#destruction of the self in order to reach god. if we scream loud enough god will hear us

[n1nthrule]

GUYS.

[strsburn]

destiny led me to you | loki

pairing - loki laufeyson x female reader

synopsis - driven by the heartbreak of losing your entire world by the hands of thanos, you set out to find him, leaving destruction in your path in multiple universes; thus creating a horde of branches in the timeline and catching the attention of the TVA.

but you would do it all again if it meant you could see him once more.

notes - this is hopefully going to be a series, depending on the feedback i receive, i plan to follow the episodes only slightly because i dont want it to be an exact copy of the show.

[THIS WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR LOKI SERIES]

idea credit ( @horrorisunknowntoyou ) thank you for the inspo and allowing me to run with it!

warnings - death, violence, angst, and possible smut (in later chapters?)

wc - 2.4k

MASTERLIST • AO3

"Dread it, run from it. Destiny arrives all the same." A wrinkled hand reaches for your chin, running prune colored fingers along your jawline, doting; mockingly.

Your heartbeat pulses loudly in your ears, eyes glazing over with exhaustion and pain as you attempt to glare, the notion in vain as the titan merely chuckled amusedly.

"I can see great power in you, little one. An infinity stone pulses beneath your every vein. Tell me, where is the tesseract?"

You remain silent.

"We don't have the tesseract, it was destroyed along with all of Asgard." Thor interjects weakly from where he lies, his body held tightly in the arms of the black order.

Guilt sweeps across your being as you make eye contact with Loki, sharing a single nod as you both know what you must do.

Thanos grows annoyed with your unwillingness to comply as he walks over with loud steps, his footprints visible as he raises his gauntlet up, the power stone shining threateningly close to Thor.

"The tesseract, or your brother's head. I assume you have a preference." It's not a question. Merely a statement, one that Loki knows he must prove unbothered.

"Oh, I do. Kill away." To anyone else it would seem he couldn't care less about his brother's demise, but you know your love better than he does himself and you catch the glance of fear that washes over cerulean eyes.

You can only watch in trepidation as the stone makes contact with the God's head. Agonized cries escaping as his skin is burned by the mere power of the stone.

Loki does his best to look unaffected, but you catch the hitch in his breath as he batters inner turmoil. the universe, or his brother.

"Alright, that's enough!"

Loki turns his palm up, as a familiar blue cube materializes in his hand. The eerie blue glow casting a shadow upon his face.

Thanos steps away, smug. You force yourself to look away from Thor's accusing gaze.

"You truly are the worst, brother." Thor shakes his head, eyes disappointed but not surprised.

As Thanos moves to take the stone from his hand cerulean blue eyes make contact with your own and you feel a wave of fear wash over you as you recognize the look in Loki's eyes.

"I assure you, brother. The sun will shine on us again." He does not move his gaze from your own and you can't help but feel this is an unspoken goodbye.

"Your optimism is misplaced, asgardian."

"Well, for one thing, I'm not asgardian. For another, we have a hulk."

In a blur of color you are shoved from where you lie, a slithe figure covering your own as you breathe in the familiar scent of cinnamon and leather.

"We don't have much time, my love. I just want you to know that I love you dearly, and I am grateful for the time I had with you. May I see you again, in Valhalla." His eyes are teary and you barely process his words, as his hands grab hold of your face and pull you into a kiss.

The kiss is desperate, filled with love and grief and you can only briefly kiss your love back as he steps closer to Thanos, rambling on about undying fidelity.

You catch a glimpse of silver behind his back and you gasp as realization sets in.

You move to reach him just as he leaps for Thanos, the knife poised for his head, frozen in mid air as the stones across his knuckles pulse.

"Undying fidelity, you should choose your words more wisely."

You cry out as Loki struggles in his grip, his skin fading blue. You crawl forward, legs aching as you reach for him, your progress hinged by your inability to walk.

"You will never be a god." The rasped words are followed by a snap as his neck gives out beneath Thanos' hands.

A tortured scream rings out and it takes you a second to realize it's your own. A broken sob leaves you as you crawl forward to reach where Thanos has carelessly thrown the body of your love.

You heave as your shaky fingers caress his face, his lifeless eyes staring ahead as you clutch him to your chest.

You rock back and forth knotting your fingers in his hair as you plead for the nightmare to end.

"No resurrections this time."

A portal opens and closes behind you, yet you make no motion to move.

You simply close your eyes and welcome the sweet release of death as the universe explodes around you.

N E W Y O R K 2 0 1 2

"'Coordinates for search and rescue, on my way now.' I mean honestly, how-" Loki is promptly shut up by the mouth guard that decorates his face, courtesy of his brother.

Displeasure makes an appearance as Loki is led to the elevator followed by the avengers that quickly file in. The only source of entertainment being the temper tantrum the green beast throws as he is denied entry. Loki can hardly contain his glee as he waves mockingly as the doors close.

As he is led to the ground floor his cuffed hands clinking annoyingly with every step he glances wearily around himself, dreading the lecture that is sure to come once he reaches asgard. He has no doubt in his mind that Odin will find perfect reason to throw him to the wolves, lest his mother get involved.

As he contemplates, his attention is caught by the sound of his brother calling for help, the guards holding him, attending to what he perceives to be a heart attack, to none other than the man of metal.

He watches, confused as a small stature kicks the case holding the tesseract away from view as the others tend to Stark.

Looking around bemused he watches to see what will conspire next. Before any other move can be made a shout is heard as the doors to the staircase along with the wall is torn apart, the hulk making his distaste for the tedious activity known.

For once since meeting the beast he feels thankful, as the case holding the tesseract is knocked open, the familiar cube sliding towards his foot.

A beat passes and grabbing a hold of the familiar cube he glances around, vanishing in a thin cloud of blue.

T V A U N K N O W N

Hurried footsteps echo down the corridor as the man moves with barely contained excitement. Tie swinging to and fro, a slightly wrinkled hand pulls at the collar of his neck nervously.

Mobius had seen many variants in his time at the TVA. Yet, none had ever come close to interesting as the file he currently held in one hand. Variant L1130 or Loki, as he was called, was perhaps one of the most complicated cases he had come across.

Born as a legend of mythology it was quite unbelievable to know that not only was he real, but he happened to be in their custody for creating a new branch in the timeline. Mobius could only hope Renslayer would agree to allowing him to be the God's superior.

Entering the courtroom, Mobius sits down and watches with rapt attention as Loki attempts to bargain with Ravonna. His plans are foiled as he tries to call upon his magic in a last effort to escape.

Mobius feels it's time to intervene when Renslayer makes it clear he is to be executed.

"You have no idea what I am capable of!"

"Actually I might have an idea of what he is capable of." He offers as he makes his way up to the stand.

His plea must be written across his face as Ravonna leans over to look at him directly.

"Whatever you're planning, it's a bad idea." She warns.

Nonetheless she reluctantly lets him go and Mobius has to fight off the urge to fist pump the air as he escorts Loki down the hallway.

"Oh, I'm Agent Mobius by the way." He offers a hand that is quickly ignored.

He can practically see the distrust written on Loki's face, his eyes calculating every move he makes.

Mobius is hardly surprised that as soon as he enters the room, his back turned to the God as he adjusts his projector, Loki is surging forward to attack. He doesn't even bat an eyelash as he clicks a button on his remote, resetting the God as if the action never even happened.

"C'mon, let's take a look at some of your greatest hits." Mobius waves a hand, as Loki curiously sits down, eyes trained on the projector.

He finds himself staring back at a hologram of his attack on New York. His blue eyes darting back and forth with glee as chaos erupts around him.

A feeling of something akin to shame runs down his spine as he recalls his reign of terror on the city, an illusion of preying on the weak to hide his own fear, lest he fail and succumb to Thanos and his minions.

Loki clenches his jaw, arms crossing over his form in an attempt to hide himself as he turns to avoid the screen.

"I see no point in this-"

"No, no wait, this is just getting good." Mobius grins as he points to the screen and Loki finds himself once again face to face with another variation of himself.

He briefly recalls the time he had lost a bet to Thor and had to change his form into that of a ginger haired man wearing a clean three piece suit, claiming he had a bomb and required over two hundred thousand in midgardian money just to see if he could pull it off. He did, in fact, pull it off, but his mother was not happy as well as the midgardians who failed to solve the case, naming him D.B. Cooper as they had no clue as to his real identity.

His attention is pulled to the screen as a familiar voice of silk enters the scene and he watches as his mother speaks to his future self, his eyes drawn into her face.

"Then am I not your mother?" He hears her ask. Yes, you are.

"No. You are not." Loki's eyes start to mist as he watches the look of hurt pass over his mother's features before she schools her expression into one of contempt.

"Always so perceptive, about everyone but yourself." She decides.

The screen flickers and he sees himself talking to an intruder, his voice amused as he suggests the monster to take the stairs to the left.

Then, his mother, Frigga, lying on the cold ground, a puddle of red growing rapidly beneath her body as her eyes remained closed.

His breath hitches, anger now licking up his spine. He turns sharply to Mobius who smartly remains silent.

"What is this! Some cruel joke? Where is she?! Where do you have her?"

Mobius steps forward, expression neutral as he speaks.

"She's dead Loki. This is the future, it's destined to happen, again and again because that's how it should be."

Loki falters his eyes narrowing as he spits "You're lying! I'll kill you!"

"What? Like you killed your mother."

There's a split second of silence before an angered shout is heard, a chair splitting the air as it crashes into pieces along the floor.

Before anything else can be said Mobius is summoned by Hunter B-15, his eyes falling to Loki who remains silent and he leaves with a slight tinge of guilt burrowing in his chest at the haunted look in the God's eyes.

"You think yourself so sly don't you." Loki looks up at the unfamiliar voice as the projector suddenly comes to life, a new image flicking gently on screen. His eyes catch upon your form and he watches in awe and wonder as you sit beside his future self.

"I don't think, love. I know." He grins leaning in to steal a kiss from you that leaves you both breathless.

He watches as your eyes are filled with nothing but love and adoration for him as you lean into his side.

"Loki?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

Loki tilts his head in contemplation as he looks to you, before a soft grin pulls at his lips.

"I didn't until I met you. I know that no matter who or what tries to tear us apart, we will always find a way back to each other."

A smile breaks out onto your face and Loki watches in stunned silence as the clip ends with the two of your voices fading into laughter.

"You two are meant to be together."

Loki turns as Mobius slowly comes to a stop behind him, his expression thoughtful.

"I don't enjoy hurting people you know." He responds, motioning towards the screen in reference to his attack on New York and the death of his mother.

Mobius doesn't respond, and he takes that as a sign to continue.

"I do it because I have to. Because I've had to." He looks down as he fiddles with his fingers.

Mobius hums as he replies.

"Why? Why do you think that is?"

"It's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear."

Realization lights up in Mobius' eyes as he answers back.

"A desperate play for control. You do know yourself."

"A villain." Loki sums up.

"Not the way I see it."

There's a mutual silence between them before Mobius sighs.

"Look I can't offer you salvation but I can offer you something better. A fugitive variant has been killing our minutemen."

"And let me guess, you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him."

"That's right."

"How could I possibly be of use to you?"

"That's the thing. The variant we are hunting, we believe is y/n." Mobius looks towards the projector where your image is still.

"I beg your pardon?"

U N K N O W N

Mutilated bodies line the floor as a hooded figure steps over them, eyes glowing an unnatural hue.

"Is it finished?"

"Yes."

A wicked laugh fills the empty space as a portal opens in the deserted land, a set of footsteps following through.

"I'm coming for you, my love."

[jessicajonesrp]

Public warning

Patricia Walker does not do well with lack of control. It’s a tendency passed down from life with Dorothy Walker, easily the most controlling non super-powered person she had ever met. For the first eighteen years of her life, most of Trish’s actions, from her clothes to her work to her every public word and expression, had been chosen for her by Dorothy, and the only real choice she had for herself was whether to give in and make life easier for herself or rebel and suffer Dorothy’s wrath.

 Her desire for the control she had lacked had left her with severe insecurity, eating disorders, and self medication through drugs, all issues she struggled with for a good ten years before channeling her need for control into efforts at bettering herself and helping others. She had finally reached a place where life was stable, heading in a direction Trish could be content with, if not fully satisfied.

 And then Kilgrave happened. First to Jessica only, without Trish having any idea why her best friend had suddenly vanished without contact for eight months, and then with the shattered mess it left her once Trish did know and struggled to support her. Then to Trish herself, when she, against Jessica’s orders and even pleas, involved herself in trying to draw him out and capture him.

 Trish knew she had not suffered anywhere near the level that her sister had from Kilgrave, but it was still enough to make her feel sick and cold when she remembered. She still occasionally had nightmares of his cold, snapping voice, telling her to shoot herself in the head, telling her to kill people she had never met before out on the docks. She still shivered in disgust when she remembered the feeling of his hands on her face, his lips on her skin, the terrible ambivalence of wanting to kiss him, enjoying it, even as every part of her true self screamed out in horror. And she could never forget Simpson’s hands around her throat, choking her nearly to the point of death at Kilgrave’s command.

 She had hated and feared the man from the first moment Jessica managed to stutter out what he had done to her. No, she had hated him before then, when she first saw the unnaturally shocked, broken state of her sister when she finally broke free from his initial control. Anyone who could hurt Jessica so deeply and so permanently earned her hatred without needing to know their identity.

 And now he was back. Again. As much as Trish feared for herself, for being used or even killed in his obsessive pursuit of Jessica, she feared even more that Kilgrave would damage Jessica even more deeply, that he would continue to pile up dead and damaged bodies around himself and place the blame at her feet. Jessica didn’t need this, not again. And if Trish could do anything to help or stop it, it would help her feel just a little bit more of a sense of the control she knew she didn’t really have.

 She made her way to her recording studio after first sending some of Heroes for Hires guards ahead of her to thoroughly check out the studio for any signs of danger from Kilgrave or any of his like, giving them a code phrase to use to insure that they would be able to alert her if he did show up and control them or others.  Trish had already called ahead to insure that all people were thoroughly searched for any possible weapons and passed at least twice through the metal detectors already installed before being allowed entrance. After receiving the all clear, she went, Jessica insisting on accompanying her, via one of Danny’s cars to the studio, passing through the checks put in place and heading straight to her recording studio and instructing the techs to set up for a live broadcast. She was aware of Jessica skulking behind her, hands shoved in her pockets, as Trish rapidly read from the speech she had just finished churning out.

 “Good afternoon New York City and beyond, this is Trish Walker with an urgent report coming to you from Trish Talk, by way of myself and all our associates at Heroes for Hire. Soon, a follow up broadcast will be coming your way via Channel 5 News with more information, but please, listen very carefully to this announcement for your safety and those of your loved ones.”

 Trish paused, swallowing, and snuck a glance back at Jessica’s impassive expression before facing the mic again and continuing. “Most of you may remember the terrible events of last summer, when the man whom called himself Kilgrave provided mass terror and destruction in our city and in far too many of our own lives and homes. It is to my great sorrow that I inform you that Kilgrave is not, as was believed, deceased. Kilgrave has made personal contact with myself and with-“

 Jessica made violent throat slashing motions behind her that Trish saw out the corner of her eye, and Trish edited her intended words smoothly.

 “With myself and my colleagues, and we have evidence to support that this is no hoax. Please be aware of yourself and those you love at all times. Know their whereabouts, establish coded phrases and patterns of behavior in order to test out the level of control the people in your life may have at any given moment. Kilgrave is a white male with a British accent, last known to have short medium brown hair and brown eyes. He tends to dress in a professional manner, especially in dark purple suits and ties, and he is considered a threat of the level of nuclear war. Do not approach him should you see him; instead do all you can to get away and call in our hotline at Trish Talk or Heroes for Hire to report a possible sighting. If you suspect that someone you know may be controlled, treat them in the same manner, do all you can to subdue them without causing permanent harm to them if necessary. Kilgrave’s powers last up to 12 hours, so do not under any circumstances try to reason with anyone you suspect to be controlled. If at all possible, wear ear plugs or head phones or listen to loud music when necessary to go out in public. Kilgrave cannot gain control of those whom are not within his direct path and whom cannot hear his commands. He-“

 “Stop,” a voice suddenly came over the ear, and both Trish and Jessica jumped, recognizing the voice after a moment as not Kilgrave’s, but female and American. Trish quickly identified the voice a second later as belonging to one of her tech support assistants, Chloe Ash. “The information is over.”

 “What the fuck?” Jessica hissed, shooting Chloe a vicious glower and striding towards her quickly. “Will you shut up, even I know to shut the hell up on a live recording, over something this damn important!”

 Trish tried to recover, giving a somewhat forced chuckle and speaking over them. “I apologize, there are some technical difficulties, but if you’ll bear with me I will make sure you all get the information you need. As I was saying, Kilgrave cannot-"

 “This information is too much, this recording is over,” Chloe repeated, more loudly and forcefully, standing up and taking the headphones off of her ears. She fairly shouted out her next few words, speaking loudly enough that Trish’s words were drowned out.

 “Loyal listeners, you will now hear the sound of a suicide by Chloe Ash, Patsy Walker’s employee. More are to follow in the names and as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones. Goodbye, loyal listeners, and know that Kilgrave is a patient man.”

 She head butted Jessica in the face when Jessica grabbed for her arm, ducking under her and weaving to the other side of Trish. As Trish leaped up, expecting Chloe to grab or try to harm her, the young woman instead ran to a small cabinet against the walls containing little more than sound equipment and various office supplies. Throwing it open, she grabbed a pair of scissors from its contents, opened the blades wide, and closed them around the front of her throat.

 She made no sound, showed no pain as she dragged the scissor blades more deeply into her skin, sawing back and forth to make as rough and deep a wound as possible. The live recording now picked up the sound of Trish’s horrified scream, her outcries of “Oh god, no, no!” as blood spattered in a wide arc just short of reaching her, and the noisy scuttle of multiple feet moving towards Chloe as others tried to reach her before it was too late.

 Jessica got to her first and wrenched the scissors out of her hand, breaking them in half and throwing them down so Chloe could not get them and use them any further. Tearing off her oversized sweatshirt, she pressed it against the woman’s throat, grimly noting how the blood immediately stained through its thick material and onto her fingers, how it had sprayed hot and thick over her arms and chest before she could touch her at all. The woman didn’t try to speak, likely couldn’t have, but she was losing all color in her face, her eyes already growing glassy and lifeless, and as Trish sputtered and tried not to vomit or pass out in the background, Jessica held onto the almost useless bloodied sweater, as though she could somehow keep the woman alive just by holding on tight enough.

 It didn’t matter. Within another minute the woman was clearly dead, limp and unmoving under Jessica’s hands, and she could hear the shrill noise of sirens in the background. Jessica let her drop to the ground, stumbling back and nearly yelling out loud when she bumped into Trish and felt her hands latch onto her arm.

 “We have to go, now,” she mumbled, giving her sister’s arm a rough tug.” Before someone else of his comes through in the aftermath.”

 Even as she lead Trish out of the room and building, she could still hear the dying woman’s words echo in her mind. More are to follow, as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones…

[jessiebanethedragon]

Sweet Coffee

WARNING: Content is about suicide and loss of loved ones, also swearing. 

Isn't it lovely? Being here alone, in the dark? Doesn't the fresh air make you feel alive? I used to come here with you, in the middle of the winter when the owners had left to retreat to  somewhere warmer. If you knew where to turn, you could find the property and the side of the hill that it sits on.  If you knew where to look you could find a place that looks over the whole city.

 It smells like our life together, and for a brief moment it seems so real I could look over to the driver's seat and see you. But then the wind picks up and the smell of soft sweaters, lavender and fresh herbs is taken from me. It tastes like iced coffees, the only thing worth ordering from the drive through we always hit before coming here. And the freedom it brings is so real I can reach out and touch it. 

Sitting in a small car and staring into the depths of a city that didn't care about us was so satisfying. Like we could see all the lives that were milling about unknowing we watched over the tops of their heads in our secret special place. It's not the same without you. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye. I want to say thank you.” Was what the letter said. “I want you all to know that without everyone in my life I would’ve been dead long before this moment.” it was as eloquently written as you were spoken. All the right words in the right places to tell us what we had to hear. And I can't help but think how bad a job I would have done if it had been me writing it. Like an automated response generator, repeating the same things I'd been  told over and over. 

“Call the helpline. Dial 911 if it is a life threatening emergency. Ask a trusted person to hide away your pills so you’re not tempted by them.” All the words people told  us in order to make use of someone else's problem. “Don't call me. Call the authorities.” Don’t ask the doctors to find medications that help, just hide the ones that should be working so you don’t overdose before they can adjust you to the correct dosage. Yes, I do know that my final message would've been much more angry than yours.  

I can't remember the exact words, I ripped the thing to shreds the second I was out of sight when we got back from the hospital. No one could know I had planned my own downfall just days before your own. The guilt I feel for being so self absorbed in my own demise that I didn't notice the signs is immense, even though you specifically said not to feel at fault. Our last night together is burned into my memory. But after all, everyone around us was taught to recognize destructive behavior, our families were trained to know when we went over the edge. You and I were never given that luxury. 

“Coffee.” was all the text said at 7:34 that night. I  know because I checked the time stamp, as if I could recreate every element of the last time I saw you. It wasn't a question, it never had to be. When did either of us say no to a drive around the city at night with an iced coffee and what felt like not a care in the world? If I had known what that night meant for you, maybe I would have said no. Maybe I would have taken away your ability to say goodbye to me because I wasn't extended the same courtesy. 

“If you had to do it all again, would you?” you asked when we had settled into our spot. We didn't talk while driving, looking out the window was too much fun for conversation. But after we had parked on the edge of the hill on February the tenth, at what I guess was about ten to eight in the evening, the conversation started to pour out of us. Words spurting out, as emotional and as spirodic as a bullet wound. 

“Probably not.” I admitted, sipping the iced coffee that was just sweet enough for such a cold night. 

“I would.” you said staring at the train that was passing in the distance. “I would change everything. I’d work with every intention on changing who I've turned out to be.”Then it went quiet. 

“I think i'm hardwired this way.” I whispered. “I think even if I did it all over. I’d still end up where I am.” Brown eyes met mine before turning back to the scenery. “I think whatever created me, the universe, god, whatever it was,” I paused, releasing the implication of what was saying, a breath, a beat went by before I continued. Knowing that whatever I said, you’d still be there after. “I think whatever designed my DNA chiseled in that I wasn't meant to be happy. If my life is ended ‘prematurely’.”  I added bouncing finger air quotes. “It's only that way because that's what fate wanted.” 

“Fuck fate then.” You replied. And we both shared a chuckle as I leaned my head on the rest behind me, closing my eyes with a smile. 

“Yeah, fuck fate.” 

It takes one beer to get me buzzed, it’s enough to feel calm but not enough to make me loopy, so I can keep my indulgences to myself.  I like to think  you’d approve, me having a beer before your funeral. It’s rebellious, and it tastes bitter with that little fizz. Just like you. 

As a person who only ever wears black, I can say that the colour didn't seem comforting today. My mother squeezes my shoulder, pushing me forward into the church. It angers me,  you weren't religious, you were baptized as a courtesy to your grandparents. You would not want to be buried here. If I had my way I'd take your ashes and spread them across the world. Leaving a part of you in the depths of each corner of the planet. A representation of how ingrained you were into my world. But that's selfish. And I was raised not to be selfish. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”  People say as I pass them, pulling me into their arms, touching my hair, arms, face and anywhere else they think is appropriate. When in fact every touch makes me want to scream and every time someone says “I can't imagine what you’re going through.” I can't help but agree.

Everyone else fades away when I see  your mother. The likeness so obvious now, it's like a punch to the gut. The times we spent together flash before my eyes, driving with the music too loud, her making us the special breakfast that's only allowed on sleepover days. And I can tell she feels the same because when our eyes meet she stops talking. I know I am the last living embodiment of her daughter, and the similarities between us are clearer now than ever. 

I throw myself into her arms because she's the only one who makes me feel whole again. 

“It should've been me.” I whisper to her, my head and mind buried into  her shoulder, hiding my emotions. “It should've been me, I deserved it, I should have been me.” I repeat it over and over again, my mantra breathed aloud as if it's the last thing i'll ever say. 

“Oh honey” she cries, brushing my hair soothingly.  “It shouldn't have been either of you.”

“I-I-I” I sob out, forgetting how many people can see me meltdown  “Feel, I feel, so, so, g-g-ultiy.” I feel someone's arm around me, I can tell from the smell it is my dad, he always wears the same cologne. He's gently leading me outside into the fresh air. The wind is making me chilly, enhancing the feeling of emptiness inside me. 

“I found your note.” he whispers, somehow we find a bench, one that overlooks the entire cemetery. I look at him, and his eyes give away how I look. Red eyes, mascara in streams down my face, covered by foundation. I look like a doll, ceramic perfection, save for the giveaway of black streaks and puffy eyes. 

“I ripped it up.”  I stutter out. As if that is an excuse, what I really want to say is ‘don't be mad dad, I threw it away, so that means I’m fine now, right?’

“I know, I found the pieces. I just” he pauses,  he’s always so concrete with his words. Now is no different. “I wanted to say how proud I am of you, for having the strength to do that, for sticking around.” 

“I can't promise anything.” I say, my family knows all too well how often my strength fails. 

“You don't need to.” He murmurs with soft eyes. “I can't explain how much I love you, and I can't explain what it's like seeing you in pain. I can see you burning up like a supernova before it collapses. And everytime you choose to stay you amaze me, and you just lost the person who was most important to you. People who have been through less have taken things much worse than you are.” He takes a breath, “I knew this guy at school, we were like 23 at the time. Partying, skipping classes, the usual. His dad passed away during the second semester. Heart attack.” I notice the tears in his eyes, welling up steadily as the memory becomes more and more clear. 

“That's so sad” I say to fill the silence.

“Gets worse. My buddy, he took his own life after the event. Just couldn't cope, never got his degree, never graduated. His girlfriend was a mess for so long, his mum even more so.” he wipes away the wetness with a sniff. 

“Dad, I'm so sorry.'' I say with my whole heart. 

“What I mean is, you always stay because you ignore your pain for fear of hurting others. And that makes me so damn proud of you.” I lean into him for a hug, and I wonder why he's kept that story hidden for so long. I don't question it, we all have our secrets after all. But this moment, right here on an old bench with my dad. This, I will treasure. 

The rest of the funeral was largely uneventful. Everyone had stories to share. Many tissues were used and even more hugs ensued. My best friend's life is recounted in the space of a few hours. Every memorable detail shared to the fullest extent, and then she is laid to rest in the ground, surrounded by people she didn't know. The only thing that isn't present is her letter. It’s mentioned, but not read. There are words and phrases that I recognize. “Don’t lose yourself  to my loss”  or  “ I give myself to the earth, the wind and the heavens, because there is no pain in the deepest of forests and the warmest of oceans.” But at the end of the letter, the gut-wrenching final goodbye is left out. Not that it matters, no one needed to hear those words, except maybe me. On the car ride home I close my eyes and picture the papers in my head. Page after page of apologies, memories, and everything in between. 

“To my best friend, sister and lifeline,” I could hear your voice as my eyes drifted across the paper. “You will feel the most guilty, I know this. But I need you to push those feelings away, there is not anything you should have or could have done. I know it is going to be hard, maybe impossible even. And I write this for you because I know as I jot down my farewell, you’re in your bed, underneath a pile of blankets whispering over and over, ‘Death is permanent, this feeling isn't.’ I know this may be a mistake, and I know you’re depressed, anxious and obsessive. But you need to stop apologizing to everyone for being that way. I mean, it's hardwired into you right? Or at least I know that's what you think. But even those who are made to be a certain way, it doesn't stop them from living the best they can. Don’t follow me, don't give up your life for one person. If you don't want to stick around for them, stick around for me. Because you’re going to have to live for two from now on. I know it’s shitty to put that burden on you, but I know you need it. Living wasn't your plan, living for two people was even supposed to happen. But fuck fate right?” 

[intern-seraph]

Not One, But Three [Part 1]

yeah, i just said “screw it” and decided to post this. the next part will pick up at the start of the orders arc and continue from there.

@tyrias-library​

Alfswen is born with violence engraved in her soul and voices in her head.

CW: Violence, murder death, thoughts of self-harm, and mentions of throwing up.

—

From the moment she emerges from her pod, her body is not hers. She is not one, but two. Alfswen and King Jalis. Her Dream was filled with visions of a bygone era, an era before the Depths of Tyria were overrun by the Destroyers, an era before Orr was dragged back up from the sea, an era before the Pale Tree, before the human gods left the world, before Cantha closed itself off from the world, before the dwarves were turned to stone guardians and nearly wiped out by Primordius. Her body is host to a remnant of this time.

She bursts from her pod kicking and screaming, still fighting shadows of dragons and clawing at the ground as her head feels ready to tear apart at the seams. Unfamiliar hands and unfamiliar voices grab hold of her limbs, her body, her mind and drag her to a spring to wash away the fear and rage that still consume her. There are whispers around her, whispers that speak of nightmares and hunts and corruption, but all she can do is fall back into slumber. Now, it is black. Dreamless.

Set loose upon Caledon Forest, Alfswen turns her fury against suitable targets. Her swords and hammers and maces and axes hunt down the corruption of Nightmare and rend both bark and flesh alike. Her every motion is guided by stone hands and a higher purpose. The Pale Tree says that her destiny is intertwined with that of dragons and death. She accepts this fate. It justifies her unending anger (almost).

She is fire and rage and finds it too easy to fall into the role of Nightmare Courtier or bandit or murderer (Because she has killed before and will kill again and again even if it means her honeysuckle skin forever glistens with blood and sap.).

—

She is not one, but three. Another voice joins her crowded mind to temper her steel and soften her hide. When Tiachren begs her to help save Ysvelta from herself, a gentle hand presses between her shoulder blades and coaxes her to go with him.

“Never leave a wrong to ripen into evil or sorrow,” Ventari whispers in her ear.

The evil festering in Ysvelta cannot be stymied. Alfswen’s hammer crushes it before it spreads.

—

She learns not to speak of the voices in her head or the phantom touches on her skin. People talk, you see, and word spreads easily in the Grove. Even with her blindfold on, she senses the stares on her back. The Valiant who hears voices, who seems to almost revel in her kills, who never smiles.

Still, she tries to maintain some semblance of normality. She dutifully works the forge in her free time, Jalis’s stern-yet-gentle instructions teaching her to craft intricate pieces of jewelry and sets of armor strong enough to be worthy of even his people.

“Before the Transformation, we were smiths. Our craftsmanship was unrivaled amongst the races of Tyria,” he explains one day as she crouches before the hearth.

“Do you think I can live up to such a legacy?” she asks. Her Veil Piercer reflects embers capable of eating through her flesh in seconds. Some morbid little part of her wonders what it would feel like to die, to reach her hand into the flames and melt into the mold with her silver. Hands that have only known destruction would now cause her own. A sick sort of penance for her violence. She shudders at the thought.

Jalis grunts out a soft affirmation. She pictures him crouching beside her, cold and gray in form but still warm with distant affection. “You are being taught by the best of the best, Alfswen.” He chortles. It sounds like an earthquake, like rocks tumbling down all around her. “The youngest of the races learning the craft of one of the oldest! It’s good to have an attentive student, too.”

She chances a tiny smile. Her fingers drift to the blindfold pushed up her forehead. “We really do make a good team.”

—

When she arrives in Queensdale, Alfswen decides to make good on a promise. The humans watch her with wary eyes as she sprints through open fields, tumbling and cartwheeling as she goes. She doesn’t care, though. She feels the kind of breathless joy that comes with absolute freedom and her heart soars as phantom hands take her own and pull her along to gallop into the tall, tall grass.

“You’re smiling,” Ventari notes. “I don’t think I’ve seen that before.”

She spins on her heel and falls back onto the ground, arms spread eagle. One hand rises up to cover her grin. “I suppose I have been smiling more lately.” Months ago, she didn’t think she could.

—

Her blood boils with unmitigated rage when she learns the true circumstances of Riannoc’s death. Even the spirits sharing her body can’t stop her as she cuts down foe after foe in the claustrophobic arena. The moment that she locks eyes with Waine, her mind fogs and all she can process is hatred, deep, seething hatred. Their battle begins as a barely-restrained dance of blades, but quickly turns into something more savage.

If he is determined to possess Caladbolg for the rest of his life, she will gladly grant this wish.

Her sword leaves deep gouges in his flesh, rips chunks of armor away, leaves him stumbling and struggling to maintain his footing. She forces him to the ground, planting a foot on his chest to keep him down. The crowd roars. She brings down her axe. The sound of bone splintering as it gives way to steel rings loud and deafening in her ears. She wrenches her axe free. Silence washes over the spectators. All she can hear is a faint buzz in the back of her mind and her own labored breaths. Slowly, robotically, she reaches down and pries Caladbolg from the dead man’s hands. She straightens her back and raises it to the sky, staring up at the point where the blade meets the sun.

The cheering and hollering nearly knocks her over. She hears someone call her name over and over, but she can’t bring herself to respond. Hands take her by the shoulders and force her to walk away from the corpse. A voice congratulates her. She nods, numb and trembling with adrenaline.

That night, she spends hours bent at the waist, shaking and crying and dry-heaving into a bucket. Jalis and Ventari remain silent.

—

“When I first awoke,” Alfswen says, stirring her porridge, “I already had a Wyld Hunt.”

“A Wyld Hunt?” Jalis repeats.

“A calling. A destiny. Everything I do… it’s to prepare for the ultimate goal.” She drops her spoon to bury her face in her palms and laugh. She knows how empty her voice sounds. “I’m meant to slay an Elder Dragon.” She laughs again, pitch rising and tone taking on something bordering hysteric. “Isn’t that fitting? A monster has to kill a monster.”

Silence echoes in her head. She stares down at her meager breakfast, waiting for someone, anyone, to say something.

“You are not a monster,” Ventari whispers. “You just need to learn restraint. Writing yourself off so early in life as a ‘monster’ will only shape you into one. Never leave a wrong —”

“— to ripen into evil or sorrow,” she finishes. “But what if it’s too late for me?”

[lacklusterswirl]

Montagne’s Protection

Montagne woke up in a cell with his hands and feet bound. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse... well, they do.

aka Angst for a friend on their request :) (~2.9k words)

Warnings: Hostage, child injuries, injuries, death, waterboarding, gun fights/gun violence, mission gone wrong.

“Montagne!” Twitch’s scream echoed across an empty field all the way to Glaz’s ear.

Through his scope, he watched in horror as they dragged the unconscious man to a truck. He shot at a few of the men, killing them instantly, but he couldn’t keep up with the sheer number of them.

“Glaz! Track the truck!” Thatcher’s orders came through and Glaz quickly locked in the bullet, aiming for his own teammate.

Breathe in. Hold fire. Breathe out. Between heartbeats just like he practiced.

A heavy voice came through, “I have a signal.” He has never felt so pleased to hear Thermite’s voice as he was in that moment.      

.

His eyes opened without him knowing. It was hard to tell when he was awake or asleep when everything was dark. Slowly, his eyes got used to the darkness, and he could make out bars in front of him. With a grunt, he got himself up onto his elbows. He couldn’t help but groan at the pain in his chest as he turned to the side. He didn’t remember much, other than the pain of the impact from getting thrown to the side after a C4 was tossed at them. His shield… Le Roc was missing. He flexed his hands and relaxed a little at the feeling of armoured pads on himself.

“Merde.”

But then he saw his helmet tossed on the ground with his balaclava beside it… so they knew his face. This would prove problematic then. There were two parts to secrecy for him, one, his face, the other, his name. And his dog tags were gone too.

He stayed lying on that cold, concrete floor in that half-awake state, wondering if he could even move properly. All around him, and even in his own mind, he could see darkness, and the tendrils reaching out and grasping onto his arms. Perhaps if he stayed even more still, they would pass him, and he would wake up to his friends smiling down at him.

That’s not what happened.

Instead, he woke up next with chains around his arms and feet, and realized that he was no longer on the floor. He laid there, spread out, and defenseless against those white masks and their cruel eyes.

“Giles “Montagne” Touré. I see why they call you mountain now.”

The man who was speaking was wearing a mask with the word ‘muse’ painted on it in red, dripping down the mask like blood. God he just hoped it wasn’t his blood. Muse nodded his head, and a table of tools was brought out for him to look at. There were whips, car batteries, and an array of differently-sized knives – each with their own purpose he’s sure.

“Putain,” he growled, tugging on his chains. Nothing moved, as he should’ve seen coming.

Muse stalked his way from where Montagne’s feet were, all the way so he was right above his head. “You special force guys are all the same. You glare until you close your eyes, and then you all die without saying anything. Boring. But what is fun, is seeing what exactly you’re scared of.”

There was a hissing noise, and the white masks all leave. A light, sweet scent came in and soon, all Montagne could see were the flowery fields he played soccer on as a young boy. He can feel the petals on his fingertips as he bent down to pick one for his mother.

Maman… pour toi…

A cold splash on his face, and he wakes up and realizes that he’s being held at an angle. And he knows what coming next.

“How did you find us? Who did Rainbow have on the inside?”

Montagne held his tongue and breathed. The water that came over his face felt like it was going to fill him up completely, going in through his nose so he coughs, but then get more water through his mouth as he does so.

And it’s a pattern. Right as he’s about to pass out, it stops. A question gets asked again, and he gives that same glare. Then the water starts again. He didn’t know how long it had been, but when it finally stopped, he was left passed out on the floor, in a puddle of the water that remained.

If only he were laying face down.

The next thing he hears is the crying voice of a young girl. When… wh—it dawned on him. This wasn’t a dream. He woke up to see the silhouette of a young girl sitting in the opposite corner of him. When he stirred, she screamed, causing the thundering of feet to come down the stairs.

It wasn’t Muse this time. It was his little henchmen who were too afraid to approach Montagne when he was awake, and had apparently went on their own little trip just now.

“I told you we should’ve taken the boy. He was much older. He wouldn’t be causing such a shit storm at night. We’ll be found out if this keeps happening.”

“Shut up, you know that girls sell for more. We need the money.”

“Fuck man, not worth if we… HEY!”

Montagne had half crawled, and half stumbled his way over to where the girl was cowering from him.

“Shhhh, mon chérie… restes ici. Tu peux dormis maintenant. Je te protège.” And she calmed down to a sniffle when she realized that this giant man wasn’t here to hurt her. He pet her hair and whispered as he saw out of the corner of his eye, what the terrorists were grabbing. He barely had time to mentally prepare himself for—

THONK

—that. It didn’t hurt that much through all the armour he wore, but it still made him collapse back on to the ground. The metal bat clattered to the ground and the other terrorist started scolding the first for causing the girl to cry again.

“As long as he’s not causing us trouble. Two birds, one stone.”

“Alright,” a little wad of spit landed next to Montagne, “just know that if you do anything wrong… well, the people who buy from us don’t mind a few… beauty marks’”

Montagne gritted his teeth, but stayed still. Once the footsteps faded again, he pulled away and started treating her for injuries. They were mainly a few scratches here and there, but otherwise, she was alright. She spoke neither English nor French so he just hummed when he wanted her to sleep.

Perhaps getting to know the girl was the wrong choice. Well, not perhaps. It seems to be that it WAS the wrong choice. Every time he fought back, nearly escaped, or broke free, she would be held at gun or knife point, and he had to give up his fight for her. He took punches, shielded her with his own body when they threw things at her, and just kept up the hope that his team would come back for him.

.

“Location confirmed.” Twitch was typing on a laptop as they were on their way to the location where they had finally located them. The pings from the tracker led them all over the world until they realized that Montagne didn’t have his shield anymore. From the cell the got the information from they formed a mixed-team op, with support from JTF 2 since the actual location was near an abandoned cottage near Lake Simcoe. Twitch just got confirmation from local law enforcement, and here they were.

Ciel was frowning while re-reading mission details with a cold intensity in his eyes that was so off putting, that it made Twitch keep quiet again. Tap tap… tap tap… The tap tap that was staring again was from Rook this time as he kept looking between Lion and Doc. Even Pulse was looking down at his feet instead of making jokes like normal. The sixth Rainbow op sat with his sniper ready, and a wave of guilt coming off of him that was so strong that he couldn’t look anyone in the eye.

Even if he wasn’t Rainbow, Ciel was team leader of this group. And it was time for him to say something.

“Tell me about this man. Why does he mean so much to you all?”

.

“You let her go, putain, and I will consider putting a bullet only in your head when I get free.”

The girl’s right arm was trapped in a grip so tight, that Montagne could see purple edges starting to form. She was fighting against it, but it was no use.

“Our first client has asked about her,” came the snide reply.

Then, they turned back and walked upstairs, ignoring the rattling sound as it felt like Montagne was shaking the very prison itself.

“Merde,” he muttered, but now was not the time. A glint caught his eye in the dim room. The keys were on a table instead of on the wall like normal. They were out of arms reach when he stretched it out though. What to do, what to do… He still had his armour plates. He fashioned a rope-like object that he then managed to slide the entire table over to him, weakened muscles straining the entire time.

With a hope in his heart he hasn’t felt in what must’ve been days, he unlocked his door and slowly crept out. There were no weapons on the table, but no matter. He made his way up the stairs and heard footsteps immediately to his right. He plastered himself up against the wall and watched as the shadow crept up, more and more. Only one… perfect.

He wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and snapped it, quickly moving the body into the bushes. The bastard only had a knife and pistol on him though. No matter, he heard cries coming from the little girl upstairs, and he followed them through the hallways until he ended up beside the room. With his ear to the wall, he started listening in on their conversation.

“They did what?!” An unknown voice boomed loud enough that Montagne didn’t actually need to be near the wall to hear their conversation.

“We’ve started a self-destruct code because this facility has been found by JTF 2—”

“How?”

“Sir, we need to you follow us. We can guarantee your safety and anonymity, but we need to leave before the building collapses.”

“And her?”

“We’ll take her too. You’ll get your money’s worth.”

The building rumbled, and the footsteps inside quickened their pace, matching his heartbeat as he stood by the door, knife in one hand, and a pistol in the other. The first man rushed out, and received a knife to the chest. He was dead before Montagne even revealed himself. He reached out for the dead man’s chest and used him as a shield while he pushed forward and shot the last two men down. The girl was back near the door, trembling, but alive. She looked Montagne in the eye, and even though he was covered in hot blood that was quickly cooling down and creating a sticky coat over his body, she hugged him.

“Come here.”

“我们去哪里啊?” Oh, how he wished he could learn another language…

“Je comprend pas…” he carefully carried her, making sure not to squeeze the bruises on her skin.

The shaking got stronger to the point where Montagne couldn’t walk properly.

Then, the ceiling fell.

Montagne curled his body around hers and knelt right there.

.

“What do you mean it collapsed?”

Their vehicles were moving still, despite needing to travel over the heavy layers of snow. Of all the times Glaz has met the Canadian Special Forces officer, this is the angriest he’s seen him.

“Get me a new line, and more back up, we’re taking the jets when we get to Checkpoint B.”

At the mention of jets, all JTF 2 ops stood up and gathered their equipment. Ciel turned and nodded at Doc.

“You’re with me, doctor. Rest of you, pair up and follow my guys. The situation’s… bad. The building has collapsed, and we can’t find your friend. Cham, take Pulse with you, Draco, take the sniper. We’re in the lead. Rest of you follow when you can.”

The JTF 2 ops got out of the stopped truck, which was slowing down more and more due to the prolonged snowfall, and ran over to snowmobiles. Ciel, with Doc holding onto him, raced off, far outpacing the rest of the ops. If the situation was less tense, he’s sure Doc would be terrified, but as they whizzed past all the others, Glaze could only see a glare on the doctor’s face.

He was third out of Rainbow to arrive on scene. Doc and Pulse were already scanning the area while the JTF 2 ops could be heard in the background, firing at remaining terrorist forces.

“Sniper, find a position. Help your friends,” his JTF 2 partner said before making the call to join up with Ciel and the other man. Glaz did so and moved to higher ground so he could use his scope to help him find his teammate.

Breathe in. Hold fire. Breathe out. Keep looking just like he was told to do.

Just as he saw the bright yellow outline, Pulse shouted, “DOC!” The rest of Rainbow, including the machinery and JTF 2 ops returned arrived on scene, and everyone reconvened where the Canadians were performing an extraction, with a worried Rook part of the team, giving advice where he could.

“Ciel…” Glaz murmured… The last time he felt so… so much… it was that cold gaze that was there to help him. This time was no different. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and a presence that has always said more than his words.

“I heard about what happened the night of. You did your best, but those forces were too much. Good job getting a tracker on at all actually.” It wasn’t helping. “Keep watch if needed.” If you don’t want to see for yourself. That’s what he really meant. And Glaz was tempted to take the offer.

With one last heave, the extraction team managed to get a large enough hole to shine a light down. Immediately, a small whimper came out, and a word that tugged on the edges of Glaz’s memory.

“救命啊!”

Ciel was first to launch into action, and despite Glaz’s guilt over what was happening, he understood the voice. The two of them watched as Doc reached his arms down the hole and came back up with a young girl. She was bloodied, eye-half lidded, and an arm and a leg were sticking up at angles that shouldn’t have been possible. The tears on her cheeks were caught in the light of their flashlights, and she strained away from everyone, including Doc, who was doing his best to carry her away.

“你没事吧？?” the Rainbow ops all looked over at Ciel who now had the girl’s full attention.

“叔叔还在下门.”

“Ciel?” Doc was waiting on a response.

“Uncle’s still down there,” he murmured, helping Doc place her onto a stretcher. To the girl, he whispered something, and gave Glaz a look.

“你好,” Glaz said, speaking a language he remembers learning a few years ago.

Ciel gave him a nod and Glaz followed as the girl was led off.

Doc, Pulse, and a few more JTF 2 ops were still trying to look into the hole. Glaz and the girl watched from the back near the jets until Doc broke down. He was on his knees and frozen still.

“Get her away, Glaz” Rook had taken a step back, and gave the duo a look, and Glaz just knew who this ‘uncle’ was.

But it was Twitch who gave it away, who was now sobbing into the arms of Lion. Even the arrogant, haughty Lion looked shaken by the view.

Glaz didn’t see anymore that night, but when they debriefed the next day with JTF 2, he saw it all. Rock smashed into the skull, bits of brain mixed in with the helmet on the floor, metal pipes speared through the body, even with the armour, and a shape any of them could easily recognize. A fetal position with his arms wrapped around something… or someone. The gun and knife found on him didn’t belong to him, but the marks on his wrists showed that he was indeed a prisoner. So, they pieced together the story from the pictures and the testimony of the little girl.

Montagne was already in a cell when the girl got there. He protected her, and helped her. When the ‘bad men’ took her away to another man, he came up and killed them all. Then, on their way to the door, the building collapsed. That was all the girl managed to get out before shock took over adrenaline, and she entered a surgical room, never to be seen by Glaz again.

It was the long way of saying that Montagne was dead. And no one could help him in his final hours.

.

Montagne felt the first pieces of rubble hit him, and then an immediate pain in his right shoulder. He curled tighter around the girl and looked up just in time to see a slab of the ceiling fall down on them.

I hope I did enough.

[lokis-lady-death]

The King of Gods Pt 7

Tom Hiddleston/Loki x reader

Lady Death: This is a sequal to the Interview with a God series I completed a few months ago. This picks up months after the original story ends. If you haven’t read IWAG, HERE is a quicklink to Part 1 or you can find it on my Master List !

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

The King of Gods Part 7

The night life of the city was one of the main reasons you lived here. Neon lights lit the windows of night clubs and bars down the popping Main Street, beckoning to the hip crowd to come party there. Poison was just one of the many places tailored to the party goers, but it’s main distinctive factor? That it was considered low key, supposedly only known to people who were able to be fortunate enough to hear about it by word-of-mouth.

The truth? Everyone and their mother knew it existed.

The main entrance to the night club was originally a side entrance, left unmarked and unspectacular, normally only accessed by the staff. However, it became just the hole-in-the-wall millennials appreciated. The only marker of the entrance was the large set of metal doors with two large bouncers .

As the car pulled into the parking lot, you could already make out the mile long line of people waiting to get into Poison to see the newest rock sensation. “This was a bad idea,” you croaked, getting cold feet. “I should’ve stayed home.”

“Nonsense, you need out of your apartment and this band is gonna be awesome!”

“Who exactly are we here to see, anyway?”

“Mount-N-Do-Me.”

Your eyes narrowed, sure she was joking. “No way.”

Her shoulders shrugged while all she offered was, “You know these bands never keep their startup names. Eventually a manger will scoop them up and fix it, I’m sure they came up with it when they were twelve. Anyway, they’re not what tonight’s about!”

Carmen turned in her seat to look at you while she started, “We gotta find you someone to make you forget pendejo.” She shot you what was meant to be a reassuring wink but it did little to soothe your nerves.

After finally finding a suitable parking spot, Sue fussed with her hair in the mirror as Carmen dug around in her bag. “Here,” she ordered, reaching back to hand you four vials of lime green liquid. She passed another one to Sue and held onto another. “A toast to y/n!”

“Why do I have so many?”

“Because this is your salvation, y/n! We are here to liberate your soul!” Sue decreed with a fake accent that might have been meant to sound dignified but came out as a southern preacher. “This is to clear your mind of all bad you’ve felt since what’s-his-face broke your heart and left you all alone!”

“But mostly it’s to help loosen you up so you can rub your butt on strangers.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help but comment, “You’re both ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Sue accepted, popping her vial’s top. “But I promise, this is going to be a night to remember.” She and Carmen held their drinks out, beaming as they waited for you to join.

You sighed, popping the top off one of the four vials. Lifting it up, you donned a weak smile. “Cheers.” The vials made a soft clank together before all three of you chugged it down. The drink was obnoxiously sour like an apple candy with only a slight sting of alcohol. After a week of binge drinking, it was tame aside from the sugar rush.

“Now, you gotta finish,” Carmen instructed with a stern expression. Sue nodded in agreement and you did as you were told. One after another, you choked down the green shots.

After you finished, Sue clapped her hands together. “Alright, now for the rules-”

“Rules?” you repeated.

“Rule One, don’t interrupt the rule maker.” Your eyes rolled, but you did it with a smile. “Rule Two, don’t speak of he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

“Um, is that a Harry Potter reference because his name is Tom like Tom Riddle?” you genuinely wondered.

Sue glared at you as Carmen pulled yet another vial from her purse and passed it to you.

“How many of these do you freakin’ have?” She shrugged so all you could do was throw your head back. Smacking your lips, there was a flutter from either the alcohol or the sugar deep in your stomach. “Anything else?”

“Yes, Rule Three, don’t go home alone.” She made her eyebrows jump as she did a little shimmy in her seat.

You scoffed, “I’m not hooking up with some random guy at a bar!”

“It doesn’t have to be a guy,” Carmen iterated with another wink. You let out a flustered laugh, your cheeks flushing without your consent.

“Carmen and Sue hopped out of the car as you took a deep breath. ‘This is normal,’ you thought, trying to convince yourself to add pep to your step. ‘This is how we move on.’ Sue opened your door and you slinked out.

“Alright, I have my press badge to get us in, so while I’m interviewing the band, you guys can start scoping out the specimens.” Looking out at the masses of people at the door, you pushed yourself to keep pace with the others until coming up to the set of bouncers checking people in.

“Hiya,” Sue charmed, holding out her badge . “I’m here from people’s magazine, ya’ll shoulda gotten a call?” One bouncer eyed the press pass then looked back at the three of you.

“It takes three women to interview a band?”

Sue let out a sharp huff while pressing her hands to her hips. “If you must know, Carmen is here to take pics of the boys on stage and y/n here is my trusty assistant.” You cut your eyes at her, certain you wouldn’t have come out if you knew she was going to pull such a scheme. But when Carmen pulled a camera from her bag, you couldn’t help but be a little impressed.

This was certainly not their first rodeo.

“Hey, wait, I recognize you,” the second bouncer started as he leaned closer to your face. “You dated that bad guy from that superhero movie. What’s his name? Tim something?”

“Tom Hiddleston,” you corrected, immediately stricken as the name left your lips.

Swallowing, you went to correct that you weren't seeing him when the same bouncer commented, “Who knows, she could up our presence on social media. Get a few good pics of her out on someone’s page, it’ll spread like wildfire.”

The first bouncer rolled his eyes, passing the press pass back to Sue. “You ladies can go on in then.”

Carmen and Sue smiled as they walked in, but you kept your eyes low, hoping they were wrong and no one else would recognize you. Dating a celebrity had its perks, but being seen as just some extension of someone was never your goal. Tom himself liked hiding from the limelight, enough so that you didn’t get harassed too often. Nearly every day, Dave would drive you to and from work, and if the two of you ever went out for a date, the facility would be called in advance to ensure the place was clear of any paparazzi. As a journalist for a magazine that focused on making famous people’s privacy public, you knew first hand the damage that could be to a normal person.

The entryway was so dark you wondered if a light had gone out. With just a thin set of twinkling string lights lining the walkway, you followed the girls until you reached another set of doors. Sue stepped forward and, after shooting one quick wild grin, she threw them open to release a booming sound of rock music. Drums keeping the rhythm, the bass speeding up as the main guitar sent electrical power waves through the air. Out in front of the stage, you could see a crowd jumping and hollering to the music, either singing along or just screaming. Red and White strobe lights lit the dance floor while most of the space was dark, only lit by more twinkling lights against the baseboards. Just opposite of the stage set a raised deck with the bar which was lit up in multi colored neon lights that lined the glass and mirrored liquor shelves behind it.

“This place is a little loud, don’t you think?” you yelled over the music to Sue.

“I know, ain’t it awesome!” she yelled back with a wild grin.

You looked over towards the bar and, as if reading your mind, Carmen looped arms with you. “Ready to party?”

You didn’t think you were, but a small flutter in your head from the shots gave you just enough liquid courage to say, “Let’s do this!”

*****

It was just as generic as any social media post a girl would make: all three women’s faces crammed close together making the signature kissy face, sultry face, silly face looks with the caption, “Out to forget you loser chollos ;D”

Elliot didn’t have a hard time figuring out which club the three of you were at, seeing the Press Pass clearly in two of the images. It also didn’t hurt that he had been to every bar and club in the tri-state area. Looking for a buzz, chasing a high, paying for a lay, but mostly trying to feel something, anything, other than this miserable melancholy. In the months following Hela’s death, Elliot had an immense void in his life that, despite his most valiant efforts, he couldn’t fill. Where once he felt thrill in diaviant behavior, now nothing gave him satisfaction. Alcohol, drugs, sex, nothing settled his emptiness. It was like everything in life had lost meaning, like his own senses were gone.

It wasn’t until his uncle Jared sought him out that he was able to get a grip on himself and slow down the self destruction.

Putting his car in park, he looked out at the line formed outside the entrance to Poison. Checking his reflection, he pocketed his keys and made his way to the door, ignoring the grunts from patrons still waiting to get inside.

“How are my boys tonight?” he spoke through a sly grin, “Looks like a lot of fine asses showed up for the show tonight.”

The first bouncer held out a fist to Elliot and they bumped knuckles. “How it goin, Stranger Danger, what’s got you out on the prowell? I thought you might be dead in a ditch somewhere after the last time I had to boot you outta here.”

A few women standing in the front of the line snickered as Elliot simply shrugged it off. “Ya know, I think I just had a little too much that night-”

“That's what they all say,” the second bouncer rebutted as he crossed his arms. “So what can I do for you tonight?”

“”Hoping to check out the new band, heard they’re the newest up and comers in the industry. Ya know, gotta stay on top of the newest, hottest people if I wanna get back into the celebrity gossip.” When they didn’t look convinced, he thew in, “Well I used to write for Rolling Stones, so I thought maybe if nothing else I could get something on these guys and try to get all of us some recognition. Cause that’s what this is about, right? Getting the band’s name out?”

The first bounce raised his brow while the second one shrugged. “Well, we did already let those magazine chicks in earlier…”

“Yeah, see, just trying to stay in the game,” Elliot tried to convince. “Come on, Drake, what’s the harm? Let me in?”

Letting out annoyed grunt, he stepped aside while the other opened the door. “Go on, but I’m only warning you once, Stringer. Don’t make me throw you out.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he promised through a toothy grin.

*****

You and Carmen had barely made it to the bar before a short man offered to buy a round of shots. While you tripped over your words, Carmen gave the man a flirty giggle and accepted. Once he passed her the tray of tequila, she handed you one then took one for herself. “Salud!” she commanded in Spanish.

“Sa-lood?” you asked dumbly.

“Salud! Drink!”

You initially wanted to argue, knowing that letting a stranger hand you free drinks usually meant he wanted something in return. But you choked back your inhibitions and swallowed it down. Unlike the sweet apple drink from earlier, this burned. You smacked your lips as Carmen handed you another glass, again calling out, “Salud!” which you repeated back. After three more, you held up your hands in surrender. Carmen passed the tray back to the short man who looked at you both confused.

After you were out of ear shot, you said, “You know he was probably expecting us to at least talk to him.”

With a very serious expression, Carmen stopped walking to face you. “I don’t care if chollo buys me a house, if I don’t wanna talk to ‘im, I ain’t finna talk to ‘im. Besides, that pendejo still had his wedding band on.”

Her arm linked with yours again as she pulled you into the crowd. People were singing and dancing to the music, mostly jumping in place with hands up as they screamed the lyrics to the cover band’s songs. Carmen pulled you closer, loudly speaking into your ear, “Let loose, compa! It’s about letting go!” She pulled back, her red lips curling just before she went on ahead and burried herself in the sea of bodies.

Taking a deep breath, you plunged in after her.

*****

Elliot had been looking for a few minutes when he turned just in time to see you disappear into the crowd in front of the stage. Huffing while he straightened out his shirt, he walked out onto the dance floor. Shrugging his shoulders one last time, readying to dive through people, he made his way towards you.

*****

The alcohol was sitting on you just right, making you feel more and more relaxed by the second. You were standing beside Carmen in the middle of everyone, arms up and screaming as you got lost in the music. Bodies bumped against each other, hands pressed and pulled at each other, but you were so lost in the moment you didn’t mind. Sharing smiles with Carmen as you both screamed out, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of euphoria as the pain got pushed to the back of your mind. Closing your eyes, you breathed in this feeling.

It was right at that moment that you felt a set of hands land on your moving hips. You gasped, but didn’t pull away. People were so crammed you didn’t think anything of it until they started moving with your movement. Your heart sped up and for a split second you contemplated saying something.

But something stopped you.

The realization that you were, in fact, a single woman out dancing with friends, came into your mind, and rather than say or do anything, you divulged. You let the hands stay, felt them rock with you, whoever they belonged to behind you dancing at the same beat to keep up with the motion. A part of you wanted to divulge, back against him, dance like there was no tomorrow, maybe even drown in each other for the night. Just the suggestion was enough to send a shiver down your spine, though it was not out of pleasure.

The thought of dancing like this with him, knowing it wasn’t your Loki, sent a pin into your chest. Even worlds apart, knowing he was moving on with his life, you couldn’t move on with yours. At least not now. Not like this. Taking a deep, sobering sigh, you felt a wave of guilt, though you couldn’t place why.

Feeling you begin to slow your movements, the fingers curled against you, moving upwards to scrape across your exposed sides. That was too much. You pushed the hands back down to your hips, even more annoyed when your obvious objection was ignored by the hands moving back up and even taking a stronger grip on your waist.

“Lo0k, buddy, cool it with the touch-feeling, ‘kay?” you shot over your shoulder loud enough that they had no excuse not to hear.

To your disdain, the hands went right back to your sides. You turned with a jerk in time to lock eyes with the man , but rather than take him it, it was the one behind him that got your attention.

“Elliot?”

Your old coworker put a hand on the man’s shoulder, pulling him back from you as he leaned close to his face. “I think the lady said she’s done dancing with you, buddy,” he threatened before cutting a lott your way, “Just better hope she doesn’t tell her boyfriend on you, unless you wanna get thrown out a window.”

The man took the cryptic message at face value and stomped out of the crowd, while everyone else was still dancing, ignoring the scene.

Your eyes were still locked on Elliot when Carmen came and threw her arms around his shoulders. “Elly!”

“Don’t call me that!” he spat. When she pulled back, her fist came crashing against his arm. “Ow, what was that for?”

“You don’t call, don’t answer texts, don’t answer your Facebook messages for two months, you get punched.” Carmen’s brow furrowed, adding, “I was worried, stupido, your landlord said you packed up and moved off.” When all he offered was a shrug, she punched him again.

“Shit, ow, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ghost you, I just had some… soul searching to do. But I’m back in town,” he answered, looking apologetic. “Think you can forgive me?”

She narrowed her eyes before planting a big, red stained kiss on his cheek. “I guess. So, what, you’re here to party with us? Y/n and cholo broke up, so we’re trying to cheer her up.”

“Broke up?” he echoed, looking down at you. “Oh, I hate to hear that.” His expression was hard to read, but his tone was less than sympathetic. “No, actually, but I am here to talk to y/n. It has to do with a mutual friend.”

Your eyes widened as you tried to think what he could possibly have to say, but Carmen already put a hand on your back to push you towards him. “Fine, but I expect nena to be returned to me in one piecec, amigo.”

He smiled at her before taking you by the arm to lead you away from everyone else. When there was no one left to move through, you snatched your arm from his grasp. Just as he went to speak, you slapped him, hard.

“You’ve got some nerve.”

“And you’ve got some muscle in that little body, damn that fucking hurt! ” he sulked, pressing a hand to his face to soothe the sting. “Shit, was that necessary?”

“You helped Hela! The entire time you were helping her! Even after she drugged me, you…” the words wouldn’t manifest, and you realized your eyes were watering up. Angry that you would cry simply out of pent up rage, you put but hands out and shoved him. “God, Elliot, you’re such a dick! And a liar! And just a fucking terrible person!”

“Yeah, you’re right. And I’m sorry.”

You were too stunned to speak, expecting him to provoke you further so you could unleash more, but his flaccid response was enough to dull the fire.

Subsiding your anger for confusion, you instead went on, “Well, I’jm glad we agree on something. Now, if you don’t mind,” you turned to leave but he caught your wrist.”

“No, serious, y/n. I am sorry for everything.”

The words struck you and left you momentarily silent. In a million years, you never expected to hear him actually apologize.

“And I need you to come with me.”

That was enough to snap you back, narrowing your eyes as you spat, “Yeah, no. I don’t trust shit from you, Elliot. Whatever you have to tell me, you can just go talk to a wall.”

“Even if I told you it’s about Loki.”

Your shoulders tensed while you swallowed, trying not to look as excited as you were just at hearing his name.

“What about him?”

“I may have a way for you to talk to him.”

Even as loud as the club was, it all went silent at the words he spoke. You felt your heartbeat quicken, the idea floating around in your head before you realized who it was you were dealing with. You rolled your eyes, cutting back, “Why the hell would you help me?”

Leaning down to speak into your ear, he elaborated, “Cause I know when Hela was away, it felt like I was a heroin addict that couldn’t get a fix. I know how painful being away from him is for you and how you feel numb to everything else with him gone.”

You pulled back from him, needing to look him in the eye when you asked, “That doesn’t explain why you would do this for me.”

Sighing, he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly to go on, “It’s really a long story and I don’t know everything, but Elsa called my uncle-”

“Elsa?” you repeated, “Elsa Hemsworth? Called your uncle?”

“Look, like I said, it’s complicated,” he got out quickly as he felt her get ready to just keep questioning him. “So what’s it gonna be, you coming or what?”

*****

By sun down, a dark cloud rolled over Asgard. While the people had dealt with minor rain showers before, this was no ordinary drizzle. Lightning flashed as golf sized drops came crashing to the ground, thunder roaring into the night sky like a lion on the hunt.

Yet the people of Asgard only had to be momentarily concerned, easily becoming distracted by Odin's invitation to a banquet in honor of Loki. They all crowded into the main hall of the palace, singing, dancing and drinking in the name of their future king.

The only issue? Loki was nowhere to be seen.

A couple of hours into the evening, food was being brought from the kitchen and laid out for all the guests. A few of the Asgardians asked when the crowned prince would come.

Finally the king was sick of waiting.

"Fetch him. Now," Thor overheard his father command Baldur. "They're here to see him, he needs to at least make an appearance. The people need to know everything is alright, with all of these… tremors. They need the reassurance of a smiling face."

Baldur made a hasty retreat with Thor ready to pursue him until Elsa caught hold of the back of his armor. "Where are you off to?" she asked, suspicious of how he tried to back away without her notice.

"I'm going to check on Loki with Baldur," he offered, pulling back from her hand to kiss it. "I'll be just a minute, Love."

Her eyes narrowed but she waved him away. She caught sight of him one last time before he tucked out of the grand room.

Baldur was quick up the stairs, brushing past servants still tending to the palace chores as he zipped down the halls to Loki's bedroom.

Just as Baldur got to the door and began knocking, Thor caught up to him.

"What are you doing?"

"What are You doing?"

"I'm getting Loki for Allfather-"

"I guess that I'm also getting Loki then-"

“I can appreciate your attempt to assist, but it is not necessary, you may go-”

“Oh, no, I think someone is going to need to bare witness to this.”

Both men went silent when they heard the disembodied voice from the other side of the door call out, "Come in."

Baldur and Thor both straightened up before finally opening the door. Neither moved at first until Thor shoved the slightly smaller advisor in ahead of him.

"He's here to retrieve you for dinner," the god of thunder announced, disregarding Baldur’s sharp blue eyes cutting at him.

"Yes, well," for the first time he looked out into the room to Loki lounging on a chaise with his face inside a book. "Allfather requests your presence downstairs for the-"

"I'm not going."

The air was stale as Thor looked between the two of them, his fingers twitching while he waited for someone to speak.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said," Loki reiterated, turning the page in total disinterest,"Im. Not. Going."

Thor watched Baldur inhale and wondered exactly how the two most well tempered men in Asgard would proceed.

It wasn't what he expected.

"Your father asked that you make an appearance,” Baldur started, stepping over towards Loki’s chair. “That's not too much to expect considering all he is giving you. Just go down, shake hands, reassure the people that you are their king and will care for them-”

"I told Allfather I wouldn't parade around for him,” Loki answered simply, still not looking up.

Baldur’s jaw tightened. “He is still your king, Loki. You may be the crowned prince, but he is still your ruler, and your father. You should show him respect and see to him.”

He looked like he would go on but went quiet at the clap of Loki’s book closing. “I should show him respect? I should see him? Should I also fall in line like the rest of you sheep, bring him offerings of good tidings in hopes of gaining his favor?” Just then, a loud crash of thunder sounded right outside the veranda of Loki’s room. He stood, looking into Baldur’s eyes as he went on, “This is him doing whatever he damn well pleases without my regard and you shouldn't be cross with me for not wanting to participate in his show. You should be grateful I'm even staying."

Baldur swallowed hard while Thor looked between the two of them.

Taking a deep breath before he spoke, the advisor knew he would be crossing the line when he asked, "Is this all over your little Midgardian girl? Just because you, what, want to go live out HER days? You want to return to watch her die, is that it? Or did you forget you live over a hundred of her lifetimes?"

Loki shook his head at the comment, arguing, "You don't know what we had, Baldur. We were in love-"

"Love? Love!" Baldur turned to speak to Thor, throwing out his arms as if he were surprised, "Did you hear that, Thor, they were in love! Well, what a true travesty for you that you have to put aside your own feelings for someone who will die in the blink of your eye to save your eternal home from destruction!"

"Don't mock me, little brother," Loki spoke in an unsettlingly soft tone. "Or you will regret it."

At that Baldur narrowed his eyes. "You asked Thor why she left? Your y/n?" he started. "I'll tell you-"

"Baldur," Thor interjected quickly, only to be cut off.

"You should have seen how that poor girl begged to leave, Loki. Said she had been under your influence all this time and only recently became aware of it herself. As soon as you got away from her, she sought an escape."

The god of mischief froze in place, his face losing color at hearing his worst fear. "You're lying."

Baldur spoke louder, his face red as he spat the words, "She just couldn't wait to get away from you, even called you a freak and a monster! Said her life was so  blissful until she met you! Pleaded for Thor to protect her from the evil, no good, demon that was savage enough to slay the only person who ever cared about him in his long, miserable life!"

Loki's rage subsided, hurt obvious on his face. "She was my mother, too, Baldur, and y/n knows that's not what-"

"She was Not your mother, she was Mine and you Slaughtered her!"

"Enough!" Thor bellowed as he saw Loki's fists tighten at his sides, his eyes dark and his face scrunched in barely controlled wrath. "Stop this, we are not here to fight. We're brothers, we must-"

"I assure you, he is most certainly no brother of mine," Baldur bit back with a cold stare.

That final strike made Loki change stance. His head tilted to the side while he glared at Baldur. "Look at you. Poor, pitiful, forgotten Baldur. You're so jealous you can hardly see straight," his voice slightly shook as he did all he could to calm. "You think you can just take your frustrations out on me because I'm not hot tempered like Thor, because you don't think I'll reach out and take your throat in my grasp and just squeeze? " he stepped closer, looking Baldur straight in the eyes. "I think you've forgotten I am the one Allfather chose because I am powerful enough to contain his powers. And you? What powers have you that make you worthy to try and speak like this to me? You, no more than an imputent runt of the litter, one that was so worthless to everyone in the family that he didn't even step foot on Asgard until Thor decided to stay on Asgard?" Another thunder boomed outside, but no one flinched.

Baldur's eyes were glassed over while his teeth grinded, taking in every last from Loki before finally speaking. "You think I don't know I'm not as powerful as you? I'm very aware of your strength, Loki. It's your lack of sympathy to your people that is so hard to watch. They’re scared, they need to see you to know they’re safe. It’s how you care so little about the rest of us that you're just resigned to make your own existence here miserable. And you know what? I'll have no part of it." Just then, Elsa tentatively pushed the bedroom door open, not meaning to make herself known but was taken off guard by the tension as Baldur was turning to leave. “Consider this my resignation, your highness. I won't be a part of this kingdom or this family any longer." He kept his pace even after he realized Elsa had heard him. Her mouth opened to speak, but he left too quickly for her to form the words, brushing gently across her shoulder on the way out.

"What? What's going on?" She looked back towards Thor who was about to speak but Loki, who ignored Elsa’s entrance, looked to him now.

"And you!"

"Me?"

Loki stepped towards the god of thunder, his voice harsh, "I wouldn't even be here if not for you! I would still be home, I would still be with y/n!"

"Oh, so it's my fault-"

"You were his first born son, this unbearable place was meant to be yours, his powers were meant to be yours, but you went off and started a family-"

“I can’t help what happened, Loki, if I knew this is how things would play out-”

“You’d what?” Loki asked with fire behind his eyes. “You’d trade places with me? You would have stayed in Asgard? Exactly what would you change because from where I stand, you are, once again, the only person in this entire damned place that is getting what he wants!”

"Shut up, both of you!" Elsa snapped, stepping between them. In their fit, both men had gotten less than a foot apart, steadily becoming more heated. "You don’t need to fight, please…"

Loki closed his eyes and stepped back, taking a breath to try and steady himself. "Thor, I never would never have agreed to this if I didn't want you to be with your family back on Midgard. I hope you don't waste my sacrifices by hanging around this place any longer than you have to." He sat back down on his chaise, picking up his book at where he left off, "And in case my meaning is unclear, let me be perfectly clear: I'm telling you to leave.” Going back into the same pose he was in before the interruption, he finished with one last jab, “After all, you’re quite good at."

With that, Thor gently led his wife out of the room. After closing the door, he expected Elsa to be angry, or in the very least upset, but instead she looked at him with something else in her eyes.

"You…"

He swallowed hard, “Yes, my love?”

Elsa's eyes watered up while her lips threatened to tremble. "Thor, you're a god. The god of thunder, feared by many, loved by all. Even living as a Midgardian you've managed to recreate this whole new persona of yourself as, well, you, but not just as a god: as a hero. And yet at every turn, you keep making these decisions… to do nothing."

"And what would you have me do, Elsa? You know my hands are tied-"

"Anything, Thor!" she shouted, "Anything at all! But this? Doing nothing? It's almost as bad as pulling the strings!"

“I’m trying to get us home!”

“You’re acting like a coward!”

Thor was quiet and for the first time, she really believed he felt the guilt of what he had done. “I don’t know what I can possibly do. If I help Loki I damn my family. If I do nothing, I damn him. What will you have me do?” he asked genuinely, bringing her hand to his face without looking away. “Tell me what to do?”

She really considered his words, really wondered if they held true value. 

Elsa’s eyes searched Thor’s for a moment before she resided that even if the drama of his family was clouding his morals, there was more to what was going on than just asking Loki to take the crown. Breathing in, she held onto his hands to ready him for what she was about to say.  “Actually, before I tell you that, there’s something I need to tell you... about these dreams I’ve been having.”

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Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

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QUEST 06: FATE OF THE GODS

QUEST SUMMARY:

The gods have returned to Gielinor, but something is preventing the arrival of Zaros. Jahaan is enlisted by Azzanadra to help bring his god back to their world, a task that would send him into the harshities of the Mahjarrat homeworld: Freneskae...

CHAPTER 1: WORLDS APART

Jahaan pried himself off the duvet the next afternoon in a puddle of drool. Not morning, no… he’d long since slept through that. Wiping his face, he tried to blink some of the sleep from his eyes and turn over, attempting to push himself up off the bed and gain a vertical base once more. It was an effort, but eventually he managed to fall onto the edge of the bed and sit upright, the room swaying and swirling before him.

That’s when a quick dash to the bathroom was in order.

Splashing his face with the icy cold stream from the tap, Jahaan looked up at himself in the small mirror and laughed humourlessly at his dishevelled reflection. As he tried to straighten out his locks of hair, so too did he attempt to piece together the previous night’s antics.

The destruction to the cabinet, alongside the spew of weapons cluttering the carpet, was proof enough that it was no dream. He’d caught Sliske in his disguise, and almost ended him too. For a brief moment, he had the upper hand.

However, with dismal realisation, Jahaan realised that, even with a bow and arrow trained on Sliske’s skull, he never had the upper hand.

Not against Sliske.

It was then he saw the letter from Azzanadra on the bed.

It definitely started out as a trudge as he made his way over to the coordinates Azzanadra had left him. Of course, he didn’t have a compass himself, and had to make a little pit stop at a small general store, which overcharged him for the pleasure of likely being the only customer that day.

Walking definitely helped his hangover start to ebb away, and before long the arduous slog of a journey turned into quite a nice walk through some unfamiliar, though quite beautiful, forest land. He hardly saw another soul on the entire journey.

A few hours later, the outline of Azzanadra’s unique headdress came into view, along with the rest of him, and Jahaan trotted over to the waiting Mahjarrat.

“Azzanadra!” he cheerily greeted. “Sorry for the hold up. Took me a while to find this place…”

Jahaan decided Azzanadra didn’t need to know about human hangovers, though he suspected in all his years he’d encountered quite a few inebriated fellows. It was more that he didn’t want to talk about it, in case the hangover heard him and maliciously returned for round two. Not exactly a logical train of thought, but he was rolling with it regardless.

“I am glad you could make it, Jahaan,” Azzanadra smiled warmly back it him, though his hand was twitching with impatience.

“So what are you doing out here?” Jahaan asked. “You were quite vague in your letter.”

“Such things could not be trusted to pen and papyrus, for I am here under direct orders from Zaros,” he stated with a smirk on his face that soap and water couldn’t wash off.

Raising an eyebrow, Jahaan replied, “Alright, but what do you need me for?”

“Rejoice!” Azzanadra cheered, emphasising his words with a loud clap. “The time for Zaros' return is at hand!”

Jahaan gasped. “Zaros is actually returning?”

“Yes. Guthix's death was a tragedy, but it has allowed all other gods to return. There is one final obstacle preventing Zaros' arrival, however. Once more, I request your services in the name of my lord. You, and only you, are capable of removing this obstacle. While you may not always have displayed an unerring devotion to Zaros, I need you for this, World Guardian. All disagreements between us are in the past. Any doubts you may have will be answered. Today, we shall truly see if you stand with Zaros, or against him.”

Well, this is a lot to take in, Jahaan thought to himself with an exaggerated exhale. Scratching the non-existent itch on the back of his neck was an excuse to distract himself from Azzanadra’s beady eyes, eyes that demand all, filled with palpable hope that could teeter any moment to rageful disappointment, depending on Jahaan’s response.

He did all he could to avoid meeting those eyes.

Zaros hadn’t played a major part in Jahaan’s life; he was the deity that he knew the least about, all things considered. Sure, he’d read the history books, overwhelmed by a Menaphite bias. He knew all of the Zarosian-Kharidian Wars in the Second Age. He knew about Zaros’ empire, and the rise of Zamorak that came from betraying his former master.

He knew overviews, broad opinions, and naturally, the tainted preachings from Azzanadra. He knew nothing about the deity that he could sink his teeth into, nothing he could get behind. Little information about Zaros’ beliefs or philosophies had been published. In fact, he was shrouded in so much mystery that many people believed the rumour that he was Bob the Cat, the most famous stray in all of Gielinor.

His dangerous curiosity getting the better of him, Jahaan agreed, “Sure, I'll help if I can.”

With a relieved sigh, Azzanadra’s smile grew broad and grateful. “Ever since you released me from my prison, I knew there was something different about you. I have had little reason to rely on humans, even fewer to call one friend... but you have proven yourself to me. I have faith that you will prove yourself once more. Not just to me, but to Lord Zaros himself. This will be a glorious day! Zaros awaits you through the World Gate. Will you go and assist him now?”

“Alright, but what’s the ‘World Gate’?” “It is a portal between realms, created by Guthix many millennia ago. While there are many portals that allow for travel from plane to plane, only the World Gate has the power to reach every plane in existence. Though, at present, it can only reach worlds that either Guthix or Zaros visited with it. To reach Zaros by any other means would require more power and time than is available to us.”

Jahaan looked all around him, scanning the barren, uninteresting surroundings. “Sooo... where’s the World Gate now?” “Why, it is right here, hidden in the Shadow Realm, away from prying eyes.”

“And how do we get it out of the Shadow Realm?”

There was a solid beat of hesitation from Azzanadra. “We... require the aid of another for this task.”

“Who?” there was a churning worry in the pit of Jahaan’s stomach. He had a good guess at who, but was praying to whatever gods were listening that he was wrong.

“I think you know all too well,” Azzanadra confirmed his suspicions. “I was unsure of this, but Zaros was clear.”

Jahaan’s heart dropped. “Oh please no…”

Light vanished; darkness slashed. When it all returned to normal, Sliske was standing opposite Azzanadra, sporting a smile that would almost be classed as friendly if it wasn’t for the self-satisfied glint in his eyes. With a theatrical gesture, he exclaimed, “Speak of the Mahjarrat, and he shall appear!”

Not having time for Sliske’s shit, Jahaan shot back to Azzanadra and stated, “I’m not working with him.”

“Oh come now, it’ll be fun!” Sliske’s honeyed voice dripped through everyone’s last nerve like acid. “I told you we’d make a good team.”

Begrudgingly, Azzanadra said, “We do not have a choice. Zaros was clear.”

His eyes whispered the ‘please’ that his lips missed, hidden among the explanation, “Sliske is the only one of us capable of drawing the Gate back into the material realm. I am not happy that we need him, but need him we do.”

Jahaan looked between Azzanadra and Sliske, realising that the chance of an alternative solution was growing rapidly dimmer. “Fine,” he resigned with a heavy sigh. “Let’s just get this over with. The sooner it’s done-”

“...the sooner you can, what? Go back to your aimless wanderings? Emptily threatening to kill me? Drinking with handsome strangers in bars?” Sliske completed, raising his brows with a patronising glare.

“Just tell me what needs to be doing,” Jahaan growled, instinctively taking a step back when Sliske moved towards him.

“Now now, no need to get all bothered. I just need to pull you into the Shadow Realm, is all.”

Before Jahaan could protest, Sliske grabbed his shoulder and shrouded the world in a bleak, damp cover. Cold air rattled through his lungs, but it was thick and clogging, and every movement felt like he was underwater. Everything around them had turned a dark shade of grey, shadows manifesting in threatening clouds around the trees. Azzanadra was there too, cloaked in shades. Jahaan went to call out to him, but Sliske stopped him, explaining, “He can’t hear you. Not well enough, at least, unless you feel like screaming into his ear. I doubt he’d appreciate that.”

Shadows danced around Jahaan’s form; he felt them like claws on his back. “No wonder you like this place so much. Come on, let’s get the World Gate and get out of here.”

Sliske wrung his hands together. “Now, let's not rush into things. I have a proposition for you…”

“Oh, here it comes,” Jahaan rolled his eyes. “You just can't help yourself, can you?”

“What can I say?” Sliske shrugged with a wide grin plastered across his features. “I am who I am. At least I'm consistent.”

“Aren’t you in a rush to get Zaros back?”

Laughing, Sliske replied, “Zaros has waited for thousands of years. A few more minutes won’t kill him.”

“You know, I don’t see you falling over yourself in worship of him like Azzanadra does,” Jahaan pointed out. “What do you really think of Zaros?”

Letting out a short, sharp laugh, Sliske replied, “Azzanadra is far too blinkered by fealty for his own good. But of all the gods, I like Zaros most. He just gets me, you know? He helped to make the world my playground. But he's been gone a long time and we're all getting on just fine without him. We don't need him. We don't need any gods.”

If Jahaan wasn’t mistaken, he detected a hint of urgency in his words, a slightly higher tone that betrayed something layered beneath his usually poised and conceited dialect.

“Oh, but I suppose we do need a sadistic Mahjarrat?” Jahaan countered, hoping to catch the tone again, to confirm his suspicions.

“This isn't about me.”

“Isn’t it?” Jahaan put his hands on his hips, a knowing smile tearing through Sliske, his body alive with confidence. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you don’t want Zaros to return. Is your loyalty that fickle, or are you scared claiming ascension might have some repercussions?”

“Loyalty goes both ways!” Sliske protested. “I see the truth, unlike pious Azzanadra over there. Oh, I still follow orders like a good little Mahjarrat, but I've always taken them more as… guidelines. I like to be creative.”

“So did Zaros order you to kill Guthix?”

Sliske’s hand danced around him. “That was more my... interpretation. Zaros wanted to return, but I saw the futility in bargaining with Guthix. I suspect Zaros knew that, but he's not exactly forthcoming.”

“And your tournament for the gods?” Jahaan inquired with interrogative undertones.

Sliske’s smirk was wicked. “Well, a Mahjarrat needs some fun too, you know. But Zaros wanted a diversion, so I gave him one. While the other gods are busy with their infighting, Zaros can return unchallenged and none will be the wiser.”

“So everything you've done has been for Zaros? You ARE still a loyal Zarosian?”

Contemplating this, Sliske replied, “After a fashion.”

“But now you're suggesting, what, that I should sabotage Zaros' return?” he shook his head in bafflement. “What game are you playing, Sliske?”

“What can I say?” Sliske’s palms were splayed outwards. “I'm complicated.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Jahaan could feel a headache forming. “Thing is, you don’t exactly have a trustworthy reputation. Why should I even hear you out?”

“Because this time, trust or whatever you might think of me isn’t a factor,” Sliske’s smile was tight; that urgent voice was back. “Through that Gate you're on your own. Neither I nor Azzanadra can follow you. Ask Azzanadra if you don't believe me. I'm not fool enough to so openly disobey Zaros's orders. It will be just you and Zaros. You can see for yourself what he's like, and make up your own mind. All I'm suggesting is that you don't have to do what is asked of you. You always have a choice. As World Guardian, even he cannot force you - the decision WILL be yours. If you like Zaros, then by all means help him. But if you're opposed to him, now is your best opportunity to get rid of him for good, or at least weaken him further. The point is that, ultimately, HIS fate is in YOUR hands. And that, to me, is such sweet irony - it's what I live for.”

Jahaan looked up into Sliske’s eyes, trying to read them, but they were in a language he couldn’t decipher. So, he was hesitant to take the snake’s words at face value. If they were said by anyone else, he’d admit that they have a valid point, and that keeping an open mind was wise. Sliske had an ulterior motive though, and it pushed him away from rational thinking, into blindly going against anything and everything he said.

Which was stupid.

That’s stupid, Jahaan confirmed to himself, the throbbing in his head beating in time to his pulse. He has a point.

So, aloud, Jahaan agreed, “I'll keep that in mind.”

The smile Sliske returned wasn’t all that reassuring. “That is all I could ask for. Now, that's enough prattling - let's get this Gate back in the material realm.”

Sliske waved his arms outwards, then towards the World Gate; he looked like he was straining ever so slightly, like the look of someone lifting a rather large parcel but not wanting to show the struggle. Soon enough though, Sliske, Jahaan and the World Gate were back in the material realm, out of the clutches of the shadows.

The comparatively warm air of normality flooded back into Jahaan’s lungs, and he breathed it in greedily.

However, Jahaan didn’t get much time to enjoy before Azzanadra pressed, “What was the delay?”

“Oh, calm down, Azzy,” Sliske rolled his eyes. “Zaros isn’t going anywhere.”

Shooting Sliske a look, Azzanadra ushered Jahaan to one side and whispered, “You were in the Shadow Realm with Sliske for quite some time. I hope he wasn't filling your head with his nonsense.”

Understanding it was more of a question than a statement, Jahaan decided to spare Azzanadra Sliske’s poison. “Just his usual spiel.”

There was a hint of relief on the Mahjarrat’s face. Wryly, Azzanadra replied, “That can be damning enough. They don’t call him ‘serpent tongue’ for nothing.”

Obviously feeling left out, Sliske jeeringly exclaimed, “Big Boss to Bunny Ears! Big Boss to Bunny Ears! Come in, Bunny Ears!”

Azzanadra shot around to him. “Do not mock my hat! It deserves respect. It is a sign of my devotion, my position in the church.”

“A church that ceased to exist along with the Empire. It's about time you faced up to that.”

Azzanadra clenched his fists into balls; Jahaan could see the magic quietly pulsing at his fingertips, and prepared to dive out of the way if things escalated. Fortunately, Azzanadra managed to calm himself slightly, and the energy faded away. “One of these days I'm going to melt that smug grin off your face.”

Turning his attention to something productive - the World Gate - Azzanadra began altering the dials and coordinates on its surface, symbols written in an ancient language long-since dead and buried, but Azzanadra seemed to decipher it.

“I've taken the liberty of setting the Gate to where you'll be going,” he stated, standing back to admire the Gate as it whirred with a comforting hum. It wasn’t the largest of doorways; Jahaan would have to bend to get through. If he looked closely at the wavering, pulsing green energy that made up the window to the other worlds, he could make out shapes on the other side. Vague outlines, mind you. Only the bare basics. But it was surreal in its own right, to see into another reality. The feeling gave Jahaan goosebumps.

Azzanadra continued, “Once on the other side, everything is up to you. I am under orders to remain here, and I will ensure Sliske never leaves my sight.”

“Why the hostility, Azzy?” Sliske’s eyes flashed with… something. “We used to be such good friends, you and I. Back in the good old days in the Empire, back on Freneskae...”

Freneskae, the name snapped Jahaan back to the task at hand. “Is that where the World Gate is taking me?”

“Freneskae, yes!” Azzanadra cheered. “It is where all Mahjarrat originate. The untrained eye may call it ‘desolate’ and ‘inhospitable’, but a Mahjarrat can see its true beauty.”

At this, Sliske scoffed.

Raising a challenging eyebrow, Azzanadra said, “Something you wish to share, Sliske?”

“Freneskae is such a dull place; there's nothing to do there!” he whined. “Just rocks and lava, lava and rocks… so bland, so boring. Not like here - Gielinor is so much more fun!”

Pointedly ignoring Sliske, Azzanadra explained, “Zaros originates on Freneskae too, like the Mahjarrat. He was able to give us such an insight into our tribe, to provide us with the means to rejuvenate ourselves sparingly. You can see why we left Icthlarin for him. He is our progenitor, of sorts.”

Sliske rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, he’s our ‘saviour’, alright.”

“Are you really still hung up on that?”

“Zaros wanting to know our every move? Our every thought? Let's just say I'm not looking forward to having to file reports again.”

There was a trace of a smile on Azzanada's face. “As I recall, you always managed to do your own thing regardless.”

A thin smile crept into Sliske’s lips, and his eyes lightened. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

Azzanadra motioned for Jahaan to approach the World Gate, which he did with slight trepidation. “Step through when you are ready, World Guardian. The Empty Lord awaits…”

Bracing himself, Jahaan took one last look back at Azzanadra for reassurance, then one last look at Sliske, who’s eyes were fixed upon him, like he was watching an actor on the stage.

“Alright,” he exhaled deeply, hands resting on both his swords. “Here goes nothing…”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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Phoenix - Chapter 18

  “Wake the fuck up, Shan.”    Jared gave the end of the bed a hard kick and then went to open the heavy hotel drapes, letting in way more sunlight than I was ready for. A morning like a thousand others unfurled ahead of me. My brain hadn't engaged yet, and even though something tickled at the back of it like a firefly struggling in a Mason jar, I grabbed the nearest pillow and shielded my face.   “Shannon, why the fuck did you pass out in my room last night?” 

   Jared sounded irritated, and the little firefly hurried its wings, furiously bumping against the glass. There was a thick coating on my mouth and tongue and my nose and eyes burned. I took the pillow away from my face and went to sit up but the room lurched and my head pounded, so I laid back down with a groan. I tried to reach through the fog of my memory to figure out why I felt like this but there was nothing. What the fuck had I done last night? Why?    Jared started digging through his things and tossing them around the room, making as much noise as possible and swearing at me under his breath the entire time. That wasn't new either, but that tickle wouldn't go away.    “If I was here last night, where were you?” I mumbled into the pillow on my face.    “What?” Jared yanked the pillow away and I blinked at him before fumbling fruitlessly at the bedside table, hoping for a pair of shades.    “If I was here last night, then where were you?” I repeated.    Jared growled. “You know where I was. What the fuck is wrong with you?”   I turned that over in my head for a moment. Did I know? I thought back to the last thing I could remember clearly, which was Jared telling me he wouldn't be having dinner with the rest of us because...    The little firefly fell into an exhausted heap on the sterile bottom of the mason jar. Jane. Jane was here. Jane was here to be with Jared.    Things started falling quickly into place after that. I knew I had told him I didn't want to see them together but that was months ago. I had to get over it sooner or later and I'd done a good job of putting her out of my mind before she showed up at that party. I should be able to do it again, right? But that was a lot different than having her show up and date my brother. So I had dealt with it the way I dealt with any other complex emotion, which was to say, like an irresponsible, self-destructive, idiot. I had grumbled and told him it was fine then ran off to get completely bombed.    Snippets of the previous evening filtered in like photographs from a crime scene. I had decided it was time to get back on the horse, so I'd gone out and find myself two. Women that is. Someone pointed me at a club that a lot of models hung out in, and I hooked a pair pretty much as soon as I walked through the door and started throwing money around. They were gorgeous and eager, and only one of them spoke a word of English. The other one had just whispered and giggled into her friend's ear all evening. I'd have ditched English Speaking Girl if she hadn't been the one doing the translating, she had the personality of wet sponge cake, but the giggling one was sort of adorable and so I had ridden out the evening. Besides, Giggly Girl had a truly spectacular pair of tits that I couldn't wait to see bouncing on top of me, so I had persevered.    I don't think I actually intended to end up with both of them, I think I had just meant to keep my options open. The actual chain of events was a little blurry, but Annoying Friend met up with This Guy She Knew and the next thing I knew the drinks had been upgraded to a powder I hadn't even bothered to ask the identity of, and then things went from hazy to melt-y. We'd later smoked something together that, to my growing distress, I highly doubted was either nicotine or weed, oh god what the fuck did I  do last night and then the only other thing I could clearly remember was a lot of naked girl flesh and the reason I had crawled in here at the crack of dawn. The girls were still passed out in my bed.    “Fuuuuuck,” I groaned, rolling over and slithering to the side of the bed. “What time is it?” I needed to get back to get rid of the girls and drink all the coffee I could find, followed by a bath in an entire hotel's worth of hot water.      “It's a little before ten. You've got about an hour and a half before we have to be at the radio station. Take a fucking shower first. You smell like an old gym bag.”    Jesus, this day was shaping up spectacularly. I excused myself with an indistinct grumble and stumbled back to my own room, praying every step of the way. I absolutely had to get myself together. Not only would Jared shit the bed if he found out what I had been up to last night, but I couldn't face Jane this way. I couldn't let her see me like this.    I figured the girls would still be asleep when I got back to my room but instead, Giggly Girl was sitting in the middle of my bed, playing with her phone. The bed had been stripped of what I presumed were the dirtiest of the sheets, and they lay in a pile at its foot. My visitor had straightened the rest of it and apparently showered and changed at some point. Considering the night we had she was impossibly fresh-faced and composed. I looked around for her companion, thinking perhaps she was in the bathroom but I found no one there when I checked.    “Uh... where's your friend?” I said slowly, hoping the words were simple enough the girl could pick out the meaning. “Amica?” I added hopefully.  The girl smiled and stood up, and I wondered why on earth I had been so fixated on her tits. I mean yeah, they really were amazing, perfectly shaped and gravity-defying in a way that natural ones rarely are, but the rest of her was spectacular too. She was leggy and athletic, probably an inch taller than me, with dark hair, a dazzling smile, and that beautiful light olive Mediterranean complexion that Italian girls seemed to always be gifted with. I had definitely chosen well last night. Too bad I couldn't remember most of it.    The girl had been making a phone call while I took her in and when it went through she handed it to me. “Uh, hello?” I said uncertainly into the receiver.    “Hey, Shannon,” came an accented voice on the other end that I recognized as the friend from last night. “I had to go to work today, but Viola is really into you and she wanted to hang out. I'll be back to meet up with her in time for the show.”   What? My brain screamed. I cannot have some random girl with me today... “No. No, that's not okay. I have things to do before the show,” I protested.   “Yeah, yeah, your ex. We know.” Oh fucking Christ, Shannon, what the hell did you tell them? “Sorry. I can't get back before then. You'll have to work it out with her. Ciao.”    The line went dead and I looked at Giggly Girl, or rather Viola. Her dark eyes blinked at me expectantly, and she looked so earnest. Inexplicably, I didn't want to let her down. She was having the strangest effect on me, like a puppy that was somehow at the same time crazy hot. I wished I could actually talk to her.    Hell, maybe having someone on my arm when I saw Jane again wasn't the worst idea. “Fine,” I said. “But you'll have to wait here while I got to an interview.”    Viola nodded, much to my surprise, and then pointed at the floor with a smile.    “You understood that?” She nodded again. “You understand but don't speak English then?”    “A little. Slow,” Viola said haltingly, her accent thick as she struggled with the two words. I could understand that level of language competency. I was the same way with French. I had been around it enough that if you spoke to me slowly I could get the general gist of what you were saying but I couldn't begin to form a sentence.    “Okay. Good. You'll stay with me when I come back?” I added in descriptive gestures as I went, walking with my fingers and pointing at the floor, and Viola smiled brightly as she gave me a vigorous nod of her head in return.    “Sì, certo!”    Well, this was going to be fun. “Okay then. I'm just going to grab a shower, then we'll order some coffee and get you breakfast.”    The bathroom was equipped with a multi-head shower system, and I stood under the hot flow until I thought my skin would start to peel. When I returned to the bedroom with a towel around my hips, I saw to my delight that Viola had apparently misunderstood me. There was a tray from room service waiting and the rich smell of hot Italian coffee tickled my nose. I kissed her on the cheek and she beamed back at me.    There were some fruits and pastries, sausages and few hard-boiled eggs. Not exactly the best hangover remedy but I was grateful for anything at that point. I quickly slipped on some pants, then I made a plate and sat down at the small hotel table across from Viola. She poured herself some black coffee and took a single strawberry, which she rolled between her fingers while simultaneously tapping away at her phone. After a few minutes, she thrust the phone at me.    I looked at the screen to see she had been typing away in Google Translate. She thanked me for letting her stay, then asked how long I would be gone and when we would see, “the girl”. I swallowed hard before typing my answer.    “I don't know,” I said as I handed the phone back to her, needing to say thing out loud even though I knew she didn't really understand. “I have to do a radio show, we're usually on the air for an hour or two with those. We should be back for lunch, then we'll have a little free time before we have to leave for sound check. I don't know when Jane is going to be here. Jared didn't tell me.”    Viola frowned at the screen. She popped the strawberry into her mouth, typed out a few sentences, then handed the phone back to me. As soon as her hands were free she pulled the utterly unscathed strawberry back out of her mouth and resumed rolling it between her fingers. It was odd, but considering she was probably a model, I didn't comment. I had seen enough weird eating habits out of models by now to know better than to say anything.   “I will stay until you return. Maybe nap. Long night.”   Long night was right. I could have slept through until tomorrow if I didn't have any other obligations. I considered it briefly anyway. Might have been worth it to see the fit Jared would have pitched, but then I thought of him running straight to Jane to bitch about it and I sobered up pretty fucking quick. I'd do the damn publicity bit.   The show ran a lot longer than I anticipated and it was nearly three in the afternoon before we returned to the hotel. Emma went to arrange tables for us at the in-house restaurant and I went upstairs to retrieve Viola. She was sound asleep on top of my freshly made bed, dark hair fanned across her face and pooling on the pale green bedspread underneath her. I felt another inexplicable wave of affection as I gently prodded her shoulder to wake her. She greeted me with a sleepy smile and I marveled at how she could wake up in such a good mood. Her disposition was sunny, but not in an annoying, perky sort of way, but more like chill and open. She was probably even better company if you spoke her language.    I was just thanking my lucky stars for the so far relatively Jane-free day when I spotted her, sitting at the table and chatting away with Tomo. That made sense, the two of them had gotten on famously when she had been with us before, and he was probably enjoying seeing her again. I put my hand at Viola's waist and steered her toward the table.   “Where's Jared?” I asked when I realized that Jane was there without him.    “He forgot something in the room,” Jane said, not even turning to look at me. “And hello, Shannon.”    I started to apologize when Viola said, haltingly, “Jane?”   Jane looked up, startled. “Viola?”    What followed was a rapid stream of Italian, which apparently Jane spoke fluently. I was as bewildered as I was mortified until I began to connect the dots. Roger. The models Jane had said she had made friends with. I wondered how many of my conquests these last few years had been friends of hers? I needed to stop fucking models.    “So, uh... you two know each other?” It was obvious, but I didn't know what else to say at that point. I was just desperate to stop the stream of Italian passing rapidly back and forth between the two of them.    “Yes. I used to hang out with Viola's older sister,” Jane explained.   Viola sat herself down next to Jane and I took a very uncomfortable seat next to Viola. I looked across the table to see Tomo fighting to keep a straight face. I let them chatter on for a moment, but when they began looking at each other then at me, I tried again to derail whatever was happening.    “So, I didn't know you spoke Italian.”    Jane seemed to take a breath before answering me. “Yes. I spent a lot of time in St. Moritz.” `   I digested that and then connected some more dots. “Oh yeah. You said Angus's family had a place there.” I didn't want to be the only one suffering in ex-hell right now, but I stopped short of asking how Angus was. I had promised not to be a dick this time, and really, I didn't want to hurt Jane any more than I already had. I figured a little dig would put us both on even footing. After all, that was where Angus had been hiding out, fucking air headed socialites while Jane thought he was hard at work in South Korea. A mention was probably more than enough.    Jane nodded and Viola asked her something and pointed at me.    “Shannon, Viola wants to know why we broke up and why you are so anxious to see me again. What should I tell her?”    “Jane, please...”   Jane shook her head and her expression softened. “It's all right, Shannon. I've got this.”    I don't know what she said to Viola, but it was long, and Viola listened intently before nodding her head, her expression sad. There was a little more back and forth while I squirmed and waited for someone to call me a name or throw something at me but nothing happened. The girls just continued to nod at each other soberly while casting me occasional glances. When Jane pointed at the hostess and they both nodded resolutely I finally snapped.    “Oh, for fuck's sake, will someone please tell me what is being said?”    The girls stopped instantly but said nothing. Instead, to my surprise, Viola put her hand over mine and kissed my cheek.    “Hey, what's going on?”    Jared's uncanny sense of timing had apparently activated and he slid into his seat, putting his arm around Jane and giving her a quick kiss. “Did anyone order yet? Who's your friend, Jane?”    I gave a sigh of the exhaustion I felt all the way into my soul. “She's...”   “Actually Shannon's date, but her sister and I use to hang out together when I was in Milan with Roger. Viola came along a few times. It's very nice to see her again.” Jane's voice was pleasant but she wasn't looking at me and I couldn't get a read on any of this. My stomach lurched, whether from the situation or after effects of last nights escapades, and I reached for the goblet of water on the table and downed most of it as I tried to think of a way out of this that didn't just get me in deeper shit. I decided it was probably best if I just shut up and ate.    I ended up tearing through a steak, my body desperate to replenish whatever I had run out of it the night before. Jane and Viola both ordered salads, but Jane got hers with grilled chicken and a bowl and soup and she ate all of it. Viola got hers with no dressing and ordered a bowl of clear broth, which she drank half of while she rearranged lettuce leaves on her plate.    We're going to have to have a talk about that if we're going to... Going to what, brain? Was I seriously considering seeing her again? Was I actually contemplating a relationship with someone who didn't even speak the same language as me? I told myself I was crazy but then Viola looked at me again and gave me that damn gentle, uncomplicated smile and I stopped.   It wasn't as if Viola had my undivided attention either. I had caught myself staring at Jane as she spoke, laughing while she caught up with Tomo, telling Jared about some crazy thing Roger had done, her delicate hands painting circles in the air. I was fascinated with those hands until I realized with a dizzy lurch why. I was watching her wrists for my bracelet. It wasn't there, and once I realized what I was doing I tore my eyes away, but not before Jane noticed and covered her wrist with her other hand and quickly moved it to her lap.    I decided I needed to get out of there before I did something even stupider. It wasn't as if Viola was actually eating, so I excused both of us and started back to my hotel room. Viola stopped at the hostess stand and had a quick conversation with the bleached blonde woman in the tuxedo shirt and slacks that stood there. Sweat broke out on my palms, but Viola waved me over to them.   “She wants to tell you something,” the hostess said. I realized that Jane must have been telling Viola that the woman could translate for her. I didn't have time to wonder why Jane hadn't before the hostess continued. “She says Jane asked her if she was dating you.”    I held my breath as Viola fed more information to the woman before she continued her translation. “She told Jane she only just met you, but that she liked you very much. Jane told her that she hoped you like her too. That Viola should be careful, but that you were capable of great love. She asked Viola not to tell you until you had gone, but that you had a way of wrapping a girl in your love and taking them to great heights. Of making them feel like they were the only person in the world for you. That Jane only wished you had been able to love her like that.”    All the wind went out of me as I looked at Viola's dark eyes, questioning but soft with sympathy. I turned back to the table but Jane was gone, slipped away so as not to have to view the effects of her confession. She had it all wrong. She had everything wrong and I needed to put it right.           @thepromiseofanend @msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli @llfd1977     @fyeahproudglambert @little-poptart @snewsome756 @guccilowell @monicasanoli @lady-grinning-soul-k @pandaliciouz  @lostinletoland @moody-by-nature        

[seizethecringeofproduction]

Flashpoint 2: Advent Solaris - Chapter 3

Author’s Note: Before you point out inaccuracies regarding the suit, wait until the Angel Island chapter okay. Also this chapter contains my hand at writing severe PTSD hallucinations. So yeah, content warnings.

I feel bad for people who liked AW reading this fic, y’all gonna feel so guilty lmao.

Also obligatory “LOLOLOL THIS CHAPTER’S NAMED CRISIS CITY IN A DC FIC” comment

For most people, making a superhero suit instead of immediately going after the supposed destroyer of the would be seen as rather strange. However, with his speed restored to its former glory the Flash was capable of putting together a new suit for himself in a matter of seconds. Though he did not gain his powers through the use of lightning as he originally did, he still kept his classic lightning bolt symbol just because frankly it wouldn't feel like him without it. Similarly, he also kept the golden lightning bolt 'ears' and the overall red coloration. There were some minor changes to his previous suit due to the limitation of suitable materials he could find, but he found just enough to create something suitable. He found the nearest shattered pieces of glass and tried to look at what little reflection he could find.

His skin, body and hair had by this point healed to near perfect condition - and he was feeling stronger and more pumped than ever. It was almost unnatural how much energy he felt, honestly. He couldn't tell any difference in his speed though, but the sparks that came from him did appear to be purple in coloration rather than the typical white color of lightning. Thankfully the blur he created whenever he zipped around the place remained red.

As did his body. Everything from his muscles to his firm behind was in perfect, working order. Whatever he couldn't see in his 'reflection', he could feel or see with his own two eyes. Even though his face now was finally properly hidden beneath his crimson red mask.

Alright, lookin' good.

Feelin' good.

Now, time to go see about that Shadow character...

"Alright Mephiles, I'm ready to go find that Shadow dude now! Where's he at?"

There was no answer.

In fact, Mephiles wasn't even in the room. Nor was he seemingly in the facility anymore. All that accompanied the Flash was an empty, darkened building. And occasionally, the sound of rats scurrying and screeching, though all purely hidden by the cold darkness that was the poorly lit building.

"Yeah, just so you know this is why I'm still only trusting you cuz you can time travel!"

I'm still not sure if I trust this guy, or believe him one hundred percent, but I'll do anything to prevent another timeline from ending.

This isn't happening again on my watch.

With that having been said, the Flash hurried out. Now fast if not possibly faster than Sonic himself, it was practically milliseconds before he was out of the facility in a burst of red wind and back out into the harsh breezes and heavily heated air of the once great city outside.

Not having any real clue as to where Shadow was besides him being in this same very city at this same very moment in time, the Flash mostly just wandered rapidly throughout the torched streets and shattered highways, dashing up to the rooftops to briefly stop and get better views - though it proved difficult to make anything out in such a vast and expensive landscape of destruction. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to find anything, if he was being honest.

It was all the same.

Death, Destruction, Fire and Lava.

That was truly all that there was.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I can feel him laughing right now..I can hear him in the wind…

He got them killed…

My friends…

My family…

He won, even though we got him in the end, he still won…

And he knows it…

He's laughing at me…

Taunting me…

Get out of my head!

The memories of what longer existed yet again overwhelmed the Flash as he overlooked what remained of the future. Holding his head as he fell to his knees with a scream, all he could hear was the cold, maniacal laughter of the sadistic madman known to him as 'Darkseid'. He could not see the monster, but the sound of his laughter was as clear to him as if the demonic 'god' was not more than a foot away.

He began to sweat profusely. The purple sparks were ignited left and right from his body, and even his vision was flashing from normal to purple as the laughter of that monster intensified. Visions of those lost wouldn't go away either. It was as though they were standing directly in front of him, even though he knew they were long gone.

Conner…

Hal...

Barbara…

Billy…

Zatanna…

J'honn…

Arthur…

Mera…

Dick...

Wallace...

Iris...

Thinking of whatever fate Iris had met in his previous timeline finally set the man over the edge. His vision firmly turned purple as his eyes were surrounded by electrified purple energy. He let out a loud scream into the heavens, his sweat still coming profusely from his body, heart racing to it's limit, and lungs being just as equally stressed.

"LEAVE ME ALONE YOU SADISTIC BASTARD!" he screamed as he stood up and turned around, having expected Darkseid to be there. At first, he was, and the Flash charged at him with more anger than he honestly knew he had. He didn't want Darkseid defeated. He wanted Darkseid dead. Except the moment he would have made contact with the warlord, the tall red-eyed conqueror vanished. Flash had to stop himself from rushing over the ledge of the rooftop he was standing upon, as it was a one way drop into a massive lake of burning hot lava.

The Flash's eyes widened as they returned to reality. His heart and lungs still raced, but his vision returned to normal. He fell to his knees again, holding his forehead as he comprehended just what was going on.

I should be forgetting this happened…

I want to forget that any of this ever happened...

Why can't I? Why can't that sadistic monster and everything he did just leave my memories forever?

Barry closed his eyes, letting out from them a long stream of tears. For most of those he remembered, he did not get subjected to their horrific fates - though he was informed of those he missed. Now their memories echoed throughout his fragile mind. With every second he spent here in this hellish place, it felt as though his mental state was increasingly close to shattering. Yet somehow, the actual destruction of whatever weak piece of string held it all together did not come. Whether through sheer willpower or some other force, he did not know. All he knew was that while he certainly wasn't as there as he wanted to be, he wasn't all gone either.

The worst part for him was for those fates that couldn't be confirmed.

He never found out what happened to Iris or to the first Kid Flash, 'Wally', in the previous timeline. They were only presumed deceased.

He knew better than to think too hard about the previous incarnation of Iris. Even beginning to imagine it filled his mind with feelings of both intense grief and equally intense rage. He wanted nothing more than to give Darkseid true justice for the lives his army ended and ruined. The only solace he had here was that Darkseid no longer existed.

But it still feels like he does….

Standing up and looking back on the skyline of the lifeless cityscape, the Flash took a deep breath. His quest to locate the 'ultimate lifeform' in this mess was not going to be easy, but if Mephiles was telling the truth then it had to be done in order to prevent this horrible future from being a reality.

His motivation restored, Barry resumed the quest.

The best way for him to not let that beast continue to rule over his mind, was for him to focus on running. To never let his mind stay on the subject for too long. He hoped that as soon as he was no longer in this nightmare of a future, perhaps he would be able to be his completely old self again.

Wishful thinking always was a hallmark of humanity.

Deep down, he knew that Barry was slowly dying. Decaying away, soon to be gone forever. He most likely would never again feel like 'his old self', and to be honest he didn't really know what that meant anymore.

He was convinced he never truly would ever again.

For the most part, there wasn't much to this city. All he had to do was maintain his fast speed and resulting momentum and the massive canyons of molten magma were easily avoided. There were moments when the remnant highways he landed on would begin crumbling not long after his weight was added to them, sending large concrete balls and other debris his way, though with his speed restored they were nothing to dodge - and he likewise was capable of jumping from the dilapidated highway roads to the destroyed remains of buildings easily.

It was ever impossible to tell what purpose any of these buildings served in 'life', however. He was sure most of them were residential or office buildings, based on their shape. He thought he had seen one or two malls while scaling along some of the rooftops, but nothing of use appeared to be inside.

All in all, so far there wasn't much to traversing the city as long as he had his powers. Finding Shadow on the other hand…

"I know what he looks like" Barry said to himself while scoping out one of the abandoned city blocks he managed to come across, taking a break from collapsing highways and rooftops, "Black with red stripes. Red eyes. About three or maybe four feet tall. Once I saw him, I could never miss him. But how do I see him?"

Barry saw a series of road and sidewalk fragments led upwards, almost like a staircase made up of the destroyed city itself. Figuring he could get a better look he quickly dashed over to it and climbed it until he reached the top 'stair' and with one hand over his eyes scoped out the horizon around him.

Still nothing but ruins. And….that..

'That' referred to a usually rare tornado of fire. Despite common belief, they did exist even in the previous timeline, though as to be expected in this world they were likely more common. This one however, was far more massive than any tornado the Flash had ever seen before - it's size and diameter both were akin to a kaiju in sheer scale, the superhero appearing as little more than a blip to it as it stood in place within a lake of red magma - the heat could still be felt by Barry even though he was far beneath it, let alone the fact he could see the waves of it in the air the closer he was to it.

The more he looked at this tornado though, at how it remained in place, at how it was made purely of fire. At how it did not seem to have a natural origin from the sky. The realization soon hit him:

This is not a normal tornado...

I should probably not spend too much time near it…

Barry was about to speed away from the tornado, when suddenly he heard a loud, bellowing roar from the direction of the tornado. In a flash he turned around to face the fiery 'tower' once again, not wanting to believe that a tornado had roared. He even mentally remarked:

If that thing just roared at me, then it's definitely not a normal tornado…

As if to prove him correct, from the tornado suddenly spawned a small army of creatures. Creatures seemingly made of molten rock, fire and magma. Barry couldn't believe his eyes. These were the same moderately large, screeching bat-like beings that he had witnessed while walking these streets with Mephiles - only now they were outright hostile towards him.

Illuminated by the fires they were made of, these creatures screeched just like the earth creatures they reminded Barry of. However, even though these creatures were small and nimble in appearance, that wasn't how his mind soon began to portray them as.

Within seconds, these creatures became paradooms - horrifying abominations. Some of the ugliest creatures he'd ever laid his eyes upon. Dark, soulless eyes. Large, hulking bodies caked with scarlet red armor, and two metallic bat-like wings protruding from their backs. Their snow white hair that dropped from their heads was unmistakable and gave off their relation to Doomsday - from whom half of their DNA was taken from.

Seeing them again, Barry shook. He was frozen in terror.

These things had no right to exist. These things were abominations, a spit on the face to existence itself. These horrible monstrosities had killed so many people, ruined so many lives. These mindless, heartless creatures. These beasts. Yet here they were, charging at Barry as though they didn't care at all - like true creatures from the deepest pits of Hell itself.

No...

Not these things…

NOT AGAIN!

Barry ran from them. He ran from them as fast as speed could, though they did not give up the chase.

No!

Not again!

He could still hear their nightmarish roars and hisses. Those horrifying sounds. Forever etched in his mind. The last things so many good, innocent people heard before they died. Besides the sound of their own screams as they were slaughtered as though they were nothing but trash.

He was willing to run for as long a distance as he could to get away from these hideous creatures, these insults to creation itself. These things did not deserve existence. These things did not deserve life - not after taking so much of it away from others.

Conner...that poor kid...they took him out like he was just nothing to him, threw him away like he was garbage…

Hal...Zatanna...Billy….they ate a fucking kid. They. Ate. A. Fucking. Kid.

All those people...all those innocent people...slaughtered. By these fucking monsters. These fucking abominations from Hell…

These things don't deserve to fucking live…

It was just as that last sentence crossed his mind that he was stopped in his tracks by a piercing headache. He fell directly to the heated asphalt beneath his feet as he ached and writhed in pain. His eyes yet again flashing purple as he groaned and gritted his teeth, the pain truly unbearable. It was as though something were scratching and gnawing on his brain itself, making him scream out in absolute agony.

Purple sparks and bolts flew from his body as he dealt with this pain. All while the paradooms began to surround him in the air above. Just as he looked up to see them, he was just as quickly distracted by two more bursting from the ground itself - large craters now situated beneath them. That's not to mention the ones walking in towards him from the shadows - resulting in the Flash being absolutely surrounded. In the midst of his piercing, agonizing migraine.

Nnngh, ugh, my brain feels like it is on fire right now.

And now these things are surrounding me...again…

I guess you win again, Darkseid...I can only hope that eventually someone gives you everything you fucking deserve...

Barry closed his eyes at that point, between this headache and witnessing these beasts again, he was ready for the cold embrace of death. He could only hope that once in death, he would finally be rid of these horrible memories, never again to be plagued by them.

That was, until he began to imagine the pain and suffering these things caused.

Conner...they snapped your neck….like it was nothing. They threw you away like you were garbage...when you weren't...you were a bright kid. You had so much potential...you deserved to experience more of the world, more of the actual world. You deserved so much more than to just be treated like that…

Billy….you were just a fucking kid. You were just a fucking kid. One of the best members of the League too...I'll never forget you. We should've never gone there. We should have thought of a better way….if only...if only we had.

J'honn...Mera...Arthur….bringing you guys to a fucking fire world….you guys deserved better than that. Should've left you guys behind to help protect the Titans. They could've used the help….

Wally, Wallace….you kids...you guys were awesome. Sometimes you were pains, but I couldn't ask for better nephews. If I had known what was going to happen to you guys, I would've done something….I'm sorry your new future's going to end up sucking again, because of me...

Then, one final person crossed his mind once more.

Iris...I'm so sorry...I don't even know if they….if they….what they…..what they…

"What they..."

Suddenly, his acceptance of impending death had transformed into rage. Remaining on the ground, he looked up at one of the paradooms looming over him. An intense, rage filled glare. The purple filling both his eyes as well as his vision now served almost like fire quite literally in his eyes - and his migraine as flames burning within his head. Seeing Iris impaled upon his monster's garish claws, blood seeping from her stomach as well as dripping from her mouth while her lifeless pupils locked themselves directly down on Barry himself proved all the motivation that he needed.

With an enraged leap he lunged onto the creature and managed to tackle it to the ground with the sheer amount of speed and kinetic force that his anger had managed to generate.

The beast screamed in agony, but Barry was not done yet. He grabbed a rock from the crumbling street and began to relentlessly bash in the monster's face. With absolutely nothing being held back. He bashed at this beast's eyes. He based at it's cheeks. He based at it's jaw. It's teeth. He even could see some of them flying out, the creature's blue goop 'blood' flying alongside them.

He heard this thing crying. Perhaps for mercy, but it would receive none. He wanted to see this thing die. He bashed that stone into it hard and fast enough that the stone itself was chipping away. Enough times so that the creature's entire head was virtually non-existent. Reduced to a puddle of it's tar-like blood and what few remnants of it's head remained.

Then came it's 'partner'.

Seeing Wally and Wallace impaled by that thing's two claws as though they were food on the end of a fork as it roared out in anger - before it began spitting fire directly at him. It was all he needed to know where he stood with this thing. Circling around it with his speed for a few rounds, he first grabbed hold of a large shard of broken glass from one of the dilapidated shops this specific street corner had lined up along either side. He decided to give this thing the feeling it had given his nephews, and using the massive broken window pane as a shield from the fire he jammed it directly into the monster's torso. It gave but one final shriek of pain before it fell over, still writhing and bubbling up it's own blood, before he sped over to another rock and tossed it as head - just to make sure it was deceased.

Hearing these things cry out in pain was music to the Flash's ears.

The fight wasn't over yet though. Still glaring and in battle stance, he was greeted by one who had done something particularly horrific. One of the ones which walked out from the shadows held in his hands the young, once energetic Superboy. His black fade haircut and all, though his eyes closed. His neck snapped out of it's place as he lay lifeless in the arms of this devilish beast that killed him.

It didn't deserve to live.

None of them did.

Snarling at his foe, the Flash first tried to attack with his speed and a direct body slam - though had to detour due to being attacked by this thing's fire breath - as well as dodge the fire breath of the other three on the field. He headed over to the corpse that he had impaled with glass. Moving quickly, he jabbed out a small piece from the glass - a piece thick enough to do the work he had planned for it.

Without even cracking a smile, he dashed back at the abomination that held Conner in its arms. The moment it tried to fire it's breath at him once more he jumped for it. He flipped in the air and actually easily kicked one of the flying paradooms into the wall of a nearby building - impaling it on a rusted flagpole, before landing behind the creature he was actually targeting.

Before it could even turn around, he leaped onto his neck and within less than a second jammed the shard of glass into its neck. Though it cut into his own flesh as well, he made sure it sank far deeper into its own with its jagged ends. The abomination screeched, but soon gurgled as the makeshift knife was drilled deeper into its throat - soon rendering it incapable of crying for mercy, let alone anything for that matter. Flash was not done however. He wanted this thing to know what it feels like to have it's neck so brutally broken. As hard as it was with such thick skin and flesh, he slit the beasts throat wide open. As it continued to gurgle and choke, clawing at its punctured throat - he repeatedly stabbed it. As hard and as fast as he could. Whatever arteries it had in there, they were soon reduced to mush. Barry stood on top of it's back once it finally fell to the ground, a puddle of it's tar 'blood' forming beneath it within seconds afterwards.

Even still, Barry felt it deserved worse.

As for the others, they did not last much longer either. With his powers restored Barry was easily able to make short work of them.

The ones in the air attempted to send spiked fireballs down at him like exploding bombs - with enough force Barry was able to kick each and every single one of these balls immediately back at them as they came down towards the ground, all virtually in mere milliseconds. Once they made contact with their own producers, the 'paradoom's were set ablaze, screaming in agony as they were roasted and fried alive, falling to the ground and dying as their bodies burned like pathetic sheets of paper.

The ones on the ground were tougher. One attempted to lunge at Barry, though he was swiftly taken out when he managed to pick up a parking meter that had long since fallen from its original position. Before the beast could even land he tossed it like a javelin into its mouth. It burst out the other end by the end of the second, making it drop to the ground before Barry's feet. Dead.

The remaining two on the ground attempted fire breath one more time. A sewer manhole cover easily whacked them both in the head with a well timed strike - and Barry crushing some glass to fire at them like shurikens tore their faces and throats to shreds in an instant, ensuring their demise as they too soon collapsed to the ground.

With all of the visible paradooms dead, Barry's migraine finally faded and his eyes returned to their normal state. However, the bodies of the paradooms did not go away. In fact, to his shock there appeared to be more of them. Far more of them. Legions of them. Crawling from the buildings. Descending from the air. Ascending from the ground.

They were everywhere.

Their horde even extended for miles beyond. They were only form of life for virtually the entire span of the city, it seemed.

A few minutes ago, Barry would have cowered in fear.

Now, however, he showed no fear at all.

He was going to give these beasts exactly what they deserved.

"Let's Dance."

The following few seconds can best be described as a massacre. A massacre of 'paradooms'. Barry spared not a single one of them as he blazed through time. At times the mere act of ramming into them at full throttle was enough to shatter their entire bodies to pieces. Others caught fire from the trail left behind him. When he did make direct moves on them such as punches, slides, or kicks, the majority of them died from just the one strike. Barry didn't know if it was the new strength and energy he was feeling earlier, or if they were just genuinely this pathetic as of now.

Either way, he was not complaining.

With each of these hideous beasts that fell, another of their victims was finally avenged. Given the justice they deserved.

It was a long time coming.

He felt little to no sympathy for any of these demons. Not after what they did to Iris. To Wally. To Wallace. To Conner. To Zatanna. To Hal. To Billy. To Mera. To Arthur. To J'Honn. To Diana. To Dick. To Jaime. To Garfield. To Donna. To Roy. To Karen. To Everyone.

Normally, heroes were not supposed to murder, or kill. He took no pleasure in the act of killing these things.

He took pleasure in avenging the lives they ended, and the timeline they ruined.

Blazing through the destroyed city taking out Paradooms all the way through, Barry left a trail of their remains in his wake. For some of his 'victims', there was hardly anything left to even consider remains. Those were usually the ones destroyed by how fast he was charging into them.

He had no idea where his legs were taking him anymore, or if he was anywhere close to finding Shadow. As long as he was decreasing the population of paradooms however, he did not seem to care.

By the end of the horde he was standing on a rooftop, panting and huffing. The flashing purple vision had returned as he recovered his breath - though thankfully not the piercing headache. At least, not for now.

Looking behind him, he could still see the trail of deceased paradooms extending for miles behind him as he recovered his breath and gave a moment for his racing heart to calm itself down. He was not proud of the act of killing, in fact he was ashamed of it. However, these were not civilians. These were not ordinary villains. These were monsters. More lives are saved by their deaths, than by their continued living. They needed to die. Perhaps if they had let their victims have burials, he would have been more merciful to them.

He overlooked the skyline one final time - no remaining paradooms. All of the flying ones had either been impaled with broken parking meters or otherwise set aflame with their own fireballs - screaming while they burned to death.

It was only when he looked down at the abandoned streets below that he saw something that made his eyes widen once more - as though he was seeing ghosts far below him.

"It...can't be."

There they were. Victor Stone - Cyborg, and Zatanna. Victor's silver-and-red cybernetic upgrades were unmistakable, as was him being the only dark skinned man for miles in this hellscape. Zatanna's long dark hair and black-white outfit was the same one she wore during the assault on Apokolips - though she seemed completely fine, as though she too perfectly regenerated from all of her wounds. What concerned Barry however, was two things. One was that Victor seemed to be unconscious or dead, as he was in a sitting position with his head lowered - completely unresponsive. The second, was that Zatanna was talking to a man he dreaded as though she was doing business with him it seemed.

Darkseid.

It was undeniably Darkseid.

He was huge, charcoal black, with horrifying red eyes. His armor was just as black as his soul, if he even had one. He dwarfed Zatanna in size, and his face alone could be considered a weapon of mass destruction. Let alone the rest of his hulking, imposing body. Worst yet, he seemed to be pulling something out of Cyborg's body. Something green, and glowing. With a gasp, once it was in the light of the fiery sky, Barry saw precisely what it was.

"It's a chaos emerald! Oh crap, Darkseid's got a chaos emerald! I don't know what those things are even fully capable of but if they can restore my powers then that is no good! No good at all! What the heck am I gonna do now?!"

Slapping himself before he fast-talked himself into further levels of insanity, Barry refocused himself on Darkseid and Zatanna. He didn't know why Zatanna seemed to be standing beside and talking to Darkseid so casually, though two reasonings arrived in his head before long:

Either she's betraying us and joining his side, or she's under his mind control.

Either way, I've got to get that chaos emerald away from his ass a.s.a.p! Gotta act fast!

Without wasting any further time, Barry immediately rushed for Darkseid. At the speed of light he slammed within Darkseid within the second, managing to slam him into a building on the other side of the street by using only one arm - with Barry himself taking a sharp turn with intent of striking again after turning back - not even letting Darkseid recover before slamming into him again. And then again. Then about two more times, before Darkseid finally had just enough seconds to hold the chaos emerald into the air, and let out but two words:

"Chaos Control!"

Within an instant a green flash came from the emerald, and Barry was stunned. Just before he slammed his fist into Darkseid, he was practically frozen in place. As though time itself around him had just suddenly stopped. What's worse, was that it did not stop for Darkseid. He was able to move around completely unaffected by whatever it was that the emerald had just done. Barry was fully at his mercy.

Then Darkseid jumped in the air, and roundhouse kicked Barry directly in the back of the head.

In an instant, Barry was snapped out of whatever stopping of time he was a part of - though he felt every bit of the hard slam to the back of his head. It immediately brought back both the flash of purple vision for a few more seconds as well as the splitting migraine - making Barry hold his head in pain for a few moments before standing back up and looking at where Darkseid was standing. Except once he did so, there was no Darkseid at all. Instead, there was only a certain black furred Hedgehog, holding the green chaos emerald and holding a strong battle stance while not removing his eyes from Barry for a single second.

He had located Shadow.

Zatanna and Victor were 'gone' as well. In their place was a deactivated, bulky robot that sported colors of red, gold and black though was covered in exuberant amounts of dust. Not a single ounce of flesh present on the machine. Zatanna was 'replaced' by a 3-4 foot tall literal bat woman, that is to say a woman with the ears of a bat, wings sprouting from her back, and a black latex outfit with pink 'hearts' on her boots and chest. As well as lipstick. She seemed just as battle ready as Shadow himself.

Nope, this timeline is still crazy weird to me.

But no time to think about that, I'm in the middle of a fight, focus Barry! Focus!

Barry gazed at his opponent with a glare in his eye, trying to get a good read of him. Judging by the look in Shadow's eyes and on his face, he was doing much the same. The look in Shadow's eyes especially was familiar to Barry. It was almost as though Shadow knew one hundred percent what was doing, or was planning on what to do for his next move. Or perhaps even both. Yet again did a chill run down Barry's spine.

I'm getting a lot of Batman vibes from his voice already, I hope he's more like Bruce and not like Thomas...

It didn't take very long for both to figure out that the two of them were both waiting for the other to attempt the next strike. Remembering what Mephiles had said of Shadow in his briefing, Barry did not want to underestimate him any more than he already had. Shadow, for his part, seemed not the type to underestimate an opponent either - especially one that's already gotten a few surprise hits on him.

Rather than a direct strike, Barry decided to instead at least get some confirmation to what he technically already knew:

"Shadow? Shadow the Hedgehog?"

Shadow grunted in response, not saying a single word. His only response was a nod, confirming that Barry's assumption was correct. Without removing his eye contact, Barry responded:

"Well alright then."

Barry wasted no further time in engaging in battle with the so-called 'ultimate lifeform' - though he dared not get too close. Instead he used his arms and rapidly twirled them around, using his sheer speed to create two large vortexes of wind - like tornadoes being generated from his very own body. The aim was to get Shadow to 'come' directly to him, though naturally quite a fair bit more than just Shadow was hurled around.

The bat girl herself had to extend her wings and visibly struggled not to get sucked into Barry's swirling spirals of fast moving wind, though the moment she had almost slipped and surrendered Shadow had swiftly managed to resist the wind enough to get her out of it's direct path, before letting himself fly towards Barry.

Barry had honestly thought he was ready to pull in the Hedgehog and and was prepared to strike him, though he didn't expect one thing:

"Chaos Spear!'

Suddenly, a bolt of yellow energy struck Barry directly in the chest - interrupting his whirlwinds and sending him onto the ground upon his back. For anyone without a fast acting healing factor, those burns would certainly sting. The 'spear' felt not too unlike Clark's heat rays or Victor's own energy weapons, though thankfully he was not incinerated.

Either way, soon Shadow had his foot on Barry's chest, standing atop him. Having Shadow's shoes step on a fresh and just healing burn made the Flash let out a bit of a hiss as he looked up at this enemy - the look of the light behind Shadow made the Hedgehog almost look like an eclipse before Barry's eyes, mostly darkened out with an aura of light behind him. Coupled with the look in his eyes, that glaring, unamused look that demanded answers as well as respect - it was a very familiar glare.

Hi Bruce…you've really shrunk, ya know that?

Shadow however, was not Bruce by any means:

"Identify yourself and state your business."

Still glaring at his opponent, Barry did at least give him enough respect to be technically correct:

"Me? Oh I'm nobody special, just the Flash."

Suddenly smirking, Barry used another one of his recently restored powers. Vibrating and ultra fast speeds he was able to soon enough make himself intangible. Caught off guard, Shadow's feet went from standing atop Barry's body to touching the ground, while Barry himself rolled to be directly beside Shadow - standing up before letting himself become entirely physical again. Before Shadow could strike him with a second chaos spear Barry made sure to take off at his fast speed again, intending to do another hit-and-run move on the Hedgehog.

However, Shadow was now onto him and used his own speed - revealing his shoes to indeed be 'rocket shoes' that allowed him to hover over the ground as though he was skating on it. He was actually able to skate practically just as fast as Barry could run - making himself into a formidable adversary for the human speedster as he had just performed his turn at the end of a ledge at the street and was on his way to make contact with Shadow once more.

Seeing his enemy barreling towards him at seemingly matching speed was not an expected sight, but the Flash was never one to back down from a challenge. He prepared for impact.

And then it was made.

Shadow and the Flash clashed. First they punched each other directly in the face - both grunting as contact with each other's skin was made. With the Flash using his sheer momentum and Shadow having natural super strength, both were sent flying back to either end of the street they were on - both of them just barely evading falling off into the pits of lava beneath them. For Barry, it felt as though Clark had just decked him square in the jaw. He was beginning to understand the meaning behind 'Ultimate Lifeform', and pondered…

I wonder if this guy has any equivalent of Kryptonite...if not, then Meph basically just sent me on a suicide mission…

Both Shadow and Barry wiped blood that had managed to come from their mouths from their punches, and immediately charged at each other again, all while the female bat watched. A black blur charging at a red blur was all she could really make out due to how fast the two were. She could see them constantly crashing repeatedly, slamming each other with their speed over and over - sending each other into the buildings around them as she watched, unable to match their speeds.

However, while Barry's strength was an illusion caused by his use of inertia and momentum, Shadow had both speed and strength, meaning every time it was his punches or kicks that strucke Barry - the latter took more damage than when it was the former getting struck. However, Barry's healing factor as well as ability to evade getting into a string of repeated strikes and properly strike back proved invaluable in avoiding defeat.

However, there was one major weakness that Barry had which he overlooked. At only three or perhaps four feet tall, Barry could hardly tell, Shadow was an easy target to miss and easily dodged the larger human man's punches and kicks more than he was struck by them. Adversely, Barry's larger size made him an easier target for Shadow to strike. Still, the Flash's endurance at the very least allowed him to compensate for this.

Barry could tell one thing, however:

Either the chaos emerald made me stronger and-or more durable, or this guy is holding back. Or both.

If it's both, then I really wish he was on my side.

The battle raged on for a few more moments. Shadow would stop in the air only to deliver chaos spears towards Barry, though the red blur would successfully dodged them, only be struck into the window of one of the street corner stores by Shadow curling into a ball and ramming directly into him, and then proceeding to ram into the Flash again by spinning in ball form along the ground like a homing bowling ball. It hurt just about as much, too.

Barry got up and managed to take things back out to the street outside however, and managed to successfully evade a surprise karate chop from Shadow, only to get kicked in the gut by the rodent's foot - yet again sent to the ground.

"I don't have time for this" Shadow remarked as he looked at Barry getting up again, with his bat companion descending from the air to be at his side. Keeping his eyes locked on Barry, Shadow continued to be ever demanding, "I suggest you give up and tell me who you are now, because I'm not going to entertain you much longer than I already have."

"Heh" Barry smirked as he readied his battle stance once more, "You really think it's gonna be that easy?"

"Very well."

One last time, Barry charged at Shadow with intent on a direct hit. However, pulling out the chaos emerald one more time Shadow was yet again able to freeze Barry in place with a swift use of chaos control.

The Flash could only watch as Shadow jumped into the air and kneed him directly in the jaw - breaking him out of the freezing as well as sending him into the air with strength akin to Barry's old timeline friend 'Clark'. Barry had little time to react before in a flash of green chaos energy, Shadow seemingly teleported directly above him, slamming his fists down on Barry's head and sending him barreling back down for the ground below - before Shadow appeared repeatedly in mid-air, teleporting in order to smack Barry around in the air with punches and kicks as though he were a ball on a pinball table. He fought with the strength of an irritated kryptonian, despite his size managing to effortlessly toss around the full grown human as though he were nothing.

The final hits came when Barry was again smacked upwards, and in quick succession back down to the ground - creating a sizable impact crater upon landing due to the sheer strength of Shadow's hit mixed with the momentum picked up by Barry as he fell.

Wanting to end this battle as quickly as possible, Shadow generated two flashing purple-blue spheres of chaos energy from his hands, and with perfect precision fired them as beams at Barry with only seconds needed to charge them. Barry braced himself for their impact - though that didn't stop the burning heat. It was though he had just been struck with Koriand'rs own energy attacks, though perhaps it was still more like Clark and Conner's eye beams. Either way, it was a searing heat of an energy blast - whatever chaos energy was, one fact remained true in that it burned.

Barry was grateful for his healing factor, though it could not heal that the wind had been successfully knocked out of him and there was no way that he was able to continue the fight. He had to concede defeat to Shadow, at least for now.

Shadow and his bat companion soon stood on the edge of the crater that was created by Barry's impact with the ground, watching as Barry struggled to stand up once more - though it was clear by his panting and huffing that he was not in any condition to continue the fight any longer. As much as he continued glaring at Shadow, who silently stared at him before asking him once more:

"I'll ask again, who are you and why are you here?"

After catching his breathe enough to speak, Barry replied:

"I said who I was, I'm the Flash. As for why I'm here, I'm here to stop you."

"Stop me from what?"

"Mephiles sent me, to stop you from destroying the world."

Hearing the dark one's name made both Shadow and his companion widen their eyes, looking to each other silently for a moment before turning back to Barry - Shadow with more angry look as all he said to Barry was a very blunt line of truth:

"Mephiles?"

Barry nodded.

"Considering it was him who sent me into this future, I can only assume he wanted you to kill me, sending you to do his dirty work. That, or he sent you on a suicide mission to serve as a distraction for me."

"Wha-what are you talking about?" Barry responded, approaching Shadow with minor bouts of stumbling, "The files, the articles, they talked about..."

"Whatever they said, I'm sure it was a lie!" the bat companion exclaimed, interrupting Barry could continue speaking. Her voice was young, though not that young. She was at least 18, or perhaps in her 20's -30's. "If you're putting your trust in Mephiles, then you must be seriously naive!"

"Hmph" Shadow huffed, crossing his arms. He agreed with his companion, though seemed to still be curious about what precisely the 'articles' said. Still, he did not question it further.

Barry was still reeling from his prior hallucinations and the battle itself, though seeing as how Shadow did not kill him in cold blood and while brutal did not seem to be truly bloodthirsty - at least not yet, he had good reason to believe Shadow to be more trustworthy than Mephiles. While Mephiles did see his powers restored, it did seem as though Shadow's side of things perfectly complemented Mephiles' own.

Still, there was a massive share of unanswered questions:

"Still, if you're not the destroyer of this timeline, of this world...what are you?"

Shadow closed his eyes for a few seconds, before opening them as he bluntly informed Barry of just who he was:

"I am Shadow the Hedgehog, the ultimate lifeform created to protect the planet earth as well as G.U.N.'s top elite agent operative."

"And I'm Rouge the Bat" the bat companion beside Shadow said in an almost flirtatious voice, "World renowned treasure hunter, and also a G.U.N. agent on the side."

Government Agents…great…

"And, well, as I said before, I'm the Flash" Barry said, to Shadow's continued silent suspicion, by now fully having put himself back together following the battle. "I'm really glad we're all acquainted with each other!" he then dashed to join Shadow and Rouge on the outside of the crater, "Now I do apologize for that attacking you thing, but if you don't mind, can you explain to me what the heck is going on?"

"From what me and Shadow found on a computer not that long ago" Rouge explained, "We've been sent 200 years into the future. As to how we encountered Mephiles in the first place, all you need to know is that it was on a mission and most of the details are classified, Honey".

"Yeah, I get it, your government agents."

"Hmph" Shadow almost rolled his eyes, though he kept distrustful eye contact with Barry.

"So basically" Barry responded as he was finally mentally placing all of the pieces together, "Mephiles sent all of us to this future, and then convinced me to go after you in order to kill you."

"It would seem so", Shadow nodded.

"And, where'd you get that emerald from?"

"From this future's version of my team member, E-123 'Omega'" Shadow explained, gesturing to the dust-covered robot, "And that's enough questions for now, we have work to do."

Shadow began to storm off at that point, with Rouge following him. While Shadow clearly could care less, Rouge at least turned back to Barry to say in a much more pleasant tone of voice:

"Don't mind him, it's just always business with that one."

"Oh, I can get used to that kind of attitude no problem."

Rouge chuckled, Shadow grumbled, though let the two continue speaking - he wasn't that much of a jerk.

"You might want to tag along with us too" Rouge continued to say, "Considering you probably wouldn't want to stay here longer than you have to."

Barry was quick to catch up to Shadow and Rouge as they traversed the hellish landscape of the destroyed city, this time together. Having companions managed to minimize the risk of Barry having further hallucinations - at least for the time being. Something about how familiar yet different Shadow and Rouge were managed to make him feel as though he were still in a timeline that he would consider recognizable.

He wasn't quite sure who precisely they reminded him of entirely, though he had some mental comparisons being made in his head.

Still, traversing the lifeless landscape of death, destruction and ruins even with two impromptu teammates still was quite a lonely endeavor. Jumping - or in Rouge's cases flying - from cliff of street to slowly sinking building onto another cliff of street or slowly melting segment of highway with only the ambience of fire as background noise persisted to make Barry long for a return to the present, even the war against Apokolips had a more hopeful outcome for earth than this. As Barry realized that the two were leading him to the outskirts of the city where things looked less like the ruins of a civilization and more like a genuine hellish dimension, he decided to ask at least a few more questions:

"So, quick question, but you guys do know where you're headed to, right?"

"Yes" Shadow replied as the three were dashing along a long enough stretch of highway to warrant actually running along it - Rouge's flight miraculously managed to keep up with the other two as Shadow explained, "Sonic, Tails and Knuckles were sent here by Eggman. They're waiting for us in the outskirts of the city."

"Wow, wonder how that happened…"

"Hmph"

"And one more question?" Barry asked, with Shadow silently looking back at him again curiously, "Were you holding back against me back there? Or what? I never thought a Hedgehog would be able to hit that hard."

"You're lucky that I was."

Barry did not know what to say in response to that, and so just continued following Shadow and Rouge silently, heading for the outskirts of the city. Watching the skyline of destroyed buildings become replaced by a skyline of black volcanoes - and what light there was in this nightmarish world continued to grow dimmer the further the three were from the city.

Hopefully we'll get out of here soon…

And I definitely have some words for Mephiles next time I see him…

[chiauve]

Algernon - Day 7

(Note: I’m bullshitting my way through the computer and cyborg stuff and no one can stop me!)

           A too-bright override command smacked him in the face and he swatted it away. Whoever this guy was he wasn't an amateur, but Jet was a human mind and couldn't just be hacked into, and with the loss of…everything else Jet could focus wholly on his defenses. But for how long? To what end?

           There was a "back door" that would override the human component and give access to the cybernetic brain, an emergency port that Black Ghost had used liberally once he learned how to control his cybernetics. Gilmore sealed it up long ago, but it was standard for Black Ghost models and Jet really hoped this guy wasn't familiar with them.

           It wouldn't come to that. Transmitter or not, the team wouldn't give up looking for him. He just had to hold on for a bit, they'd find him somehow. If they were alive.

           Stop that. They were fine, they always won, they'd already sacrificed…

           Oh god, Albert…

           Sorrow turned to rage and Jet flung open the door and reached out into the invading computer. Programming and computers really wasn't his thing, but he knew how to just instinctively react towards them and let the cybernetic secondary brain translate whatever he did into something viable. He grabbed hold of the foreign computer, twisted, and then yanked.

           The man jumped as his computer crashed and Jet felt satisfaction at his dumbfounded stare. The screen turned back on, black save green text.

           _I SAID F U C K O F F_

           Jet's triumph was short lived as the dumbfounded expression turned to elation.

           "It defended itself. It attacked my system in defense! This AI is incredible!"

           Wait, what? AI?

           Hardly stymied, Jet's new personal nemesis promptly began to get his computer back up and running. He unplugged Jet after the first attempt when Jet tried to trash the BIOS.

           Jet wanted to scream. The motions occurred as his eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted and opened, but no sound came out. The man glanced up, not at all threatened, then merely reached out and shut his mouth.

           "Glitchy thing…" he muttered.

           Damnit, I'm not glitchy, you idiot! I'm a human being!

           His computer back online hours later, the stranger called it a day and left, shutting off lights in his wake and leaving Jet alone in the dark. It sounded like the man walked up wooden stairs behind him, like he was in a basement, but Jet couldn't turn to look. There was something highly disconcerting about being unable to turn one's head. Amazing what Jet took for granted sometimes.

           With this reprieve he tried to get some semblance of order in his systems. He ran diagnostics; they failed. He tried overriding primary systems with secondary ones or obsolete programs that Gilmore hadn't bothered to remove during upgrades. The chronometer was malfunctioning; he had no way to keep track of time. He finally had to accept his bodiless state and performed a full disconnect, usually reserved for lost limbs in combat that he could keep functioning without being assaulted with errors and mistranslated pain. The cybernetics calmed considerably but the panic in his mind only doubled as he was left with a sense of nothing and he worried about shock.

           Either way, he must have blacked out because he startled awake at the sound of a door closing and footsteps descending.

           So it began again. Jet shut the door and slumped against it while the pounding continued, stray commands leaking through and whipping him across the face.

           He needed to do something. Maybe he was going about this wrong. So long as this man got nothing he would keep trying for everything. Maybe Jet should throw him a bone and let him play with that, maintaining control of the information given. Maybe get some of his own in turn.

          ��At least until the others showed up and Joe kicked this guy's ass through the wall.

           He opened the door a crack.

           "I'm in!" the man crowed.

           Oh my god, who actually says that?

           _WHERE AM I_

           "Not now," the man grumbled and kept typing, ignoring Jet's request. He was too fascinated with the minor feed Jet was allowing him, continuing to talk to no one.

           "I need to get past the AI right now. I knew it was damaged when I bought it but this is…It's glitchy as all hell look at this data it's a mess."

           Those aren't glitches, you moron, that's me. Haven't you ever seen a neuro-cybernetic crossfeed before?

           _WHO ARE YOU_

           "What, I need credentials now?"

           _YES_

           That brought his assailant up short and the man stared at Jet long and hard.

           "It can hear me."

           _I CAN HEAR YOU YES__WHO ARE YOU_

           "Can you understand me?"

           _I SAID YES ARE YOU LACKING BRAINCELLS_

           "Oh my god," the man breathed in delight, "Best robot head ever!"

           _IM HUMAN_

           "Of course you are. Shit, shit! I can't wait to reverse engineer this!"

           _NO_

           "Sorry, gotta find out how you work. Don't worry I'll put you back together."

           _NOT A ROBOT_

           "Somebody was watching too much Star Trek when they made you, huh?" and then he went back to Jet's data.

           I'm older than Star Trek, Jet started to send but was cut off by an identification request command. Damnit. If he got hold of Jet's ID codes he'd never get his defense 'door' fully shut again. Fortunately this man was accustomed to robots and was sending the wrong request format. It was a Black Ghost code though, so Jet couldn't help but begin to worry.

           He might have to force a shutdown if his systems were breached. Hell, he could technically do a minor self-destruct and destroy the cybernetic brain, though without the emergency oxygen and power flow modules at the base of his skull running he wouldn't live more than a few minutes.

           Those were starting to get a bit low now anyway. They were designed to only keep the brain alive if all else failed; he wasn't supposed to be conscious while they were in use. He was burning through them too fast. He had maybe a few days at most.

           Another request command slapped him in the face and he batted it away.

           His assailant frowned then sat back, arms crossed in thought. "This is a Black Ghost core system, but I haven't seen much of their stuff on the market lately and yet you've got some pretty recent hardware upgrades from a third party. So let's see…" He reached out and grabbed some of the vertebrae hanging naked from Jet's neck. "There should be a serial number here somewhere."

           He went back to his computer and started something else, Jet couldn't tell what without opening his door further and if he was honest with himself he was getting frightened. This man was familiar with Black Ghost tech.

           Just hang on until the team finds you. Go back into lockdown.

           Jet tried to shut the door when a stream of gold light shot through the gap and held it fast: the correct identification request. Jet was overridden and his cybernetic codes rushed out the door like an overexcited dog he couldn't grab.

           _IDENTIFICATION - BG-CX00-2_

           "There we go, just had to get the right series."

           _STOP IT_

           "Got'cha now, my little robot head."

           _IM HUMAN_STOP_IM A CYB

           Access: BG-CX00-2            Access granted: waiting            Override: system AI            System AI already overridden: active: primary neuro component

           The man frowned and then shrugged.

           Override: primary neuro component            Accessing…

           No! Jet screamed as a tearing sensation ripped through him. He was being cut off. No, no, no! He pulled from his mind the image of an axe and slammed it down onto the stream of gold light, snapping it and throwing him back against the door that slammed shut. It hurt, it hurt so fucking much.

           Access overridden: entry denied: please enter passcode and lick my balls

           "What the hell!" the man snapped, and continued to put in Jet's access codes that pounded against Jet's defenses

           You get nothing! Jet seethed, and held the door fast.

           Please pass out please pass out please pass out god please…

           The drill whined and Jet's eyes rolled back into his head.

           His assailant was familiar with Black Ghost tech, enough to find out where the back door emergency port was. He'd grown tired of Jet's rolling passcodes and emergency shutdowns and was going straight for the source, drilling into the roof of Jet's mouth. He wasn't an amateur, but he didn't have the specialized tools Black Ghost or Gilmore had and was making do with what he did. A hole saw that didn't fit into Jet's mouth well enough to reach the back, so he leveraged it against Jet's upper mouth and snapped the handle down, dislocating Jet's jaw completely. Jet had blacked out briefly from that but he wasn't so lucky for the drill.

           Again it whined, wet and loud, and pain and terrible vibrations tore through him. Liquid flew out of his mouth, white and red, and splattered onto the man's gloved hands. The drill stopped and he stared at the fluid.

           The cybernetic fluid that made up most of the 00 cyborgs was a milky white, thick and nutrient rich, but some human blood remained. When injured they tended to bleed pink, but this close to his brain separate veins carried only blood and it beaded the man's gloves. He stared at it.

           "What the hell…" he breathed, incredulous, and touched some of the blood.  "Oh no, oh come on!" he yelled, forcing Jet's mouth open and peering into the damage he'd made. With a frustrated cry he slammed Jet's head back onto the desk.

           Ow…

           "It's a fucking cyborg!"

[a-patheticapathetic]

Nine Inch Nails/Yaggenhimen - The Downward Spiral: Review

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3bY3GGfqp7g

Alright, I think I’ve had enough time to reflect on this album. Time to do a review. And not just one review; I want to go over the original album, as well as an incredibly impressive full cover done almost entirely by one person. Linked above is the cover version. I assume that you can find the official version yourself. I recommend that you get a version with no gaps in between songs, nor risk of ads playing and breaking the flow.

Before you listen to either version of the album, you need to know a couple of things. This album is incredibly dark in both tone and sound. It is at times abrasive, angry, and totally devoid of hope. Depression and suicide are the main themes of the album. If you don’t think you can handle this, don’t risk hurting yourself. If you think the actual sound of this album will be too harsh for your tastes I would recommend listening to these songs, in this order: Closer, Heresy, Reptile, and March Of The Pigs. If the things you heard interested you and did not hurt your ears too badly, you can probably make it through the whole album.

I’ll be reviewing these albums in two parts: First, I’ll go though the NIN version like usual. After that, I’ll go through the Yaggenhimen, but instead of stream-of-consciousness writing, I’ll note down the differences and decide whether the cover is better, worse, or somewhere in between.

Alright. For those who are ready, let’s begin. 

(Also, fair warning: The loudest and most abrupt this album gets is at the very beginning and the very end. I’ll put a warning before the last song and tell you exactly where it happens.)

Mr. Self Destruct - 7/10

We begin the album with a looped audio clip of a man being beaten, taken from the movie THX 1138. Fairly fitting, given the journey ahead. Immediately following this is the second-most violent noise on the album, and the start of the song proper. I still can’t tell how much of this is physical instrumentation and how much is synthetic. Things go about as you’d expect up until the end of the second chorus. At this point the volume plummets in an instant, and the strange and eerie noises buried in the background hint at the subtlety NIN is hiding underneath all the violence. Trent is also showing off some serious vocal talent here, managing to sing quietly but still maintaining that feeling of insurmountable rage. When the anger comes back, it does so with more graduality. Listen to how the response vocals (”and I control you”) are distorted; they’re barely even recognizable. As the chorus repeats, a layer of static slowly rises, eventually all but drowning out the rest of the song. This too drops in an instant into the outro, a strange and unintelligible spaghetti loop of distorted guitars. This goes on for a bit, before cutting to the next song.

Piggy - 8/10

After a pronounced sigh, hey pig. The silence of this song relative to the cacophony of the previous is almost shocking. It also gives us more time to bask in all these little samples hidden in the background. The production on this album, despite how dirty it sounds, is unbelievably meticulous. Listen to the drums now; they’re about to change. After chorus 2, a pause, then a second, much louder drum track comes in. This is a solo performed by Trent himself. While it shows mercy at first, it quickly devolves into tempos and random beatings that have little rhyme or reason. And as the mantra “nothing can stop me now” is repeated, a gentle synth line begins, way up high in the background. This is the first appearance of the Downward Spiral motif. Pay attention moving forward; it will appear several times over the course of the album. Lay back as everything but the motif fades away. The spiral has begun; now, down is the only way to continue.

Heresy - 7/10

Instantly we’re hit with a wave of 80s synth, then a punishing programmed drum beat. Trent’s recorded double vocals here; one for each ear, and neither is quite right. More noises appear and we hit the chorus; while it may seem edgy today, this was released in the mid-90s. It drove conservatives absolutely insane because back then not many people were saying things like this so unabashedly. Also, while it’s hard to hear, the rhythm guitars are playing the motif during the chorus. There’s also a sample of a cheering crowd during the solo. Still not sure if it’s a guitar solo or a synth, or something in between. As the last chorus comes around and another, more distorted Trent comes out from beneath the mix, the synths give up and make way for the distorted guitars.

March of the Pigs - 9/10

The beat here is the fastest NIN have ever written, and it fits the panicked mood of this song. This is made clear when the rest of the instruments suddenly jump in, and the screaming crowd is back in full force. Trent is basically just yelling commands through a megaphone here, and there are also stranger voices creeping in the prechorus, seemingly talking about him in the third person. This all then fades as we approach the chorus. The distortion echoes and recedes, giving way to a sinister synth bassline. Then, the chorus. All the pigs are all lined up. And then...

Yeah, it was pretty clear that wasn’t going to last. This time, there is no mercy; the song kicks back with full force, and repeats in the same way through to the chorus. This time, the piano stays for the ride. Somehow this is even more threatening than the loudness of the rest of the song.

Closer - 9/10

The one everyone knows. This iconic drumline is actually sampled from Iggy Pop. The introduction of the vocals and synthbass essentially turn this song into the dictionary definition of sex. Then the chorus, which for better or worse, everyone can sing along to. It’s after this that things begin to get really interesting. A strange, ominous, distorted string line floats just out of reach for the next verse, and Trent’s delivery gets much more desperate than sexy. The next chorus is the same as the first, but the bridge is notably more barren and atmospheric. A heavily distorted guitar line slowly wades in, then vanishes as the final vocals come in. Trent is buried deep in the mix and devoid of emotion, and is essentially delivering prose rather than singing. Afterwards things begin to build up, with more aggressive synths, guitars and drums adding in. Then, the motif appears again, calling out like a hellish chorus line before everything else drops away. The motif is now more like a single string, high up in the sky, under so much tension that the slightest touch could break it. An odd wind spins around your ears as we cleanly transition into the next song.

Ruiner - 8/10

As the last note rings out, we get one of the coolest drumlines on the album combined with some strange, ghostly samples. A quick synth accompanies Trent on the verse, and distortion joins him in the more angry pre-chorus. Then, we get a great wall of shredded synth, almost like the devil’s brass section. Trent is almost muttering here in contrast to the noise around him, but he’s crystal clear above it. The verse and prechorus after are slightly more unkempt, leading into the last chorus. Here Trent has lost his composure and is now shouting along with the world around him. Both he and the song then trail off into a calm bassline and crying synthetic wind. And then... an honest-to-god guitar solo. A pretty fucking good one too, with a very nice bluesy distortion filter. At the end it ramps up into the outro section, a marching drumline, driving bassline, and open synth. As the ending mantra begins, the wall of hell trumpets return. This repeats several times, with Trent getting cut off at the end. 

The Becoming - 6/10

Sharp samples are used in this intro as percussion over a menacing piano line. These are replaced with straight synth as some very punchy drums come in. Also, the screaming. That’s gonna be happening for a while. By this point in the album the noises are getting more industrial, as noted by the percussion. We continue in this discomfort through a couple verses and choruses, until the screaming and drums are replaced with a nice little acoustic guitar and strange warped noises that may at one point have been human. This doesn’t last too long until we’re dropped back into the song proper with a nasty distorted synth solo. Then this song’s mantra begins, and it’s not the most uplifting thing either. Which gets even worse when the vocals are suddenly pitch-shifted super high up, almost making a mockery of the message. Then, of course, we end the song by going back to the nice acoustic chords, although some heavily mutated noises are still flailing around. This fades into the clicking beat of the next song.

I Do Not Want This - 6/10

The true beat replaces the clicking heard in the last song, and a somber piano line plays while Trent sings. The verse-prechorus here is much more restrained than we’ve heard for most of this album. Then, after a refrain, the NIN we know comes back. Through the next cycle the drums begin to get more intense. The drop here keeps hitting us with the drumline before we get a “solo” that’s pretty much just distortion beyond the point of instrumentation. Makes some pretty cool noises though. Then, through the remains of that, another mantra crawls out. Increasing in volume with each repetition, a guitar joins in as Trent’s voice gets more and more distorted. Then, the most controversial song.

Big Man With A Gun - 6/10

Right off the bat we’ve got the most unsettling sample over a gunshot drumline. Huge chorded waves of distorted synth come in as Trent gets louder and more violent. Everything starts going off the shit end, and

A Warm Place - 7/10

No, your album didn’t break. That’s actually the transition. Amazing. Here we have the calmest song Trent had anything to do with in the 1990s. There are no lyrics here to analyze; just close your eyes and float away. You’ve reached the eye of the storm.

Eraser - 9/10

This is the point in the album that makes it a masterpiece. This song. The build and pacing here is absolutely impeccable. I hope you enjoyed the respite of the previous song because we are now reaching for the bottom of the spiral. There is no peace to be found here. Need you. Dream you. Find you. Taste you. Fuck you. Use you. Scar you. Break you.

Reptile - 7/10

Here is where NIN puts the “industrial” in industrial metal. Half of this song is basically just machinery to music, especially the percussion. The main message the sound of this song gives off is dread. Dread in musical form. Something terrible is ahead, and behind, and around. Trent’s voice is the only human or recognizable thing left in this soundscape, and even he is becoming robotic. It’s like wandering a mid-fallout wasteland at sundown, with no knowledge of what may come out at night. The bridge here is a cruel joke. A sample of what sounds to be a girl in distress, and the hint of a calming piano, snatched away. This is essentially the sound of the last act of Spec Ops: The Line. At the last repetition of the chorus, another version of Trent can be heard screaming from behind a wall, before...

The Downward Spiral - 9/10

Here we are. This is the end of the spiral. Over a weeping machine and the buzzing of flies we hear the motif, one last time, on an old acoustic guitar. Then some oddly warbled chords come in. After that, we reach the bottom. 

Okay. This is your warning. At the end of this next song, the last song, is a jumpscare that turned me away from NIN and all of their works for several years. It comes at the final verse, on the final line. The lines before it are, “If I could start again / A million miles away / I would keep myself...”. Then, exactly at the start of the next line, a sound that was engineered to be the scariest sound on the album plays at the highest volume they could reasonably push. Fortunately the rhythm is consistent and it’s relatively easy to predict when the noise will happen. Hopefully I can lessen the shock for those that continue on. I’d still recommend you turn your volume down at the line “If I could start again”, if not before even starting the song.

Hurt - 7/10

This is what lies beyond the spiral. A song you may know by a different artist. While it may seem calm on the surface, it is designed to prevent true peace. The sound echoes between each ear at the verses, almost as if it’s spinning very rapidly around you. The chords sound wrong, somehow. This is much more apparent in chorus 2, as they seem to whine like insects. Then, the ending. Brace for impact, everyone. 

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

Alright. It’s quite a bit later than I expected and this has taken a lot longer than I thought it would. Still, I don’t want to stop for the night and give myself any more opportunity to procrastinate. Let’s finish this now.

Yaggenhimen (BassistBob) Cover Review:

Destruct: +,-

He actually didn’t copy that intro from NIN: He took the same sample and remade it himself, in the same way Trent did. The verse/chorus here is actually WAY different from the original and I think it sounds cool as hell. It’s much more subdued instead of in-your-face, and feels more threatening and insidious as a result. Great work there. The bridge is a very good recreation of the eeriness of the original. After this point it falls flat a bit. He just doesn’t have quite the edge Trent does in the buildup. Also, the distortion wave at the ending is missing, and the guitar loop doesn’t sound as demented. Still I’d love a version of this song that’s the Yaggenhimen version at the beginning, and switching to the NIN version at the bridge. 

Pig: ~,-

Very nice work here. There’s some good spooky sampling going on in verse 2. Before that, it’s close to equal to the album version. However, the drum solo kinda loses here. It’s nowhere near as loud and overpowering as the original. Although, he adds a distortion effect to his voice near the end that I think adds a nice bit of foreshadowing. The use of a guitar for the motif at the end is cool.

Heresy: ~~

A really cool rendition of the synths here as what appear to be sampled acoustic guitars. The recreation of the percussion is also top-notch. The break is more minimalist, which really allows the bassline to shine. I do wonder how he got that sound; it sounds sick as hell and apparently came from a plastic flute, of all things.

March: -

Unfortunately, this one doesn’t go so well. Bob’s voice just can’t measure up to the edge required to match Trent’s delivery. The choice to switch the piano in the break to acoustic guitar is interesting, but it really doesn’t have the same effect. The piano in the original is essential in making that drastic shift from NIN violence to safe, contemporary pop song. Nice harmonics at the end though.

Close: =

I mean, it’s just Closer. He almost perfectly and exactly matched the NIN version in every way. It’s absolutely incredible. From the same Iggy Pop sample all the way to the blank tape noise. Every detail is remade. 

You know, it’s kind of a shame how this song has come to be known. Even though the chorus is pretty infamous, it’s for the wrong reason. This isn’t meant to be a “sexy” song. When you listen to the lyrics, it’s about the use of depravity to try and fill a soul. But then again, if you didn’t want the song to be sexy Trent, you probably shouldn’t have made the sexiest fucking drum/bassline in the history of music. Anyways.

Ruin: ~

Interesting that he chose to close the transition after Closer. In any case, the synth is a very good recreation, and as are the drums. Verse vocals aren’t quite there unfortunately. Apparently, the hell-brass in the chorus here are actually fucking harmonicas. I admit, they sound a little cheesier, but I can’t knock the man for having the balls to use a goddamn distorted harmonica. The solo is just as dirty as the original, despite apparently being played on an acoustic! Very nicely done. The outro percussion also sounds very grimy.

Become: ~+~

There is some SHIT going on in this version. At the start it sounds kinda silly because the acoustic used for the intro sounds almost like MIDI, but then the screaming starts. This is WAY more fucked up than the NIN version, it sounds like someone poked a microphone into hell and grabbed some samples. There’s one “NOOOOOOOO” that’s just a bit over the top though. The samples used during the acoustic breaks are also very interesting. At the end of each measure, it sounds like a couple of people are just kinda cheering, but in an insane, cannibalistic way. Also the distortion on the ending mantra is much more drastic than the NIN version and I think it works really well.

Want: ~,-,~

The switch from piano to acoustic guitar here works a lot better than it did in March of the Pigs. It feels just as natural as the original. The vocals and distortion during the chorus aren’t nearly as abrasive as the original though, and I think that works to Yaggenhimen’s detriment here. Though I was never a huge fan of this song in the first place; while I think Heresy doesn’t deserve judgement for the aging of the message, this song’s theme just kinda feels overdone. The strange samples before the mantra are done nicely here. 

Gun: -,~

The lack of the woman screaming sample here kinda loses some of the momentum the original had. It also spotlights the drums being programmed. Scott provides some good screams for the outro though. Nice work Scott.

Warm: ~

Solid recreation here. The choir-like “aaah”s are a great touch. It really only lacks some of the softness of the original’s production.

Erase: =,~,-

It’s hard to match up to the original, but I think Yaggenhimen really pulled it off here. The fact that he made the buzzing noises with a plastic cup is hilarious. I hope it was a red Solo cup. It is missing the distortion effect as “Kill me” is repeated though.

Reptile: =,-,~

Once again, he used the same sample Trent did for the intro here. The industrial sounds were apparently taken from Robocop but almost sound like the door sound effect from DOOM. Either way, it sounds excellent. Not sure about the sample used during the bridge though, it almost sounds like Elmo. At the end, instead of the muffled yelling from the original, he uses a strange time-distortion effect on another take of his own vocals. A really cool idea.

Spiral: -\+

This version overall sounds markedly scarier than the original. Whether that’s good or bad is probably subjective. For me personally, I like how the NIN version is much more sad than ominous, only really getting unsettling at the ending. Still, this version is very impressive.

Hurt: +

Oh yeah. A straight plus. Blasphemous it may be, I think this version is just better than the original. Hey, Johnny Cash already did it anyways. This one is somehow sadder and scarier than the original. The effect on the vocals during the chorus is such a good addition. Also, somehow the ending is even scarier than the NIN version, and even adds more meaning for me.

Overall this is just about the best cover album I have ever heard and am likely to hear, and it was done almost entirely by one guy. I hope he gets more credit for this because right now the video is only at 36,000 views and deserves so much more. 

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

Okay, that’s it. I guess I’ll wrap up with my thoughts on the album as a whole.

The Downward Spiral is one of the most profound and important albums I have ever heard. It is so full of Trent’s blood, sweat, and tears that I can practically taste it. He suffered for this and that suffering is audible in ever second in this hour and 5 minutes. While I still cannot rate albums numerically, this album is undeniably a masterpiece. Thank you for those that made it to the end with me. For those who are now here at the bottom of the spiral and wish to go back, go listen to Lateralus for instructions on how to ride the spiral back up.

On a scale from “I lost my shit because of you”, to “I’m hard as fucking steel, I’ve got the power”, The Downward Spiral (predictably) gets a “Nothing can stop me now.”

[megairishrose]

Recruited chapter 51: End of the Line

And this was exactly why Regina had ordered Amelia to stay behind. The mission was far too personal; her emotions would cloud her judgement. Regina had been right and now all might be lost.

It was an act of complete betrayal. Regina suddenly knew she had failed; her mother had won. She had found a weak spot in the organization and destroyed everything Bow and Arrow stood for. And all Regina, and the rest of the team could do was stare.

Though maybe not just stare. Footsteps were heard and Emma was off the catwalk and a few feet from Amelia. "Amelia, what the hell are you doing?" At least someone had their thoughts together.

"Trying to fix my life. The life that this company ruined. I knew getting involved with the so called good guys was a mistake." She pulled a small flash drive from her back pocket. "This is all Cora needs. She can bring back the dead. It's a breakthrough in science, no one ever thought it was possible."

"Fix your life?" Robin asked. Then he understood, she meant Graham. "This isn't the way, Amelia!" If he couldn't get through to her, no one could.

"I watched him take his last breath. I watched the light leave his eyes. I watched my own brother, my only family member die right in right of my eyes. I fought and I screamed, I tried to protect him but they held me back. I was helpless." Amelia paused to take a breath. "Do you actually know how he died? Those weren't bullet holes in Graham. They were stab holes. My brother was stabbed over and over by Zelena. Every stab, I felt it, like we had switched places." Another deep breath to fight off the sobs. "Graham was the only one in this world who cared about me. He was my everything. And I would do anything to bring him back. Even if it means betraying you all."

"Do you hear yourself?" Ruby rushed down. Graham had been her friend. "She is just using you. She isn't going to help you." She did not want to see zombies running the city and she did not want to see her teammate, her friend, hurt anymore. "She is going to kill us all when she gets a chance."

"I would kill the ones who talk too much, like you, dear." Cora took a step towards Amelia and held out a hand. "The flash drive, if you please."

Amelia's palm became sweaty on the flash drive. She hadn't come all this way, betrayed Bow and Arrow just to back out now.

"What would I do with you?"

"Go off the deep end and make stupid choices."

She and Graham had an actual conversation about a situation like the one she was in the middle of now. Like he had known how she would react to his death. This was not how he wanted her to act. He knew she was better and stronger than falling to desperate means to try and get him back. Graham had gone out a hero, that had always been his dream.

But he was the only one who cared about her…

Then it was like someone read her mind. "He wasn't the only one who cares about you."

Amelia knew that voice, she didn't have to look up. He was simply telling her the truth, trying to make her see the light.

Apparently there was now someone else who could talk reason to her. And maybe get through to her.

"Darling, I don't have all day. Time is running out." Cora's voice was losing the sweet sickness and now had an edge. She wanted the information now, she had waited long enough.

Amelia couldn't take Graham's dream from him. Even if it meant never being with him again. Amelia made up her mind and locked eyes with someone on the overhanding ledge.

"No." She told Cora then threw the flash drive high into air.

Two shots were fired, the one from Amelia hit Whale in the knee and the second went through the flash drive, thanks to Mary Margaret.

That was the signal to shower the lab with bullets, all aiming at the equipment. Cora ducked for cover under a large table. She watched in horror as her life's work, her only chance at a happy family, was destroyed.

Whale saw the outcome of Amelia's second one eighty and ran for the door. Or rather ran as well as he could with a bullet in his knee. But he was stopped by a fist that knocked him to the ground. Ruby's foot was on his chest.

"Stay." She growled.

Well, he had done a good job at teaching them. Maybe too good of a job.

The lab was now a mess of broken glass and unknown liquids. The shooting finally stopped. Cora finally went felt comfortable running for it now.

But she didn't get far, she heard familiar footsteps behind her. "Well thank you, Regina. You ruined something, again. I really thought you wanted a happy family."

"I do have a happy family, Mother. I made my own family. You had nothing to do with it. Maybe that's why it worked out so well." Regina was a few feet away. She did not want to get any closer.

"Everything I did, everything I ever did, was for you and your sister. At least Zelena was grateful, despite being clumsy." Cora finally turned around. Regina was not pointing her gun at her. "Are you really going to shoot me? Your own mother?"

"I don't want to, but you aren't leaving me much choice. You have to pay for your actions. You are playing God. There are some things you don't and will never understand because you are so wrapped up in yourself. You never cared about us. I saw the real you, every day of my childhood. You were never there or your back was to me.

"Regina, you can't believe that…" Cora took a step closer, hand out to her daughter.

The gun didn't drop. "I'm just telling you what I saw, Mother."

"Then you leave me no choice, dear." Cora sighed, as if accepting her fate. Her hand came down on a pile of papers. A pile of papers that was a cover for a button.

A loud siren began to sound and a red light flashed over their heads. "The lab has been compromised, it will start the self-destruct sequence. Everything I worked so hard for will be gone. I am willing to go down with the ship. What about you?"

Regina didn't have time to worry about anyone's safety. A pipe burst near their heads, the impact of the air in it blasted both Cora and Regina off the edge of the platform and into a vat below them.

They disappeared from Robin's sight and immediately he thought the worst. He ignored the warning lights and ran to the platform. Ashely was right behind him.

"Regina!" He screamed.

There she was, hanging on to a metal rod for dear life. She was dangling over a vat of lord only knew what. She was silent, just staring below. Both Robin and Ashely knew what she was staring at. They pulled her back up to safety.

"Regina, are you hurt?" Ashely asked, concerned.

"We need to get out of here now. No chit chat, ladies." Robin told them franticly.

She had to agree, they ran out of the now burning lab.

They were the last ones out. They had to fight their way around flames. Robin, Regina and Ashely made it to a safe distance when the entire building finally went up in smoke

Robin made Regina sit down and left her under the watchful eye of Ashely. He had to check on the rest of the team.

Emma was talking to a silent Amelia; Belle was looking over a cut on Jefferson's arm. Ruby and Killian both held Whale down on the ground. Everyone else was stable by the looks of it. So apart from a few issues, the mission was a success.

Then police cars, ambulances and fire engines appeared on the scene. Someone must have reported the fire. Before Robin could reach them to explain the situation, Mary Margaret stepped up.

"I've got this. Make sure Regina's okay."

Robin nodded then Ashely ran up to him. "Just a few cuts and scrapes, no broken bones. Blue called her cousin and the government is coming soon."

Before Robin could respond, there was sound of a helicopter overhead. Blue, Kathryn, Sidney and Gold stepped out.

"We went black for three minutes, lost all audio and visual with you. That must have been when Whale broke Amelia out and left headquarters. We had no idea what was going on until we saw it on the security cameras. When I get my hands on him…" Gold was ready to make someone's nightmares look like a happy place.

Blue stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "No one is hurt. Living with the guilt is enough for him. Where is Cora?"

"Cora isn't an issue anymore." Robin knew he would have to give a full report later. Blue was fine with the short answer.

Kathryn desperately looked around for David, when she found him, she ran to him. He was safe, alive and unhurt. That's all she needed.

Government helicopters began to land around the building. Now Blue knew she had a lot of explaining to do.