#dot hack fragment

[videogamepolls]

Requested by anon

[casualdelinquent]

Been messing around with some friends and we got owned by sled dogs. It's really cute how the player-side BBS forum is working

Born too early to explore space, born to late to explore the world, born just in time to play .Hack Fragment online

[kerbrobro]

I don't know how to properly explain how cool it is to see a real, in-game, online version of the fake message boards from the .hack// PS2 games.

[llycorys]

spent an hr and a half trying to get mymc py to work on Linux only to realise there's a python3 thing similar •^•

all just to try fragment on my actual ps2 for shits and giggles xD

[firapolemos05]

April is the Cruelest Month 2025

Art

Day 17: Burned

Day 20: Suffocation

CW: aftermath of strangulation, burns, broken bones, panic attack

This is a scene that goes with another fanfiction I'm working on. That one will have the full context for what's happening but I wanted to write this part in Gajeel's pov since the main one has it in Jet's.

The awful smell accompanied Gajeel in his drift into oblivion. Heat laced with burning flesh cooking the inside of his mouth and nose.

He doesn't know for how long the world goes dark, how long he has until he'd be knocking on the Reaper's door. Both a moment and an eternity. He hopes they won't ask him for anything, he doesn't think he'll be able to answer. Or do souls need to talk to communicate? Guess he'll find out soon enough.

But his eyes open to fog.

They could've sworn they'd been in the middle of dying. Hell's ferry is not there to greet them.

Their body doesn't respond to their wish to walk. Iron now a slab of lead. Did gravity get fucked up or are they just on the ground? They can't tell. The fog hasn't lifted and direction makes no sense. Up? Down? Where the hell are they?

He's not breathing.

Like a switch being flipped, a system jumpstart, sensation returns all at once. Pain. Ember thorns blossoming around his neck. Gajeel is made painfully aware that his lungs are screaming.

He can't breathe. 

Direction doesn't matter when instincts take over. Gravity reverses. The dark mass they're facing is hopefully the ground. They press their hand against it to hold themself up and a bullet shoots up their arm. They both feel and hear bone fragments scrape against each other. 

Dark guild. Kidnapped children. A creature cloaked in shadow and flames. 

Recall comes in pieces. 

A creature cloaked in shadow and flames with searing talons at his throat. 

He can't see the creature anymore but the vice trapping him from air won't let go. He tries to claw away the phantom grip but all that's there is a collar of burns. Blood and burns that relight with molten agony at each touch, each futile scratch. An alarm screeches in his ears, pulsing in tune with a racing heartbeat and starbursts behind his eyes. Magma fingers dig through his ribcage and his chest seizes as they clutch. 

Shit, they really didn't want to die.

An impact smacks into Gajeel's upper back, and the wad of blood lodged in their windpipe splatters the ground with red. Air. Their lungs gulp it down between hacking gasps like someone finding water after days in the desert. Each breath a swipe of sandpaper, shards of glass, each cough a knife swallowed whole ripping up their neck from the inside. 

Inhale. Exhale.

Fuck it hurts.

His ears pick up new sounds. Voices. Shoving him back into awareness that he doesn't know where he is. Dark guild. Shadow creature. Who's talking? What are the blobs taking form in his still blurred vision?

He's hurt. Disoriented. A sitting duck.

Something touches his shoulder and his mind doesn't register its gentleness. Only a presence he didn't sense before. Fabric tears as iron scales stand into spiked pauldrons. His back arches and a line of razor sharp spines raise along the ridge of his vertebrae. 

Whatever touched them is quick to retreat, and the other shapes back further away when their lips curl to bare bone crushing teeth. But the accompanying snarl catches  in their throat like a fishing line snagged on a tree root. Black dots pepper their sight. The intimidating illusion breaks as they double over into another coughing fit. Their tongue tastes blood and bile. Acrid and metallic. 

They-

They need to get the fuck up and move.

“. . .-jeel!. . . .ook. . .me!"

Fragments of speech cut through the static. A tone of desperation that makes Gajeel pause.

". . .at's it. . .over. . . .safe now."

It's still painful to breathe, but at least the flow of oxygen to their lungs is somewhat steady now. Their chest no longer buried under blocks of concrete and brick. No unseen attacker comes. The voice continues to speak as the adrenaline fueled panic begins to slow, and gradually the world around them clears. The ringing echoing through their skull quiets. The shapes before their eyes become familiar. Faces.

“You back with us, dude?” Jet asks, Levy and Pantherlily on either side. Three matching wide-eyed expressions of concern.

Shit, he pulled that threat display on them.

Exhaustion and relief pull him to the floor, energy depleted. The arm that failed him before sports a circle of scorched skin and bends at an angle it isn't supposed to. Ah, definitely broken then. That answers that question.

Inhale. Exhale. 

The three crowd around, chittering above like a murder of crows arguing over a shiny trinket. Droy isn't in sight, nor is his scent close. Against his better judgment, Gajeel attempts to ask about the plant mage, but the only sound that leaves his mouth is a ragged wheeze that sparks up the embers again. 

Pantherlily's furred palm rests on their back. “I know you'll hate this, but it's probably best to avoid talking for now. At least just until we get you medical attention.”

“Yeah no offense buddy, but your neck currently looks like a pizza left in the oven for too long,” Jet comments, and receives an elbow to the ribs courtesy of Levy for the effort. 

If their throat looks anything like their burned wrist at the moment, the comparison wasn't far off. Damn, it's going to be a while before he can speak again. 

[lollipencil]

Twice Moon-Born

A while back, I first read this fic on Ao3. I loved it to bits, and still do. Between the main fic and the comments, the idea of continuing it myself popped up now and again. This is me finally going "why not?" Enjoy and be gentle

---

Strange how something as simple as moonlight settling over sand dunes could stir up so much memory. Khonshu gazed steadily as he reflected. In retrospect, it hadn't really been that long since he'd seen it. Not for a god such as him. But, for one who didn't not know if they would ever see it again, it served as a sobering reminder.

The differences were ultimately stronger than the similarities. Two moons sat in the sky, one much closer than Earth's moon, his moon, ever was. Creatures bearing only a vague similarity to Earth's own would scurry about. And, of cource, the wreakage of multiple starfaring vessels dotted about.

One more recent than the others.

Khonshu finally moved from the dune he'd perched upon. The vessel had long since sunk, and his avatar was elsewhere anyway. Silently, he flowed past the endless sea of sand painted an almost appropriate shade of blue, towards where his power collected. He went unacknowledged by both sand and mortals when he finally arrived.

Khonshu's avatar lay in the sand. Unmoving, clumps of blood-baked sand like scattered rose petals around their body. Flipping them over, the limbs remained in their previous position, eyes glassy and blank.

Shaking his head, Khonshu sighed. Eyeless sockets cataloged every piece of damage: minor cuts and deep gashes, broken back and legs, fingers missing, multiple skull fractures, fragmented ribs that had punctured the lungs and stomach but avoided the precious heart. As well as the minor decay that had already set in.

Nothing Khonshu couldn't fix.

Wind swirled and the moons above brightened as Khonshu brought his sceptre to rest over the body's heart, and pushed his power further inside. At once, the body's eyes became beacons for the moonlight that was pulsing through the whole body, reinvigorating flesh and encouraging it to resume its usual function. Then, as soon as the brain cells had regrown and the heart once again began beating, Khonshu reinserted the four souls that had sought refuge with him.

Three immediately went lay unconscious within. One woke up instantly.

Poe Dameron's gasp for air quickly turned into a scream of agony. His back snapping back into place seconds later raised the pitch to a wail. Still stiff limbs tried to flail about as if to dislodge the pain, as if it wan't under his very skin.

Poe only stopped screaming once his ribs popped out of his lungs, choking on a combination of old and new blood. With some effort, he managed to flip onto his stomach, hacking and gasping around blood clots and still present torment. Barely able to hold himself up on his albows, Poe watched in horrified awe as his fingers were restored layer by layer. His legs healing with a loud crack brought him face down in the sand once more, bracing for even more agony.

Then, it stopped.

Phantom pains echoed around new nerves as he panted and trembled and waited. An eternity passed. And he dared to look up.

Jakku's moons glared down at him. Between blinks, a figure stood between them and him. Tall, humanoid, body wrapped in bandages, a golden crescent on its chest. No neck with a giant bird skull floating on top. "The age of hiding is over," Khonshu declared, "Now, it is time to finally claim your birthright!"

[svampira]

🎯✂️🧠 per eden elias e brooklyn tripla combo

ask game

🎯 -What do they do best?

Elias, in spite of his horrible rancid personality, can be extremely charming when he needs to be, and his presence powers are op enough to be basically mind control at that point. <this does get him in trouble just as much as it gets him out of it. Physically he's very strong, but he only has 3 dots of melee and no combat disciplines, so he's kind of a flop for a vampire. When it comes to human abilities that carried off into his unlife, he's a great musician but that barely comes up and it's not why he was embraced.

Brooke can see the future👍🙏 she has way more control over her visions than the average malkavian, and her auspex in general is op as well because i love to cheat. Physically she's an extremely skilled acrobat, she was a gymnast her whole life and had just started teaching gymnastics before she died. She kills you then cartwheels out of the room🤸‍♀️

Eden's a sneaky guy👍 he can sneak in and out of somewhere without anyone noticing, eavesdrop on anyone and sneak out of most dangerous situations without having to resort to a fight (which he probably wouldn't win). He can hack anything 90s movies style but i literally don't know anything about that so im going to shut up

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

Elias' worst memory is his "first" day on this green beautiful earth👍i have a lot of thoughts on memory loss in general i don't think he just blacked out and instantly knew he had no memories it was more of a gradual panicking. Not recognising who the man in front of him was even though it felt like he should have, to slowly realising he doesnt remember his own name and all of his memories are gone > and not even getting 5 minutes to deal with it before the stranger forces him to drink his blood then subsequently drains him. Just a shitty first night😔 hes not the kind of guy that dwells on things though by the time he woke up his sire had been executed so he just pretends he's fine with the whole thing

[This got way too long so im putting the second part under the cut. Read my oc's villain origin story👇👇]

For Brooke i think it was a specific moment when she was around 16 and realised she had no shot of making it as a professional athlete, both because she was being overlooked by her coaches and because she kind of shot up to 1.75m all of a sudden (now idk a lot about gymnastics. But ive never seen anyone in the olympics that was taller than 1.50m). That's genuinely her villain origin story just a chaotic ball of repressed anger, bitterness and dissatisfaction that she carried over into her adult life and turned her into the gotham villain she's now. Her real name isn't even (obv) brooklyn it's literally her villain name LMFAO i just realised

For Eden i think it was the moment he realised Brooklyn WAS real. She spent the better part of the first year they were turned trying to convince him they had a fight club situation going on. I think he found the idea of brooke being a fragment of his imagination more comforting than anything else, especially since it's not very uncommon for the type of vampire him and brooke are to have delusions/strange manifestations of their powers. He found out he was 90% less insane than he initially thought he was but it still made him trust himself way less + he was "forced" into hating brooklyn now for what she'd done even though she's his only link to his human life and still cared about her. Now im just feeling bad MAN im drawing him a better girlfriend

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Elias is my fave i cant even lie at this point... i love that he's so pretty i love drawing him💖 writing wise I've talked about this before but i love evil characters that still kind of feel innocent in a way. Like he has no lived experiences before turning into a blood sucking monster and even though he can be cruel and horrible to both humans and people he actually cares about, it's almost like he's never really had a chance to be anything else. Your honour he's just like that. I also like that out of all my characters he's the silliest ^^ he doesn't take things too seriously he loves slacking off and doesn't know how to hold a grudge. Also boobs

When it comes to brooke I loooove evil characters all my ocs fucking SUCK and she's the absolute worst. She kicks puppies for fun she steals candy from babies she engages in emotional terrorism she loves scheming and plotting. Yet deep deep down even though she links Eden back to her bitterness and dissatisfaction with her old life she does genuinely love him, and does her best to look out for him even when she's tormenting him. Also i looove drawing her with new hair every time she's so fun + i have lots of horror illustration ideas when it comes to her and eden (brain courtesy of a STELLAR gift art i got during artfight)

For Eden I like that he's the only one who's trying to rise above his nature out of all my ocs (this obviouslydoesn't work out, but there was an attempt). He has the highest humanity out of all of them, he tries to avoid feeding directly from humans most of the time, and he's the only anarch (which means in the la of my oc canon he's basically opposed to every one of my ocs) . I loove that despite everything she puts him through he still loves brooklyn, but i also love love love that later on as the war between the camarilla and the anarchs worsens he starts legit trying to kill her (while she NEVER would. She did straight up torture him a couple times tho so there's no moral high ground). I love horribly dysfunctional relationships I'm weak for fucked up heterosexuals

[detectiveichijouji]

Act 1-6: The Heist at the Mochizuki Residence

[AO3 v.]

Takeru wondered if it was a good idea to inform Ken about the strange coincidence that Rui had an appointment with someone unknown at the same night the residence of Yamashina Akemi got invaded.

And Ken still hasn’t seemed to break the news to everyone that Arsenemon was also involved with this mysterious new phantom thief. Miyako also did not tell them anything she learned by sheer accident.

But soon they all would get it and connect the dots, he presumed.

…

“Miyako-san, I’m home.”

Ken just arrived from work and looked at Miyako just staring at her laptop. She was in the dinner room with it open. Hawkmon was just watching the newborn on her cradle in the other room.

“Oh, hi…!” Miyako looked at him and waved, “I… I have something to tell you about.”

“About what…? You weren’t trying to decrypt that pendrive were you…?”

She grimaced, and took the pendrive from the table, “N-No, I wasn’t…!!”

“Miyako-san…” Ken sighed, he felt like he was dealing with a child right now.

“Ok, maybe just a little… B-But I wasn’t cracking my head to solve this!”

“So you really--”

“It was a message. From… Noel’s friend.”

“Noel’s friend…?!” Wormmon gasped, Ken was just looking at her with widened eyes.

“Yeah… That phantom thief called Chat Noir, or something like, is his friend.”

“I met that thief recently,” Ken finally spoke. And then continued, “What did the message say?”

“At first I thought it was a real creepy message,” she showed a copy of a printscreen of the message she had gotten once she had finished writing the email and Noel had just hung up the call, "But it turns out that there really is something going on in the shadows."

“Huh…”

“First, this facility has no ties with the government. Second, it had issues with digimon research in the past but all the details of it were completely erased from the records.”

“Then, how did you get access to those?” Ken asked, out of curiosity.

“Noel sent me an email with the details of their own investigation, a couple of hours ago.”

“Wait, how…” Wormmon blinked, “Chat Noir said the stolen data was encrypted…!”

“They had been into this for months apparently, but hadn’t tried to retrieve the data without enough proof the facility had Menoa’s data first.”

“And you need a reason to--”

“Yes, Noel Leblanc always needed a reason to do those heists” Ken reminded them all, “He wasn’t after the Digimental of Desire’s fragments without a real motive. He wanted to seal them away from everyone.” 

“Not to mention he helped us to destroy the fake shards and stop a whole scheme against us” Miyako added, “So he really had been trying to track this stolen data in order to prevent another imminent crisis.”

“Ok, but why can’t he do it by himself then?” Wormmon tilted his head, “Or why didn’t he try to contact us…?”

"I don't know... Did that Chat Noir guy tell you anything else?"

“Yes,” Ken nodded, “They wanted to leave the data with someone trustworthy. Someone who could keep it away from the ‘undesired’ people.”

“Hmm…” she took the pendrive from the table and examined it, “It doesn’t seem to be us. All this one had inside was a message and that it had hacked my laptop’s camera to make sure we were safe.”

“... Why would Noel do that?”

“He said we could’ve been putting our lives in danger or something like.”

“...”

“Yamashina Akemi wasn’t the person who altered the purchase history data.”

Noel informed the mysterious Chat Noir and his digimon, who just came in.

“Yeah, I assumed that when I interrogated him” the group’s recruit commented, “He got a little paranoid thinking someone would come after him because…”

“... He was involved in the mysterious project we’re still trying to decrypt” Lunamon said, with an annoyed glare at the pendrive, “Ugh, how can those people be this good at encrypting stuff!!?”

“Maybe we should ask--” Coronamon was about to suggest something, but Youta interrupted him, unfortunately:

“We can’t ask Inoue and her gang. Not yet. Ichijouji is a police detective, if he gets his hands dirty it might ruin his reputation and career.”

“Bold of you to assume he wouldn’t do that…” the new thief said with a sassy tone.

“Well, I know he has no fear of doing it! But he would be in real danger if he’s caught doing something suspicious!” Youta argued back, “I’d hate to seek his help and have him get caught helping us.”

“Ok, ok… I got it…” the other chuckled nervously.

Mizuki added in a sour tone, “We will contact Miss Espimon and ask for her assistance to decrypt the files from the pendrive,” yeah she didn’t want to ask for Miyako’s help at all… Hacker’s pride, perhaps?

“But do you have any idea who is the culprit?”  the tiny digimon asked the trio.

“Did you forget it already?” Mizuki replied with a theroric question, “Yamashina Akemi mentioned being forced to do illegal experiments on a digimon once, and there were a couple of people involved in those past projects.”

“... Project Mei, right?” their special agent mused. He had briefly heard about this particular project before, when he had given details about their whole operation.

“Oui, monsieur. And there’s our next stop,” Noel said with a serious tone.

“Wait… You mean…!!”

“You know this person, don't you, rookie?” Mizuki asked.

“Y-yeah, I do… But I don’t think he’s involved… Or his daughter…”

“Better safe than sorry,” Coronamon said.

“F-fine… I’ll do it…! But I’d like her to not know anything about this… Geez, I never expected to do something like that to someone I know…!”

“If this makes you concerned…” Noel smiled and said nonchalantly,  “May I offer a solution for the problem, monsieur ?”

“H-huh??”

“I decided to not tell Ken-kun about what happened between us and Rui-kun that day,”

Takeru told this to Daisuke through a video call.

"You're also worried about him getting in real trouble if he's involved in the cases of the research facility theft and the invasion at Yamashina’s home?"

"Yes, and because you don't want to see two of our friends clashing. Again."

“... Yeah. I’d prefer to not be like what happened before…”

Daisuke still had awful memories of the time Takeru had been tricked and brainwashed, forced to use a fragment on both himself and on Patamon and had attempted to kill Ken. 

Takeru has some traumatic experiences by fighting Iori back in time… too, and both have not enjoyed the bad guys forcing their Seniors, Wallace and even Miyako to have fought each other. (let alone the time Daisuke was possessed by Matadrmon…)

“It won’t happen again, I promise you” Takeru tried to keep Daisuke calm.

“But… You didn’t buy what he told us… Did ya?”

“Not at all, sorry.”

“... I knew you would say that…”

“You don’t seem to be sure that he told us the truth though,” Patamon commented.

“Daisuke just wants to believe Rui would not betray us. That’s all,” V-mon explained.

“What he said wasn’t totally a lie to us, if you look this way” Takeru mused.

“Whaddya mean, Takeru?” Daisuke frowned.

“He said the director of the movie interested in recording a scene at the cafe shop didn’t want to attract a ton of people because of the famous world-saving Chosen Children.”

“Yeah, he really said that…”

“I suppose this meant… ‘I can’t involve the most known Chosen Children because this would totally make things go south’ -- So he’s clearly trying to not catch anyone else’s attention.”

“The ‘famous Chosen Children’… Y-you mean Taichi-senpai and the others!!”

“Purrfect, elementary Daisuke-kun.”

“... Did you just use a cat pun?!”

“Sorry, sorry. I just saw a cat outside the cafe.”

※ Note: He wasn’t at Infinity cafe chop at the moment and yes in another one.

“... You don’t think he’s…”

“I won’t accuse him without any proof in hand. And If he were… He would’ve been in real trouble right now.”

“... Would we help him out, again?” V-mon asked them all.

Takeru and Patamon were silent for a moment, until Daisuke himself answered that:

“We are his friends. No matter what he’s trying to hide from us, I’m sure that I’d definitely go and help him get out of trouble.”

Daisuke is indeed loyal to his friends, no matter who they are.

“...” Takeru was speechless for a moment, but then smiled tenderly, “Yeah, we know you would.”

A few hours ago, once he was back home from work, Takeru received an email from…

“... M-Mochizuki-san?!”

… Meiko. Yes.

“What, what is Takeru?!” Patamon asked, looking at the boy holding his phone and being kind of perplexed.

“Mochizuki-san got… a calling card.”

“W-WHAT?!”

…

Takeru headed to Ken and Miyako’s house immediately. He wasn’t sure if the others had been alerted about this, but he had to warn Ken as soon as possible to avoid something bad happening to one of their friends.

Mochizuki Meiko had been around again thanks to her desire to pursue a career in design… And her dad, a digimon researcher, was also back assisting Koushiro and Taichi in order to prevent more incidents involving digimon and finding harmless solutions to help wild lost digimon to get back to the Digital World.

“Hmm…”

To Takeru’s surprise, Meiko herself was there. Because Taichi recommended her to seek Ken and the younger six help. But this means… This wouldn’t be a case for the police, right?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were--” Takeru babbled awkwardly. 

“No, it’s ok” Miyako said, “We were about to call everyone on a video call though…”

“Are you sure you need everyone for this…?” Meiko asked, frowning. She added, quite shyly, “I don’t want to bother all of you…”

“It’s a serious case here, Mochizuki-san,” Hawkmon said calmly, “If you report it to the police… It may cause more problems.”

“But why?” Meicoomon asked, frowning, “Why can’t Mei report to the police?”

“Well…” Miyako sighed, “It’s a long story but… The person who sent you the calling card is associated with an old friend of ours and…”

“Do you think we have time for stories now…?” Takeru asked rhetorically and was a little nervous.

“You’re right, we have no time for this…” Hawkmon agreed.

“Arsenemon is a thief digimon who only steals stuff unfairly taken from the digimon and from the Digital World,” Miyako explained, “And this person from the calling card is helping him.”

“Wait, what?!” Patamon blinked, “Noel is involved?!”

“... I think we forgot to tell everyone that, ha ha…” Miyako laughed nervously while Hawkmon facepalmed. 

“That’s not important now though,” Ken finally spoke, and seriously.

“So Arsenemon is involved…” Takeru mused vaguely.

“Yes, he is,” Wormmon confirmed with a nod, “This phantom thief Chat Noir also said the same thing, and then Miyako-san got a phone call from Noel himself and he confirmed it.”

“Ok, give us an update of what we’re dealing with,” Takeru asked, still thoughtful. Should I tell them that Rui-kun is acting strangely too…? -- he wondered.

“Someone is doing illegal digimon experiments with stolen notes from Menoa Bellucci,” Hawkmon explained, “This is a good reason for Arsenemon to take interest on that data and steal it by himself, or…”

“... With an accomplice,” Ken added, “The new thief is working for him.”

“If this Arsenemon is a good guy…” Meiko frowned, “then, why would he just target me…?”

“What does the calling card say, Mochizuki-san?”

Meicoomon, who was in Meiko's arms, was holding a small piece of card, and she gave it to Ken.

-- The day after this calling card is sent, I'll come to steal a piece of memory from your residence. --

It didn’t look like a fancy black card with a golden cat paw on its back, it was just a black calling card with its ink in white. There were no stamps or a logo on it. It was really amateurish to some point. Also, it was not even handwritten, and yes printed…

“A memory huh…” Ken repeated.

“What does it mean, mister detective?” Meicoomon asked, politely and a little clueless.

“It’s vague, but I suppose it means… Any information about the projects and research your father was and is involved in, Mochizuki-san.”

Meiko bit her lips, those people at least know about the incident from the past. About Meicoomon herself.

“This could put his life in danger… couldn’t it?!” Meiko asked next, trying to look calm but failing at it, sadly.

“Well, yeah” Miyako said, “I think it does--”

“C-can you please help us out then��?? I… I don’t want him to go through something like that…!” she wavered, tears coming down immediately.

Takeru approached her and put his hand on her shoulder, she looked at him and he smiled:

“Don’t worry, Mochizuki-san. We will help you to protect your family and you.”

The couple and Takeru reported the news to the other three members of their group. And why Meiko couldn’t go seek for the police’s assistance at all. Taichi wasn’t aware of this though, and probably had suggested going to report it to Ken and then let the department assist him.

Except… Ken himself was now aware something fishy was going on and Arsenemon is pursuing some criminal as well. And, even if Arsenemon (or Noel Leblanc) has very questionable methods to make justice and help others…

Ken also didn't want the criminal that Arsenemon was looking for to get away.

Well, now Ken himself was just putting his career at risk…

…

Ken and Wormmon went to Mochizuki’s residence, and Meiko opened the door. Ken greeted her and walked in, removed his shoes and noticed a peculiar other pair of black shoes there. He looked at her,

“Have you invited someone else, by any chance?”

“Um… yes, a friend. But he’s a little quiet.”

He’s a little quiet… So this sounded very familiar.

“My dad will arrive from work in a few minutes, and I commented with this friend about the calling card, he got worried about the message and offered to come here to help protect my dad and our home.”

“Huh…”

Suspicious…

Wormmon took a peek and noticed a person and a small digimon with Meicoomon peeking from the entrance hall.

“... Ken-chan, it’s…!”

“!!”

Ken walked to the interior of the apartment, and then just met…

“Um… hi…”

… Rui and Ukkomon, who were just waving awkwardly at them.

“...” Ken looked at Meiko, “So you know him.”

“D-do you know Rui-kun…?” She asked, surprised.

“Y-yeah, we… We do know each other!” Ukkomon babbled, “A-and we’re friends too…!”

VERY SUSPICIOUS.

“What are you doing here…?” Wormmon squinted his eyes at the duo.

“We… we came to help!” and the youngest of them said nervously.

“Suspicious.”

“No, it’s not?!” Rui argued quickly, “Mochizuki-san is dealing with a bad guy and… And we can help!”

Yup, suspicious.

“Three digimon are better than one!” Meicoomon added, “So if we get Ukkomon and Wormmon’s help, we can catch the memory thief quickly!”

“Yes, but you coming here like that turns you into an eligible suspect,” Ken explained, seriously.

“B-but…”

Ken sighed, and continued with a firm tone, 

“Look, Rui. I know you would like to help a friend because you’re finally forming connections with other people, but you coming here out of the blue would make everyone else in the room, or if the police were involved, think you are the one trying to steal something from the Mochizuki family.”

“Yes, but… I wouldn’t do that” he said with a deadpan face.

"Saying you're not going to commit a crime here doesn't give you an excuse not to be flagged as a suspect."

Why does Rui have to be so reckless sometimes?!

“But if I stick around with you two I can prove my innocence,” Rui counter-argued with him, with an annoying tone in his voice, “And am I not allowed to help anyone else I know now??”

"Rui, I'm saying this on your own behalf to avoid you getting in real--"

“C-can we please stop arguing…” Meiko interrupted them.

But yes, Ken cannot forbid Rui from visiting others or even being friends with anyone else.

“... Fine,” Ken took a deep breath to cool down, “I don’t think you are the culprit, so don’t do anything suspicious and do what I say. Ok?”

“Aye aye, sir!” Ukkomon said, while Rui just nodded with a serious gaze at Ken.

…

“How did you meet each other?” Meiko asked Ken, while they all were awake waiting for the mysterious thief to appear.

Meiko’s dad had arrived and Ken explained the case and why he came there, but Rui only stood quiet and agreed with Ken’s and Meiko’s whole story. He would sometimes ask to go to the bathroom, which Ken hoped to be to really use the bathroom and not to do anything suspicious.

At the moment, Meiko and Ken were just guarding the office room in the apartment, while waiting for Rui to come back. 

“... He fell off the Tokyo Tower.”

Ken thought maybe Meiko was aware of Rui’s whole ventures from three years ago and then straight said it with a poker face.

“Ah, wait… He was…”

“Didn’t he tell you?” Wormmon asked.

“Umm, no?” Meicoomon shrugged, “He never mentioned that before, but…”

"I guess it was to avoid getting fined for breaking the law" Ken mused, “No one commits a crime and makes a public announcement of doing it.”

“I see…” Meiko nodded.

"Why is he taking so long…?" Wormmon looked at Ukkomon, who stood with them and was suspiciously quiet.

“Do you want me to go check it out?” the sea fairy digimon asked.

“No, you can’t.” Ken informed him, “If you want Rui to not be framed as a suspect, you have to tag along with us.”

“Then, should Mei and I go?” Meicoomon offered herself.

“You’re the victims so I suppose it’s okay?” Wormmon said, “But please be careful.”

Meiko and Meicoomon nodded, got up, and left the room.

“...”

Ukkomon took a look at the other two for a moment, “You’re doing it to protect Rui and me… right?”

“Exactly,” Ken replied, a little bothered with that whole situation.

“... I’m sorry, we came here thinking we could help Meiko and…”

“You two are too reckless,” he turned to Ukkomon, “If this case was handled by the department… You could’ve been in real trouble right now.”

Ukkomon’s antennae were down, “Yeah, I’m sorry…”

Meiko and Meicoomon came back with Rui though, and Wormmon asked out of the blue:

"Why did it take you so long to come back?"

“I ...”

Suspicious silence…

"I went to wash my face because something got in my eye, and I don't need to explain how hard it is to reach the bathroom without...seeing at all…"

“You could’ve asked us,” Ken said, but being neutral. He knows Rui has a disability to some extent, even if he’s not well aware of the details or whether Rui’s right eye lost total sight or not.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you… You’re here to catch the thief before something happens,” he said shyly.

Truly, Rui is not the kind to talk much with others. So how in the heck did he manage to befriend Meiko in the first place? And she’s also not very talkative either…

They just all sat there, in silence. And awkwardly.

…

“Well, I guess there’s no thief coming” Suddenly and oddly, Rui commented; it had been two hours since he came back from that last trip to the bathroom.

“You can’t leave now if you want to prove you’re not the one we’re trying to catch!” Wormmon growled.

“But… I didn’t say I’m leaving…?”

“But why would Rui-kun try to rob us?” Meiko frowned.

“It’s not that,” Ken said, calmly but still upset with Rui’s whole behavior, “He and Ukkomon put themselves in real danger by coming here to help you, it would pin them as the first suspects in the investigation.”

“That’s right…” she agreed but vaguely. Now she has concerns about him. And she may also suspect him…

Dang it…!!

“I’m sorry…” Now Rui was feeling apologetic, "We should have thought of that before we came here..."

So he really does not think when nervous and makes the wrong decisions ever… Yet he doesn’t seem to regret any of those decisions…

Has Rui always been like this though…? Ken may know his tragic story, but deep down he does not know enough about Rui himself, and Rui is not much of a talker.

“What does this thief look like?” Meicoomon asked.

“... He got a cat helmet,” Wormmon explained, “And seems to be excellent at infiltrating places without getting noticed immediately.”

“Oh…”

Meiko looked at Rui, and the other just seemed nervous by her doing that. Ken also looked at him and this made the youngest look back at them,

“W-what…? Why are you… looking at me…?”

“It’s not you,” Ken said with a serious tone, “There’s something outside this office room.”

“H-huh…?!” Ukkomon exclaimed, and both he and Rui (though silently) turned to the door leading to the corridor.

They all got up and Ken opened the door,

“!!”

There was a shadowy silhouette heading to the room of Meiko’s parents. It seemed to have noticed them and then sent something in their direction.

“W-Watch out!!”

Meiko suddenly shoved them out to the ground, back to the office room, while the digimon went after the shadow though.

“What…?” Rui looked at the other two, “Ugh…”

“Ah…! Are you ok, Rui-kun…?”

“I’m fine… But what was that?”

Ken and the other two got up, and looked back at what was thrown against them. It was another calling card.

“D-does it say something in it?” Meiko panicked.

Rui himself took it before Ken could, and read it. Then he turned to Meiko and Ken, “There’s nothing written here.”

“Ken-chan!!”

“W-Wormmon’s voice?!” the brilliant detective gulped, and left the room, with Meiko coming after.

They found only Wormmon and Meicoomon on the floor. Ken asked them quickly, but still concerned: “What happened, where’s… Where’s Ukkomon?”

“Ukkomon went after the shadow…!” Meicoomon replied, “He dodged the enemy’s attacks…”

Meiko noticed the room’s door was closed and tried to open it, but…!!

“It’s locked!?”

“Y-yeah, That thief went in too quickly and locked the door! We ended up hitting our heads on it when we tried to catch them!” Wormmon explained. 

“But Ukkomon got inside though!” Meicoomon added.

“...!!” Ken then tried to break down the door.

In the meantime, Rui just came after them, “W-what happened? Wait, where is…”

“Inside the room!” Meiko and Meicoomon answered it before he could finish it.

“W-what…!!?”

“... Meicoomon” Ken looked at her, “You’re the only Adult level digimon in here, so I suppose you can break this door.”

“H-huh…?!” The cat-like digimon looked at Meiko, as if asking for permission to do that.

“This is no time to hesitate…!!” Wormmon added, “I could evolve right now, but it will be too cramped for us all…!!”

“And… And I don’t want Ukkomon to try anything drastic!” Rui babbled panicky.

“All right…!” Meicoomon took a deep break, “Step out, please…!”

“Shut Claw!!” 

The door went down with Meicoomon’s powerful paw and claw attacks being done repeatedly until it fell inside the room. And there they saw… Ukkomon lying on the floor but unconscious and the mysterious thief Chat Noir.

“!!”

“Stop right there, phantom thief Chat Noir!” Ken ordered, and Wormmon stood in front of him, Meiko and Rui. Meicoomon also stood next to Wormmon and was ready to rumble.

Then, they noticed professor Mochizuki lying on the floor too. Luckily, Meiko’s mom wasn’t present with them -- She was out the city visiting the family back in Tottori after all. Meiko and her dad had classes and work (respectively) so they unfortunately had to stay in Tokyo.

“D-dad…!” Meiko gasped, then looked at the thief, “W-what have you done to my dad?!”

“... He’s fine,” he answered, “I just came to talk with him.”

“That’s the opposite of talking though” Rui looked annoyed by it. He had gone to catch the unconscious Ukkomon in the meantime.

Ken noticed something odd though, especially that once Rui said it with a sarcastic tone… … Chat Noir seemed to have flinched, besides another detail.

“Sigh… I said they’re all fine… Now I have to go--”

“Wormmon!” Ken ordered.

“Sticky Net!” 

“What--” the sticky net wrapped in his wrist and then Ken & Wormmon, with Meicoomon’s help, pulled him to the ground, “Gah!”

“You won’t escape this time!”

Ken approached him, but he just snapped his fingers and the lights went down.

“What is happening, Ken-chan?!” “Ahh, I can’t see!! Ichijouji-kun? Rui-kun?” “Mei! Don’t worry I can see the switch, I’ll turn the lights on again!”

Meicoomon, for being a feline digimon, is able to see in the dark so she went back and turned the lights on and then, mysteriously…

“W-where did that thief go?!”

… the phantom thief wasn’t there anymore.

“...” Ken stood silent, but wondered what would’ve the thief stolen from professor Mochizuki.

“Why did you risk your life like that?!” he heard Rui talking to Ukkomon who just woke up. “Sorry… I… I wanted to help!!” Ukkomon was whining. “Then you should’ve opened the door for Meicoomon and Wormmon instead!”“But…!!”

He looked to the ground and there was another calling card there, he knelt and took it from the floor and took a look at its message.

-- Dangers await you if you get involved. Do not interfere, do not tell the police. --

“Is that a threat…?” Ken asked himself, wondering if this means Noel Leblanc is really on their side after that message. Or perhaps his recruit is not trustworthy…?

At this point, someone was looking at him and sighing discreetly.

No that’s not…

“What happened here,” then Ken directed a question to Ukkomon, who was the only one of the three digimon to be inside and facing the intruder all alone, “Could you report what you witnessed, please?”

“... They went after Meiko’s dad,” the sea digimon said, “I tried to stop them and suddenly they knocked me out by using their weapon.”

“A weapon…?” 

“Yeah, a… rod or stick…?” He said with a nod, “It was in their pocket and it expanded when they activated it.”

“Hmm…”

“Shouldn’t we wake up Mei’s dad and ask him too?” Meicoomon suggested.

“That’s a good idea, but…” Rui started.

“...?”

“... If that guy hit Ukkomon then they probably hit the professor too.”

“Ah, makes sense,” Meicoomon pouted.

“So… my dad will just repeat the same story from Ukkomon…” Meiko mused.

“Maybe they couldn’t steal whatever they wanted because we acted fast and put a nail on their plans…?” Ukkomon pondered looking from Rui to Ken and Wormmon and then to Meiko and Meicoomon.

“I think so…” Meiko replied, Meicoomon only nodded sagely.

Ken looked around, after they all helped to put professor Mochizuki on the bed to let him rest and recover from the supposed hit in the head from Chat Noir, the trio and their partners then inspected the area.

But nothing had been stolen. Everything seemed pretty normal, besides an unconscious professor in his own room.

Since nothing was lost, they all assumed Ukkomon successfully messed up the phantom thief’s heist before getting knocked out by them and they all arrived right in time to prevent the thief from doing anything else. With no other reason to stay there anymore, Ken decided to leave, but he also dragged Rui with him. Like if Rui was a child, yeah.

Rui himself did not like that, but did not try to argue back or resist.

“... Will Mochizuki-san and her dad be okay?” he asked Ken, from the passenger seat, “Wouldn’t the thief try stealing what they couldn’t again?”

“... He didn’t steal anything,” Ken replied.

“Huh?”

“Maybe it was a decoy to keep me away from whatever Arsenemon is attempting to do.”

“Who’s… Arsenemon?”

“... Let’s say he was both our enemy and ally at the same time, a few years ago.”

“Why are we going with you though…?” Ukkomon asked, frowning.

“I’m just giving you a ride back home, to make sure you are not deceiving Wormmon and me.”

“...”

“Ichijouji-kun, do you think I’d do something like that…?”

Rui's question just seemed to have caused a massive impact in Ken’s mind.

Why would I suspect Rui though…? He wouldn’t do something like that, but he’s definitely reckless. He’s our friend too, and it doesn’t seem to be the kind to just…

However, Ken cannot clearly guess much about Ohwada Rui. Knowing Rui's backstory does not mean that Rui is willing to open up and share anything else about his life or himself.

Deep down, he was just a mysterious friend of them all. One who had suffered enough traumatic experiences and does not seem to trust others that easily.

… So, why would Ken seem a little tense to answer that simple question?

[monsieur-sparkle]

I’m replaying the the do hack series!

I’ve also started playing dot hack fragments ( the online one as there’s a private server! )

Do I know anyone who loves the .Hack series?

I know it's been pretty much stagnant for years, but I am replaying .Hack//Infection and being reminded of how much I adored it. I enjoyed .Hack//GU as well (character development!)

Worth noting that the series contains a line that had a big impact on me: "In order for something to be born, something must break."

[mizulyn]

So uh I finally got .hack//Fragment to work

I’m so glad they allowed my character to be thicc like me :’)

[longplays]

Let's Play ➤ .Hack//Fragment [PlayStation 2] Complete Playthrough

Let’s Play ➤ .Hack//Fragment [PlayStation 2] Complete Playthrough

All Cutscenes Game Movie Playthrough .Hack//Fragment for the PS2, Final Boss fight .Hack//Fragment [PS2] Hardest Dungeon in Game (Various “Mini Bosses” before the Final Boss!) Brought to you by YouTube.com/xBuster6Screenshots: Playthrough, recordings, screenshots, etc. by YouTube.com/xBuster6

[blisscast]

[.hack//fragment] More at my blog blisscast.wordpress.com, www.vintagepeople.it, and www.gamerevs.it, links in bio! . Did you miss me talking about dot hack? I surely did, lol. This is actually a real mmo with dot hack's engine and characters, and it has fan servers that you can still connect to ✨. I've heard that it doesn't really have a story, but you can create your custom character and play with people online, so I'd say it could be worth it if you are a dot hack fan! Even though it wasn't translated in English, there's a fan translation available, so don't worry about that. I should set it up sometime ✨. . I found the two figures on Vinted for such a bargain that I couldn't leave them there any second longer 👀. Definitely a small yet amazing thing to have as a fan! . #dothack #dothackgu #dothackanime #dothacklink #dothacksign #dothackgulastrecode #actionrpg #jrpg #mmorpg #dothackfragment #hackfragment #animegames #ps2 #gamergirl #gamergirls #retrommo https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp0mkWjIWlm/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[gumnut-logic]

It became routine. Each ‘morning’ by the clock, he would patrol the perimeter, check the transmitter, check the seals and go over all the jury rigging that kept him alive.

He would explore from time to time, but ever aware of the fragility of his existence, he was restricted as to how far he was willing to go.

As time grew, so did his needs. He discovered ice and greedily harvested it for the three things it could give him – water, fuel and oxygen. He slapped together a tin can with a couple of thrusters scrounged from the doomed Zero-X and slapped a call sign on it. Thunderbird X wasn’t much, but it got him what he needed, darting between the nearby lumps of solar system garbage that ranged from frozen chunks of hydrogen, right up the elemental chain to the absurdity of the lump of gold that threatened to puncture X simply due to the velocity it was travelling at.

So, he managed. He found what he needed and he built. He logged. He explored to keep himself sane and he discovered.

But most of all, he longed.

He had left so much behind, so far away.

At times he would picture his sons in his mind’s eye, just to keep their images fresh.

Little Allie with that dash of golden hair and innocent blue eyes. He counted his schooling years wondering at the report cards he wasn’t seeing, but knowing he was bright, ever so bright, taking after his lovely Lucille.

Thoughts of his wife kept him company to the point that he often wondered if she was there with him, watching over him, keeping him safe.

The time Thunderbird X’s starboard thruster exploded on his return run, sending her into a deadly roll that almost ended in a final farewell to his existence…she was there while his leg mended. There through the pain of resetting and the ache that followed for weeks.

She was in his dreams.

She whispered in the long silences.

But his boys.

Young Gordon, so determined to go to the Olympics, more fish than teenager, he wondered if he had made it. If his brothers and his mother had been able to watch him stand on that podium and represent his country.

He daydreamed he did.

And even if he didn’t, god, he missed his smile. His second youngest son was a ball of mischievous sunshine, even when Jeff had found sand poured into his boots and the time the little brat filled his shower head with blue dye.

When he needed to smile, he thought of his little Gordy.

He harvested what he could from the Zero-X. The ship was never going to fly again, crippled by its unintended plummet into deep space. He had done his best to stabilise her flight as she appeared suddenly surrounded by debris and icy rock. As it was, he had barely managed to set down on the planetoid. The more correct word would have been ‘crashed’ but he had a Lee Taylor drawling in the back of his mind about any landing he could walk away from, yada, yada.

He missed his space buddy and his dry wit like he would miss a limb. It had always been the two of them against the unknown. They’d been there and back, but now, so far away, he wasn’t with him.

But despite that, he forged on.

He tore that pile of scrap metal apart and, from it, made a place to survive.

He could call it a home, but he refused.

Home was an island with his family so many thousands of AU away.

He built.

He crafted.

He survived.

Communications was a priority. He knew the distance. He knew the chances of reaching that tiny blue dot so, so far away.

The transmitter was easy. Most of that equipment had survived intact, but the technology was nowhere near the level of International Rescue. He wrangled what he could out of it and sent a repeating signal.

A vain hope, but hope nonetheless. His boys had the best technology on the planet.

And then he remembered the flight plan of the Calypso.

It didn’t take him long to put together another signal, a hack into Brains’ robot. It was a long shot, but if it worked, his boys could hear him sooner.

So, checking the transmitters became part of the routine. Every day.

Power levels.

He had harnessed the great engines of the ship. She couldn’t fly, but she could generate enough electricity and more for his needs. Thank god.

It was with hope he built the receiver.

This he crafted from scratch with his own knowledge. Between Shadow Alpha, his own training and introducing John to his first radio at age five, he had the skill set.

It was fond memories of his middle boy that accompanied the exercise.

Red hair and turquoise eyes that absorbed every smidgen of information Jeff had been willing to impart. He was the eldest of his boys aiming high enough to follow Jeff into space. Of course, John’s interests were different, drifting in more Lucille’s direction of applied physics and the creation of new systems. John took to digital technologies like Gordon took to water. His longing for space simply led to communications and astro-specialities. Where Jeff was closer to the traditional NASA test pilot type who jumped into a tin can and crossed his fingers that the labcoats knew what they were doing, John was a little of both. Made sense since his mother was one of those labcoats.

Lucille had sent Lee and Jeff to Mars only to welcome him back with a little red-haired boy to carry both of their legacies.

So, when he flicked the on switch on his receiver, it shouldn’t have surprised him that John’s voice was the first sound he heard.

“Calling Zero-X from Thunderbird Five, Colonel Jeff Tracy, do you copy? Please respond.”

It was a recording, repeating over and over, sweeping the universe looking for him. It faded in and out, some times riddled with static, always days out of date, but it was his son.

Some nights he cried.

It didn’t stop as the years passed. It became reassurance that at least part of his legacy still survived, that his sons were still running International Rescue. It got bad enough that at one point he built a second receiver just so he didn’t have to turn that one off to change frequencies.

John’s voice sung in tune to Lucille’s in his head.

The day he discovered the coded entries in the repeating signal, he nearly lost it completely.

His middle son was truly brilliant. Laced into the repetition was a code, an IR code with John’s unique identifier that only his family knew and with the computing power Jeff had salvaged from the wreck, he had just enough to uncover what his boy was sending him.

Words.

Photos.

Stories.

His family in tiny snippets looped into that repeating signal.

“Dad, we know you’re out there somewhere. We miss you. Please know we won’t stop looking and we will find you.”

So stranded millions of miles away from home, every now and again, he would receive a care package from home. Sometimes the signal shattered beyond repair, sometimes interference was so bad John’s voice barely made it. Sometimes the signal went completely dead and Jeff would fret as the solar system realigned itself enough to let that signal through again.

But his blessed John sent such a lifeline that he knew he may not have survived without it.

He even sent his brother’s piano music.

Only a fragment survived the distance, but Jeff clung to the sound of Virgil’s fingers on his mother’s piano.

Thoughts of his second eldest, his gentle artistic soul who bore so much of his beloved Lucille that he hadn’t been able to look at the boy for some time after losing her.

He had so much regret, so much he wanted to make up to his boys. His priorities had seemed so obvious, so clear and so right at the time. But now, stranded with so much time to think, he could only think of what else he could have done.

Perhaps he could have been there for Virgil more. Been there for all of them. He lost his youngest’s teen years, he was becoming a man without his father or his mother.

Virgil had been older. Such a strong boy despite his sensitivities. He had his art and his music, yet he was so determined, the young man had presented his father with his pilot’s license, his engineering degree and stepped into his role in International Rescue without a blink.

He’d seen that expression on Lucy’s face the day she told him she was pregnant with their first. He had immediately flared protectively, claiming she needed to step back on the Mars project.

She had such fire in her eyes when she told him clearly and at length where he could stick it.

Virgil had that same stubborn streak along side his music. He was as tough as the ‘bird he flew.

And when it came to Jeff’s food sources, stubborn had been the key.

The Zero-X had been a prototype. She wasn’t stocked for a long-term mission; her supplies had been minimal and hunger had become a constant companion. There were limits out here as to what could be found, what could be considered edible.

He had done things he never wanted to think about again.

He had daydreamed about his mother’s cooking.

There were times that this one lack of supply nearly did him in.

He had tricks they had used on Mars and on the Moon, but ultimately the human body was tied to Earth’s ecosystem and there were so many limits as to what he could do to emulate it.

The ship’s empty hydroponic racks mocked him, but the daylight lamps were enough to save him.

So, he managed an existence. Meagre and sometimes painful, but stubborn kept him going and the voices from so far away kept him in hope.

And hope was named Scott Tracy. He knew his eldest. Where Virgil was stubborn, Scott was driven. The man would not stop.

Those vivid blue eyes that had at first looked up at him with admiration, and later faced him down with determination and sometimes anger, ever the staunch field commander of International Rescue. Scott was his second. He knew he had depended on him far too much, even from early on after Lucille passed, but the boy had shouldered it all.

He had no doubt Scott was still shouldering it. The boy had such a capacity to love and to bear what he needed to, to get the job done. Scott was the one who had stepped in when Jeff had been unable to be there for whatever reason.

His mother had made a point of making sure Jeff knew exactly what he was putting his children through. Loudly and in detail.

Jeff knew his failures.

And ultimately, he had failed his boys completely and ended up stranded out here.

With his regrets for company.

He existed.

He survived.

He clung to hope.

And then after an eternity the messages changed. John’s voice stopped its loop and switched to direct communication. Everything Thunderbird Five had threw his son’s voice across the void. Where Jeff only had the little transmission power he had, his son’s ‘bird knew how to yell.

His boys had received his SOS.

He cried tears when all five spoke to him from so far away. He couldn’t answer, but god, could he listen. After all those years of Scott yelling at him to listen, his mother yelling the same, he finally was so grateful to hear their voices.

Alan’s had deepened and sounded so confident and sure. Gordon’s smile floated across space and warmed his heart, John, his lifeline, had tears in his voice and Virgil’s deep baritone was sweeter than his music.

And Scott.

The fire in his voice lit up the small confined space Jeff lived in. That determination was there, strong and ever so driven.

His sons were coming to get him.

Hope became reality.

And all he could do was weep.

The care packages increased in frequency and often had a variety of brothers telling him of their progress. The stories varied, but the mission updates all came from Scott, delivered in sharp military terms.

Scott didn’t send stories.

Launch Day was scheduled, but due to the time delay, he found out about the plan at almost the same time his proximity network started screaming at him.

And of course, fate chose that day for his planetoid to fall apart. He had tempted luck too far and it was finally calling due.

His boys moved faster than he expected and he was in Thunderbird X when they arrived. He could not believe he almost missed them…after waiting so, so long.

When he saw Scott fall, his mind stopped and he just moved.

The hand he caught was the first he had touched in over eight years.

Those blue eyes, the same eyes that accused him in the darkness when sleep failed him, now looked up at him in astonishment, widening ever so much.

So full of love that his heart shattered.

His boy.

“Dad?”

“I’ve got you, son.” Hold it together. “Now, what do you say we get out of here?”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[kerbrobro]

[rinharu-purple]

Lucien: MLQC’s Mastermind

Yes, I said that Lucien is the creepiest LI in my opinion, and I wouldn’t choose him in a million, billion years. BUT, Lucien is by far the one person, who is pulling the strings and is the driving force of the MLQC universe. He is the only person who acquires all the information from all sides and is connected to every important actor in the story. Therefore, Lucien has become the second LI I’ve started to follow more attentively. Mind that the ranking ist 1) Gavin 2) Gavin 3) Gavin 4) Lucien ;)

In my manifesto, why Gavin is MC’s choice, I’ve already mentioned briefly, that Lucien has the strongest EVOL among all the characters but is also the strongest character (it’s not the MC or the Black Queen, let’s not fool ourselves)

The Machiavellian

Before we talk about Lucien’s part in the MLQC universe, we should first look at him as person and observe the elements that make up his personality.

In the game, all our guys have their personal priorities. Gavin and Kiro are on the front line, fighting for peace and prosperity, Victor, well...I don’t think that he cares for anything else besides MC, maybe his position. But with Lucien, his priority is not a person or a concept, but rather a philosophy. Lucien wants to see the next step in human evolution and is determined to take any measures necessary to see it to it’s end. Other guys can not stand oblivious to other things that come up their way in achieving their goals but Lucien only has his eyes on the prize and to him nothing else matters, no one else matters and no ethics matter. 

Machiavellianism denotes cunningness and claims, that those dark triads use whatever means necessary to gain power. If we consider the choices Lucien has made throughout the story so far, we can clearly find his manipulative ways in getting other actors to the positions of his conjecture. He lies to MC and hides his personality as Ares, penetrates Black Swan to use their facilities, but also uses LFG’s resources for his R&D projects all the while concealing his true nature. 

Another trait of a Machiavellian, is that he is charismatic and friendly, all the while displaying no emotions. I think, there can be two possible reasons as to why Lucien has limited display of emotions. The first possible explanation has something to do with his parents passing and the trauma he suffered afterwards. Among all LIs Lucien is the one with the most loveless childhood and teenage years, the most important years in developing one’s psychological traits and during those years Lucien received alongside with Kiro the most blows. That resulted in him losing the connection to his emotions as a defense mechanism. 

Another possibility might be him losing the connection to his emotions as a result of a chemical reaction in his brain due to excessive testing Black Swan objected him to. Lucien’s EVOL was created in a lab and he was the first man-made Evolver. Lucien is called various times a psychopath, because he shows signs of psychopathy such as lack of remorse, empathy or compassion. It is said that that kind of behavior might occur due to a misconnection between the ventromedial prefrontal cortex (vmPFC) and the amygdala. Considering the fact that Lucien’s parents were killed right in front of him and that he was both physically and psychologically abused for the coming years, this might have led him to experience an imbalance in his chemical balance. One might argue, that his altruistic actions in the orphanage are an evidence for his compassion, I think it is yet another disguise for his unethical ways of reaching his goals.

The Orchestrator

In all honesty no one is actively seeking alliances and keeps tabs on other’s actions for their agenda like Lucien does. Maybe Commander Leto but he mostly fails in drawing others to his side, because he is not able to speak in their pendants’ language or resonate with their perspective. Lucien, on the other hand, is gifted with an extraordinary ability to observe his surroundings and companions, making it very easy for him to talk to them in their terms and desires. Lucien doesn’t show much empathy, UNLESS, it contributes to his cause, in that case he can perfectly put himself in other’s shoes and plays them in such a meticulous way, that they join him willingly.

That is how Lucien directs MC successfully in entering the Black Cabin or in understanding the evolution core.

Lucien is not exactly a piece on a chess board, but is a player, who knows all the pieces very well, knows the rules of the game, has observed many games and took notes of how they all has turned out and therefore knows what kind of a game he is going to play. Just watch closely. how he co-operates with Kiro and the Black Queen. He knows that Kiro is using Black Swan for his goals, much like he does, so he uses his hacking abilities to access to information. The Black Queen is the initiator of everything in S1, so he makes sure to stay close to her. He knows that Victor is searching for MC and trying to understand the Evol gene, there he has an investor. 

The Cool, Calm and Collected Type

in the MLQC universe, everyone loses their composure at one point or another, because...who wouldn’t? Time and space warps constantly and people are also changing their stances depending on the time-space constellation they find themselves in. 

MC loses her cool almost on a daily basis, Gavin was in a constant haywire in the Daybreak era, Victor literally threw people into black holes in CH11 and freaked out as he saw the Black Queen for the first time and Kiro walks around in a bipolar state. So, everybody is pretty unstable due to understandable conditions but we never see Lucien lose his cool and this is one of his best qualities. 

Here is the thing about Lucien. This guy is always at least one step ahead of everyone and he achieves this by two simple rules: 

1) Acquire all possible information

2) Observe everyone and everything at all times

Why am I saying this? It lies in the basis of anxiety and angst. We humans tend to feel uncomfortable in the face of an uncertain situation, meaning in the wake of the unknown. MC is constantly anxious, because she doesn’t know what is going on, why is everyone after her, why is she blessed with the unconditional affection of 5 equally attractive men? (ehm, but not quite equally ehm *Gavin* hihi, sorry, Gavin-stan gotta Gavin-stan ^_^). Anyway you get the picture. Gavin went haywire in CH22 because he was pushed in a tight spot and therefore had angst. Same goes for Victor in CH11 his mind went blank as he saw history repeating itself and then in CH18 when he saw with his own eyes what could the girl of his dreams might become.

We don’t see Lucien in such deadlock situation though do we, and I think it is mainly because he is always prepared for every possibility and he can calculate them meticulously, because he possesses the largest chunk of information and also keeps tabs on everyone and everything that’s going on. So, when a crisis occurs he doesn’t freak out, sure he gets surprised at times, because the outcome of a a certain situation is the possibility, which he calculated to be no higher than 1% and yet there it is. But since he’s already took this into consideration, he has a plan. Combine this with his knowledge about the persons and organizations involved in the matter, then you have a calm Lucien, who is in control of the situation. Thus, he is calm. You can actually also bind this behavior of Lucien with that of a predator, whose movement are languid, is non-reactive and doesn’t mind turning his back to his opponents, since he doesn’t perceive them as a threat.

If this wasn’t enough, Lucien manages to joggle all of this without exposing himself. Even in the last stage of the play he never gets caught. Unless he willingly exposes himself, as in the case of revealing Ares to MC. MLQC actors can usually see through each other and use their weaknesses to meet their own ends. MC is obviously Gavin, Kiro and Victor’s weakness and their opponents can see this pretty easily. IT’s not quite the same with Lucien though and he doesn’t let himself be blackmailed or threatened by any weakness. He always keeps his cards close to his chest. 

Considering the fact that Lucin is the least outstanding LI, this is pretty impressive. So I guess this makes him the embodiment of the phrase “still waters run deep”.

The Renaissance Man

Lucien is a man of science and aesthetics. Explaining phenomenons with associations and loading them with philosophical substance. He doesn’t necessarily perceive things bluntly as they are, but interprets them in a meaningful way. The way he associates MC with a butterfly, how he wants to entrap her in ajar, so she wouldn’t get away, alas taking the only resource of color in his life away. Not only that, but he can also break down the matters at hand to its fragments and can therefore work his way up from there. He is blessed with a strong deduction ability, so he can connect the dots easily, come to a conclusion and act accordingly. No doubt that the other guys have very good deduction abilities, but because Lucien always has a bit of an information more than them, he can find the solutions just a little bit faster in my opinion. 

Reading is a necessity for his guy much like eating and drinking, Which is why we see him reframing events in the context of a certain story he’d read at some point in his life. With time, I will add here some of his quotes about certain situations to explain what I mean. Or even better, if you have some, that are evident in you opinion, you could add them in the comments. I really enjoy reading/hearing Lucien’s philosophical, scientific explanations to certain moments in MC’s life. They are always to the point and helpful.

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

So this is my very first analysis on Lucien and I have to admit, I still have  so many material to check on him, so if anything is missing please bear with me here :)

I was watching Joe’s Twitch while I wrote this, so there are many spelling, grammar mistakes, which will be corrected gradually.

This post will get better and better, scout promise!

[con-fection]

ASHES TO ASHES | jim moriarty x reader | 4/13

Word count: 3.3k

Once again, you're left at a loss for words. This man is a mystery to you in every conceivable way, wrapped in both the literal shadows of your hotel room and the ones that are metaphoric - those shadows are the ones on his soul, the blemishes of having perpetrated something horrific and having enjoyed it.

"It felt good." The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. He's the first person that you've been able to talk to about this, and it makes you feel betrayed that you would so easily give up something so incriminating.

Moriarty leans back further in the chair. He's completely at ease - there's no glimmer of doubt in his dark eyes. "Go on - more. Don't be simple. Tell me everything."

Your shoulders sag slightly, and you practically have to prop yourself up against the door to remain upright. The thought enters your head, then, that you could try to leave. Strangely, you don't want to. "I felt victorious. They had always been there, treating me like I was less than them, like I was made to serve." Your voice comes out as a hiss, so horribly acidic, so venomous. "It felt liberating."

You feel very much like you're confessing, whispering the worst things you've ever done to a priest through a confessional booth. Though, you're certain that this is no man of God.

His lips quirk upwards, and his eyes widen. He looks utterly delighted, like a child presented with their favourite dessert. "Oh, isn't that nice. No regret, I take it? Even though you hacked them to pieces and let them burn?"  Moriarty sounds almost breathless - like he's dizzy, or intoxicated.

"None at all."

And in an instant Moriarty understands why Sherlock wants to find you so badly. You're terribly interesting, enrapturing even. He'd seen the crime scene photos. The destruction alone was fabulous, a true marvel to look at. But you...you make it so much better. So much more intriguing.

"Oh how lovely." He breathes, discarding the glass slipper and placing it back on the table so he could clasp his hands together. "So, Cinderella gets sick of the evil step-family and burns them to ash." Moriarty sounds rather whimsical, like he's musing, but his eyes are fixated solely on you.

"I'd prefer if you didn't call me Cinderella, you know. I have a name." You say rather boldly. You've gathered enough courage to stand on your own now, no longer relying on the door for support. You stare him down, fire in your eyes.

Moriarty looks bemused, a single eyebrow tugging upwards. "Yes, I know your name, Cinderella. In fact, I know everything about you."

"I'd gathered that much," You retort. "I just want to know why. Why bother?"

He tuts at you, unwinding his hands and wagging a finger at you like you're a disobedient child. You don't feel chided, but you do feel a stab of fear. "Because, Cinderella," His voice is warm, melodic, the calm before the storm. "You're in my way." His voice lowers a few octaves, and is bordering between glacial and a growl. Either way, it feels like a threat.

All that confidence within you threatens to leave, to evaporate and leave you to be a frightened little girl, cowering before the whims of a man wrapped in shadows - a man whom is not just at ease in darkness, but revels in it. "In your way?"

"Oh yessssss," He says, all happy and cheerful again. "You see, I have plans for Sherlock Holmes. Plans. And he's gone and gotten himself infatuated with finding you. I mean, don't get me wrong, you're a lovely lady - I'm a fan of your work, I really am - but, you see, I don't want him distracted."

"Believe me, I'm doing all that I can to stay away from him and the rest of the police." You reply sourly. The news reporter lady had announced that he would be investigating, and once you'd done some reading on him, you'd been less than thrilled.

Moriarty wags his finger at you again, chidingly. "Well, Cinderella. How about I do you one better? Rather than detract from my plans, how about you become a part of them, hm? Join me."

You can't help but frown. This man, with his sweet, crooning irish accent and his dark eyes, is probably more dangerous than you have ever been. "And what does joining you entail?"

He breaks out into a grin again. "Ah, I have plans. Plans beyond your wildest imaginations." He replies vaguely, seeming rather jovial about his lack of transparency.

Deep down, you're not even sure if you want to know. This is a man who has managed to find you. You're sure that even if you ran he could find you again if he was so inclined to try. "And what if I don't want to join you?"

Moriarty's expression turns thunderous, just as dark as the shadows he's bathed in. His dark eyes dart down to your chest and you follow his line of sight.

On your chest, directly above your heart is a little, almost innocuous red dot. A sniper. Somewhere out there, there was a person with a gun, and you were directly in their line of fire.

It's too dark now to even see where it's coming from. At any moment, your life could have been cut short before it could even begin via a bullet to the heart. You stagger backwards. All of a sudden you feel trapped, caged, and it's like you're back in that god-damn basement and the door is locked. Just how powerful is this Moriarty man?

You find yourself able to answer your own question. Too powerful. And that made him awfully dangerous.

"If you refuse, then Cinderella goes bye-bye." He says. "Are you going to refuse, Cinderella?"

"No, no," You gasp out, almost dropping to your knees in relief as the red dot vanishes.

"Oh, good. I'd hate to kill you, really, I would." Moriarty shrugs. He's so relaxed, lounging around in that chair, as if your life hadn't been almost ended moments ago. As if he hadn't almost ordered your execution. "As much as I love grim fairy tales, I would hate to see yours end here."

"So what now?" You manage to sound much more put together than you feel.

"Well, you certainly can't stay here." He says, dark eyes wandering over your hotel room. He looks incredibly unimpressed by it. "No, Sherlock would find you far too easily. You're going to be part of the game."

You falter. "Are you going to kill me?"

Moriarty looks offended. "No. That would be a blatant waste of potential and entertainment. Are you afraid to die, or something?"

"I'm afraid that I won't get to live the life that I killed and burnt for." You hiss, before recoiling at your own words. This isn't a man you should be threatening, and you regret the words the instant they leave your mouth.

He grimaces, but he doesn't seem affected by the fact that you had literally hissed at him. Rather, he looks almost confused by your answer. "The fear of death is such a human weakness, don't you think? I wouldn't worry, Cinderella. You know - at first, I was worried that Sherlock had gone and gotten himself obsessed with the first case he found, like the way a gosling will imprint on the first thing it sees once it hatches. I'm rather glad he at least chose something interesting to become obsessed with."

"Oh?"

He doesn't really acknowledge your comment, but his dark, pitch-black eyes run over you again, scrutinising you. "Well then, Cinderella. I think that we have places to be. Plans to put into motion. Pumpkins to turn to carriages. You know how it goes."

You frown, feeling a shiver run down your spine. "What does that mean?"

"It meeeeeeans that we're leaving. Right now." Moriarty says excitedly. He looks almost maniacal then - gleeful and insane in equal amounts.

Suddenly, you really, really do not want to leave. As much as you disliked the hotel room, you were certain that it would be preferable to going anywhere with Moriarty. You couldn't be sure of much, but you knew that he was powerful enough to track you down before the police could, and that he was capable of killing you at any moment.

"Where are we going?" Your voice emerges as a cheap caricature of bravery. That fire in your eyes is beginning to burn itself out, leaving only embers and ash in its wake.

Moriarty stands, jovially brushing a piece of lint off the shoulder of his jacket before stalking towards you. It had been hard to tell when he was lounging around, but now you could discern that he was taller than you. He seems to casual, so nonchalant, as he walks towards you.

You stumble backwards slightly, and the back of your head collides with the door uncomfortably. There's no escape for you here.

He's much too close now, bringing with him the faint, familiar scent of fire and brimstone. Moriarty grins down at you, watching you writhe and struggle to regain your confidence under his gaze. Slowly, he brings one of his hands up to cup your jaw, the pads of his fingers softly trailing over your cheek.

There's nothing in his eyes - no speck of light or real, human emotion.

Those tiny, dying embers are relit with a fury as you comprehend the sensation of his skin against yours. That fire in your eyes is back, and you're glowering up at him, trapped between his chest and the door.

So incredibly focused are you on glaring at him and conveying pure malice with your eyes, that you don't notice that his other hand is holding something. By the time you do, it's much too late.

The last thing you remember is the grin on his face, a little black canister in his hand, and a cool, chemical mist descending on your face. After that, came the darkness.

---

When you awake, it's not in any place familiar to you. At first, your vision is completely blurry, and you can only comprehend the world in abstract fragments of light and dark. It takes a few moments for you to blink it away.

Confusedly, you sit up. You had been lain on top of the white sheets on a king size bed in a room you didn't recognise. The room's rather plain, far grander than your hotel room, but still lacking in personality. Everything's so white - the bedding, the walls, the blinding light above your head. There's no windows. It's akin to a prison cell, though thankfully it's not cold.

It takes a moment for the panic to set in. In an instant, it's truly occured to you that you are not meant to be here. All those memories of today come flooding back to you.

That man, Moriarty, had known you, known your crimes, and he had brought you here. You had been taken, plucked from your hotel room, and every fleeting freedom stolen away from you.

Rapidly, you scramble off the bed, stumbling your way around the room. First, you fumble towards the wardrobe, mistaking the walk-in closet for the door, and tugging the ornately decorated doors open only to reveal a mountain of fine, elegant clothes that, horrifyingly, look to be in your size.

In shock, you slam the wardrobe closed and stumble over to another part of the room, finally locating what you presume to be the real doors. Repeatedly, you yank the door handle, tugging it incessantly. It doesn't even budge, nor does it shudder when you abandon that tactic and start hurling your weight at it, barging your shoulder into the door over and over again. Both strategies are futile.

"Oh my god," You breathe out, chest heaving. There's a deep, deep panic within you.

Your entire life, you had been somewhat of a planner. Of course, there were certain aspects of your life that you liked to leave up to spontaneity, but on the whole, you had carefully considered all of your options.

Everything had gone towards the grand plan for happily ever after - a happily ever after where you would be free from your step-family, forge your own life, find prince charming and rule a kingdom. Those had been the goals.

The mere possibility of something like this happening was never once accounted for. You had cautiously considered the police and their forensic work, but Moriarty simply could not have been foreseen.

By this point, you've started to bite your lip and you're rapidly descending into a frenzy. Your arms pound against the door, desperate for some help, or some attention. You just want the door to open, to collapse - to splinter to shards of wood beneath your fists and the sheer force of your anger. There's no getting out. There's not even any windows to attempt to smash - and there's no means for which you to try to determine the time.

You want to step back, to consider, to plan, but you feel almost dizzy, like Moriarty's put a blindfold over your eyes and spun you around just to see which way you would stumble. There's a pit in your stomach - it's the cool, blistering bite of dread.

This wasn't meant to happen. Not to you. You had worked so hard, endured so much, and now you were meant to be free. This was no freedom at all - this was just a different jailer and a cushier cell.

You cry out in frustration, slamming your fist down against the door once more before collapsing to the floor. Your throat feels stripped raw, and your hands hurt - there's a red flush covering your knuckles, and it hurts when you unfurl your fingers from the fist they were clamped in just seconds ago.

Then, there's an almost imperceptible click.

The door is pushed open, and Moriarty saunters in. He's so utterly, infuriatingly carefree. He looks down at you, at your half-collapsed form, your wild-eyes and your red, injured knuckles in distaste, as if you're some kind of fucking inconvenience and he hasn't orchestrated your presence here. You're slumped over, your chest is heaving, and you look near feral with anger.

"Well Cinderella, that's no way to greet your fairy godmotherrrrrr," He practically sings. It feels mocking - it probably is. You haven't had the misfortune of being acquainted with Moriarty for very long, but you're smart enough to determine that seeing you reduced to this state is probably fun for him.

"Fuck off," You spit back, practically hissing at him in retaliation.

You feel very much like a wounded animal - a cowering, bleeding gazelle placed before a lion. Though, the two of you are much more dangerous than any animal. Moriarty is dangerous, seemingly half-crazed, but you're determined. There has been fire in your blood for your entire life.

Moriarty laughs, a chuckle tearing forth from his throat. He grins then, peering down at you, and that distaste is replaced with amusement. It feels like you're being observed in a two-way mirror. You're being watched, "No, no I won't. Cinderella, the way I see it is that you don't have much of a choice."

"A choice in what?" You demand, any semblance of playing nice having faded.

"Joining in, of course. Welcome to the game, Cinderella."

You frown, your voice nearly a snarl. "Your game with Sherlock Holmes? That's what this is? My freedom as part of your game?" You stagger to your feet - he's still looking down at you, he has a minor height advantage there, but the difference has been lessened. You feel rather inclined to lunge at him, and he probably knows that by now.

Moriarty clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment. "No, no. Our game with Sherlock Holmes. That's what it is now. He's after you, and there's no way you can escape the two of us."

"And I'm going to do what exactly?"

"You're going to be my daring, devious accomplice." He grins. "Sherlock's got John, and I have you, Cinderella."

Agitatedly, you jab a finger at his chest. "Don't call me that."

"Oooh, feisty." He teases, feigning shock. "So, what's it going to be? Me and our game? You could try to escape - Sherlock could catch up to you, or I could have a bullet put right through your skull."

Immediately, you stagger backwards. Your mind is racing at a mile a minute - every single thought you manage to produce is incoherent and garbled. There's no time to plan, there's no time to even consider the possible courses of action. And still, your knuckles are throbbing. There had never, ever been a time where you had prepared yourself for a situation like this.

"Really, I don't want you uncooperative, or worse, boring. Join, play, have fun, or try to make it on your own and risk death. I've gone through the trouble of bringing you here, so at least do me the favour of making it worth my while." He says. "C'monnnn, Cinders. Answer me. Say yes, won't you?"

Surely, it was better to endure the devil you knew, if only in a vague sense, than brave the one you didn't.

Moriarty was by far a lesser demon than imprisonment or death.

"You." You answer through gritted teeth.

"Oh, good." He remarks off-handedly. He says it like he expected it - it was the most probable outcome, after all. He knew you to be a planner, you were the type to wait it out before striking. His dark eyes dart down to your knuckles, eyeing the scrapes over them and the torn skin. "Let's get those taken care of, my darling Cinderella."

---

Sherlock's pacing back through 221B Baker street, practically wearing a hole into the carpet, his eyebrows furrowed into a frown, and his hands clasped firmly behind his back. He's been acting like this for the past few minutes, storming through the apartment in long strides. He's not even doing anything - he's just walking around, looking menacing and thinking, apparently.

John watches on, tiredly. His gaze is fixed to the laptop screen, but he'll occasionally look up at Sherlock, just to check on him.

John suddenly sits up straighter, "Lestrade's emailed. Some footage, or something." He calls out.

In an instant, Sherlock has abandoned his pacing and rushed to John's side, peering over his shoulder at the screen. "Well, go on."

"It's, ah, it's from one of the hotels we thought would be in her comfort zone." John said, scrolling through the email. There's a series of attachments, all titled with dates and times - presumably the footage Lestrade had been referencing.

Sherlock scoffs. "We can rule out anything with footage. She'd never choose anywhere with CCTV. Not yet, at least. Come on, John. Don't you know her at all?"

John purses his lips, glancing briefly up at Sherlock. "Well, no, I don't. And you don't either. You've never met the woman, and yet -"

"I know her mind inside out." Sherlock states.

John sighs, "I was going to say that you have an unhealthy fixation on finding her."

"That's the job, isn't it?" Sherlock cocks his head.

"Yes - but my point is, I think you're bored. You've been bored ever since Moriarty walked out of the picture and now you're looking for somebody to replace him. She's just been the first person that's been smart enough to evade you."