’t act dumb now. I saw you putting that bread together.” A nod of her head pointed towards the discarded bread. “What’d you do? Turned a tracker on and hid it in there? Started a call with someone? Am I right or am I right?”

The night guard gulped, hard. Thankfully, his mushy, fried brain finally, finally strung together a coherent sentence, and sent the message to his tongue.

“I- I’m… vegan?”

Winnie blinked.

“Well, why didn’t you say so? Silly!” Mabel rushed over, open basket in hand. “Our chef also made some vegan alternatives. Like I said, he is. The best.”

Winnie pulled away, but the glare on her face sent a clear message: he’s on thin ice, and she’s watching him. The dark stain on his pants grew in diameter.

Another case.

“E-excuse me?”

Winnie whipped around, gun raised, aimed center mass at a cowering researcher with a container of chocolate milk in her hand.

“Don’t shoot me, I’m just lactose intolerant!”

Mabel was by her side in record time. “Soy milk, then? Or maybe you want something else. Tea? Orange juice?”

Coraline and Lili watched the scenario unfold in silence. Both had their arms crossed. Both silently agreed even they couldn’t hope to cope with that kind of emotional whiplash. At one point, Coraline sniffed.

"They are going to need extensive therapy after this. And you just know the insurance won't cover that.” Lili’s eyes narrowed, memories of a different life returning to her. “Wait, I worked for the Federation. I know the insurance doesn’t cover that.”

Coraline glanced at the clock. The ten minutes were almost up. Strangely captivating shows sure helped pass the time.

“Dipper, it’s been ten. What’s the sitch?”

“Pop quiz,” Dipper asked back. “If I’m the human equivalent of bland oatmeal, what kind of method would I use to discourage people from going into my vault?”

There was barely a beat. “A… hallway of lasers.”

“And the captain goes home with a hundred points.”

An amused snort. “Score.” A shift in tone. Dipper could practically see the good captain towering over him. “Now make sure you score that blueprint.”

“Will do. See you in ten.”

The transmission went cold. Dipper rejoined his friends ahead. A winding criss-cross of red lines stretched in the hallway before them, making an admirable attempt at mimicking the walls of Dipper’s cabin. The only thing missing were the pictures and color-coded pins.

“Didn’t even make it invisible.” Condescending tuts left Raz’s lips. Add in a slow head-shake, and he looked the spitting image of that one teacher you had. You know the one. “Amateurs.”

Norman, ever the realist, had just the thing to say. “Doesn’t make it any easier to cross.”

Raz, ever the smug bastard, had just the smirk to wear. “For you.”

The non-ace pilot reached high, dropped low, limbered up, and stretched out. Muscle decay was a very real issue even for an adept athlete such as Raz. Stretching would never stop being important until the end of his days. After all, if one wanted a performance to be perfect, a perfect amount of practice was required.

Dipper, ever the pain in Raz’s backside, had already donned his pointed glasses and fiber gloves while Raz was still loosening his triceps. No self-respecting hacker would leave his den without a mobile cyber warfare suite. His self-loathing wasn’t that strong.

Display, opened. Disabling program, running. Energy pulse, charged. A hand raised and pointed, and. Release.

The red lines blipped out of existence in a wave, rapidly, one after another. Like a master magician, Dipper transformed the hallway ahead to be just like the hallway behind. The act earned a glowing reception from Norman, Wybie, and Eggs, but just like a reactionary critic, Raz’s response was a bit more mixed.

Dipper pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose, the light reflecting from his display obscuring his eyes. "All according to plan."

Wybie and Eggs marched ahead, a spring in their step, because why wouldn’t they? They were one step closer to a giant robot. Raz would be counted among that group, usually, but in this occasion, he stayed behind. Locked in a duel of eyes with the insufferable intel officer.

"Showoff."

"Hypocrite.

Norman walked past between them. "And... kiss."

Norman was quick to leave soon after. He knew when his job was done. The duel continued, though it now carried a different heat than before.

“I had that.”

“There was still room for human error.” Concern through a mask of hard facts. As Dipper as could be. “Unless you want more scars on your pretty face?”

Raz grinned and, he would insist, didn’t blush. "I reject your sarcasm and will take that as a genuine compliment."

“I spy with my little eye… something round.”

“That mug over there?”

Coraline took a moment to imitate a doe-eyed guppy. “Shit. You sure you’re not psychic anymore?”

Lili laughed, but it was bitter and hollow. How she wished the answer to that question was anything other than a yes.

She breathed the bitterness away. “My turn.” Her eyes swept the room, searching for a most unlikely object that would surely befuddle the cunning captain. Playing I Spy was a lot easier than dealing with the moral conundrums of their actions.

“I spy with my little eye… something blue.”

Blue. An easy, general start. Coraline already spotted some likely candidates. A monitor glowing light blue. A pair of gloves, faded but still blue. A decorative action figure, dressed primarily in blue. Hell, the captain herself could count, with her blue hair.

“Something unique.”

An adjective. Always guaranteed to make things difficult. Uniqueness is relative to each person. How could Lili expect Coraline to know her definition of unique? If it came to it, the good captain wasn’t above considering her own self as unique.

“Something… beautiful.”

Coraline paused. Glanced at Lili and studied her face. Blue, unique, and beautiful. An attempt at flirting from the weapons officer, at long last? She could take that risk, assume it to be that way, at the risk of looking like a complete idiot if she assumed wrong. But what’s life without taking risks?

“Me?”

It was a shame Lili wasn’t drinking anything, because that would have been one hell of a spit take.

“Wow. Your ego is finally big enough for that hat.” Lili pointed, and Coraline followed, at a potted plant sitting pretty by a sink. The leaves were blue, sparkled with a certain beauty to it, unlike any plant Coraline had seen before. “Lappidis sapphirini. Only grows on Vadim VII.”

Coraline’s lips thinned into a line as straight as she was not. An embarrassing setback, but now she’s in the mood. No way was she going to drop it now. “Sure is convenient that plant’s there to cover for you.”

“Believe what you want. The truth doesn’t change.” Lili crossed her arms. A scoff and an aversion of sight completed the routine. Highly presumptuous of the captain to think she would want to perform this song and dance in such a critical mission.

But for Coraline, the present danger only enhanced it, elevated the song and dance. Made it all the more enticing. And as the imagined tune in her head slowed, the dance had no choice but to obey. She moved closer, standing in front of Lili, one hand on the wall behind the fiery flower, using her height to her advantage. Doth the good captain has borrowed too much of the engineer’s secret stash of mature literature.

A fellow connoisseur of such literature would recognize the action as a ‘kabedon’.

“Look me in the eyes, and just try saying that again.” Coraline leaned closer, the gap closing millimeter by precious millimeter, until Lili could feel the captain’s breath against her skin, and Lili squirmed in that way that Coraline simply adored.

“Coraline…” Oh, the way Lili’s voice trembled saying her name? Heavenly. Sent her heart galloping like a wild stallion. The urge to close the gap between them had never been so strong. “What about Wybie? And Raz?”

“Wybie doesn’t care as long as I listen to him do his dumb, cute rants about machines and kiss him just right once in a while.” Coraline saw how Lili bit her lip at the mention of kissing. She liked it. “And your boyfriend wants us to be an item more than we do.”

The poor, precious flower hadn’t the strength to lift her petals to bloom, instead choosing to wilt towards her roots, so Coraline gently, tenderly moved to rectify that. Calloused fingers placed itself under a soft chin, urging it to rise, further and further, until finally, scarlet met hazel.

“C’mon. Let’s try.”

For a moment, Coraline allowed herself to hope. The gap grew smaller. Lili’s hot breath tickled her skin, just like her own breath must tickle hers. But alas, it seemed it was too much. Lili withdrew, wilting, eyes losing contact. Coraline swallowed a sigh. If Lili wasn’t ready, then she wouldn’t push it. Coraline pulled away, withdrawing.

Until a hand shot up to grab her collar.

“Sure.”

Oh, poor captain. So focused on the flower that she forgot about the flames. So utterly unprepared to find herself suddenly on her knees.

“Let’s.”

A harsh tug of the collar forced Coraline to look up. A performance worthy of a Space Oscar had been shed away, and bursting from that cocoon, was a looming, smirking deity, shining and burning, beautiful and dangerous, like the brightest star in the astral sea.

“Hmm. Quite the view.” It really was. Her poor and precious flower act completely fooled Coraline. If her reward for the lie was an image of the great pirate captain Coraline Jones on her knees, jaw hanging open, a pretty shade of red on her cheeks, Lili would’ve done it more often. “Maybe I can learn to like this.”

But the captain wasn’t one to stay down. The initial surprise might have given Lili an edge, but once Coraline regained her bearings, there was little Lili could do to stop her from rising back to her full height. “I won’t let you learn much.”

“You think you wear the pants in this mess?” Lili refused to back down. Who gives a damn about height anyway?

“I mean, I can still look kick-ass in a dress.” Coraline relished the challenge. This was so much more fun than a delicate flower. A flower wouldn’t be able to handle Coraline capturing her chin in her hands, or pressing her against the wall, or moving one leg between hers. “But I’m always on top.”

Lili grabbed onto Coraline’s shoulders and pulled her closer, deeper, darker. No room for any god here. “Only because you never danced with me before.”

A battle of dominants. A war of contrasts. Blue and red. Sea and sun. A captain of the astral sea and a goddess of fire. Equally enchanting. Equally menacing. Equally unwilling to let the other emerge victorious. What force in this universe could possibly break this stalemate?

The answer was five rapid raps against the window.

Coraline and Lili jumped, like toddlers being caught eating cookies before dinner. They turned to the source, and saw Winnie through the glass, making a scarily fine impression of a disappointed mother. And Mabel was also there, making an exaggerated impression of a crazed sports fan. At least the hostages had the decency to avert their eyes.

Oh yes, to freshen the memory, the hostage situation never stopped being a thing.

The cheeks of both Coraline and Lili achieved a shade of red never before seen in human history.

“You better hope no one buggered off while you were busy shacking up,” Winnie’s voice came through the earpiece, “or those fraternization policies might be back on the table.”

A lot of scoffs and denials poured forth from both flustered teens. Too many, to be perfectly frank.

Winnie rolled her eyes and walked away from the window. She still had other things to worry about. Mabel practically shot stars from her eyes and pressed her face against the window.

With cheeks still burning red, Lili nudged Coraline, whispering, “You paid attention, right? No one got out?”

“Nah, definitely not.” A pause. A moment to reconsider a more fitting word. “Well. Probably not.”

‘Probably’ was the correct choice of word. It was not an absolute. It left the possibility open that someone did manage to slip away while they were otherwise, ahem, distracted.

Because someone did.

Jonathan Teletha Estarossa, local rich idiot who got a job at the institute mostly due to the aforementioned richness, took advantage of the heated moment between passionate comrades to sneak out of the room he was held in and into the hallway, out of sight.

He paused, held a hand against his chest, feeling his heart beat like they were about to burst from his chest. That was the most excitement he ever had in his sad, sad life. Not that being unnoticed by women was ever particularly difficult for him. This idiot was, and always will be, a living woman repellant.

After an embarrassing amount of time gasping and heaving, he stood straight, eyes dead set on his goal. Unfortunately, for our brave space pirates, this idiot’s goal was not a simple, selfish escape.

“Those damn femoids will pay.”

That should tell you everything there was to know about him.

The barrier of blast-proof glass slowly lowered with a hiss. The searing web of plasma beyond deactivated line by line. A coveted data drive, hovering and rotating in place, shot out of its metal hollow by way of electromagnetic manipulation. Its destination, the metal-gloved hands of the Lost Cipher’s chief engineer, much to the delight of the eternal ten year old boy within.

"Ragna Drive blueprint," Wybie raised the drive in his hands to the heavens, victorious, "get!"

He turned his burning gaze to his friends, his compatriots, his brothers-in-arms. The family that got him this far. It was the least he could do to flash them a grin of boiling blood.

“Giant robot, here we come!”

Eggs hollered, because damn was Wybie’s dream infectious. He’d converted Eggs to have the same dream after only a few short months of living together. Raz copied the slasher smile Wybie wore, because damn did he want to pilot a giant robot. One more reason why deserting the Federation was the best decision of his life. Dipper smirked, because damn his friends were cute when they get all giddy about something.

But he couldn’t get distracted by the adorably bloodthirsty now. Not when his fingers were dancing away at a separate terminal, planting a bug directly into the Institute’s central database.

The dance didn’t go unnoticed for long. Raz, still riding the high of success, thought it had been too long since he’d last annoyed the resident mad scientist. “And how’s your plot for world domination going?”

“You joke, but I will take that as a prompt to explain this for the sixteenth time today.” Dipper didn’t give Raz a chance to regret his decision. He’d take a chance to run his mouth anytime. “This bug will create a backdoor to their database that I can access anytime, anywhere. And, once I upload this function to the extranet, so does everyone else in the known universe. Every book, every journal, every article, every paper they have ever made, accessible by anyone, anywhere, for absolutely zero credits.”

Usually, Raz would have rolled his eyes, but the passion behind those words was… alluring. For once, Raz listened, and frankly, felt uneasy. “That… can be kinda dangerous, you know.”

Dipper spun, and Raz suddenly found himself lost in the eyes of one of the most determined beings in the universe.

“Everyone has a right to know everything.”

Raz had to step back, lest he be overwhelmed, consumed, by the black hole made flesh standing before him. From a safe distance, though, the sight brought a smile to his lips.

“That’s why you’re the mad scientist.”

Dipper returned to his work, only a few clicks away from completion. He savored the final click that put everything into place, like the last bite of a meal. A deep, throaty chuckle escaped him - one worthy of any mad scientist. “Let’s see how long until these ‘academics’ figure it out.”

Raz glanced over his shoulder at the opposite side of the chamber. “Norman?”

Fittingly enough, the opposite side of the chamber fit the descriptor in every sense of the word. Uncertainty, anxiety, and defeat hung over that corner like a thick cloud, invisible yet tangible. At the center of it was a poor soul, bearing the name Norman Babcock.

He was at his wit’s end. He’d tried entering every word he could think of into the terminal in front of him - medium, spirit, ghost, afterlife, heaven, hell - and every single result he got was irrelevant. Unhelpful. He’s standing in the center of one of the Federation’s top institutes, granted unlimited access to their database, and he’s still no closer to anything resembling an answer.

Norman stared at the cruel screen, fingers clawing at his rigid hair. Desperation had sunk its teeth deep. He scrambled to type in two more words.

Norman Babcock.

A red X. No results. Norman gritted his teeth, and typed again.

Agatha Prenderghast.

No results.

Norman closed his eyes. The air darkened. The cold despair swirled, shifted, rising, burning. The black turned red. His eyes flared open. He raised a clenched fist and reared back - his target, the softly glowing terminal screen. Would he finally give in?

No. The red in his eyes fizzled. His clenched fist loosened, and dropped to his side. Such an act was simply not in his nature. His gaze fell, but a comforting hand on his shoulder stopped him from succumbing further.

“I just want some answers. Is that really so much to ask?” Norman exhaled, tired, desperate for the light at the end of the tunnel.

Raz gave Norman a squeeze and a shake. A smile that goes a long way. “And you’ll get them. We’ll make sure of that. Plus, we still have plenty of time.”

And that was the alarm’s cue to go right the fuck off.

Raz groaned. “Great. Now it’s my fault. Thanks, universe.”

The blaring sirens grew louder, as if responding to Raz’s definitely sincere gratitude.

“Something tells me you’re not at fault.” Dipper smirked. He had some choice words picked already, and he couldn’t wait until he could share them with a certain captain.

Wybie held the data drive in his hands with all the tenderness reserved for a newborn baby. “No worries, baby.” He gave the hunk of metal a big ol’ smooch, before shoving it inside his coat. “I’m gonna protect you with my life.”

“We’ve got drones. Six of ‘em.” The display on Dipper’s cyber suite laid it out plainly. Six red dots making their way to the vault - their current location. “Fifteen seconds out and counting.”

Not a second to lose. Wybie moved to the vault door and prepared the compact shield strapped to his left arm. A press of a button, and the metal unfolded, forming a sturdy, if temporary, cover. Raz, Eggs, Norman, and Dipper were quick to fall in. The onslaught would soon begin.

“Impact in three… two…”

Eggs leaned back against the metal shield. “This always happens.”

“…one.”

First, came the faint hum of airborne drones approaching. Then, the whirr of energy, of weapons charging their load. Last, the whizz of lasers, of projectiles crashing against the temporary aegis. Wybie gritted his teeth - the initial impact was always the hardest to handle - but kept his left arm and the cover steady. Time for a counterattack.

Dipper was already on it, no prompt necessary. Accessing a nearby security feed, Dipper identified the make and model of the drones; their strengths, weaknesses, and especially, vulnerabilities to cyber attacks. Creating the necessary code was child’s play. He stuck a hand out from cover, and released.

The energy surge struck two of the drones. They shuddered, ceased firing, turned to face their fellow drones, and resumed firing. The other four turned from state-of-the-art defensive machinery to smoking piles of scrap in no time flat. Their task complete, they flew towards the group, towards Dipper - their new master - hovering close to his shoulders.

“Should we move out?” Wybie’s shield shrunk to its compact size - a surprisingly smooth process for one of his contraptions.

Norman stole a glance towards the terminals, despite the failures fresh in his memories. “How bad is it?”

“The entire facility is alive,” Dipper replied, eyes glued to his display. “The Federation can’t be far behind.”

Raz came to a quick decision - an ability continuously honed over the last few months. “We have to leave. Now.” As executive officer, he had to be harsh and precise, but as a friend, he had more than enough apologetic smiles to go around. “Sorry, Norman.”

Norman wanted to smile back, but the corners of his lips simply wouldn’t budge. “It’s fine,” he said. The catchphrase of people who are definitely fine.

No psychic power was necessary to see through the façade, but even Raz knew this was not an ideal circumstance for a heart to heart. “None of us are dying in nerd nirvana on my watch. Let’s move!”

The group wasted nary a moment to follow the order, except for Dipper, who had strong opinions on this shoddy institution being referred to as ‘nerd nirvana’, and was ready to voice them. It was a real shame the vault was empty before he could say a single word. He sighed, gave chase, and put a finger on his earpiece.

“So. Who are we shaming?”

“Nobody!”

Coraline ducked, the laser shot of a drone from behind flying past mere centimeters away from her hair. Lili spun, firing two charged pistol shots, while Winnie responded with a spray of machinegun fire. Coraline dove to a different hallway, following Mabel’s lead, and hugged the wall like her life depended on it. Which it is.

“Awfully quick on the draw there, cap.”

“It’s an adrenaline-fueled situation. Don’t read into it.” Coraline mentally screamed at herself to not imagine a shit-eating grin on that smug face, but that was a bad idea, because now all she could think about was a shit-eating grin on that smug face. “Just get your pale behind to the exfil point, stat.”

“I’ll be there faster than you can say ‘teenaged horndog’.”

And then the line died. The devious intel officer didn’t give her a millisecond to retort. It was a real shame his sister just happened to be standing right next to her.

“Mabel, I’m sorry, but your brother just died.”

Mabel pouted. “Awww. Time of death?”

“As soon as we regroup.”

A drone sped around the corner in front of Coraline and Mabel, lasers primed and ready. Its artificial intelligence expected such a blitz would catch the pirates unaware, but they weren’t unprepared simply because they engage in idle chatter. A lesson learned the hard way, when the sharp end of a grappling hook pierced the drone’s onboard camera. Mabel reeled the steel salmon in, straight into the path of Coraline’s cutlass. Glowing like a blue giant and nearly half as hot, the blade cut through the drone like a plague through a second-rate colony.

Winnie caught up to them, jumping over the drone’s remains as it rolled away. Her poker face fooled the captain, who sensed no mischief until it was too late. “So. About those fraternization policies-”

“Not now!”

To use the patronizing tone so often used by her father felt strangely cathartic for Winnie. “It’s really becoming a problem.”

“Not to me!” Mabel’s grin was bold and shameless - a perfect declaration of who she was.

Coraline groaned long and loud into the palm of her hand. The sheer audacity of her friends, she thought, to continue this onslaught even with a weapon that has slaughtered dozens firmly gripped in her hand. Clearly, the captain was not privy to the title of this tale.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Cory.” Mabel patted the good captain on the back. “Nothing wrong with being horny on main.”

It was at this moment that Winnie, unfortunately, was instantly struck down and passed on from this mortal plane. Cause of death: excessive laughter.

Lili let loose two quick shots behind her, caught up to the group, and was thoroughly confused to see Winnie laughing her guts out on the floor.

“You!” Her confusion only increased when she saw a red-faced Coraline pointing a finger at her. “She was there too! Come on, chew her out!”

The situation suddenly became clear to Lili. “Sure, just casually add victim-blaming to your list of sins.”

“Oh, you do not get to pull that card.” Coraline advanced, making her height known.

“Are you denying that you’re the one who started it?”

“You pulled me. By the collar. To. My. Knees.”

“Self-defense.”

“Oh my- you’re into me! Just admit it!”

A red streak whizzed between the ever-decreasing gap between Coraline and Lili’s faces. They turned, and saw a squad of five drones rapidly approaching. A reminder that time was not a luxury they could afford.

“To be continued.” Mabel helped Winnie to her feet and rushed ahead, her grin never faltering.

Coraline’s cutlass lost its blue glow as she slid it into its sheath. “Please, god, no.”

Their exfiltration plan was simplicity itself. Using a relatively unguarded back entrance usually reserved for the janitorial staff, plus a few ingenious disguises, the girls were able to infiltrate the facility, and now they intend to use that same route to escape. A more direct path from the hostage room to their designated exit existed, but they elected to take a more circuitous path. Less heat on the boys that way. Divide, and conquer.

But more than enough time had passed for the boys reach their exfiltration point. Time to cut to the chase. All they had to do was take a right turn here and-

Oh, did you really think they would escape that easily?

Four pairs of legs skidded to a halt.

Ahead, a swarm of two dozen metal disks, each weaponized with a pair of laser shooters, filled the air. Lining the walls, ten state-of-the-art turrets fitted with gatling guns loaded to the brim with kinetic rounds. And the pièce de résistance, a pair of iron men, the pinnacle of Federation-backed studies conducted in the Institute, armed with every weapon known to man and more. A veritable army of unfeeling metal, and at their center was their controller - the unpleasant construct of flesh, skin, and bone calling itself Jonathan Teletha Estarossa.

“End of the line, pirates,” the jackass know-it-all boasted. “You might have evaded the clutches of the Federation all this time, but only because you have never faced the might, the cunning, the brilliance of a member of the Estarossa family.”

“Alright, no one likes a tryhard.” Mabel’s tongue struck with pinpoint precision. The waste of oxygen choked on his own spit.

Coraline raised an eyebrow at Lili. “Estarossa?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Lili lied. The name rang so many bells. Estarossa is a big name in the Federation. But the idiot before her was so readable; she didn’t need psychic powers to know all of his buttons. Pushing buttons is such a fun pastime.

And pushed it was. The worthless excuse of a man’s cheeks bulged and reddened, like a toddler. He composed himself, yes, but the moment would forever be marked in the annals of history. “I was considering apprehending you all peacefully if you begged me for mercy, but your wanted posters did say ‘dead or alive’.”

The pathetic threat was accompanied with the inching forward of the robot army. It would have made the threat less pathetic, if the filthy bag of meat wasn’t wearing the most insufferable, most disgusting grin in recorded history.

“You know what,” Coraline glared, her fingers wrapping around the hilt of her cutlass, “I deserve to treat myself.”

The blade was halfway out before Lili’s hand halted its journey. Coraline’s stern eyes demanded an explanation.

“The Federation is bearing down on us. If they get to the Lost Cipher while it’s unmanned, we’re dead,” Lili explained simply. “It’s killing me to say this, but we can’t waste time with him.”

Coraline’s attention shifted towards Mabel and Winnie. They had their weapons out, provoked, ready to give the insult to the legacy of humankind what he so rightfully deserved, but they held back, looking at their captain, awaiting her judgement. With a heavy heart, and a heavy breath, Coraline slid the cutlass back in its sheath.

“Fall back. Find an alternate route.”

The verdict was disappointing, but the crew had nothing but utmost faith in their captain. Turning on their heels, they fled the scene, stalked close by a shower of projectiles.

“After them! Don't let the femoids escape!”

Four pairs of legs skidded to a halt.

Four pairs of eyes shared a look.

"Did he just-?"

"Yep."

“So, he’s a-?”

“Definitely.”

A new clip. An escalating charge. An unloading coil. A cutlass unsheathed and glowing blue. Four grinning girls.

Death to all incels.

A drone’s barrage of lasers ended as its weapon began to overheat, and that was the opening Raz needed. He darted out of cover, four throwing knives leaving his hands, and meeting their mark. A worthless hunk of metal dropped to the ground, sputtered and sparked once, and lost all semblance of power. Raz strolled towards his fallen foe, grinning, completely unaware of a second drone behind him, lasers charging to full power.

But the pilot was never alone. An electric rod swung at full strength. The drone crashed hard against the wall. Eggs rushed in with a second swing of electrified iron. The gleaming plating yielded under the force of ramshackle scrap and junk. One final surge of sparks completely fried the machinery within, and the drone was no more.

“That’s the last of ‘em.” Eggs blew a breath. Backed away. Wasn’t everyday he got to do that.

Raz shot a pointed look at a sheet of dented metal near the corner, though not without an amused smile. “It’s safe for your baby to come out now.”

The dented sheet shrunk to its compact form, and a rare, smirking Wybie rose to his full height. “It’s almost like you actually don’t want a turn on the giant robot.”

“You keep pulling that card, I’m telling on Coraline.”

Wybie laughed. “Touché.”

Norman rose too, from behind Wybie, slowly, leaning on the wall to steady himself. All this running and hiding was too much physical strain on the poor boy, and the complete lack of answers was a double gut punch he didn’t need nor deserve. If anyone were to ask him, this heist had been a complete bust. He couldn’t wait to be back behind the navigator’s seat.

Lucky him, Wybie was well on his way to make that wish a reality. In a small alcove in this extensive underground lunar tunnel, lie his beloved hoverbike. A simple cloaking device had hidden it from sight as an extra precaution, so cherished this vehicle was by the engineer. He mounted it, the engine roaring to life soon after, the noise echoing beautifully.

And not a second too soon, as footsteps from a distance signaled the rejoining of Dipper with the group. “All the locks on the girls’ path have been disabled.” He glanced behind, at the path he had just taken. “Waiting game starts now.”

A most miserable game, in Norman’s opinion. Especially so when the seconds ticked past the promised mark. The opinion was rapidly growing in popularity, as the seconds ticked and ticked and ticked, with none of them able to do anything about it.

“The girls haven’t checked in yet,” he finally voiced. “Should we double back and help them?”

“You kidding me? They’re the girls!” Raz’s easy grin exuded the confidence he had in his friends. “I betcha they’re kickin’ ass.”

Unbeknownst to the executive officer, he had just placed the winning bet.

To set the scene; on one side was a fearsome army of robots and their undesirable controller, and on the other, was the itchiest trigger finger this side of the universe armed with a machinegun powerful enough to be considered a war crime, the manic mischief made manifest wielding a grappling hook capable of delivering a veritable storm through its cables, the uncaring goddess of fire with a brokenly powerful plasma pistol in her grasp, and the captain, the knight, the angel with a sword of light, hell-bent on striking down every wicked being in the known universe.

Music, maestro.

The kinetic rounds of the turrets were peashooters compared to the storm of bullets and fire raining from Winnie’s machinegun. The pristine halls of the Institute were swiftly transformed into a lead-riddled warzone, like a terrible miracle. The turrets were rendered unrecognizable, loaded with more metal than they were built with. Some survived the onslaught, but not for long, not when Lili’s pistol hit full charge. The pistol roared, and two turrets were reduced to ashen imprints upon the wall. Another roar, another pair of turrets turned to atom dust by plasma fire. And just like that, the turrets were eliminated.

The metal man, the humanoid drone, dove into the fray. An onslaught of kinetic and energy rounds from its wrists and shoulders broke Lili and Winnie apart, forced them on the defensive. Dodging, weaving, taking cover in whatever cover was available, biding their time, plotting their revenge. This machine’s demise will be swift and painful.

A chance! The drone paid too much attention to Lili, chipping away at her cover. Winnie saw, and took it, unloading a hail of blind fire upon its back. The drone pivoted, the storm shifting towards Winnie, and that was the break Lili needed. Lili rose, aimed, and released. The drone’s left arm was vaporized in a flash of red. In a brilliant display of poor decision-making, the drone turned to face Lili again, but it was too little too late. Another blinding flash, another arm reduced to a smoking stump.

And that was Winnie’s cue to strike. With a fresh clip, Winnie leapt, shoved the business end of her machinegun up the drone’s ass, belted out a scream to end all screams, and squeezed the trigger. The sheer amount of bullets pierced the drone through and through. She trailed the nozzle up and up and up, to its torso, to its chest, to its head, rending the metal man apart into two messy halves, as if she wielded a blade of fire and metal.

The two halves dropped to the ground with a clang, followed by a tink, as Winnie ejected an empty clip, and loaded a fresh one into her gun.

And what about Coraline and Mabel, you ask?

The good captain had just sliced a drone clean in half, pierced a second through and through, and crushed a third to the curb with her gravity boots. The metal man’s programming did not take kindly to its allies’ termination, so it lunged into the fray, electrified titanium blades extending from each wrist. Sparks flew as steel clashed against steel, as Coraline parried the strike, as the drone dove for another, as Coraline blocked it dead in its tracks. The drone reared back, raising both its blades to the stars - an overhead strike that would surely mean the end for our good captain. Fortunately for our heroes, artificial intelligence could never understand the power of friendship.

A hook grappled the back of Coraline’s jacket, and Mabel pulled her captain out of harm’s way, the blade piercing through the floor. Coraline slid to a halt next to the manic medical officer, and a thumbs up of gratitude was exchanged.

No further pleasantries could be exchanged however, not when a dozen drones swarmed to surround them like moths to a flame. And like moths, they will burn.

“Skullheart Special?”

“Skullheart Special.”

Coraline gave the cutlass a little twirl, and tossed it, past all the drones, towards the metal man with its blades still stuck to the floor. Her aim struck true, the cutlass lodging itself into its chest. The metal man staggered, and recovered, but the AI could have never prepared itself for a pirate captain to soar through the air towards it, boot first. The modified gravity boots were really proving their worth in this incursion.

The boots’ impact completely collapsed the plating of the metal man’s chest armor, and lodged the cutlass even deeper, breaking through its back. Coraline leapt away with a flip, granting Mabel a clear shot. The hook connected with the hilt of the cutlass. The cable was within Coraline’s reach. Coraline pointed her feet at the ceiling. She flicked the boots on, grabbed the cable, and pulled.

No steel could resist a blade that carried the heat of a blue giant. And like a sun, the blade rose at dawn. The drone’s torso and head were cut into two perfect halves - the final nail in the coffin for the iron men. Coraline, smirking, allowed the cable to slip out of her fingers. Her part in the dance was done. The hook reeled back to its source, cutlass still attached. Time for a star to shine.

And shine she did. The sword of light made such a goal that much easier to attain. Graceful and fearsome like a queen, Mabel danced through the barrage of lasers - courtesy of the drones circling her - with nary a lock of hair scathed. Her hand completed the routine, spinning the cable above her head, and with the cutlass still merged with the hook, it wasn’t hard to picture the result. Drones dropped like flies, cut into a million tiny pieces by a whirlwind of superheated steel, spinning at the speed of light.

Mabel released the cutlass and reeled the hook. Coraline touched down beside Mabel. The cutlass returned to the hands of its rightful owner. The captain, sheathing her deadly blade, and the star, striking a pose with her trusted grappling hook, stood with their backs to each other, basking in victory.

“This is…!”

“…how pirates do it!”

Another struggle against impossible odds, another victory under their belt.

But did you truly think the outcome could be any different?

The four girls converged once more in the middle of the hallway, sweaty and drained, but smiling and satisfied.

“Boy, that was a workout!” Mabel chuckled between labored breaths. “What were we doing again? Oh, right, escaping!”

“Hold it!”

Unfortunately, for everyone involved, the cowardly cockroach had the sense to run away and duck behind a pillar as soon as the fighting started, and as such he managed to survive. Now, he has returned, pointing a puny pistol at the girls with trembling hands.

“As long as I’m still standing, n-none of you are going anywhere!”

The way his voice cracked really convinced the girls what a threat he truly was.

“Right,” Winnie sighed, “we still have Billy No Mates over here.”

Mabel pouted. “Aw dang, he’s still alive? Thought some stray bullets would get him.”

Coraline stepped forward, unamused. The human cesspool flinched. “Listen, dude, I personally would love to lop your head off, blend it to mush and flush it down the toilet, but we really have to go. Just put the gun down and you’ll live,” she offered, far too generously, considering what she’s talking to.

“No, no, no! You are all beneath me! You can’t possibly win!” The man-baby shook his head and stomped his feet. Calling his behavior toddler-like would be an insult to toddlers. “I'll bring all you femoids to heel, or my name isn't Johnny T. Est-!”

The roar of a plasma pistol echoed through the halls, followed by a thump of metal as a lifeless, worthless, crotchless body of an incel hit the floor.

“Yeowch.” Mabel inched closer to the corpse and gave it a light kick. Not even a twitch. “I mean, he totally deserved it, but ouch.”

Lili slid her pistol back in her belt. She spared the correct amount of attention such a creature deserved - none. “Like he’s ever going to use it.” She glanced down. The palm of her hand was turning black from how much she had to use the pistol today.

She closed her palm and hid it from view. No one saw. Good. Let’s keep it that way.

Winnie surveyed her surroundings, taking in the carnage they caused for the first time. “Damn, how much time did that took?”

“Coraline!”

Dipper’s voice ringing through her earpiece was all the answer Coraline needed. “Too much.”

“Coraline, where the hell are you?! We already have Euclid-class Federation ships inbound!”

Coraline flinched. That was, indeed, bad. A Plan C was rushed to production in her mind. “Change of plans. Go ahead and take off now,” she ordered.

“How will we find you?”

Coraline smirked. “Just look to the stars.”

Coraline unclipped a grenade from her belt. A glance at Lili conveyed all the required information for her next action.

“Mask on!”

Coraline tossed the grenade to the ceiling. Lili released a shot with impeccable aim.

Explosives and plasma mixes together to make one hell of a bang. One enough to blow a clean hole in the ceiling above, giving way to the cold vacuum of space. If the girls hadn’t already donned their oxygen masks, that would’ve been a terrible and anticlimactic end to this tale.

The vacuum did its work and the girls offered no resistance. They were jettisoned out, along with all the dented metal and burnt scraps and one crotchless carcass, into the starlit sea. Mabel fired her grappling hook before they could drift apart. Coraline caught the hook in her grip easily; Lili and Winnie latching onto the cable. Even from here, they could already spot their beloved vessel, partially obscured by an asteroid belt - the glorious vision of mismatched black and white and deep purple, the Lost Cipher.

“Need a lift?”

Opposite of where the Lost Cipher waited on standby, a different vehicle was rapidly approaching. Much smaller, much more mundane, but no less significant. Wybie’s hoverbike - easily recognizable by its multitude of extra thrusters - bore the burden of carrying Wybie, Raz, Dipper, Norman, and Eggs, and did so with no complaint. Dipper lowered himself on the hoverbike’s right, extending a hand downwards. Mabel saw, grinned, and held her hand out to the stars. Their hands met, reuniting, clasping tight around the other, their grip as unbreakable as their bond. The chain of teenaged outlaws sped off towards the cosmos, leaving the ETTI Institute and Vadim VII far behind.

“At least the chauffeurs here are decent.” Lili smirked up at her lover.

Raz tipped an imaginary hat. “Happy to be of service, ma’am.”

Coraline did the same to her own lover, but the curve of her lips slowly reversed when she noticed that there seemed to be a worrying lack of a particular data drive on his person.

“If you didn’t get that blueprint, I will kill a man.”

Wybie chuckled - because hey, that’s kinda hot - then reached into his coat and produced the coveted data drive in his hand, holding it up in triumph. “Best Valentine’s gift ever!”

“How was your night, Dipdop?” Mabel asked, bursting with cheer.

Dipper shrugged, the insufferable and lovable humble brag. “Oh, it’s nothing too exciting. I simply ushered in a new age of free information and marked the beginning of true liberation of knowledge. You?”

“We killed an incel!”

“Nice.”

“How’s the electric rod treating you?” Winnie’s eyes narrowed, expressing a concern seldom seen from her. “Is it too big? Too long? Too thick?”

“The rod’s treating me fine. The size fits me just right.” Eggs smiled at his dear friend, a display of amusement and genuine gratitude. You can stop giggling now.

The energy of cheer and merriment was contagious, infecting even Norman, though one could easily tell his smile was hollow, his laugh melancholic. “At least you all had a good night.”

Wybie twisted the throttle hard. The thrusters doubled in strength, as the vehicle entered the nearby asteroid belt. The full majesty of the Lost Cipher was now theirs to behold. Coraline put a finger to her earpiece.

“Neil, start the warp sequence. We’re getting the fuck out of dodge.”

“Aye aye, captain!”

The lights on the ship flicked on one section at a time. The hum of sheer power was palpable even in the vacuum of space. The hangar door slid open, a sign of welcome to home sweet home. Wybie tilted the hoverbike to match his new destination.

“Crew, we’re not quite out of it yet. We’ll warp a couple dozen systems away, go dark for a day, keep everything on high alert.” Coraline’s grin stretched so wide it must hurt. “Then we break open the Smile Dip cabinet.”

“Woo!”

“Hell yeah!”

“We’re gonna get high!”

Johnny test fans don’t @ me.

Second chapter in and already I can’t contain the word count from ballooning to ridiculous numbers. It’s a bad habit. Also, this makes the first chapter feel more like a prologue? And this is the proper first chapter? Since it’s got everything the first chapter had, just more. More story, more violence, more flirting, more Smugness. Though I guess that is also an escalating thing that just comes naturally with a story. The point is, this got a lot longer than I thought it would be.

This fic continues to be a place for me to vent my- well, I was about to say controversial views, but hating incels is basically common sense, isn’t it? Continuing the escalating thing, it’s a lot more blatant in this one too. Fun fact, he was originally supposed to die by getting his head shot clean off. Kudos to one of my pals for suggesting that it’ll be a lot funnier if he got shot in the dick instead. Join me next chapter where the MK executes a bunch of flat-earthers.

By the way, I have a poll open over on Tumblr about which fic I should work on this month. If you want more chapters of this sooner rather than later, go vote for it!

Next chapter coming as soon as it is finished. Until then!

#mystery kids #coraline #psychonauts #gravity falls #paranorman #the boxtrolls #wybie lovat #coraline jones #razputin aquato #lili zanotto #dipper pines #mabel pines #norman babcock #neil downe #winnie portley rind #eggs #The Audacious Tales of the Lost Cipher

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