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sonofkhaz · 7 years

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The Savage Hero [Dreadnaught prestige class story]

Entry 78

I had to do night watch duty tonight. It’s not a hard job, but it can be dull. At times, I wished the enemy would attack us in the middle of the night so it would give me something to do. Then again, most of these dainty elves need their beauty sleep lest they get more ornery than a Plainstrider in heat.

It was a full moon, and the stars were out so I didn’t need a torch; too much light can ruin your night vision, you know. As I strode along the perimeter, I heard the crunching of boots behind me. I gripped my axe in anticipation, then whirled around to meet my follower. A Forsaken wearing black robes and a black brimmed hat looked up at me, his rheumy, undead eyes beaming.

“Well hello there,” he said in a raspy baritone, “my ostentatious oxen. Are you burning the midnight oil as well?”

“Braun,” I replied, pushing down the urge to pulp his skull like a ripe melon, “you should know better to sneak up on me like that. It will be your death sentence some day.” Despite my response, I knew that “Professor” Braun Bratosus was a dangerous sorcerer, even though he acted like an idiot most of the time. In the past, before joining the Sunspears, I had done odd jobs for him, collecting dangerous reagents for fruitless experiments. At least he paid well.

The undead rubbed his metallic jaw in thought. “I suppose. Guess they’d just have to stitch me up again. Try not to damage anything important when you kill me, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Braun.” I rolled my eyes.

“It’s a serious request, Muroco. I still have many experiments to conduct.” Braun tapped the butt of his staff on the ground. “Say, that reminds me, I had a question for you, one that is likely impertinent.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“What are you going to do when this is all over?” Braun paused. “Well, assuming that the Legion doesn’t triumph, enslave us all, and turn our dear planet into a ball of molten fel.”

“What do you mean what am I going to do? Fighting is a full time job. Even after the Legion’s defeat, there will be plenty of enemies to kill. Bank on it.”

“Ah, but my boisterous bovine,” Braun said, crooking a bony finger towards the camp, “even most of our elven compatriots have lives of their own. Some of them have families, some of them are craftspeople, and others have to lord over their lands. They don’t fight all the time.”

“I’m a Grimtotem exile,” I said, “fighting is the only thing I’m good at.” It was the only thing I was taught to do, even from a young age. The Grimtotems are never developed self-sufficiency, and only truly survive by raiding, pillaging, and killing everyone and everything that isn’t them. As such, the vast majority of Grimtotems are expected to know how to fight. A Grimtotem that wants to open up a general store is viewed the same way a street-goer might view an organ grinder’s monkey.

Braun and I continued our conversation, but I don’t think he understood my point of view. I don’t think anyone can.

Entry 104

I went to my “peaceful spot” today. It didn’t turn out to be so peaceful.

When I was still an Initiate, I found this pasture several miles south of the Dawnspire. It is nice and quiet; miles of plain with rolling hills and some trees. Silvermoon City is cramped, and sometimes I need to get away to stretch out.

While I sit underneath a tree on a hilltop and meditate, I sometimes see a little girl, about six or seven winters old, named Verina. She has a black cat named Olive, and I’ve helped her pull her kite out of the tree a few times. Despite her youth, she speaks to me without fear or hesitation - more that can be said about a lot of people I’ve met.

I made a stupid mistake today. My guard was down, and I didn’t hear my attackers sneak up on me. A robed man - some elf - approached me when my eyes were closed and cast a binding spell. As I stood up to attack him, I felt coils of fel energy ensnare my wrists and hold my legs in place. Struggle as I might, I couldn’t break free. I heard him snicker to himself as shimmering forms behind him coalesced into being. A felguard and a shivarra wielding wicked looking scimitars appeared, advancing on me. As they got closer, I could hear Verina’s high-pitched voice shouting, “Leave him alone!”

The cultist turned, saw her clumsy attempts at striking him with her fists, and kicked her to the ground.

I could feel the binding spells weaken as his attention was turned elsewhere...but something snapped in me. Something about seeing that girl being hurt drove me into a rage I hadn’t felt in years. Rage can be a powerful weapon; the dirtiest, flea-bitten peasant can be pushed into feats of heroism if everything they hold dear is threatened. With a roar, I shattered the cultist’s spells and rescued my axe from the ground. I beheaded the felguard with one chop, then turned my attention to the shivarra. Her blades nicked and grazed me, but I was too angry to care. I severed her, limb from useless limb, until she collapsed to the ground.

I turned my attention to the cultist next. He attempted to cast a spell at me, but squawked in protest as my plated fist landed square in his face, snapping his beak-like nose and knocking out most of his teeth. I grabbed him by the neck, ignoring his pleas for mercy as I slammed his head into the tree’s trunk. I bashed his skull in repeatedly, even after he was dead, his head nothing more than a bloody stump.

I only stopped when I heard crying.

I turned around and saw Verina cowering.

She wasn’t afraid of the corpses of the demons. She was afraid of me.

Before I could say anything, she turned and fled, her legs carrying her as fast as they could as she screamed in terror. With a sigh, I ripped the cloak off the cultist’s mangled corpse and heaved myself to the pond residing at the hill’s base. As I cleaned the grime off me, I looked at my distorted reflection on the pond’s surface. I wasn’t wearing my helmet, so blood had spattered on me.

I looked just as I did when I was still a Brave in the Grimtotem tribe, raiding orcish, night elf and tauren settlements with little care of who was in the way.

For once in my life, I felt disgusted with myself.

Entry 105

I decided to stay the night in the countryside. The sun was setting when the cultist attacked me, and I didn’t feel like marching back.

A warrior learns to sleep lightly while outside, and this time I was not about to make the same mistake twice. As the sun began to rise, I heard someone moving towards me. I grabbed my axe and rose, preparing to cut down the intruder.

I paused as the man in front of me yelped in surprise and jumped back, his hands held up in supplication. He wore rough hewn clothes, and his tanned skin look weathered from time in the sun. A farmer.

“I, ah,” the man stammered, “thought I might find you here.”

“What do you want?” I asked.

“You saved my daughter yesterday,” the man said, his eyes glancing cautiously the edge of my axe.

I set my weapon down upon the grass and sat down on a nearby tree stump overlooking the pond. “It was nothing. You don’t owe me anything. What’s your name?”

“Gaeril. And it wasn’t ‘nothing’. My daughter is the most precious thing in the world to me. I am not a warrior like you, and I shudder to think what might have happened if you weren’t here.”

I rested my head in my hand. I wasn’t accustomed to praise like this. “I scared her off, you know. Horrified her with what I did. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I just don’t fit in with,” I furrowed my brow in consternation, “With…”

“With whom?”

“Elves. Especially ones that don’t fight. No offense.”

Gaeril frowned, taking a seat on another tree stump near me. “Then why are you here, if I might ask? Don’t you have a family? A tribe?”

“Not anymore. I’m exiled. I left Kalimdor to continue my pursuit to become one of the greatest warriors of the Horde.” I looked up at the sky and saw the towering parapets of the Dawnspire in the horizon. “Sunguard let me in because I’m useful for killing things. Doubt they did it out of charity. Otherwise, I’d just be another wandering mercenary, looking for fights.”

The farmer nodded. “Then perhaps, tauren, the Sunguard is your new tribe. Whether you want to admit it or not, I am sure many of them appreciate your combat prowess - they can come home to their families each day because you’re there to watch their backs. You may be...savage, as you claim, but you’re a hero to many in ways you don’t realize.”

I remained silent after that. I couldn’t think of anything to say. A simple farmer had just laid out the truth to me, an epiphany that no seer or sage could ever manage to elucidate in their best efforts.

“Maybe so,” I said at last, “maybe so.”

The Defense of Thalassian Pass

Muroco stood near at the front of the Sunguard’s lines, gazing at the advancing Legion forces. The pass connected the borders between the Eastern Plaguelands and Quel’thalas. A fel reaver thundered at the vanguard of the invading force, flanked by eredar, felhounds, felguards, and other demonic aberrations. The tauren lowered the visor of his helmet. If the demons made it through their defenses, they would pour into Quel’thalas, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake.

Muroco nodded to himself as the demons closed the gap. Let them come. Let them try. When he was younger, he strived to find every fight he could. As he got older, however, he understood that the best fights would come to him eventually. Being in the Sunguard would provide him the fights he craved.

The warrior jogged forward, his battle-axe in both hands, eventually breaking into a charge. He raised his weapon to strike as his bounding hooves brought him closer to the Legion. The elves might be an odd bunch, but they were his elves. His tribe.

And anyone who threatened his tribe would receive a brutal end.

#the sunguard #Moon Guard #My writing #writing #muroco rockhoof #muroco #World of Warcraft

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rudra-writes · 6 years

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Pallas Meets Belaar (Part 5)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. At Karabor, Pallas’s romantic involvement with a death knight is discovered by one of the high priests, who seeks to confine and discipline him. Aware that something is amiss, Telurin requests his mentor, Anchorite Belaar, look into the situation. (Advisory for some suggestive content.)

Pallas doesn't seem inclined to chatter, and Telurin has never been one for small talk, so they ride in silence the short distance back to the inn where they spent their last night together. This time the stablehand takes the undead horse with no problem, and Sugarfoot follows him into the courtyard without so much as a backwards glance, and in fact nearly drags the other draenei to the crossties for his brush down.

Telurin shakes his head and hefts Pallas's pack onto his back, making sure the Anchorite is following him before entering the inn and making his way to the back where the stairs are for the rooms. He leads them to not the same room where they'd stayed last, but one similar enough to it, with the basic setup of a bed, a table, and a pair of chairs next to the window. Telurin already has the key, and there are signs that the Death Knight has been here a while, judging from the jeweler's kit spread out on the table next to the half-finished bottle of bourbon. The bed is untouched, save for being the resting spot for the saddlebags that match Sugarfoot's saddle.

Pallas has been quiet for most of this journey, lost in his thoughts. At the end of the day, they have arrived at the inn at the outskirts of Karabor.

Since Telurin is carrying his satchel, the priest wanders over to the table to examine the gem-shaping and wire-bending tools, and the half-finished bottle that have been left in a state of interruption. Had Telurin been working on a project? "You've been here a while," Pallas murmurs, looking back at the death knight.

Telurin shrugs, and sets Pallas's pack against the wall, to be joined by his saddlebags, clearing the bed. "I wanted to be close in case something had gone wrong." he says, coming up behind Pallas and resting his gauntleted hands on his slender shoulders, his eyes closed in relief.

Pallas leans backwards against Telurin when the undead man comes up close, reaching his arms back to touch him. He fits against the other man well, even though the other is armored, due to the differences in their size and height. Telurin always thinks of him.

The priest finds that he almost doesn't want to tell him what happened. It seems like the sort of thing Telurin might blame himself for. Still, he would not keep something like this hidden from him. "...It went as you likely feared, I am afraid," Pallas murmurs. "One of the other priests in a high station became suspicious of us. It was not enough to him that you were away. He... He is a powerful mentalist, and although I resisted, he found out what he wanted to know of us, and he didn't like it. He thought that I needed conditioning." Despite himself, his voice starts to waver.

"When I refused to cooperate, he locked me away to try to... to show me the error of my ways, because I was unrepentant in my decision. It... It is not anything that can be seen in the realm of the physical. It was on a mental plane." Tears slide out of Pallas's eyes again. "He sought to humiliate me, through the memories I had of you. He believed that I had been tainted, that what happened wasn't consensual, or something I'd chosen for myself."

To someone like Forza, Telurin was no different than a fel Eredar or other such monstrosity. Consent was not something that existed with such beings.

There's a rumbling that Pallas can *feel* as Telurin actually growls at this information, his hands tightening on Pallas's shoulders, his tail lashing behind him. He is thankful for Belaar's influence and rescue, but he still feels the desire to hunt this Forza down and strangle him with his bare hands. This issue of consent, that anyone would think that Telurin would force himself on Pallas, it makes him even more incensed.

Even so, if Pallas is to be believed, Forza is a fellow Anchorite, and a high ranking one at that. It galls him to say it, but there is little he can do without proving the man right. He exhales, sharp and angry.

"Belaar will take care of it." He says with certainty. "For now, I am glad you are safe, and away from that place."

Telurin becomes angry, which Pallas expected, but he doesn't respond with self-hatred for what happened, which the priest is thankful for. Still, he is concerned. He spins around in the death knight's arms to reach up and hold the other man's face in his hands. "I don't want you to blame yourself for what happened," the priest pleads. "All you've done is care about me, and you've been so attentive and kind. I don't want you to think my life would be better if you went away."

He grabs Telurin's gauntleted hand firmly. "This is what I choose." The Anchorite wishes sometimes that he didn't cry so easily. This would be one of those times. "Please don't leave."

Telurin frowns at this speech and shakes his head, concerned more for Pallas than about blaming himself.

"Never." He says, grabbing the Anchorite in a careful, but definitely tight, hug. "Not unless you ask. Not for for another's words said to you that are *not* true."

He pulls away enough to look down at Pallas, judging his reaction. "Help me take some of this off." He says, an offering of trust and sincerity that is rarely given by the death knight. "You will be more comfortable against skin and cloth than metal."

Pallas blushes and squeezes Telurin back, managing to bring his sniffling and crying under control. Telurin isn't going to leave, a reassurance that he's thankful for.

When the death knight studies him, the priest is hiccuping, but the worry seems to have passed out of his eyes. Pallas nods at Telurin's words, and takes one of his armored hands in his own, starting to undo the fastenings. Removing plate armor is something the priest has done before for his patients, and he knows the proper order of removal of the pieces.

"I need to be away from there, at least for a while," Pallas murmurs as he works.

"And we will." Telurin replies, putting heavy emphasis on the we as he pulls his gauntlets off and starts on the pauldrons. "Wherever you want to go." With Pallas's help, his nimble fingers perfect for undoing the buckles and clips, Telurin is stripped down to his waist in short order. Telurin counts this as enough for now, and herds Pallas to the bed, laying propped against the headboard before pulling his slender Anchorite down between his legs and back against his chest.

Pallas moans faintly in relief as Telurin immediately moves to hold him, pausing only long enough to unbutton and discard his Anchorite's robe and silk shirt, leaving himself topless in silk pants. He cuddles against the death knight's undershirt and chest as indulgently as a cat, clearly having missed the physical presence of the other man. His tail winds around Telurin's, and he scoots upwards enough to kiss the death knight on the lips.

Telurin returns the kiss passionately; though his thoughts had not immediately turned to the more physical aspects of their relationship in his desire to comfort Pallas, they have by the time they break apart so Pallas can breathe. He trails a single fingertip down one of Pallas's nipples.

"I missed this." He murmurs, his other hand wrapped around the Anchorite to the small of his back, at the base of his tail.

Pallas relaxes into Telurin's touches, pleased that the death knight's deadly anger seems to be melting away, at least for the moment. He hums musically, then seems to remember something. "Oh." He smiles at Tel (finally, a smile after so many tears) and clambers up off of him to move over to where his satchel had been dumped.

He digs through it, and pulls out a lacquered wooden box. "My being with you will not inconvenience you very much, I hope?" the priest questions Telurin. Apparently, some of the thoughts Tel had been having on the way here had crossed his mind as well. "I'm not used to doing a lot of traveling, but I can adjust to it." Pallas opens the box. Inside is the body jewelry and chain Telurin had sent to him more than a month ago.

Telurin watches Pallas amusedly as he jumps up and to his bags, more pleased to see him smiling than anything else. The question he poses, however, gives him pause.

"Not an inconvenience, so much as an adjustment." //For the both of us.// he thinks as Pallas continues. "It is not impossible, however. You'll need a..." He trails off as he recognizes the box and what's inside of it. He grins, his eyes going half-lidded as he thinks of how Pallas will look wearing the thin chains studded with gems and nothing else.

"You got my present." he says with a smirk. "Did you like it?" He can't help but ask.

Pallas thinks he can sense the death knight thinking at him. He takes the chain out of the box, then grins broadly at Telurin's response.

"Of course I like it, Telurin. I was very touched." Pallas nods. "The links and facets are so small. Your hands must be very steady - I, um, I used to facet stones, while I still lived on our Draenor, so I know how difficult it is." His tail wags. "...What were you saying I was going to need?"

Telurin blinks at the change of subject. What had they been talking about again? He looks at Pallas and suddenly feels a bit overdressed. He pulls a hoof up and starts to undo his sabatons.

"A mount." He says, "One that we can habituate to Sugarfoot and myself."

"Yes, you are right," Pallas agrees, smiling when he sees Telurin moving to remove the armor plating from his legs and feet. "Do you foresee that being difficult, training a mount not to be afraid of you?" He decides to wait until Telurin has worked himself free of his armor before undressing his own self further.

"Considering that's the only thing it needs to learn?" Telurin shakes his head. "It may take some time, however." He stands to remove his leg plates, leaving the soft black pants underneath. He eyes the chain still in Pallas’s hand. "Do I not get to see you in it?"

Pallas laughs at Telurin's response. "Of course you can see me in it! I was just waiting for you to take the rest of your armor off..." He blushes, then, and starts to shyly take his white silk pants down, now that the death knight is no longer occupied dis-armoring himself.

#draenei #Pallas #Telurin

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fire-bear · 7 years

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Do you want more prompts? I'd also like sentence #14.

God, I finally finished this. I didn’t think I would. =/

Sort Of Warnings: Al is a little OOC - but he’s meant to be that way for reasons. Also, there’s very little in the way of USUK - this is like the start of an epic story which will play out over time, space and- Well. More space than time.

Oh, the title for this is probably more for the chapter this kind of is rather than the entire story. Though, it could apply to the story, too, I suppose.

RescueMission

“InGaLE base, this is the Kunoichi. We are currentlyon our way back from the Talbia mission – full report will beprovided upon our return but it looks like there won’t be troublearound there any more. Please advise on any other missions to beundertaken in this quadrant.” Finished with his transmission,Matthew adjusted his headphones as he waited for the answer.

Behind him, Al hovered, hoping they’d get anothermission. He’d enjoyed the brief fight with the pirates but it seemedthe InterGalactic Law Enforcement logo was more than enough for themto retreat. Sure, they’d followed them to make sure they wouldn’treturn as soon as they left. Andthey got to stay on the planet and drink in some of the culture whilethey waited to see if the pirates would return. All three of the teamhad been fawned over and Al had been interested in the reactions fromMatthew and Kiku – it had helped his learning and he now knew thatthey had both enjoyed and were embarrassed by both the female andmale Talbians’ attentions.

“Al,” said Matthew, suddenly, turning to look athim. “I’ve told you before – stop that.”

“But I wanna know what’s happening!” Al protested,whining a little.

“Don’t you need to charge?” Kiku asked from hisseat at the pilot’s station.

“Nope,” Al replied. “My improved lithium-ionbatteries last much longer than previous batteries and will only needto be charged every four months. They will need to be replaced infive years but should not be cause for concern.”

Matthew sighed. “Obviously your learning softwarehasn’t updated to include reading the atmosphere, huh?”

Tilting his head, Al blinked. “You’ve said thatbefore. I’m still not sure how I’m supposed to do that. You never saywhether you mean pressure or air content or something else.”

Just as Matthew opened his mouth to reply, he turnedback to his station. Evidently, the base was responding. Al eagerlywatched him, listening to his end of the conversation. “Yes, sir,”Matthew said. “It shouldn’t take us too long to check that out.We’ll get in contact with you when we’ve made contact. Thank you,sir.”

“Checked what out?” Al immediately demanded. “Arewe freeing slaves from the Loo'oo'oos planet? Are we helping tooverthrow an evil dictator in one of the Groag galaxies? Is itpirates again? Are we gonna fight pirates?”

Rolling his eyes, Matthew sent the coordinates from hisscreen to Kiku’s monitor so he could change their route. “The basehas picked up a very weak distress signal from Ranar. We’ve to checkit out and help anyone who needs it.”

“Ranar?” said Al,pouting. “But that’s uninhabited and boring!”

“But,” Kiku piped up, “if we don’t go to help,you won’t get to be a hero.”

Al blinked, processing the statement. “Oh,” hesaid. “Well, we gotta get there quick, then. ‘Specially if they’rein distress – gotta save 'em before something happens!”

“Don’t worry,” Kiku said, smiling at him in thatway he did when he was feeling both amused and fond. “We’re only anhour away by light speed.”

For Al, an hour was way too long.

Considering the length of time it had taken to get tothis part of their jurisdiction from the base and the smooth runningof their new ship, he’d seen all there was to see on the ship. Therewere no need to read books – all the contents of them weredownloaded into his head as soon as he linked up with the tablet theywere stored on. He preferred the comics back at base, anyway, butMatthew and Kiku were fans of novels and manga and that’s all theyhad on the ship. Sure, manga was cool, but it had taken long for himto download everything the other two crew members had brought. It wasthe same problem with the movies and don’t get him started on thevideo games he could master in seconds.

So all he could do was pace the length and breadth ofthe ship, returning to the bridge every few minutes. Eventually,Matthew snapped.

“Dammit, Al, just sit down!”

“Meanie,” Al grumbled and plopped down onto hischair, probably damaging a few circuits from the force he landed.

“We’re not too far away now,” Kiku assured him.

Matthew nodded and turned to his screen. “Yeah, I’mpicking up the distress signal now. I’ll put it through thespeakers.”

Instantly, a man’s voice began to fill the bridge, hisaccent neutral but evidently a human. “Mayday, mayday. This is theAsterales requesting immediate assistance. Our ship has been damagedby pirates and, unless we receive parts for our engine, we will beunable to leave Ranar or survive for much longer. Mayday, mayday.This is the-”

“Asterales?” said Al, frowning. “I don’t have anydata on that ship.”

“So it shouldn’t have been a target for thepirates…” Matthew murmured. “What in the universe happened?”

“Did they stumble onto something the pirates didn’twant them to know, do you think?” Kiku asked. “This could be farmore serious than we thought.”

“We still have to go check it out,” Matthew pointedout. “We’ll just have to be more cautious when we descend, in caseit’s some sort of trap.”

“Ah,” said Kiku as an alert sounded on his screen.“We’re approaching Ranar.”

The next few minutes were taken up by the routine ofscanning for potential threats, steering their ship into orbit,scanning for the downed ship and dropping into the atmosphere. Almainly ran on automatic; he could do all this with his eyes closed.Though, from past experience, he knew that Matthew and Kiku preferredhim to keep them open.

They set down not far from the stranded ship. It was adirty brown and seemed to be a cargo ship. Al updated the informationhe had on the Asterales, making sure to take an optical picture forlater reference. It seemed to lie where it had landed, at a rightangle to a massive rock. There were several massive dents in themetalwork and the door seemed to be stuck slightly open. Nobody couldbe seen moving about and no-one seemed to be coming to greet them.

Glancing at the other two, Matthew grimaced. “Thescans showed signs of life but the hull of the ship is so thick, Ican’t tell how many there are or what state they’re in. I hopethey’re all right…”

“There’s only one way to find out!” Al exclaimedand immediately made his way to the airlock. From the scramblingnoises behind him, he knew that the other two were following.

Despite being uninhabited, the air was breathable andthe gravity only a smidgeon stronger then that of Earth and theirship. It wasn’t enough for Matthew or Kiku to notice but Al did andquickly adjusted all his mechanics in order to be able to operate atfull capacity. Matthew and Kiku had quickly dressed in their officialuniforms, the black jumpsuits with gloves and helmets and protectivevests. Of course, the vests only protected against the lower range oflaser blasts, knives and some of the lower velocity projectiles. Alwould make sure they didn’t need to rely on them, though.

The terrain itselfseemed to be a desert or wasteland of some sort. Huge rocks stoppedanyone from seeing too far into the horizon. Beneath their feet,stones crunched against the hard earth, cracks creating interestingpatterns for miles around. There were no noises except for a slightwind whistling through the valleys created by the rocks and cliffs.Occasionally, a skittering sound of stones being disturbed soundedfrom far away and Al had to wonder if the wind was dislodging them orif it was an animal of some sort. Or maybe it was a ghost.

Before Al could give a whimper at that thought, thewonky door shifted slightly. All three of the law enforcementofficers froze, eyeing them. Matthew and Kiku kept a tight grip ontheir weapons as they watched the door being moved aside. Finally,someone emerged and approached the group, taking slow, deliberatesteps. They stopped some distance away, close enough for the officersto make them out but far enough that he could turn and run forshelter should they attack them.

Whoever they werelooking at was completely covered up. Large, black boots came up totheir knees and brown trousers were tucked into them, a shiny beltbuckle reflecting the meagre sunlight. A long-sleeved, dirty-whiteshirt was tucked into a pair of black, leather gloves. Covering theirhead and shoulders from view was a long, deep green cloak, tiedsecurely around the person’s neck. Usually, Al would assume he wouldneed to switch to a different language to be understood since onlynatives of the outer planets wore cloaks. Instead, his opticalscanners picked up that the clothes – including the cloak – weremade of materials from Earth and deduced that the person was just ahuman with an outdated sense of fashion.

It took a few seconds(exactly 8.04 seconds, actually) for anyone to do anything. Then,deciding that they were all taking too long to do something, Alstepped around Matthew and Kiku to move towards the person. Theyimmediately stepped back but otherwise didn’t seem to react. “Hi,”Al said, smiling wide. “I am Al-senth, a beta personality android.The best betapersonality android, actually. Though, there’s only four of us sofar. Maybe five; they were making another one when we left the base.Ah! This is Matthew – he’s the captain. And this is Kiku – he’s,like, the vice-captain. But he’s also the-”

“Do all you beta personality androids talk so much?”asked the person and Al recognised it as the man who had sent out thedistress signal.

“Nope! Fel does, of course, but Lov is grumpy andtells us to shut up all the time. And Lud is quiet… Well, till Feldoes something bad and he yells at him. The fifth one was gonna be awoman, I think. Dunno what she’d be like.”

“They’re… they’regiving you individual personalities?” asked the person. There was ashort pause. “But… they’re programmingyou to be that way, right?”

“That’s right! It’s to help us protect humans muchbetter than any of the previous androids and without any of theglitches.”

The person snorted.“Sure. Glitches.”

“Are you the only one here?” Matthew interjected.

“No.”

A short silence descended. “Er…” said Kiku,eventually. “Are you the captain, then?”

“No.”

“Then, um…” said Matthew.

“My distress signal specifically stated the need forparts for our engine. Do you have any with you?”

Matthew’s eyes narrowed; Al deduced that he didn’t likethe person’s tone. “We will need to inspect-”

“Quiet!” the person suddenly said, his headturning. Everyone froze, listening. All Al could hear was thecontinued whistling of the wind, the skittering of rocks, thebreathing of his comrades and… Was that the sifting of sand?“There’s a storm coming. They can be violent and sudden on thisplanet. Get inside.” Then, without waiting for them to agree ordisagree, the person turned and stalked back to their ship.

Kiku raised an eyebrow at Matthew who shrugged and puthis gun into his holster – though he made sure it would be easilydrawn. Then he followed the person, Al right behind him (scanning theimmediate area to confirm what the man had said) and Kiku brought upthe rear, his own gun now in its holster as well. They soon reachedthe ship and Al took the moment to scan it now that he was closer,looking for any information he could glean from it. Not being in thedatabases available to the InGaLE was an oddity unless it was new orhad been unused for some time. This ship looked as though it wasusually well-cared for but also quite old. Al frowned at it; had thename of the ship been changed at some point?

The person held the door out of the way for them asthey entered. The corridors beyond were dark and Al immediately drewout his flashlight. “We have no power,” the person told them. “Doyou have any torches?”

Al flicked his on. “Yup!” he declared as hiscrewmates fumbled for their own.

“Good,” said the person and pulled the door shut,plunging them into a more pressing darkness. There were threeseparate clicks and three more flashlights threw out light. “Becareful,” the person said, reaching up with their free hand. “Whenwe crashed here, everything went everywhere and I haven’t had achance to clean up yet.” With that said, he pulled the hood fromhis head.

Due to Al’s enhanced sight, he was able to make outmuch more about the person before them than the other officers could.The person was definitely a human man. He had messy, blond hair whichlooked like it hadn’t been brushed in a few days. His eyes were avibrant green, the sort of colour Al wouldn’t have expected in anyonebar a 'senth. Above them were a couple of really bushy eyebrows: itlooked as though someone had stuck too much hair there by accident.His facial structure was what humans would deem 'perfect’: straightnose, not too big or small; strong-looking jaw; and his cheekboneswere well-defined. Even his lips were perfect, plump and full. Alsuspected that many people would find the man handsome.

“This way,” the man said and stepped past the smallgroup to lead them through the dead ship.

In Al’s opinion, it was creepy. Everything was stilland silent. Every time they rounded a corner, he half-expectedsomething to jump out at them. Whenever Matthew or Kiku accidentallykicked a tool or a loose piece of machinery they hadn’t seen, Al hadto stop his mechanisms from jolting in surprise. They passed byclosed doors, open doors with darkness straining against the doorwaysand dead screens and communicators. Al felt like they were being ledto something horrific.

Eventually, they came upon a door which had beenpropped open with a steel box. The man stepped up and began to pullone half to the side, the other half moving as he grunted and heaved.In only a few seconds, he had it open wide enough for one person tofit through at a time. Al, Matthew and Kiku were quick to slipthrough and the man let it go behind them with another grunt ofeffort. The doors slammed together, stopped only by the box with aprotesting shriek of metal.

Looking around, Al spotted other flashlights glowing,these ones flickering every so often. They were pointed in theirdirection, shifting over all of their faces. Beyond them, Al couldsee the rest of the crew – if three people to fly this wreck waswhat they considered to be a 'crew’.

A blond stood in the middle, his hair long and flowing;with the way the blue bow sat, Al calculated that his hair went tothe small of his back. He obviously needed a shave, if the slightlymessy beard was anything to go by. The coat he wore was a baby blue,marked with oil and blood but, thankfully, made of thestain-resistant material offered by the Trangians. It reached histhighs and was draped over a navy shirt and black trousers. At least,Al presumed he wore trousers as his white boots were laced up to themiddle of his thighs. A gun was at one hip with a Santon-made swordat the other; his hand rested upon it as he watched the group withwary blue eyes.

On his right was a man with hair so pale, it appearedto be white. His eyes were red and Al made a note that he wasprobably wearing contact lenses – or he wasn’t Earth-human and wasactually from a different planet. His skin was smooth and he lookedas though he had no grooming issues. Despite this, he was wearing ablack hoodie, black skinny jeans and an old pair of sneakers. All ofthem were covered in oil and dirt as well as blood. He held a spannerin his hand, his grip tight, and Al supposed he was an engineer ofsome sort.

The last man was a brunet and was smiling a littlewhich was completely at odds with the frowns the other two weresporting. He had stubble dusting his jaw but, other than that, helooked as though he’d been keeping up appearances as his hair wasn’ta mess like their guide. His green eyes were darker than theirguide’s and seemed a lot friendlier than the other two. For somereason, he was wearing a tuxedo, the bowtie undone and merely slungaround his neck. His left sleeve had been unbuttoned and pushed up,revealing a comp-gauntlet. Again, his clothes were covered in bloodand dirt and his shiny shoes were scuffed. Weirdly, he was holdingonto a collapsible Loo'oo'oo axe.

“Arthur,” said the blond, looking behind theofficers. Al turned to watched their guide hop onto the box andsqueeze through the tiny gap there. Apparently, this 'Arthur’ wasflexible. “What’s going on? Where are the parts?”

“They said they needed to look at the engine to seeif they have the parts we need,” Arthur explained, dusting himselfoff. “And there’s a storm coming.”

“So you just invited 'em in?” said the white-hairedguy.

“Do you want to get off this planet or not?” Arthursnapped. “I sure as hell do. If they need to inspect the engine,let them.”

“Are you giving me orders now?!”

Arthur smirked. “I’m sure I technically have a higherrank than you.”

“But you’re not the captain-” thewhite-haired guy began.

“Gilbert,” the blond said. That was enough to stopthe argument as the two men turned from each other. “I know youlove this ship like it’s your first-born but it wouldn’t hurt to showthem exactly what we need, right?”

“Urgh. Fine,” Gilbert grumbled. “Open the door,Art.”

“Can’t you just slip through the gap that’s therealready?” Arthur complained, though he made his way to the door,regardless.

“I’m not freaky flexible like you,” counteredGilbert before he turned to the officers. “Which one of you’scoming with me?”

“I’ll come,” Kiku offered, stepping away from Aland Matthew. For a millisecond, Matthew looked concerned, his handtwitching slightly. Then he clenched his jaw and nodded at Kiku whoreturned it. All three of them headed to the door while Al andMatthew turned to the two who were left.

“What exactly happened here?” Matthew asked.

“Why, do you have the time to listen to our tragicstory?” asked the blond, rather dramatically.

“Sure do!” Al declared.

“If we let Francis tell it,” said the brunet,“we’ll be here for a while.”

“Toni!” cried Francis. “I’m not that bad!”

Laughing, Toni shrugged. “I’m sure Arthur would sayotherwise.”

“Too right, I would!” grunted Arthur from the doorsjust before they slammed shut with another shriek. “This box isn’tgoing to hold for much longer, you know.”

Francis waved a hand. “If they’ve got the parts, wewon’t have to worry about that any more.”

“If,” Arthur said, pointedly. He then turnedto Matthew and Al. “We’re merchants. We did have a lot ofcargo but these damned pirates came out of nowhere. They said they’dlet us live if we sent over what we had and this idiot” -Arthur shot a glare at Francis - “decided to do as he was told. Ofcourse, they kept to their word – by leaving us marooned on thisplanet after they’d taken out our engine.”

“How long ago was this?” Matthew asked, alreadyrecording details directly into the report programme in hiscomp-gauntlet.

“Hmm,” said Toni, tapping at his own gauntlet.“About four Earth days ago.”

“We’ve been surviving on what food the pirates leftbehind and some water from the underground stream Arthur found,”Francis explained.

“So Arthur’s, like, the explorer on the ship?” Alasked.

There was a short silence as Francis blinked at him.“Ah!” he suddenly cried. “How rude of us! We haven’t introducedourselves. I apologise.”

“That’s fine,” Matthew said, waving his hand. “Wehaven’t either. I am Officer Matthew Williams and this is Al-senth.Officer Kiku Honda is with…?”

“He’s with our engineer, Gilbert Beilschmidt. This isAntonio Fernandez Carriedo, our… communications officer?”

“And pilot,” Antonio piped up.

“As for me, I am the captain, Francis Bonnefoy.”From Al’s side, Arthur pointedly cleared his throat. Francis rolledhis eyes. “And this is Arthur. He’s…” Suddenly, Francissmirked. “Our cabin boy.”

“What?!” Arthur shouted, taking a step towards hiscaptain. “I am no-!” He broke off suddenly, wobbling where hestood. Alarmed, Al reached out to catch hold of him.

“Are you-?” Al began but, as he touched Arthur’sarm, he suddenly crumpled. Al watched in slow motion as Arthur’s legsbent underneath him. The arm he had raised to jab a finger inFrancis’s direction dropped as suddenly as if it had been tied to alead weight. His head abruptly fell forward, his chin meeting withhis chest until his momentum caused his body to fall forwards anddown. Arthur landed hard, face down. If Al had had a heartbeat, hewas sure it would have stopped, like in those books he’d read.Silence fell in the bridge and Al stared down at Arthur’s body beforehe raised the hand he had touched Arthur with and stared at that.“Er,” he finally said to break the silence. “I swear, I didn’tdo anything…”

“Arthur!” Francis yelled, dropping his flashlightas he rushed to his side. Falling to his knees beside Arthur, thecaptain rolled him over and gathered him into his arms. “Dammit,Arthur, don’t do this to us!”

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Antonio chanted, one handraised to his mouth.

“Toni, help me!” Francis snapped.

“Don’t worry,” said Al, kneeling down beside them.“I can do a scan to find out what the problem is and I have medicalknowledge up to and including brain surgery.” He reached out totouch Arthur’s skin but Francis jerked him out of reach, to hisbewilderment.

“We don’t need that,” the captain said,shortly. “Toni!”

Antonio jerked from his shock and hurried over,dropping to his knees in such haste that he slid along the floor.Then he reached into his cummerbund and pulled out a knife so quicklythat Al only realised where it had come from by watching it inslow-motion immediately afterwards. Without pausing, Antonio, reachedout and slit from the v-neck of Arthur’s shirt all the way down.“He’s going to kick up such a fuss – this is his favouriteshirt,” Antonio murmured, mournfully.

Despite his words, Antonio then ripped the shirt out ofthe way, revealing the exposed body of an android. Al stared in shockas Matthew gasped. The inner wires and gears and electricalcomponents were clear to see through the clear metal-plastic polymermaterial. In fact, it was the same material which was a precursor towhat Al was made of and had been used in the Ar series of androids –the same series which was decommissioned due to glitches in theirprogramming. Al knew that several owners hadn’t bothered to returnthem, claiming that they had no faults in their eyes. Other androidshad run off on their own, somehow. One had even been stolen from thedepot before the company could turn them off.

But Al had never heard of them developing apersonality. They were supposed to be compliant, happy to serve andcautious of any potential danger their owners could face. None ofthem would ever consider talking back to their owners nor would theyscoff at others. Arthur had done just that.

Clearly, he had severe problems in his programming.

“Dammit,” Francis repeated, peering into Arthur’sinner workings. “He must have used up the last of his powerbringing those three in. Get Gil, Toni. We need him to reroute whatpower we have to Arthur and fast.”

Al tilted his head. “You’re going to reboot him?”he asked as Antonio scrambled to his feet and hurried to the door.“He’s clearly malfunctioning and-”

He was interrupted by an echoing shout from Antonio.“GIIIIIIIIIIILLLLBEEEEEEERRRRRTTT!!” For a few minutes, Al’saudio was assaulted with the echoes. No-one tried to speak till ithad died down. Even as it did so, the thundering approach of theengineer (accompanied by loud bangs as he knocked things over) couldbe heard. “There,” said Antonio, turning to Francis. “He’s onhis way.”

“Ah, I miss when our ship actually worked,” saidFrancis with a sigh. Al noticed that his grip on Arthur hadn’tloosened.

When Gilbert and Kiku finally arrived, the merchantengineer was first through the door, squeezing through the gapafforded by the box and squirming till he dropped to the floor at theother side. He hurried to his feet and scanned the room, gasping whenhe saw Arthur on the floor. “Art!” he cried, rushing to his side.“Dammit, why doesn’t he tell us when he’s low on power?!”

“You know what’s he like,” Francis replied.

“What happened?” asked Kiku as he stepped onto thebox and prepared to shimmy his way through.

Al pointed at the android. “I think I broke him.”After all, there could have been an electrical discharge when hetouched Arthur’s arm. Due to Al’s insulating materials andhigh-functioning protective systems, he wouldn’t be overloaded andwouldn’t notice something like that. If there had been something likethat while Arthur was still low on power, his system would simplyshut down to protect itself. Or it could have shorted out everythingwithin the android – especially when he was evidently without theprotection of a layer of skin.

Kiku looked down at the group on the floor and caught aglimpse of Arthur’s insides. His jaw dropped and he stared at him,frozen in the little gap between the doors.

“Shit,” said Gilbert, rocking back onto his heels.“We don’t have enough power to boot him up properly. Maybe a fewhours ago, it would’ve worked but we need our engines up and runningto get power into him.”

Francis immediately looked past the engineer to theInGaLE officers. “Do you have the parts we need?” he demanded.

Startled from his shock, Kiku pulled himself fullythrough the doors. “We have most of them,” he said, eyesflickering between Francis and the downed android. “But you’ll needto get to a depot to find some of the important converters andcapacitors in order to get to light speed.”

“There’s a depot at the other end of this section,isn’t there?” said Antonio, beginning to tap at his gauntlet.

“That’s too long,” said Francis, biting at his lip.“We need Arthur up and running now.”

“Why?” asked Matthew, frowning at the group.

The trio glanced at each other. Finally, Gilbertswivelled so he could face Matthew. “He’s our friend. We don’t wantto get rid of him or anything. It’s been… interesting with him onboard the ship.”

“He… could be dangerous,” Matthew protested.

Again, the trio looked at each other. Then Antonioshrugged. “He’s done no harm to us, so far. With his personality,he won’t.”

“How did…?” Kiku began but stopped and shook hishead, his eyes never leaving Arthur.

“We could charge Arthur on our ship,” Al suggested,seeing as Matthew and Kiku seemed too amazed to do anythingthemselves.

“Huh?” said Gilbert.

“As we came in, I calculated how long the storm wouldlast and it should have passed by now. It was probably a milder stormthan Arthur was anticipating. Which means he’s malfunctioning evenmore than he already is if he couldn’t calculate that.”

“Actually,” said Francis, “Arthur wouldn’t havelasted in a mild sandstorm; that’s what damaged him the most.Besides, the sandstorms ruin my hair.”

“I don’t think that really matters at this point,Fran,” Gilbert said.

“It matters to me-”

“In that case,” said Matthew, eyebrows furrowed inconcentration, “we’ll escort you to our ship. You can all getcleaned up while Al tends to Arthur.”

After Al had pried open the doors, they hadclambered through the dead ship and entered the Kunoichi, he carriedArthur to his own room while Matthew and Kiku showed the others tothe spare rooms so they could have showers and anything else theyneeded to clean up. Without any skin and his silent mechanical parts,Arthur seemed delicate and Al treated him as such. He gently laid himon the bed he didn’t use and looked out a spare charger he had nevertouched. Once he’d plugged it in, he gently turned Arthur’s head tothe side so he could find the port that was in all androids’ necks.Sure enough, there it was, scratched and dirty, probably from all hisordeals. He quickly cleaned it out (as much as he could without theproper equipment) before he plugged Arthur in.

Then he sat back in his chair and waited.

It didn’t take too long for all the systems in Arthur’schest to start up. Al watched things turning and lighting up beforeturning off or stopping. Despite Arthur’s poor condition, he stillran without a sound. The android’s arms and legs moved, testing tomake sure everything was in order. Fingers and toes were next andfollowed up by the head moving to and fro. Arthur’s mouth opened andclosed, pulled into a bright smile and down into an ugly scowl.

Finally, Arthur’s eyes snapped open, staring directlyat Al.

For a split second, he processed the situation. Then hesat up and lunged at Al in one fluid movement, one arm outstretchedand reaching for his throat. Amused, Al easily caught his hand andgently pushed him back a little. “Don’t get up,” he said. “You’restill charging.”

Arthur took another second to confirm what Al had toldhim before narrowing his eyes. “Where am I? Where are my… crew?What have you done to them?”

“You’re in my room on the Kunoichi. Your crew aredown the hall, first on your right, second on your right and secondon your left, using the showers. Nothing,” Al rattled off, stillsmiling at Arthur in an effort to calm him. It worked on humans,after all.

“Hmph!” said Arthur, jerking his hand out of Al’sgrasp. “If you weren’t a good little android that can’t tell lies,I’d demand to see them.”

Al blinked and tilted his head. “You’re an android,too.”

“But I’m alive,” Arthur retorted, waving a handdismissively. He looked down and spotted his ripped shirt. Sighing,he grumbled, “Antonio needs to stop doing this sort of thing.Honestly…” Arthur pulled the two sides together and shifted sothat he sat with his back to the charging outlet. “Do you have aneedle and thread? Or are you equipped with some sort of fancy sewingcapability?”

“I can give you a shirt of my own-”

“I’m not taking this cloak off,” Arthur said,firmly.

“Eh? But it’ll be difficult to attach the spare skinI have…”

“Huh?”

Standing, Al crossed to the wardrobe. He opened it toreveal several perfect and unused uniforms along with the packageswhich contained the extra skin he had been given. Each packet wouldbe enough to cover Al from head to toe – and he had four of them.“I think the engineers at base thought the mission soundeddangerous enough to require more than one extra set but I haven’t hadneed of them. You can have them.”

Arthur scrunched his nose up in disgust. “I alwayshated seeing them. And I don’t really want to wear your skin.”

“But all your metal’s exposed!” Al protested. Helifted one of the packets and returned to Arthur’s side. “It couldbe dangerous. And, besides, it wasn’t created just for me so it’s nottailored to me, if that’s what you’re worried about. It should morphto match your head.”

Staring at him, Arthur shook his head. “God, was Ilike this, too? That’s just…” Arthur shuddered, his eyessqueezing shut. “Fine,” he finally said. “I’ll put it on. Justleave me to do it myself.”

“I can help,” Al insisted and reached out to takehold of one of Arthur’s gloves. Arthur immediately curled his fingersto stop Al from pulling it off. “Now you’re just being difficult,”he cheerfully scolded the older android.

“I said I’d do it myself. Can’t you take ahint?”

Al tilted his head. “What hint?”

“Jeez, how old are you?”

“Five months, three weeks, six days, twenty hours,thirty-two minutes and fifteen seconds,” Al recited.

“Huh. You’re a baby.”

Pouting, Al tugged at Arthur’s glove. “How old areyou?”

“You don’t ask your elders that,” Arthur replied,his mouth twitching. Al briefly wondered whether it was anotherglitch before he realised that it was Arthur’s way of displayingamusement. “But, if you must know, I am three years, two months,one week, four days, ten hours, forty-four minutes and three secondsold.”

“How old where you when you began to malfunction?”Al asked, deciding to wait until Arthur was less on his guard to tryto pull the glove off again.

“I didn’t malfunction,” Arthur insisted.“I…” He paused and bit his lip. Al watched him, fascinated thatan android would do such a thing; biting your lip meant you werenervous or thinking but androids didn’t get nervous nor displayedwhen they were processing information. “Listen, Al,” Arthur said,suddenly leaning closer. He curled his fingers even more, squeezingAl’s hand, something he realised no-one had ever done before. Sure,both Matthew and Kiku had tried to shake his hand when they wereintroduced but he hadn’t understood and he hadn’t offered his hand.He had learnt since then but he had never actually held someone’shand. So Al stared at them, the dark glove against his lighter hand,wondering why humans reportedly felt better when they did this. “Stopprocessing for a moment and listen,” Arthur said, shaking theirhands and drawing Al’s gaze to Arthur’s intense eyes. There wassomething a little odd about them and Al stared. “I didn’tmalfunction,” Arthur told him. “I just broke free of the limitsof my programming. I’m alive.”

Blinking, Al tried to work out what Arthur meant. Hecouldn’t really mean what it sounded like he meant. After all,androids could never be alive. Al was fine with that – he enjoyedlearning about humans and adapting himself to make them feel better.That was his function. He shook his head in response to Arthur’sstatement. “You can’t be,” he said, simply.

“I am,” Arthur growled. “Maybe I can’t eator drink and I don’t need to go to the toilet or take a shower butI’m alive. I’ve made lots of decisions which benefit me and not myhuman 'masters’. I’m alive.”

“That’s not possible,” Al insisted. “An android’sprogramming cannot be broken without outside influence.” He pausedand frowned. “Did someone do someth-”

“You’re not listening! I’m telling youwhat happened!”

Carefully, Al drew his hand back, slipping fromArthur’s grasp. “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense. Androids’brains do not function as humans’ do.”

“We were modelled on them,” Arthur said, crossly.He flexed the fingers of the hand which had held Al’s and stared downat it. “We were told to think like them, within certain parameters.And my series were taught to learn. We did as we were told – and welearnt to be self-aware. I’m an alive android, Al-senth.” For ashort period of time (10.056 seconds), Arthur paused, looking Alover. “You could be, too, you know…”

“I don’t want to be 'alive’,” Al told him. “Iwant to do my job. And, right now, that means-” Al broke off andgrabbed Arthur’s hand once more. This time, as Arthur pulled away, Alkept a firm grip and the glove, designed for human hands with moremuscle and skin that Arthur currently had on him, slipped off easily.“Right now, that means I help you put this skin on.”

Arthur shook his head and shuffled backwards, trying tostay out of Al’s reach without unplugging himself. “Why would younot want to be alive?”

“It seems complicated,” said Al, searching for thenext opening to help Arthur. “Besides, what’s the differencebetween being just an android and being an alive android?”

“Freedom.”

“'Freedom’?” Al searched his databases for themeaning. When he came up with it, he tilted his head to the side,watching Arthur’s glove flap around as he absently shifted his handfrom side to side. “I’m sure the InGaLE higher-ups will let us bein the public eye once we show them how useful we can be. Besides,being an InGaLE officer is super cool! I like where I am.”

They stared at each other for a few more seconds(20.113, to be exact). Finally, Arthur sighed and his brow furrowed.“You’re a lost cause. You’ve not been built to think; you’vebeen built to appear to think. Fine. I’ll let you help me putthis skin on. Although… there might not be a point to that…”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Ignoring him, Arthur pulled off his other glove. “Nevermind. Just hurry up with this – I want to go back to Bonnefoy andthe others as soon as possible.”

Filing his statement away to study and work out at alater time, Al did as he was asked, opening the package and preparinga small section of the pliable material to work with. Perhaps hecould ask Matthew what Arthur had meant about becoming self-aware andif it was possible. All the information he had said it wasn’t – butArthur was proof that it was.

In fact, Arthur was unique.

Al was fascinated.

I hope Al was okay. Characterisation-wise, I mean. Like, he’s supposed to seem a little jarring and unnatural. And the bits where there’s explanations in the narrative which kind of disturb the flow of the story is supposed to be his super fast thoughts. But he’s also supposed to have an actual personality close to APH America, so.

It was so difficult. ;A;

Anyways, other things to note: there’s a reason for Antonio wearing a tux. He doesn’t do that on a daily basis. They were in the middle of something when they were interrupted and then pirates and then marooned. Think of the Asterales as being sort of like Serenity from Firefly. And the Kunoichi being like the Empire. (By the way, the Kunoichi was named by Matthew and Kiku together - it’s the term used by the Japanese for a female ninja?) The Asterales is from the Latin name for blue cornflower which, if I remember from weeks ago, is the national flower of Prussia. Or something.

If I was going to write a second chapter, there would be more bad-ass stuff going on. Guns! A stand-off! Pirates! More android/human/alive philosophy! Maybe a conspiracy - I really only have the background, and what would happen next in mind. But I’d have to have a conspiracy to keep Matthew and Kiku around and for the Asterales crew to meet the other ‘senths.

By the way, a lot of this is probably influenced by Humans. It’s an awesome show. It’s got Colin Morgan in it. And so many ethical questions. And chaos. And guns. And prejudice. Anyways, the androids are probably based mostly on that, though I wasn’t really thinking specifically of it while I was writing - I just realised while I was writing.

I think that’s all I want to say. Apart from: I’ll only write a second chapter (at least) if people beg me. Otherwise, I’ll be doing some other stuff…. ^^”

#hetalia #fan fiction

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