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kittyt-hexxed · 2 years

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Hexed (Vi/POC!Reader) - Ch.24

Next Upload Date: April 3rd

Act 3: Chapter Twenty-Four - Fragile Minds Break like Glass

Warnings: Death, Blood, Grieving, Breakdowns, Descent into Insanity

Summary: You plummet deep into your mind. Plauged by echoing memories, your mind shatters. Viktor is slowly piecing things together when a gruesome sight offers clues to his mysterious visitor.

You were sitting in your lab and working on a new device. It was supposed to be a new way for amputees to get around the compound when they didn’t want to use their prosthetics. As you were sketching out another part of it, an explosion sounded and rocked the building you were in. You screamed and ducked as things started falling and shattering around you.

“SIS! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK! SI-!” Your brother’s comm is cut off and you panic as another explosion goes off. You try to summon a rift but it doesn’t appear. Frantically, you run for the door and out of the building as fast as possible. ‘Is it Jinx? Is Jinx the one doing this?! That couldn’t be. Silco doesn’t know where the Grotto is and neither does she! She wouldn’t do this!’

You tear the door open to see everything on fire. The tree is up in flames and the Firelights scream as gunfire starts ringing out around the base. Through the fire, you can see Enforcers in their metal suits firing at your community. Rage fills your body and you flick your daggers out, but they didn’t come. Panicked and confused, you realize that all of your weapons are gone. You’re wearing the patient outfit from the time you woke up from your coma. A click sounds from behind you and you slowly turn to see Caitlyn with a maniacal grin on her face. She’s wearing a metal uniform and has a gun pointed at you, “Thank you for letting me into your base. The Enforcers loved the information.”

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted!” You snarl.

“Too bad your brother trusted me.” Caitlyn smirks and places her finger on the trigger, “Now, I just have to get rid of you.” Your eyes widen in horror as you turn and run. Bullets whiz past your feet and you scream in fear.

“Leave my sister alone, Caitlyn!” You hear Ekko shout. You whip around to see him racing towards her with his weapon raised. The grin on Caitlyn’s face turns sinister from the flames’ shadow.

“EKKO! NO!” You scream as Caitlyn shoots him. Your brother’s body flies off his hoverboard and hits the ground with a sickening thud. Abandoning all sense, you race towards his body.

“NO!” You scream. Laughter fills the air as Eve appears in the flames, “I told you. You’re a monster! You should’ve left! Ekko would still be alive if it wasn’t for you! He was always protecting you! You! A MONSTER!” She screeches and disappears.

You jerk awake and hiss in pain. Your body aches as you roughly scramble backward before curling in on yourself. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest as you try to catch your breath. Your vision blurs before refocusing and your eyes land on Jinx lying limply. She’s still unconscious. You get up from the ground a little unsteady on your feet and let out a heavy sigh. ‘She’ll be unconscious for a while.’ You reach into your pocket to grab your watch and you pull out Ekko’s stopwatch by accident. Your breathing hitches as you stare at the timepiece. Tears well up in your eyes and you grit your teeth. You shove the stopwatch back into your pocket and look into the sky. ‘It looks like it’s only been an hour or so. I haven’t been out for long.’ You feel the anger bubble in your chest and you glare ahead of you. You look back at Jinx and drag your fingers through your hair. You can feel the slight dampness by the roots nearest to your face. ‘I need to bring you back. I won’t be able to leave you here. Not with what I’m about to do.’ You walk over to Jinx and press your lips to her forehead. There’s a ripple of magic that washes over you.

Jinx watches through her spyglass as Caitlyn and Ekko flinch from the sudden light. Caitlyn steps forward, unhooking something from her belt and presenting it to the man in front of her. There’s a moment before Caitlyn motions to Ekko, who shakes his head. Another beat before Ekko opens the container in his hands and the gemstone glows inside of it. Suddenly, the man in front of them whips out a pistol and shoots Ekko at point blank range. His lifeless body collapsing to the cold ground without worry.

You recoil as the gunshot rings in your ears. Your heart hammers in your chest as you stare at Jinx with wide eyes. ‘Was that…?’ You clench your fists, your nails piercing the soft flesh of your palms. “Monsters.” You hiss lowly, “Monsters.” You flick your hand and watch as Jinx’s body disappears into a rift. With a firm nod of your head, you disappear into a rift of your own.

You step out onto the tower, seeing the bodies below of the Enforcers that died earlier on the bridge. You can see the tape marking off the area from civilians. Umbra pauses her conversation with her elder as the space quakes from the tumultuous nature of your emotions. Confused hums arise from her ancestors as fissures appear in the sky above them. There are monsters lingering around the area, their voices carrying up to your hiding spot. ‘Look at them.’ You hiss. ‘Pretending like they haven’t stolen something precious from me. Pretending like these monsters are worth grieving over.’ You let out a deep, angered growl as your hand twitches. ‘I have magic. It’s time I stop fucking around and use it to make a beautiful masterpiece.’ You let out a loud cackle. The fissures crawl and grow in number as your anger rises to extremely worrying levels. With a running start, you leap off of the tower, twist through the air, and release a barrage of knives. The knives glow, crystallizing as they zip towards their targets, before sinking into their desired targets, the flesh of the monsters. Your mind tingles, keeping you aware of where each knife is as you touch down onto the bridge. Blood-curdling shrieks fill the air, bringing a frightening smile to your face, as your knives hit their marks with the monsters getting knocked over from the force. You exhale slowly, flexing your fingers as the tell-tale itch of your eyes makes your horrifying smile grow wider. Iesura grips Umbra’s shoulder as they hear your soul song darken. The fissures show no signs of stopping. The knives rip their way out of their bodies, whirling around in the air above you, raining blood below them as they remain hovering.

“WHAT IS THAT?!”

“I CAN’T FEEL MY LEG!” There’s panic as the monsters notice you eerily standing there, some reaching for their weapons, and others trying to assist their comrades. You snarl, flicking out your fans and dashing forward as crystals slither to cover them. The sound of gunfire echoes as they fire at you, screaming at each other as you advance.

Your anger turns to rage as you snarl and slice into your first victim, “THIS IS FOR MY BROTHER!” You roar as a bullet gets lodged in your shoulder. Magic burns in your fingertips as you twirl, and slash them at the one who shot you. “FUCK OFF!” Your magic bubbles and churns before exploding out of you. The fans didn’t have to touch her for her body to cleave into three. Blood sprays onto you and the bridge as you plummet into a formidable rage. You laugh hysterically at the horrified looks on those monsters’ faces as tears cascade down your face.

“None of you are leaving alive!” You giggle maniacally as your vision blurs and you blackout, “None of you.” You growl darkly.

“You know, I envy you, Vi.” You sigh and lift your arm to stare at your hands. You hear Vi snort and walk over to you with an icepack on her head.

“Envy me? Why? What gave you that delusion?” She winces as she sits next to you on the couch. You turn to her and help her re-wrap the bloodied gauze around her knuckles. You had found her beating the shit out of someone in an alleyway.

“Ekko really looks up to you.” You tighten the wrap, “He comes home raving about the things you did and what you taught him… I wish he looked up to me like he does to you.”

“He looks up to you too, you know?” Vi frowns, “He talks about you a lot. He told me the other day that he really appreciates how you’re always there for him. Even when he doesn’t realize that he needs you…”

“Vi’s right, Y/n.” Benzo says as he walks in with Vander, the latter giving Vi an exasperated look, “Your brother admires you.”

When you come back to yourself, there’s a rifle in your bloodstained hands, with the victim of the said gun on the floor. At least, that’s what you can assume even though it was just a torso with bullet holes. You hear shouting and the rumbling sound of boots on the pavement. The rage fades and you stare down blankly at the… slight mess you made. ‘Was there this much blood in the body?’ Their terror-filled screams irritate your ears and make you wince. ‘Must monsters scream so loud?’

“Halt!”

“Did you do this?!”

“Mike, no! Don’t rush in!”

You snap your head to the side and you see more monsters sprinting towards you. You blink, aiming the gun at the closest one and pulling the trigger. The bullet hits their thigh, knocking them over, and causes the ones behind them to crash into each other. ‘Pathetic.’ You refuse to be taken in by those monsters. They’ll pin this whole incident on you and call it a day. You can’t have that. Not when you have important business to attend to. You toss the gun to the ground, grip the railing tightly, lift your leg over and toe the edge.

“STOP!”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“SHOOT TH-”

You launch yourself off the side of the bridge as a gunshot goes off. The wind whips around you as you fall towards the water and you let out a giggle. Color bursts across your vision and you manage to correct yourself before your feet hit the ground. The impact would have been fine if it wasn’t for the sudden pain causing you to mess up your landing and roll along the grass. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood in order to keep yourself from crying out. Tears fall from your eyes as pins and needles dance through your legs. You stare above you to see that you’re laying underneath your tree. ‘Huh, I thought I would’ve ended up in the lake.’

“That was unexpected. I guess I got more hurt than I thought I did.” You blink dazedly.

‘Child?’ Umbra says tentatively.

“Not now, Umbra. I’m injured.” You giggle and sit up, agitatedly yanking off your ripped coat and blood-soaked clothes. You were forced to remove them slowly before you were able to inspect yourself. There are six bullet wounds scattered around your body. The most annoying of them are the two in your legs. You sigh, grabbing your bag, and pulling a medical kit out of it. You pop the kit open and grab your bullet forceps. You bring them to the hole in your leg, and it’s then you notice how shaky you are. You grit your teeth and dig through the wound for the bullet. Forcefully clamping onto the piece of metal, you let out a small yelp as you yank it out. Now that there’s nothing blocking the way, more blood streams out of the wound. You exhale and flinch as a tear hits your arm. You sniffle and wipe at your face, smearing blood across your cheek.

“You’re always getting hurt.” Ekko huffs as he forces you to sit down on a medical bed. Blood drips onto the floor from the gash in your leg. One of Silco’s goons had a machete hidden on his person and you had jumped in the way of it.

“And you’re not because I take those hits for you.” You grin cheekily at him. Ekko glances at you with a shake of his head. He grabs a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some gauze pads. The suture kit was already on the table next to him.

“What if, one day, you take a hit for me and it ends with you dead?” Ekko sighs frustratedly. He soaks the gauze and dabs it to your cut.

“You’ll be alive. That’s enough for me.” You shrug. Ekko stops and looks up at you.

“I’d be without my older sister.” Ekko says seriously, “I wouldn’t be able to survive that a second time… so don’t you go dying on me.”

“I won’t, Kiko.” You smile fondly and ruffle his hair, “I have to keep you safe. I can’t die when you need me. What kind of sister would I be if I left you alone?” You chuckle. Ekko smiles and goes back to cleaning your wound.

“…What would happen to you if I died?” Ekko questions you hesitantly. You narrow your eyes.

“I’d burn the world down.” You say seriously.

A sob leaves your throat as you pull out the final bullet. You shakily grab your sutures and try to relax your shoulder. Your hand trembles violently, making it impossible to stick the needle where it needs to go. You place it back down, fisting your hair in your hands and giving in to the grief.

“Why?!” You sob, “Why? Why? Why? Why? Why you?! Why?! Why would they take you from me?!” You whimper as you rock yourself back and forth.

“Why take my brother? He’s a good kid. He’s always been a good kid. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it.” You babble to no one, “I should’ve gone. I’ve failed you. I’ve failed you. It should’ve been me, Ekko. Ekko, please, please tell me it’s all a dream. Please, wake me up. Wake me up. Please. . . just wake up.” You choke and cough as your throat seizes up. You’re crying so hard that you can only take in shallow breaths. You clutch at your aching chest and let out a heart-wrenching wail.

Viktor had just stepped out of the hospital when he sees Jayce, Mel, and Sky being escorted by a group of Enforcers. Sky notices him and slips away from the group to approach him. Viktor steps down and meets her halfway. They lock eyes and Sky jerks her head in the direction Mel and Jayce were headed. He nods and the two of them set off after his co-worker and the councilwoman. After being dragged to the hospital last night, Viktor was told marvelous news. The doctors announced that he was no longer dying. His cells stopped their decaying process and were actually doing the reverse. The cells were repairing themselves at a rapid pace, undoing previous damage, and consuming it. They were astounded by his miraculous recovery and said it would only be a few days before he was healthy again.

They interrogated him and begged him to tell them how he did it. How he managed to reverse the process and save his life but Viktor couldn’t give them an answer. He didn’t do it. The woman in white did. Hexxit. The Zaunite who paid him a visit late last night.

It didn’t take long for him and Sky to reach the bridge. Viktor’s mobility was improving only hours after the incident. He got to the bridge a few moments after Jayce did, and stopped as Sky let out a small gasp. It was a gruesome scene. Half a dozen Enforcers were blown up, covered in burn marks with missing limbs. Six more… at least from what Viktor can gather, were completely torn apart. Their body parts littering the area. The iron smell of blood permeated the usually sweet air, tainting it with a sourness. Large pools of the coagulated red liquid covered the grey concrete. Jayce and Mel were standing off to the side in front of them. Viktor couldn’t see their facial expressions but he hears Jayce make a retching sound before he rushes to the railing.

“The bodies you can see happened earlier this morning.” Sky says so quietly that only Viktor can hear her, “The… pieces… happened a few moments ago. They were getting evidence for the crime scene when they were ruthlessly attacked.”

“Did anyone see who the perpetrator was?” Viktor glances at her. He wanted to pretend like he felt something towards those who died, but he couldn’t. He felt nothing. Living in Piltover didn’t remove the scars from his youth. If anything, it made those scars all the more apparent.

“Five enforcers. One got shot in the thigh, and the other four were unable to apprehend the suspect before they jumped off the bridge.” Viktor’s eyes settle on the body of Marcus and narrow slightly. ‘Marcus had always been a shifty character. Even before he became Sheriff, he was an asshole and thought he was better than everyone. Good riddance. A pity for his daughter to be without her parents, though. She’ll be an orphan, but a well-taken care of one. The orphanage here is run by a quaint queer couple.’ He continues examining the scene as Sky talks, “The thing is… no one can give a complete matching description of the suspect. The only thing they have in common is…” There’s a soft rustling of paper, “Glowing, golden eyes with no pupil or iris.”

Viktor pauses, “Glowing, golden eyes?”

“Yes.” Sky nods, “Strange, isn’t it?”

“…Quite.” Viktor nods. ‘The woman from that night… her eyes were like that at one point. Hexxit. Was she the one who did this?’ Viktor looks down at his leg and shifts his stance.

“Are you alright?” Sky asks softly.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine.”

“I um… I heard what happened last night. You shouldn’t work yourself too hard.” Sky says hesitantly. Jayce notices Viktor and Viktor can see that he’s not doing too well. He’s pale with haunted eyes. He almost feels bad for his co-worker. Almost.

“Do you have any idea how this looks?” Jayce whispers furiously, “I order a blockade and my own partner violates it.”

“You ordered this.” Viktor says in disbelief, “Why?”

“There are people down there who seem hell-bent on destroying us!” Jayce says, “What were you doing?”

“I was consulting a friend about our quandary. I told you I knew someone.” Viktor defends himself.

“Well, you didn’t say they were from the Undercity!” Jayce says in bewilderment.

“What difference does that make?” Viktor questions, puzzled.

“What dif- They’re dangerous!” Jayce hisses. Viktor felt like he had been slapped.

Viktor stares at him for a few moments, “...I’m from the Undercity.” He says coldly.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t.”

Viktor turns to her, “Would you like to accompany me to breakfast? I haven’t eaten yet.” Viktor can’t help but scold himself when he sees the shocked look on Sky’s face. A soft blush appears on her cheeks as she smiles shyly and adjusts her glasses.

“I would love to.” She responds smoothly with a bright smile. ‘How did I never notice her affections?’ Viktor sighs internally. ‘I let my work consume me, and I likely would have died without ever noticing.’ They both turn back to watch Jayce and Mel converse with another Enforcer. ‘Jayce won’t ever understand.’ His eyes hover over the dead Enforcers before he furrows his brow and walks closer to the mess.

“Viktor, what are you…?” Sky trails off as he steps into a pool of blood and crouches down. He hears Jayce call his name but disregards it as his fingers wrap around a glittering object. Viktor picks up the crystalline item, blood dripping down his hand as he inspects it and chuckles. A shadow falls over him and he lifts the knife so Sky can see it. She crouches down next to him, not caring that the edge of her white coat is being stained by blood.

“Does this material look familiar to you?” Viktor mutters.

“The crystals.” Sky responds just as quietly. Now that he’s closer, Viktor can also see a word written on the ground in the only blood-free spot.

“Rats.” Viktor reads aloud and exchanges a knowing glance with Sky.

“Zaunite.” Sky whispers, “One of us.”

“One of us.” Viktor nods as he slips the knife into his inner coat pocket, “We have a decision to make, my dear.” Sky helps him stand up and Viktor starts walking away from the bridge with her. Blood dripping from the end of their coattails as they converse about what they should eat for breakfast. Jayce watches them leave in confusion.

The sun was high in the sky but you haven’t moved an inch from where you were perched. After bawling your eyes out, you climbed to the top of the great tree. You were laying across the highest branch that would hold your weight without bending. When the breeze moved the leaves, you’d get a peek at the blue sky full of white clouds. It wasn’t really registering in your mind. You knew it was there but you couldn’t see it. The visual of your brother getting shot was replaying over and over in your mind. You wanted to cry but no more tears would fall. You felt completely and utterly numb.

“Ekko!” You squeal as your brother sprays you with a can of red paint. He laughs and dodges your feeble attempt at grabbing the can from him. You groan when you look down at your clothes and see that they’re ruined.

“Why?!” You whine as you sneakily pick up a can.

“Honestly?” Ekko chuckles, “I did it on a whim. I wanted to so I DID- AAHH!” He shouts in alarm as you laugh and cover him in orange paint. Ekko runs away and you chase after him with a grin on your face, “Not so fun when it’s you, huh?!” You laugh. Your brother whirls around and sprays you with the red paint again. Soon, you’re both covered in paint and giggling on the floor of the art wall.

“See? I know how to have fun!” Ekko snickers.

“I knew that already, Kiko!” You hit him lightly on the head, “You didn’t have to prove that to me!”

“I know.” Ekko sighs happily, “I just wanted to make you smile. You looked too focused.”

“ZeZe, look out!” You shout as he steps out of the shop. You’re sitting on top of the awning as Ekko shows off the new device he created from scrap in the junkyard. It’s a giant wheel that he calls a Monocycle. You’re in awe of your brother’s ability to make something out of nothing. He didn’t even ask you for any help! Now that you were giving him space, he was really showing off his talents. Benzo said he thinks Ekko’s trying to impress you.

“AAAHH!” You hear your brother shout and flinch as he crashes into Benzo. The two of them go flying, which you thought would be impossible for a man like Benzo.

“Ekko! ZeZe!” You slide down and rush over to them only to discover they’re laughing. A snort leaves your lips before you erupt into laughter. Ekko was hanging from a pipe by his shirt while Benzo was upside down over the Monocycle.

“Hey…uh…a little help?” Ekko smiles sheepishly.

“I ought to keep you away from that junkyard!” Benzo complains with a huge grin on his face, “You’re going to be the death of me, kid.” You hop up on a couple of boxes by Ekko and wrap your arms around his waist. You lift him off of the pipe and then let him go. Ekko yells as he falls to the ground with a thump. You laugh and jump off of the boxes while Benzo shakes his head at you two.

“Why’d you do that?!” Ekko whines.

“That was for pushing me off the roof yesterday.” You shrug, “You fell a shorter distance than I did.”

“I wish I was an only child.” Ekko groans.

“What was that?!” You gasp in shock, “Come here, you!” You lunge at him. Ekko yelps and skitters to his feet, running down the street as you chase after him.

“Take that back!” You yell.

“Never!” Ekko laughs.

“Ekko?” You call out to your brother as you head back to your home. He ran out of Benzo’s before you were done locking up. You hear shouting and run towards the street it’s coming from. Your eyes widen in shock as you see three guys from a rival gang of Vi’s kicking your brother. You growl in anger, grabbing the brass knuckles out of your pocket, “HEY!” You scream. They stop and sneer at you.

“Get the fuck away from my brother!” You snarl and race towards them. Ekko scrambles out from under them as they run at you. The leader shouts as your fist sinks into his stomach. His friend grabs you and slams you into the wall. You grunt in pain, punching him in the throat and knock him over with your shoulder. He falls to the ground, clutching his neck as he struggles to breathe.

You duck under a swing, circling behind the second guy, and shove him forward. He shouts as he staggers into his friend and catches them off guard. You lunge forward, tightly grabbing them both by the hair, and slam their faces into the brick wall. A sharp pain grazes your shoulder and you hiss. You glance back to see a knife in the other guy’s hand. ‘That fucker!’ You snarl, slamming the guys into the wall again. ‘Vi is really rubbing off on me.’

The third guy manages to deck you across the face as you turn around. You fall to the ground, disoriented, and he grabs your shirt. He lifts you off of the ground, brandishing the knife, and goes to stab you when a pipe hits his head. You wince at the loud noise it makes as he shouts and staggers away from you. Breathing heavily, you tighten your fist and catch Ekko glaring in the corner of your eye. His grip on the pipe is so tight that his knuckles are white.

You step in front of your brother and glare, “My brother has no beef with your gang. Get the fuck out of here before I lay into your ass out like I did your friends over there!” You roughly indicate with your head. A thin line of blood trails down your chin from the split in your lip.

“Anyone who associates with that bitch, Vi, has beef with our gang!” He hisses, “Especially her girlfriend’s nerdy little brother!” He moves forward. You growl, too pissed off with his words to say anything more. You whirl around and with a roundhouse kick to the face, knock him unconscious. He hits the ground heavily and doesn’t move.

“You should’ve run when you realized I was Vi’s girl.” You spit at him. You look back at your brother and notice the shock in his eyes.

“Woah…” Ekko breathes out.

“Are you okay?!” You worriedly check him over and frown at the bruise forming on his neck. The throbbing in your jaw and pain in your shoulder comes secondary to him.

“Sissy! I’m okay.” Ekko grabs your wrists, “You stopped them right after they started. But, you totally kicked their asses!” He cheers and starts rambling about your moves. You blink and sigh fondly at your little brother. ‘Is he really that unbothered about getting jumped?’ You flinch in surprise as he suddenly hugs you.

“Thanks for saving me.” Ekko’s voice is muffled as he hugs you tightly, “You’re the best sister I could ask for.” You hug him back just as tightly, “Ditto, little man.”

“I know how you feel about it, sis, but if this is our one bargaining chip to get help… I have to take it. You know that.” Ekko’s eyes are pleading with you to accept it.

“I understand.” You say reassuringly, “It doesn’t help my anxiety about the situation, but we have no other choice.” You sigh, “This is our one shot. If anything goes wrong with this… anything at all…”

“We proceed forward with the original plan.” Ekko finishes, “You have everything in place? Already?” He tilts his head in curiosity.

“Three pieces left.” You wink at him and Ekko grins.

“There are still three pieces left, my little firelight.” You whisper and pull the black card out of your pocket. In gold filigree, is today’s date and the usual time you meet with the Chem-Baroness. You bite your lip and stare at it. ‘This is important… Do I really do this?’

‘Hexxit… You can’t give up, my child.’ Umbra says softly.

“I’m not giving up.” You scoff, offended, and sit up, “I can’t. Ekko kept going when I died. He kept going when he wasn’t sure I’d ever open my eyes again.” You play with the card in your hand.

‘So what are you going to do?’ Umbra hums curiously.

“I’m going to continue with the plan. I’ll be damned if I let my brother’s death be in vain. I’m going to complete the final steps and bring Piltover to their knees.” You growl fiercely. There’s a flux of magic in front of you as five bright blue flames flare into existence. You snatch the cards out of the air and inspect them. Each one has a neatly penned response to the request you sent yesterday. Each one was signed and stamped properly, “Well, would you look at that…” You hum in interest, “Things are progressing a lot faster than intended.” You smile darkly and watch the cards turn to ashes in your hand.

‘Well, there’s only one thing to do now.’

“It’s time I go pay the Baroness a visit.” You stand up and stretch. There’s a newfound energy pumping through you, “I can grieve when Piltover is nothing but ashes at my feet.” You declare to yourself.

#vi x reader #poc reader #ekko's older sister #ekko arcane #jinx arcane #genius reader #viktor arcane

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vgtracy · 3 years

Text

What taste are you grateful for today?

Iron and metallic, it is a familiar taste as I swallow hard and try not to bring up my breakfast.

My heads-up display is doing its best to trigger a fit as it throws up enough warnings to decorate a Christmas tree.

“Virgil! Do you read?!”

I squeeze my eyes shut as the flickering remains of the apartment two floors down from where I had been standing a moment ago, bursts into flame.

Damn.

No time.

No time to breathe.

I try to move, but the exosuit is caught under rubble. I try to break it free, but beyond the sounds of further cracking masonry, it doesn’t budge.

I love my exosuit and I am not happy to let it go. It is often between me and serious injury or even death.

Just like a moment ago.

“Thunderbird Two report before Thunderbird One lands on your head. I know you’re there, Virgil. Answer, for god’s sake.” John’s voice is acid with worry.

I blink and realise that perhaps I’m not thinking as straight as I could be.

“Uh…I’m…I’m okay, Thunderbird Five.” And I have to clamp my mouth shut as I slide my right leg out from under something very heavy. Thank god for my boots, but I’m going to be feeling this one for a while.

“Status report, Thunderbird Two!” Scott’s voice cuts through everything.

“Fell…” I look up. “Yeah, two storeys.” I finally stagger to my feet. That right leg isn’t very happy about it and almost folds.

I manage to catch myself on someone’s bed. Thankfully empty. I have no wish to add to my tally of dead bodies found in beds in burning buildings.

But there is no time for thinking. The far corner of the room collapses, bringing a rain of plaster and brickwork down, scattering it across the bed and more flame pokes through. There is so much smoke, if it wasn’t for the HUD I would be lost. It flickers outlines and shapes and it is an oddly three-dimensional world sketched out on the plexiglass of my helmet.

“Virgil, goddamnit, will you answer me?!”

I jump and realise that Scott has been trying to get my attention for some time. My head is foggy and that metallic taste is still in my mouth.

But I have to move.

I stagger towards the remainder of the door and almost fall through it. The hallway beyond is lit up as the wallpaper and carpeting burns.

Two is hovering above. I remember dropping down in my fire and exosuit. Gordon has Two.

I was supposed to get the remaining people to the roof.

Did I get everyone?

“Scott-?”

“Virgil!”

“Is everyone out?”

“Everyone, but you. The structure is failing.” His brother’s voice is so tight, I am surprised I can’t hear Scott’s teeth cracking under the pressure. “You need to get out of there now.”

My right foot comes down on something I can’t see and my ankle twists in a rainbow of pain. I find myself on the burning carpet, flame flickering mesmerizingly all around me.

“Virgil?” John’s voice is calm. “I’m sending you the route out. Can you make it?”

There is doubt in my space brother’s voice.

There is doubt in my heart.

But the route flashes up green against the flame in front of my eyes and I grit my teeth. My brothers will come in after me if they have to, and that would endanger them.

That is unacceptable.

“FAB.” My voice is hoarse even to my ears.

But I roll over and force myself to my feet again. My foot screams and there is definitely something wrong down there, but it takes my weight with the assistance of my boots and I move.

“You better not be lying, big brother, because Scott will have your innards for breakfast if you are.”

I stumble and collide with the remains of a side table. “Scott has…has never eaten offal in his…his life.”

The grunt over comms is not impressed. “He’s been leaving it for a special occasion. That building is going down fast, Virgil. If you are going to move, please do it now.”

All joking aside, I’m still moving, just slower than I would have liked.

The HUD gives me directions in Eos’ voice, unusually calm and polite. She leads me to the base of some stairs that are obviously not having the best day of their existence.

There is no way I am risking all my weight on any of those steps…or my right leg for that matter.

So I’m down on all fours and I ascend the stairs like a snake.

They creak and groan, but my structural readouts stay in the yellow and out of the red enough for me to make it up both flights to the storey I was originally standing on.

And above the roar of the fire, I can hear to roar of my girl.

She’s familiar. She’s safety.

“Not far now, Virgil.”

I blink and realise I’ve been lying at the top of the stairs for who knows how long. My head is really not in the game.

Concussion.

It has to be.

Scott is going to be so pissed.

I push myself to my feet again with a groan.

“Virgil?” John’s voice is ever so quiet. He must have left comms open. Likely on purpose.

“Getting there, John. Hold your horses.”

I get another grunt for that as I focus on putting one foot in front of the other. The green leads to a roof top exit and that is taking everything I have.

And suddenly, I’m there and the door is thrown open before I can even reach for the handle. Strong arms grab me and yank me out into a sunny day stained with smoke. Blue eyes are frowning at me, but then before I can say anything, Scott is speaking to John.

“I have him. Evac in progress.”

“Thank goodness, Thunderbird One. Get off that rooftop now.”

Strong arms are wrapped around me and we are shooting into the sky.

No, not the blue, the green. The roar of my ‘bird moves closer and I’m seeing the flame of her VTOL and her lowered hatch.

Just as Scott touches us down, there is a massive roar behind us and the whole ship shudders, as, no doubt, the building collapses behind us.

My helmet clatters against Scott’s and the hatch rises up into Two’s cockpit.

My right leg finally decides it has had enough and folds just as the hatch clicks home. Scott tries to compensate, but we both go down on the checker-plate decking.

I hit my head and drift for a minute.

Familiar smells hit me as the fresh cool air of Two’s cockpit wafts around my face, and my helmet is discarded as both Scott and Gordon are staring down at me.

Apparently, I’m on one of my own stretchers, docked in the cockpit.

“Virgil, talk to me.” Is Scott ever not worried?

Talk, um…“Made it back.”

Gordon snorts.

Scott glares.

“Okay, so I might have hit my head.”

“And?”

“My leg. Something is wrong with my leg.”

“You have a concussion and a fractured foot.”

I blink. “I do?”

“And you bit your tongue.”

My eyes widen. “I did?”

But then that metallic taste hits me again followed by pain I didn’t realise I was feeling. Ugh, yeah, that.

“But I made it back.”

Scott rubs his face with one hand. “Yeah, you did.” But then that same hand is on my shoulder, then cupping the top of my aching head. “Thankfully, but you and I are going to have a discussion about the definition of ‘okay’…okay?”

I try to nod and regret it immediately.

Scott grunts, but doesn’t let go.

I look at Gordon. “Who’s flying my ‘bird?”

His eyes widen. “Umm..”

I frown and he disappears suddenly, leaving me to stare at my eldest brother.

Scott better strap down before we attempt to land anywhere.

But then he is gently stroking my hair and it is very relaxing.

That metallic taste is still in my mouth and it is foul, but I drift off not caring.

After all, I made it back.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #30 days of gratitude #vgtracyfic

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tsunflowers · 3 years

Text

this is the sewer freak romance novel we have all been waiting for but that I will never actually write

Ok so the setting is in what used to be America in the aftermath of what was probably a nuclear war but no one ever goes into it and they just call it The Blight. Humanity rode it out by living in underground bunkers but within living memory they’ve finally been able to build habitat bubbles on the surface and fill them with breathable air so they can at least see sun again. There are several bunkers which maintained digital contact the entire time and while they were underground they built tunnels to each other so they could trade but they’ve had to seal off the tunnels and now you have to travel the blighted landscape to reach other habitats. Bc years back a bunch of people were like “we’re not waiting for your pussy habitat bubbles we can hack it on the surface right now” so they went out and got irradiated and the bunker people wouldn’t let them back in. So they started living in the tunnels and became sewer freaks. The sewer freaks are known to eat people and everyone is convinced they’re just biding their time until they can storm the bunkers and take over the habitats so they have to take the overland path even though it’s objectively more dangerous. The habitats are largely self-sufficient but there are some specialty parts that can only be produced in one habitat… and they just ran out. Enter our heroine

She’s named Ticonderoga bc lots of people are named after silly things from the old world but she goes by Ty. She has pcos or another condition that makes it very unlikely that she’ll ever be able to give birth which makes her uniquely expendable among the young women of the habitat. There’s this huge push in the community to expand the population now that they have the habitat bubbles but she knows she can’t be a part of that and people actually warn the boys her age away from her bc she won’t be able to have kids. Bc in a closed society like this everyone’s medical status is everyone’s business. This combined with the fact that she doesn’t have a job lined up for when she turns 18 bc her mentor died and The Council silently got rid of the job completely means that she’s selected to join the expedition to the other habitat. Btw the job is the storage and maintenance of physical artifacts and documents from the habitats history and from before The Blight. Everyone else has relied on technology for so long that they’ve forgotten the value of Real items and they’re like “didn’t we digitize that ages ago? who give a shit” but ty is Retro and she knows that holding something in your hands gives it a totally different feeling. She also likes to draw by hand. I kind of want her mentor to be a cool lesbian but she does die. Wait I had a great idea I’ll get back to this later

The rest of the expedition team is like older guys who’ve done this before and they’re kind of hazing her and telling her scary stories about sewer freaks. The general vibe is like “if you can’t keep up why are you even here :/" and she’s like it’s not like I asked to be here fuckers. But she’s actually kind of enjoying it in a weird way bc there are all these mutant plants that she’s never seen records of before bc the habitat bubble people ignore the outside world as much as possible. One morning while the guys are breaking camp (she tried to help at first but they were like “don’t chip a fingernail girlie”) she sits down to sketch a mutant flower. Which is hard bc she’s in a hazmat suit but she wants to record it somehow. And when she looks up she realizes the guys left without her. It’s not like they left her for dead bc she has a gps and radio communication. She could call them up and be like “hey fuck you guys.” But it was seriously a dick move and she’s really upset about it. She turns off her comms to kind of process and figure out what to do to catch up/how she’s going to confront them when she does and then suddenly….:.. a sewer monster appears on the surface!!!

We get like two full pages describing the sewer freak’s physicality at this point so as a reader you’re like ok she seriously wants to get hot and heavy with this sewer monster. He has, you know, smooth translucent skin and huge dark eyes and delicate long-fingered hands and he might be bioluminescent although she probably can’t tell that during the day. And he is definitely like cut also. He is one ripped sewer freak

Ty has this emergency signal she’s supposed to set off if she’s separated from the group and something happens to her but she’s not exactly in the mood to get rescued by a bunch of guys who just ditched her for fun. And besides her analytical brain is whirring at the chance to see and interact with a real sewer freak. So she tries to greet him. They have some trouble interacting bc sewerspeak (the language of the sewer freaks) diverged from English some time ago but they manage to communicate that he thought she was hurt but it’s only her feelings that are hurt. Btw sewer people can sense radio waves or some shit so he got concerned about her when he noticed hers cut off bc he knows habitat people always have radios on. So he thought maybe her suit stopped working. He acts like he’s gonna leave and she’s like “no wait!!” bc she wants to make a tangible connection with him bc that’s her thing. So she gets him to stay long enough for her to sketch him. He’s clearly super impressed by the sketch so she hands it to him and he indicates that he wants to borrow her pencil. He adds his own sketch on the corner of the page, a stylized drawing of the flower she was just drawing. She’s like “oh you draw too?” but he points to the flower drawing and then to himself and she understands that it’s a glyph representing him and he’s named after the flower. (This means the habitat people are named after relics from the old world while sewer people are named after things from the current world. Do you get it) They trade names and then he leaves. She’s like wow! Maybe everything everyone said about sewer freaks was wrong, bc clearly some of them are kind of sexy and intriguing. So she heads off to meet up with her party with a spring in her step. The party actually felt guilty and turned around for her bc they saw her gps signal didn’t move at all and she disappeared from comms but when they see her they’re like wtf why is she is such a good mood?? but something tells her she should not brag to them about her freak encounter so she pretends she encountered mutant wildlife and scared it off and they’re a little bit impressed

I just realized if they’re so paranoid and their technology’s so good they could probably invent some vehicles to go between habitats so they wouldn’t have to walk it. Pretend I have an explanation for that one

She gets to the habitat with the group. It has the exact same layout as her home but she can’t stop noticing all the things that are subtly different. They have different slang, and the food they grow and cook is different bc of the backgrounds of the people in this one, and stuff. Also the pregnancy thing is probably more intense compared to her home. Like in her habitat there’s social pressure but here it’s a civic duty. She sees a lot of really young moms and people who clearly don’t want children. She realizes that her infertility actually gives her more choice and autonomy than most women in her society and it’s an uncomfortable realization. Can I have uhhh, unsubtle grappling with conflicting feelings about motherhood as a prerequisite for adulthood using a sci-fi setting for 600, Alex?

Ty wants to get Out Of There and maybe see that spicy little sewer freak on the return trip but there are all these protocols and rituals they have to observe. They have to formally trade. They have to spend the night. They have to accept a meal and travel provisions. Since I guess this is the shitty evangelical Christian habitat the meal is probably like, unseasoned chicken and green bean casserole or something

Idk if Ty has any friends back in her home habitat. I kind of want her to have a gay guy friend who shares her reproduction related struggles bc he’s like “can I live openly as a gay man knowing that people will judge me for not Doing My Duty? even if I go to the medical center and donate sperm am I comfortable fathering children I will never actually be a father to?” so in that way her mentor could be a mentor to him as well since she’s an example of an adult lesbian in their society, and maybe that’s how they met. So she’s also like "man I wanna get back home and hang out with my bff again"

when shes home her parents are like omg we were so worried about you out in the Blighted landscape. while you were gone The Council gave us some of your mentor's stuff that she wanted you to have. and it's like a very tender handwritten note about how much she meant to her mentor that makes her cry and also some blueprints of the now-sealed tunnel opening?? basically her mentor left a coded message telling her to go down to the tunnel opening. she and her bff figure it out together and he's like Uhhh I dont want to go down to the tunnel with the sewer freaks??? but she tells him she met a sewer freak and not only did he not eat her he was smokin hot. if the sewer freaks are like cave dwellers they probably shouldn't have hair but I can't. I need them to have hair. sorry it's not Scientifically Accurate. so anyway she's like "listen it's not like we're going into the tunnels. we're just going Next to them. it's fine"

so they sneak down into the tunnels. it's kind of sad down there. ty's been down there before to cross-reference documents and just to see where her ancestors lived but it's totally different to be down there with just one other person and confront the reality of living in cramped quarters underground. kind of makes her empathize with the sewer freaks as well. when they get to the location the mentor marked they realize that there's a sealed hatch with a broken lock and inside it are mysterious items that were deposited by the sewer freaks! their mentor must have been in contact with the sewer freaks all along and she knew they weren't evil monsters! some weird shit she said starts to make a lot more sense. if ty kept the drawing she puts it in the hatch to try to make contact and if she gave it to him she sees it in the hatch as an attempt at contact

so ty and the sexy sewer guy strike up a gift cache based friendship. they don't meet in person but every time she manages to sneak away to the tunnel he's taken her gift and left something new. she's having to train in a new job that she's not that interested in but knowing that she'll have sewer presents makes her everyday life exciting. this goes on for a while and then one day she receives a drawing of a person crawling through the hatch and she's like omg. I could crawl through the hatch. there's also a drawing of a sunrise so she's like does that mean I should do it at sunrise...? will he be there....? and she decides to fucking go for it. her friend stays behind bc he's scared and also she needs him to cover for her but she has a radio. she wiggles through the hatch as early as possible in the morning and who is waiting for her but the handsome sewer freak!!

he brought a light bc he knows habitat people need them but he personally can see in the dark. she sees his bioluminescence for the first time and is like Wow.... and on his side he’s like amazed and totally hot for her once he sees her out of the hazmat suit bc he wasn’t 100% sure she was human until then. All the adults say habitat people are like humans under the suits but he had never seen one in real life so in the back of his mind he kind of doubted it. Both sides have the thing where they’re like “we’re the only People.” But actually he knew she was a People the moment she drew for him bc spontaneously creating art and then freely giving it away is such a uniquely human gesture

he takes her down through the tunnels and she sees that they've been decorated and added to and the sewer people have a whole civilization down there. they can also go onto the surface freely but they get sunburned real fast so they try to limit it. but the tunnels are now dotted with surface exits and that's how he seemed to appear and disappear when she was on the surface. they just kind of explore for a while bc she's so curious but he clearly wants to lead her somewhere. they get to a large but cozy room full of bioluminescent moss and mushrooms and a ton of sewer freaks just hanging out and who is there but... her dead mentor?!

It turns out The Council actually tried to kill her mentor for being pro-freak!!! They were like “see how much you like those sewer freaks when they’re eating you!” and left her for dead in the tunnels. but since she was friends with the freaks they did not eat her, they took her in and healed her using sewer freak blood and now she has some powers and she’s married to a lady sewer freak

The eating people thing IS true but listen. It’s hard to get protein as a sewer freak ok?? So they’ve been practicing endocannibalism all along (eating the dead members of their community). And they’ve eaten some habitat people who they killed in self defense, and maybe way back in the first few generations of sewer people they did kill and eat habitat people for no reason. But they don’t do that anymore and they feel really bad about. Actually they don’t even do endocannibalism anymore bc they raise cave fish and hunt surface animals but it’s ceremonial

so ty is like whoa i can't believe it, but I do believe it, and her mentor is like "you can't tell the habitat people. they're not ready to accept it. but you can change that. your generation needs to be open minded and accept the new earth and the new people and I think that you are a special girl and if anyone can change minds you can" and she returns to the habitat bubble with the gears in her mind turning over and over wondering how she can possibly accomplish this mission...

I said she would my fair lady the sewer freak but maybe thats book two. and I decided while writing this that the sewer freaks do have their own culture so it's not like he needs to be taught to be human. but I still want her to dress him up in normal clothes and take him home to her parents

#sewer freak romance

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jgvfhl · 3 years

Text

The Number Lads

Part 1/???? 3K words, no warnings :)

So I’ve created an audience on Tumblr for the Number Lads, and I’ve happened to got 3K words here for them. So! Here are the origins of the Number Lads! More to follow.... eventually....

For future reference:

Sevenset = ARC-7777 = ARCBoiiiii

Do-si-do = CT-2222 = Double Trouble

Trees = CT-3333 = Green Bean

Loops = CT-8888 = Loopy

Sixes = CC-6666

Double Trouble: i meant it as a joke sevens

ARCBoiiiiii: i didn’t

ARCBoiiiii: what you think you can drop that information on me and i wont use it??? how long have you known me

Double Trouble: okay okay but if you die i’m not mourning you

Loopy: ouch

Green Bean: how do you have this much time to comm us when you’re at ARC training, sevenset

Green Bean: who changed my name

Double Trouble: :3c

ARCBoiiiii: what you don’t like it? thought it suited you, trees

Green Bean: why did i let you guys talk me into this club…

ARCBoiiiii: we’re awfully convincing that way

Double Trouble: you felt compelled

Double Trouble: it’s the numbers gang bond

Green Bean: it was not that

ARCBoiiiii: was it loops space buns

ARCBoiiiii: i bet it was loops space buns

Loopy: what

Double Trouble: they are adorable

Loopy: oh kriff you, don’t you have arc stuff to do, sevenset?

ARCBoiiiii: ehhhhh my next training block doesnt start for another 4min, so....

Double Trouble: well i gotta run, we’re going hyperspace in a min or so--remember the meeting next week!!! be there or be square!

ARCBoiiiii: we dont have any perfect squares yet ;-;

Green Bean: Yeah, yeah, i’ll see you weirdos eventually

Loopy: stay alive out there

Double Trouble: especially the guy who wants to recruit Commander Death over there

ARCBoiiiii: I’ll be fiiinnnne whats the worst that can happen

Green Bean: i mean. his name. is DEATH?

ARCBoiiiii: ..... a fair point.... i guess you’ll just have to wait until the next numbers gang meeting huh :)

Loopy: maker help you

----

Sevenset was uncharacteristically quiet that day during second meal, but only because his mouth was continually occupied with food, not talking. He was on the clock today.

“Hey, Sevenset, are you inhaling those rations, or…?”

He looked over at Buster next to him, quickly swallowing his food. “I just got something I wanna do,” he said, taking a glug of water.

“Something so important you’re taking one of the few unscheduled breaks we have to do it? Okay then.”

Sevenset cleaned the rest of his tray, flashing a grin at Buster as he stood up. “Don’t wanna be late. Got a meeting with death.” He really couldn’t resist the pun. Honestly.

Buster’s eyebrow raised skeptically. His friend next to him, Sketch, asked, “Is this about some new way you’ve managed to piss off the trainers? Because yeah, I’m sure Alpha could arrange a meeting with death for you if you… I dunno, painted pink hearts on his armor.”

“Amazing idea,” Sevenset admitted, his brain automatically figuring out where the pink paint was (he’d have to make it), where Alpha-17’s armor lived (not sure on that one), and how possible it would be to sneak in and out to accomplish the task (a challenge). “However, no, not this time. See you guys later!” He deposited his tray and utensils in the proper area to be cleaned, then jogged out of the mess hall.

Kamino’s winding halls and levels really weren’t efficient--but compared to Coruscant… he couldn’t really argue. A healthy stretch of time in the Guard had given him plenty of tools to make his way around inefficient, crowded, twisty places like this. It didn’t take long before he reached where he was going. Aside from the resident Rancor Battalion, there were often troopers on Kamino from various groups throughout the GAR. They stayed out of the way of those training in separate wings of Tipoca City, and right now, Sevenset was very keen to speak to a visiting commander.

He slipped into a lift with two other troopers--visiting, by the looks of their battered armor. Luckily, they were too engrossed in their own conversation to really notice him, despite his rather colorful tattoos that usually made him stick out. But it was for the best this time. He got off at the level above and started down the hall, reading door labels as he went, searching….

Ah. Here. He pushed a button to open the door, but it was locked. Not entirely surprising, but… now what? If his internal clock was still fairly accurate, he had about ten minutes before he needed to be back for the next training block.

“It’s locked for a reason.”

He whirled, his body almost automatically snapping to attention at the low voice behind him.

Commander Sixes (AKA Commander Death, remember) surveyed him with a disturbing lack of expression. He was tall, for a clone. Probably closer in height to some of the Alphas than to Sevenset. His black armor stuck out like green plants on Coruscant in the brightly lit halls of Tipoca City, making him somehow look even bigger. Even more unnerving, he still had his helmet on, the visor lit with a dull green light, and fixed pointedly on him. Sevenset hated not being able to read people...

Sevenset hadn’t planned for this. Come to think of it, a lot of the “plan” he’d concocted relied on a few assumptions, and all of them seemed to be fading. One of them had been that he would have no problem talking to a CO--he never had before. “Sir, hi--hello--I was uhm…” He managed to clamp down on the first coherent thought to float through his head, so instead of blurting, “You’re a lot taller than I thought you’d be,” he stumbled upon, “It’s a nice room you’ve got. From the outside,” and immediately wanted to bash his head in on the wall.

The commander’s helmet never moved, just kept staring him down. “Get out of my way,” he finally growled, taking a step forward.

Against all better judgement, Sevenset stood his ground, although he squished himself a bit closer against the door. “Yessir, of course, just--one thing, really quick thing, I promise.” When the commander didn’t kill him or rip his arms off or something, he went on, finally finding his words were cooperating with him. “So, you’re CC-6666, naturally. I happen to be CT-7777--Sevenset, I’m Sevenset. There’s a group of us, see, sir--with the repeating numbers, and we have little meetings--”

“No.”

“--is what I thought you’d say, but just--” he paused, fumbling a bit to pull a piece of flimsi out of his pocket. “There’s the frequency, there’s the date of the next meeting,” he said, holding out the flimsi scrap. “I’m sure the other boys would love it if you dropped by.” The end of his final sentence shriveled into an undignified squawk when Commander Sixes reached out, grabbed his collar, and shoved him bodily out of the way of the door.

“Get back to training before I have some of my boys drag you there,” he said, entering the door’s access code.

“I’ve got six minutes--”

The door slid shut in his face. Well. He was still alive. So… that counted as a success. Perhaps not a resounding success, but a success. He stood in stunned silence for a moment, still clutching the scrap of flimsi in his hand, wondering if he should stick it in the door so the commander would find it later. However, he had no trouble believing the commander’s threat that his men literally would drag him back to the ARCs if he told them to, so it was probably best not to linger.

Sevenset jumped to attention for the second time that day when the door slid open again. He just stood there, dumb, as Commander Sixes stepped out, plucked the scrap of flimsi from his fingers, then returned to his room with about as much ceremony as befitted dumping pebbles out of a boot.

Oh, yeah. Definitely a success.

---

The first thing Sixes did once back in the privacy of his albeit temporary rooms was remove the top half of his armor, only leaving the gauntlet with his wrist comm. Turning his attention to said wrist comm, he entered Colt’s number. There was a short wait before the other commander answered it.

“Everything alright over there, Sixes, sir?”

“It’s about one of the ARC candidates.”

There was a pause. Understandable. The ARCs weren’t supposed to be in this wing of Tipoca City. “Which one?” His tone suggested he already had his suspicions.

“Calls himself Sevenset.”

He heard inaudible muttering on the other end. “What’d he do this time?” Sixes had suspected as much.

“Quite a pair he’s got on him, hasn’t he?”

Colt laughed dryly. “Yeah, sure. Hopefully, he’s worth the trouble.”

Sixes looked over the scrap of flimsi in his other hand. “Yeah… I think he might be.”

~+~

Leaning back in his pilot’s chair, Do-si-do watched the little light on the ship’s holoprojector, waiting for the others to join the meeting. He always took the calls in his ship. It was more private than his bunk most of the time, and frankly, the audio quality was so much better than on the hand-held devices.

Trees was the first to join, punctual as usual.

“Hey, Trees,” he smiled.

“Have you heard from Sevenset yet?” he asked.

Do-si-do shook his head, combing strands of his bleached curls out of his face. “Nah. Figure he’s been too busy. Graduation was supposed to be a couple days ago, right?”

“Three, yes.”

Loops’ holographic miniature appeared beside Trees’. He looked exhausted, but awake. His long hair was down from his signature twin buns, and he leaned his chin on his hand, fingers resting just over the infinity symbol tattoo on his cheek.

“Loops,” Trees greeted him.

“Mph.”

“What happened to you?” Do-si-do asked.

“Supply shipment,” Loops sighed. “General Koon’s having skeleton crews tonight so we can get some sleep.” After a stifled yawn, he asked, “Is Sevenset dead yet?”

Do-si-do smiled. “Trees asked the same thing, and I have no idea.”

As if on cue, a third hologram popped up on the ship’s control panel. Sevenset beamed at them, his new ARC pauldrons proudly on display. “Guess who’s not dead, fellas!”

“Hey hey! Look at you, ARC-7777,” Do-si-do grinned, leaning forward in his seat. “How’s it feel?”

“I really love the kama, gotta be honest.” He was only visible from the waist up, but they could see him sway his hips back and forth, clearly enjoying his new gear.

“Show us the paint,” Loops demanded, as firmly has he could demand it in his half-asleep state.

Sevenset obliged, setting down his holoprojector--his personal one, now he had graduated--and stepping back so more of his body was visible. The paint job was fairly similar to his previous armor--the sharp edges, the circle on his right shoulder bell holding four stylized sevens--but the new armor on his chest and arms had forced some alterations. They could see just about all of the kama now, the bright red sevens standing out against the dark grey fabric. Predictable, maybe, but still eye-catching. That was Sevenset’s main goal, if it weren’t already clear from the tapestry of tattoos on his bald head that ran down his neck under his blacks, and the several glinting piercings in his ears and nose.

“It’s definitely you.” Trees, bluntly.

“They let you keep the red paint, huh?” Do-si-do said. Sevenset had previously been assigned to the Coruscant Guard. After proving a bit more trouble than the Guard could take, and catching some CO’s eye, he’d been shipped back to Kamino a couple months ago to join Rancor.

“Hey, if Commander Colt can have it, I guess I can too. No one stopped me.”

Without warning, a fourth hologram appeared beside the others in front of Do-si-do’s eyes. A trooper--a big trooper, even in miniature--and in dark armor, helmet included. His brows scrunched together as he studied the person, failing to recognize them.

Sevenset did. “Commander!”

“I see Colt decided against tossing you overboard.”

Oh, no karking way. “Commander Sixes?” Do-si-do blurted.

At the same time, Loops made some unintelligible noise and suddenly disconnected, and Trees froze like a lizard when a hawk flies overhead, his eyes gone wide, one arm half-way to a salute. Frankly, Do-si-do could understand their reactions. Commander Sixes--like many of the CCs--was legendary. His wing of Star Fighters had fought through some of the toughest space battles so far, and always came out of it. As a pilot himself, Do-si-do had heard story after story about their skills. The fighter wing and the commander now wore the nickname Death, thanks to their brutal but effective tactics.

There was a brief and painfully quiet pause before the commander said, “Pride of the GAR, this lot.”

“Eh, they’ll get over it,” Sevenset shrugged, his hologram appearing to zoom in as he came closer again. “Right, Trees?” he added with a grin. Their friend was still in shock, it looked like. “Might have to tell him to relax, sir.”

The commander’s helmet turned towards Trees. “At ease. Take a breath before you pass out.”

Trees blinked, lowering his arm. “Yessir,” he said quietly, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

“I’ll try to get Loops back,” Sevenset said, a datapad appearing in his hands. Damn, ARCs really did get all the good stuff. Do-si-do still had to share a datapad with his squad of pilots.

“Shouldn’t there be more?” Commander Sixes asked.

“Of us? Yeah,” Do-si-do answered. “I guess there should be nine of us, in theory.”

“Nine or ten,” Trees said, his tone still a bit clipped.

“Ten or eleven, actually,” Sevenset corrected, still looking at his datapad. “We don’t know if a CT designation can be all zeroes. Might have been taken out of the system, who knows.”

“It’s hard when we don’t have access to the full GAR database,” Do-si-do went on. “We have to rely on hearsay and brothers from other battalions. Sevenset and I met by chance on Coruscant.” Loops’ hologram reappeared. He looked a bit more awake now, still visibly on edge from the commander’s arrival, and with a glower on his face. “Loopy! Welcome back.”

“I hate you.”

“Whoa, hey, I didn’t know he was coming either,” he defended himself. “Blame Sevenset.”

“I’m blaming both of you,” Loops said. “You told Sevenset about him, and Sevenset was stupid enough to go through with it.”

Sevenset, his attention off his datapad and back on the meeting, put a hand over his heart. “Stupid enough?” he repeated, doing his best to sound utterly wounded. “I think you mean ballsy enough.”

“He meant stupid enough,” the commander replied immediately and without emotion. “And I agree.”

Do-si-do snorted a laugh at the look of utter indignation on Sevenset’s face. Even Trees relaxed a bit more. “Okay, I can get used to having a CC around,” he grinned.

“Finally, someone with the authority to tell him off,” Loops said, expressing Do-si-do’s feelings exactly.

The recipient of their mocking pouted at them, folding his arms as best he could with his new armor. “Now I just feel unloved.”

“Why do I get the feeling Commander Fox was only too happy to get you qualified for ARC training?” the commander asked, his tone remaining impassive.

“For your information,” Sevenset said, then stopped, realizing, as they all had, that the commander had known where Sevenset had previously served. No one had told him this information. “How did you know I was in the Guard?”

They all turned to the commander. “I’m a commander. I can look anyone up. I looked you all up.”

Do-si-do leaned even farther forward in his seat, a huge smile on his face. “You have access to the full database?”

“You can find the others!” Sevenset completed, a similar smile on his face as well.

There was a pause. Do-si-do was starting to think Commander Sixes just liked the drama they created. In fact, judging by how he had yet to show his face and was wearing all black armor, it seemed Commander Death was fond of the dramatic in a few ways. “In theory, sure.”

“Yes! Oh, fantastic,” Sevenset went on, rubbing his hands together. “You can tell us where they’re stationed--”

“If they’re still alive,” Trees added in. He had a point.

“--and then we can find them!”

The commander’s helmet tilted, his expression hidden. “I’m guessing Fox declined membership,” he said.

Do-si-do snorted a gain, and Trees and Loops both smiled. They all remembered Sevenset’s story of trying to recruit Commander Fox to be number ten for their little group.

“If by ‘declined membership’ you mean, ‘shipped me out to Kamino for someone else to deal with,’ then yes,” Sevenset answered. “He declined.”

“Maybe you can ask him,” Loops said.

“Hey, yeah--”

“No.” The commander’s tone didn’t leave much room for argument, but that had never stopped Sevenset a day in his life, and Do-si-do was more than content to sit back and enjoy the show.

“But you’re his big brother, right? You can drag him into things--”

“I’m not a damn recruiter, ARC, now stand down.”

The effect was instantaneous. They all recognized a CO’s “talk back and you’ll be cleaning ‘freshers for the next month” voice. Combined with Commander Sixes’ already awe-inspiring reputation, his order shut them all up. Trees once again straightened to attention, and this time they all joined him, even Sevenset.

“Understood, sir,” he replied. Do-si-do could see the new training in him now. Sevenset wouldn’t be an ARC if he didn’t know when to drop the comic act, but the speed and discipline with which he’d done so just now was different.

The commander waited a second or two, then he nodded once. “At ease.”

They relaxed, mostly. It was hard to ignore the mood shift that had taken place. As cool as it was having a commander in the club… there were some obvious issues that needed addressing if this was going to remain a “just for fun” place.

Do-si-do found himself as the one breaking the uneasy silence. “But… you can help us find where the others are stationed, right, sir?”

The commander’s helmet dipped. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Can you do that… now?” Sevenset ventured.

The commander’s helmet tilted to one side, and it looked like he sighed. “Fine.” The others perked up. “But, I can only find their assignments, not their current locations.”

“We can work with that,” Do-si-do agreed, and the others nodded along. “Who’s writing this down?”

“I can!” Sevenset volunteered.

Trees reminded him, “Your handwriting is entirely illegible. Even to you.”

“Yes, but now I have a datapad. I can type all my notes.”

“I’m just going to start talking if you boys don’t figure it out,” the commander warned.

“Okay, okay, fine, Trees can copy it.”

Trees’ organization skills would always beat out Sevenset’s anyway. Maybe ARC training had fixed that, though. Trees shifted around, grabbing what he needed, then looked up and nodded when he was ready.

The commander’s helmet tipped down to look at something--presumably a datapad--as he spoke. “CT-4444 is with the Marines under Bacara. Probably has limited contact availability depending on the mission. Infrequent leave.” Do-si-do’s eyebrows raised, and he glanced at Sevenset and Loops. They hadn’t been expecting a tactical rundown of each person. But… they wouldn’t complain. “CT-27-5555 is the only ‘fives’ trooper in the GAR. He’s one of Rex’s freaks, so good luck getting your hands on him.”

“That’s the five-oh-first, right?” Loops asked. “Torrent, or something?”

“Yeah. Rex’s freaks. I’m sure he’ll fit right in.” Do-si-do smirked. He probably would. “And CT-9999 is with Ghost Company in the two-twelfth. Pretty decent chance he and number five have run missions together. Or will in the future, anyway.”

“Is there a CT-0000?” Loops wanted to know.

“What about eleven-eleven?” Sevenset added.

The commander glanced up at them, then back to his materials. “Yeah, the one-eighteenth has a CT-0000. Didn’t find an eleven-eleven, though.”

Do-si-do frowned. “Not even a casualty report?”

“No.”

“But… he could still be on Kamino, right?” Trees said. “Cadets don’t show up in the main database until they graduate and deploy.”

The commander nodded. “He could be a cadet.”

“I could look,” Sevenset offered. “I mean. I live here now, so I should be able to find out if a CT-1111 exists. It’ll just take a bit longer.”

“Yeah, we’ll figure it out,” Do-si-do nodded. “In the meantime,” he continued, leaning forward, “who’re we going after first?”

Ta-daaa!! @blsmjoon @nintendolover13-ts4 (I couldn’t tag your side blog sorry) @alamogirl80 (idk why I can’t tag you either ;-;) @23-bears @theultimatesandwich

#my writing #my fanfic #clone ocs #number lads #numbers gang #tcw fanfic #sixes my beloved #I love how min started that tag #and like #three other people have started using it #sixes bein all mysterious oooo #not taking off his helmet ooooo #I finished this #then realized #I've put sevenset and fives #right in the battle of kamino #WHOOPS #lol

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Photo

Warnings: Virgil/Kayo

He was her idiot.

-o-o-o-

Her Idiot

He expected to find her in the gym.

But she wasn’t there.

A quick search of her room and most of the rest of the house proved she wasn’t there either.

He bit his lip. If Kayo didn’t want to be found, his chances weren’t good.

The hangars also failed to reveal his girlfriend and an hour later he started to worry.

“John?”

“I’m sorry, Virgil. Don’t ask, she has already scarred me for life last time I told Gordon where to find her when she was upset.”

“Gordon?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that explains the retaliation. What did she do?”

“I’m not going there. Trust me, you don’t want to either.”

“C’mon, John, I’m worried about her.”

There was silence at the other end of the line.

“Please, John, you can put all the blame on me. I just need to make sure she is all right.”

“You’ll fix my shower?”

“Your shower?”

“My shower.”

“When did it break?”

“Hasn’t broken yet, but I’m sure it will if I point you in the direction of a beach on the north-west side of the island.”

“Thanks, John.”

“I am hiding behind you, big brother. Your girl is scary.”

He smiled. “I know.”

“Hmph.”

Virgil signed off and, grabbing a hat and sunnies, set out for the northern side of the island.

It was late afternoon, but the sun was still at burning strength, so it wasn’t long before he was uncomfortably hot in his long shirt. So he shed it and tied it around his waist, leaving a thin tank top his only protection against the sea breeze.

it was wonderfully cool on his bare skin.

He made good time, jogging part of the way, keeping an eye out for their missing security specialist.

It hadn’t been a good day.

A cascade of poor luck had seen Alan, Kayo and a young woman trapped in a house during an aftershock in Japan. The ground beneath the house had fallen into the river that had undercut the foundations. Kayo had had to make a choice between saving her brother or saving the civilian.

She had tried for both.

Lost the civilian.

And only just managed to catch Alan, who had consequently swung into an exposed beam and gashed his leg open, severing an artery in the process.

It has been bad.

Her yell for help had torn at him, but he had been responsible for six other civilians at the time and had been unable to respond immediately.

Gordon had made it first on the scene. By the time Virgil had been able to make it to her side, she had shut off from the world, her expression ice as she held her wrenched shoulder.

She hadn’t said a word to anyone on the way to the hospital. Virgil stood beside her as Scott questioned the incident.

He sat beside her as they waited for Alan to get out of surgery.

And stood behind her as his little brother woke up.

Now, three days later, finally at home, his little brother was safe in bed in his room, and she had vanished.

He walked past the little cliff and beach they had dubbed ‘their beach’ and continued further around the island. The trail became rocky from that point onwards and he had to clamber over several spots where a path wasn’t really possible.

He still couldn’t find her.

“John?”

“If she breaks my furniture, you’re buying me all new.”

“John.” This had gone beyond a joke.

“Climb down to the beach, there is a small sea cave.”

“There is?” He clambered over jagged basalt, cursing under his breath as it scratched his palms.

“Haven’t you explored the island, Virgil?”

“Uh, been busy. And I don’t have the advantage of Tracymaps.com satellite view.”

“Perhaps you should come visit more often.”

“Yeah, sure, John.”

His brother’s vague snort answered that one fairly clearly. They both knew separating Virgil from Two was not a good idea, for anyone.

He hurdled over a last chunk of rock and his feet hit sand. The little beach was bleached coral white with a scattering of weathered basalt. The high tide line was sketched out with shell and debris from the last major storm, and in the cliff lining the shore the debris disappeared into a darkness where the cooling basalt had left a natural cave that the sea had since chewed on.

Virgil whispered into his comm. “John, is that cliff face stable?”

“Of course. Do you think I’d let our sister under it if it wasn’t?”

“Okay, I get it. Sorry, reflex thought.” A pause. “Does she come here often?”

“Virgil, I keep many secrets. It is my job. I’m already lined up for crucifixion having told you where she was, I’m not going to be drawn and quartered for extra fun.”

“A little over dramatic, don’t you think?”

“She’s your girlfriend, you tell me.”

“She’s your sister.”

“Exactly. I have no protection, despite those twenty-two thousand kilometres. Just remember that this is on your head. Thunderbird Five out.”

A mumble under his breath, “FAB.” And Virgil approached the cave.

It was small but deep. A handful of rough and weather-worn stalactites hung from the entrance like teeth.

“Kay?” His voice was eaten by the darkness, but there was a slight change in the shadows as her face turned to look at him. As his eyes adjusted, and he belatedly remembered to take off his sunnies, her figure, seated on a rock protrusion towards the back of the cave, became clear. “Honey?”

“I’m going to kill John.” It was muttered under her breath and he doubted he was supposed to hear it, but cave and acoustics did it for him.

“You do realise you have him terrified.”

“Obviously not terrified enough.”

“You can blame me. Leave him out of it.” It was firm, but it needed to be said.

She unfolded like a cat, her slim body straightening in the darkness. Her shorts hung low on her hips, her crop top leaving her belly bare. She’d obviously come out here for a run, but it hadn’t been enough. She stalked towards him. “Blame you?”

Despite himself, a spike of concern shot through him. She was half his size, but he knew she could take him on sheer skill alone. Sure he could pin her with his mass, but he doubted she would give him the opportunity.

But then this was Kay, the woman he loved.

“Blame me.”

The little cave blocked the sun and chilled his skin. He shivered.

She walked right up to him and barged into his personal space, simply looking up at him. Then simply stepped around and walked past without saying a word.

He turned to follow her and the sun blinded him for a crucial moment. He grabbed for his sunnies, but in that split second she was gone.

Damnit.

“Kay?” He stepped out onto the empty beach. “Kay!” How the hell had she done that? “For Christ’s sake, Kay, I’m worried about you!”

“You should be more worried about Alan.” Her voice was smooth as honey, from above and behind. He left a gouge in the sand as he spun, looking up to find her crouched on the cliff above the cave.

“Alan is fine.”

“Lucky boy.” She stood up, still cat-like and turning, began to climb further up the hill behind the beach.

“Kay, please!” He made for the rockfall that had allowed him onto the sand in the first place and threw himself up the climb. It appeared that his lot in life was to chase those he cared about. Scott knew how to throw a marathon when he didn’t want to talk. How the hell had he managed to end up dating his brother?

By dating his sister.

If his hands hadn’t been scrabbling over sharp basalt, it would have been a facepalm moment.

“It wasn’t your fault, Kay!”

“Yes, it was.” She was gaining distance, she was just too damn fast.

“No, it wasn’t.”

She stopped and turned towards him, anger in her eyes. “How was it not, Virgil? I let her die and I nearly got Alan killed.”

“It was shitty luck. Sometimes things just happen. You saved Alan. He is recovering.”

She stared at him, her lips thinning to almost non-existence.

And he saw it in her eyes. The fear, the horror and the anger, always the anger. He wanted to reach out and draw her into his arms, hold her tight and reassure her that it would be alright.

But it wasn’t alright. A woman had died.

Kay was out of reach.

And she turned away.

“Kay?”

“Leave me alone, Virgil.” She started climbing again.

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.” And he started clambering over rocks again.

She stopped and turned angrily again. “Why not? If you think being in a romantic relationship gives you the right to harass me, Virgil Tracy, think again.”

He straightened. “No, I care, Kay. That’s all. If you think I’m going to leave you out here to beat yourself up, you’re sorely mistaken.” A pause. “And if you think this is simply because of our current relationship, you’re obviously amnesiac.”

She glared at him as he continued to climb over the damn rocks. “You’re right. You’ve always been a pain in the ass.”

He chose to ignore that, and focussed on climbing without taking the skin off his palms.

Damn the sun was hot.

He could feel her eyes on him, but he refused to look up. Part of him was questioning his decision to come out here and butt in on her grief. Maybe she didn’t need him? Maybe she could handle herself. Maybe he was being an ass. But the thought of her suffering alone and berating herself, like he knew she was, for a twist of fate that would have burnt any of them...his heart just hurt.

So maybe he was being selfish. Maybe he was out here for his own reassurance that she was okay.

But goddamnit, he loved her and she shouldn’t have to face this alone.

“You’re bleeding.”

He couldn’t help it, he jumped. “How the hell do you do that?”

She was crouched on the rock just above him, her eyes scanning him up and down. A smirk appeared on her lips. “If I told you, I would have to kill you.” She nodded her head in the direction of his right hand. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a scratch. I didn’t think to bring my gloves and climbing equipment.”

“You don’t need to follow me.”

“Yes, I do.” And he continued to climb until he was eye to eye with her.

“Why?” It was whispered.

“Because I love you.”

“You are going to use that as an excuse for everything, aren’t you.”

“Possibly.” He sat on the rock next to her and stared out at the ocean. “I remember a beautiful young girl hiding behind her father’s legs, staring out at the five of us. You had a bruise on your cheek and you were afraid to speak to any of us for days. Dad said you had fallen and hurt yourself.” He looked sideways at her. “But that is not what really happened is it?”

She was staring wide-eyed at him, fear in that beautiful green.

“Having the Hood as a member of your family couldn’t have been easy.”

“No.” It was forced from her, a rush of exhaled breath. “Virgil, don’t.”

He stopped. Every muscle in her body was wound like a spring. Flight or fight was on her face and he feared he had gone too far, touched topics that should never be touched.

“You’re not alone anymore, Kay.” He didn’t dare reach out, fearful that she would flee.

But she simply turned away, staring out at the ocean. “I know.” Whispered. “But I can’t afford...”

He waited.

She looked at him and the fear was back. “I can’t.”

He held out an arm, simply offering himself. “You don’t have to.”

Her eyes bounced from his to his arm, obviously assessing what was on offer. There was a battle in her gaze.

“Come here, love.”

The war flickered over her expression again. “You really are a pain in the ass.”

He dared to smile just a little. “But I’m your pain in the ass.”

“Yes, you are.” It was whispered as if it was a decision made. She dropped her legs over the edge of the rock and sidled up next to him.

He let his arm drop around her shoulders and drew her in gently. Just like he had wanted to do since he had set eyes on her. Leaning over he kissed her hair. “Love you.”

“I know.”

He just squeezed her tighter.

They sat there as the sun headed towards the horizon. No words said. At one point, she unwrapped his arm from around her and placed his hand in her lap, turning it over to expose the scratches on his palm. They were minor, but she glared at him anyway.

He shrugged.

She wrapped his hand in both of hers and kissed his knuckles.

He grinned.

“You idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes.

But she didn’t let go.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #kayo kyrano #virgil/kayo #I have a fondness for this one #nuttyfic reblog

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halzore · 3 years

Text

Where you need to be.

a little bit of angst, a little bit of friendship, but most importantly the two bestest friends in Star Wars. Rex and Ahsoka

for the lovely @redrobinhoods - I may have strayed slightly from the prompt. But i hope you enjoy

(also tagging @starwarsfandomfests )

~~~

The 501st waited with bated breath. Not a sound could be heard inside the barracks, watching the holo screen unfold the story of their commander’s trial. The entire room was holding their breath, and collectively breathed a sigh of relief when Barriss Offee entered in binders. Despite the news, Rex hadn’t been seen since Wolffe had found her.

Jesse had a grin the size of Courscant on his face as he slapped Tup on the back. “We’re gonna get our commander back!” The Jollity was palpable, radiating from the walls from the relieved men. But still, no one could find Rex.

Rex had holed himself up in his room, guilt still churning in his stomach. So much for loyalty, he had betrayed one of his best friends over some bad intel. He recalled the wild look in Ahsoka’s eyes as she pleaded for Anakin to believe her, how he had seen the survival instincts take over and plunge her down into the lower levels of Courscant. He could kill Wolffe right now, for not protecting Ahsoka when she needed it most.

There was a knock on the door, the clanged around the solemn room. It slid open revealing Anakin. His eyes were empty, downcast. Rex knew it must have only meant bad news.

“She’s gone.” There was a rawness to Anakin’s voice, a visceral pain in the usually cocky man’s energy.

“She lost then.” Rex responded, dull, resigned to the ugly truth.

“No—Sh-she won.” Anakin had his hands pinched over his eyes, trying to regain control of himself, Rex looked in disbelief, at the revelation, at the crying General before him. “But she left!”

Rex looked around the small room, trying to comprehend the breaking news. “Left sir?”

“Left the kriffing Jedi order.” Anakin was truly blinking back tears at this point, rubbing his hand over his face to distract from the fact. “You have to tell the boys, I-I… just can’t” Anakin left the doorway.

Solemnity raked its claws inside Rex’s chest. A sudden feeling of mourning for his lost Commander gripping him so wholly. A weight pooled inside his heart as he stood up to go to the barracks. His head was buzzing, unfocussed on his journey, only on the journey of how they had got here. The buzzing compounded as he grew close and closer to the celebratory ruckus of his men. How was he supposed to tell them, their commander, their friend, their lifeline had gone. Left on her own accord.

The room went silent as Rex entered. The eyes and expectations of his brother looming in the air.   “I have some bad news.” The words were getting caught in his throat, a rare occurrence for the Captain of the 501st. “Ahsoka she— The commander won’t be returning to us for personal reasons.”

Rex could see the concerned faces blossom into concerned inquiry. Rex just held up his hand, the sadness truly reaching his eyes then. And he left the room to grieve.

~~~

Yerbana was a victory, and an enjoyable one at that. Rex hadn’t had the opportunity as of late, to rub Cody’s face in it. It was a win win in his eyes. The mission went just like any of Skywalker’s other missions, chaotic with a dash of the dramatic. The generals were in a meeting, so Rex got the post-mission procedures underway without them. It was a smooth process by now. With what felt like thousands of battles under his belt, and 501st Vets who had been with Rex since the very beginning. He had lost good men along the way, but that was the reality of war.

The comm on Rex’s wrist blinked. “Rex here,”

“Rex, its Anakin. I have something to tell you.” There it was, that playful lilt in his voice that only ever meant trouble.

“Go ahead sir.”

“It’s Ahsoka,” Rex’s heart stopped beating, “She’s back.” Rex stared at his comm in disbelief, eyes wide.

All tasks were hurried, plans for a big project hastily sketched out. The whole battalion was a buzz. The older clones excited to see their favourite commander, swapping stories with the shinies who never got to work with her. The paint was cracked out from gathering dust in the stores, the drop sheets were laid down and the boys got to work.

Rex was flying on elation, seeing his Commander again. Being promoted to commander himself and hastily being shipped out to Mandalore. But it didn’t matter, he had his little’un back where he could watch her six.

~~~

The adrenalin of flying in the LAAT had ever felt as sweet. Ahsoka plunging into the Mandalorian atmosphere.

“Race ya to the surface.” The giddiness of having her back was unparalleled. Rex even laughed at her. She hadn’t changed a bit.. Well maybe a bit.

Even since the passing months, Ahsoka and Rex fought so intuitively, from campaigns of practice. But Rex noticed something different about her. The vigour and the depth to her had deepened. As if she knew what she was fighting for, for the first time in her life. Walking taller, finally wearing some armour, decked out with her new lightsabers. He noticed the experience that had settled in her eyes, focussing her as she fought against the red clad mandalorians. Ahsoka walked with her head held tall, an equal in a room full of warriors.

“‘Soka.” She turned her attention from Bo-Katan to her Captain. “You’ve grown up.” She gave him a quiet smile, the first of it’s kind he had seen in a long time. Rex wrapped a quick arm around her, pulling her roughly into his side, the typical brotherly hug. She punched him in the chest plate in jest.

“Wow Rex,” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’m really glad your eyes are working. It’s useful to see when you want to win a battle.” Rex just grinned at her. He had missed this, missed his Padawan.

Rex walked into the briefing room, content with whatever the future would bring. Because he was where he needed to be. Right beside his best friend, who came back to him after all.

#rex and ahsoka #not a ship lol #redrobinhood #v day exchange #How to tag #no one knows #star wars fandom fests

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a-wayne-at-heart-too · 4 years

Text

The Robins as...

DICK:

Are you even from the DC Universe if you aren't aware of how physically stunning this man is?

Consummate performer? ✔. Previous modeling experience (in canon)? ✔. Linked to a Tamaranian super model? ✔.

>>> --- <<<

Photographer: "That's it! Keep posing, darling! Ugh, you're amazing! Now, you're an animal!”

Dick: "You mean like this?

Photographer: ...

Dick: *contorted*

Entire crew: *grimacing*

Photographer: "It’s, um... It's a wrap."

>>> --- <<<

Dick: "Guys, pizza's here --"

His friends: *busy watching a commercial on TV*

Commercial on TV: *in a sexy, masculine voice* "Easy, Breezy, Adorable - Cover Boy" *winks at the camera*

Roy: *snorts*

Wally: *covering his mouth to stifle his giggling*

Garth: "Wow, Grayson... You could sell water to me and I'd totally buy it."

Roy and Wally: *break out into belly laughter*

Dick: *places the pizza box on the coffee table and switches the channel* "Ha ha, very funny. I'm undercover, remember?"

Donna: *grabs a pizza and nods in mock seriousness* "Oh, we know, UnderCover Boy." *winks*

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

JASON:

Chiseled features? Ooooh, ✔. Previous modeling experience as a villain pretending to be Nightwing (in canon)? ✔. Also linked to a Tamaranian super model? ✔ (But they’re “just friends, okay?”).

Discovered by an agent while trying to break into a warehouse of a well-known fashion corporation to rescue child laborers (accepted the job to gain access to the higher-ups)

>>> --- <<<

Red Hood: "That's me, dude." *gestures at a billboard before lighting his cigarette*

Arsenal: "Where?"

Red Hood: *takes a drag* "There."

Arsenal: "That's a calloused hand and a Bear Grylls watch."

Red Hood: "Yup."

>>> --- <<<

Jason: *catwalking*

Designer: *takes a bow onstage after their entire collection is presented*

Jason: *pounces at the model in front of him*

Audience: *slow-clapping awkwardly*

Later...

Batman [on the comm link]: "It really couldn't wait, Jason?"

Jason [hiding backstage]: *frantically searching for wet wipes in his weapons bag to remove his makeup* "He was the mark, Bruce!"

Batman: *gritting his teeth* "I know. But did it have to be in front of everyone at Gotham Fashion Week?"

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

TIM:

Used to traveling and working long hours? ✔ and ✔.

He doesn't model for anything you'd know (unless you're a superhero, that is).

>>> --- <<<

Edna Mode [visiting from the Disney universe]: "Walk for me, Timothy. I want to see how it fits on you."

Red Robin: *struts, then abruptly stops* "Ms. Mode, I know you're not a big fan of capes, so I was thinking maybe we could add wings instead? I've tried them, and they're actually pretty awesome. They're also weaponize-able." *fumbles for his sketches in his utility belt* "I could show you some designs I've been working on --"

Edna: *widens her eyes at him* "No wings!"

>>> --- <<<

Tim: "And this --" *dabs a brush on some blush, then onto Conner's face* is supposed to make your face melt."

Conner: *examining his pinkish cheek through the tiny mirror* "Uhhh... Was this specially formulated for Kryptonian skin?"

Tim: *disappointed that nothing was happening to his best friend's face* "Oh, dang, that's right! I figured you were just healing really fast."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

DAMIAN:

Mention "OshKosh B'gosh" to him one more time, he dares you. (And learn the hard way, as Jason did, why you’d better not.)

Let's just say that you don't hire him; he hires you.

>>> --- <<<

Damian: "I would like to model for you."

Receptionist: "Sir... This is the Gotham Animal Welfare Society."

Damian: "And I am Damian Wayne. Did I stutter?"

>>> --- <<<

Damian: "Perhaps it is time I tell Father to set up a meeting with you and his 'friends' in the fashion industry."

Alfred: "Master Damian, while I am truly flattered, I hardly consider myself a designer."

Damian: *admiring his reflection in the mirror as he gently sways the green-and-red, hand-sewn thobe with gold accents that he's wearing*

Alfred: "Besides, why on earth would the world want to see some bloody old butler's --"

Damian: "Shush, Pennyworth." *looks down at his feet, his eyes glistening* "You put them all to shame."

Alfred: *pulls him in for a hug*

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Oh, @fleetof-fandoms, how I wish I could tag you properly. Thank you for another cool suggestion!

#the robins as #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #mine #big brother of the year #caffeinated crusader #grumpy old #hug monster

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bluescreening · 4 years

Text

Practical GCSE Advice

Tips From A New Year 12 Who Somehow Got All 9s

Don’t worry, I’m not becoming a studyblr. I’m writing this on results day as a sort of farewell to GCSEs and to impart some “wisdom” upon the youngsters before I move on to A-levels. I’m going to keep this to specific, practical things you can do to improve, none of that vague nonsense. Subject-specific tips for maths, geography, triple science, language, literature, graphic comms and comp sci under the fold because this is too bloody long already.

General Tips:

Don’t go revision crazy. People will always emphasize revision, but so long as you’re revising effectively (see below) you’re safe to start revising about a month before mocks, and two months before your final exams. In terms of a revision schedule during those months, I worked with one or two hours per day, with a free day on Friday and Sunday.

Use apps to stay organised. Put your school timetable and exam dates in your calendar of choice with appropriate reminders and colour coding. To keep track of homework and revision, use Adapt - you can put in your GCSEs and it tracks which topics you have covered and how many times, as well as allowing you to input homework and your school timetable. During study time use Forest (free on Android) to lock yourself out of your phone for a certain amount of time.

Pay attention to lessons from the start. From the beginning of Year 10 every lesson is a GCSE lesson, and everything you learn could come up in an exam. Follow along with your teacher, make the best notes you can, do the work and understand the concepts as early as you can. You’ll thank yourself in a year as you watch the rest of your class wonder what a ribosome is when revision time comes.

Revise effectively. Use Adapt or a textbook to keep track of your confidence level on every topic, so when you’re revising you can focus on the ones you don’t understand whatsoever. Also, don’t just read stuff when revising. You have to train your brain to retrieve the information. Memorise vocabulary and basic facts using flashcards, then answer exam questions. Lots and lots of exam questions.

Use your teachers. They want you to succeed because it reflects well on them! If you don’t understand something after a lesson, pop back at break or lunch, or shoot them an email and they will help. Don’t just bank on it not showing up in the test because Sod’s Law dictates that it will. After Christmas in Year 11 they will often start revision sessions or intervention. Attend them for any subjects you’re even slightly shaky on. They’ll boost your grade like nothing else, even if it does take up some of your chill out time.

Buy textbooks and study materials through school. If your school offers you textbooks and workbooks it’s likely that will be the best deal for them, since they’re purchased in bulk. Grab all you can in Year 10 and talk to the school if you can’t afford many - they may be willing to help. If you know any higher-level teachers see if they have any sample study materials from CGP and the like. My English teacher gave me a lovely set of sample CGP Macbeth flashcards that would have proved really useful.

Make flashcards at the end of every topic. Stay on top of them. You want a term on one side and a definition on the other, or a quote and analysis etc. If you don’t like endless bits of card floating around use Quizlet - you might not even need to make them yourself as many people have shared GCSE flashcards there.

And finally - don’t forget you’re a human! Humans need regular sleep, healthy food including breakfasts, hydration, fun and social time. Make time in your day to take care of yourself. Your brain works better when you’re healthy so often an extra hour of sleep will do more for your grade than an extra hour of revision. Hanging out with your friends and keeping up with your hobbies reduces stress.

Feel free to ask me any questions you may have about any of this stuff, or if you just need advice I’m here too! I’ve done it before, I can help you out.

Subject Specific Tips:

Edexcel Maths:

Use CorbettMaths. All the time. If you haven’t done every one of his worksheets at least once you’re not grinding hard enough. Jk, but seriously this guy used to teach me in real life and he’s awesome. He makes flashcard packs, videos on every aspect of GCSE maths, daily challenges, textbook exercises, practice exam questions... literally everything you could ever need.

Practice everything until you’re sick of it, and then do ten more questions.

You’ll need to memorise some trig identities. Don’t memorise them as a table, that’s hard. Memorise them as these triangles, sketch them out in an exam and work it out on the spot. Easy.

AQA Geography:

Don’t goof off during your fieldwork. Don’t make the same mistake as me. If I ever had to do the fieldwork paper I would not have got a 9. Even though it’s a field trip, even though you’re with your friends, this will directly impact your GCSEs and you need to treat it like an exam.

Memorise vocabulary then move onto exam questions. Geography is very formulaic and exam questions repeat themselves - take advantage of that.

Memorise. Your. Case. Studies.

AQA Biology, Chemistry and Physics:

A l l h a i l f r e e s c i e n c e l e s s o n s .

Practice those reading comprehension questions where you’re presented with information and have to answer questions about them. A surprising amount of people get overwhelmed because they haven’t revised it. You can’t! You have to read and understand it within the exam.

Memorise your bloody equations for physics or you will fail. Use Quizlet, learn them all by the end of year 10 even if you don’t know what they’re about yet, practice using them.

Buy the CGP workbooks and complete them! Make sure to buy the answers too, because CGP are scammers.

AQA English Language and Literature:

Identify 10-20 brief quotes from each piece of literature so you have a few for each character and theme. They can overlap! Also, memorise the author’s intentions for each one. With poems (for those of you who have to do them... I’m not salty, I promise) ask your teacher to recommend 5 that match up with the most themes and memorise 3 quotes from each. Remember to analyse the rest of the poems too - any of them could come up so it’s good to have an understanding.

Memorise structures for every question. The examiners will tell you not to use structures. Shut up, I got all 9s. Structures are the best way for slow writers to ensure they get everything they need to in. TETAAC (topic, evidence, terminology, analysis, alternative interpretation, context) works for lit essays and can be modified for every other question. Work out how many paragraphs you can write in 40 minutes and take that into account when planning. Once the plan is done it’s just a matter of making it sound frilly. English: hacked. My normal plan for a lit essay is a one-sentence thesis statement for an intro, 3xTETAAC paragraphs and a conclusion which reiterates everything but better.

Don’t worry if your grade is terrifyingly low to begin with. That’s just how English rolls. You’ll slowly develop the skills you need and start to make 3 or 4 grades of progress throughout year 11.

OCR Art and Design - Graphic Communication:

Think long and hard about whether you want to do graphics or fine art, if your school offers both. Graphics is designing logos, fine art is whatever you want. I should have taken fine art in retrospect.

Make as much work as possible from the very start, even if you haven’t decided on your portfolio project yet. Everything, and I mean everything, can be shoehorned. If you make a lot of work you have some leeway and can leave out your early stuff so your overall portfolio looks better.

Annotate as you go and store all your thoughts digitally. Even if you have no clue what you’re supposed to write in annotations, put down your thought process. It’s easy to tidy up something you wrote a year ago, but it’s really hard to stare at a letter F made out of newspaper and remember where on earth you were going with it.

To make enough work you will need to stay after school often and give up a lot of lunch times. That’s just how it goes. At least with the right crew it can be fun - the combo of my friends and the very chaotic art teachers at my school made my Thursday graphics sessions something to look forward to.

OCR Computer Science:

Use Quizlet flashcards to memorise terms. Being able to correctly define terms is half the battle, literally. You’ll basically get an instant 9 on the first paper if you memorise every term defined in the textbook. Luckily, someone beautiful and generous by the name of sporkified (wink wink) on Quizlet has created two sets with everything you need to know for the entire qualification.

Practice programming in your chosen language before your programming project starts. Learn to do everything mentioned in the textbook and try it out on a sample project. Many will tell you to not bother about the programming project, it doesn’t matter. That’s true to some extent, but excelling in the programming project can tip you up a grade as well as making the algorithm questions on paper 2 easier for you.

Take part in Cyber Discovery. Give it a Google, sign up. It’s really hard if you have no practical computer experience but doing it gave me a real edge with paper 2 which is where you want to focus your energy as it’s weighted more. Also it’s fun.

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mentalmimosa · 5 years

Text

sans vêtements (part II)

part i here: [https://mentalmimosa.tumblr.com/post/180789272625/sans-v%C3%AAtements]

Trust Bond, he thinks, furious, shoving his perfect fake passport at the gate agent, to find a way to muck up a perfectly good piece of sub-dermal tracking equipment. A few million pounds spent in development--not to mention loads of his own goddamn time--and was does the man do the first time he wears it? Break the thing.

Only, a small, anxious voice whispers as they turn out over the Channel, all those white waves crashing blue, what if it isn’t only the tech that’s been smashed? What if it’s Bond himself?

No, he tell himself later as he fumbles for a taxi, his schoolbook German nearly foiled, it can’t be. Not hardly. If M was truly worried about Bond’s person, he’d send someone that could handle a gun, not a man with sonic screwdriver keychain and a strong preference for not getting shot.

Still, the fury of the first hours is gone, and what’s left when he reaches the flat at last, a little place tucked on the outskirts of the city, is a cold basin of worry.

Damn Bond, he thinks as he slogs up the stairs. Damn M for the dispatch, for the utter lack of compassion, for sending Q marching into a scene with almost no preparation and no real time to sketch out a plan. What if there’s blood? What if he opens the door and there’s Bond sprawled pale and sightless, shot or stabbed or whatever it is spies do to each other, all that gorgeous skin dead to Q’s touch?

The last steps are the hardest. His glasses are askew and he’s panting. Oh gods, he thinks. Oh gods.

He raps on the door, the case an anchor in his left hand. A case, he thinks in that last second, full of diagnostic boards and a clever VPN device, a speaker in case he needs to tie in to his staff at HQ. But what if Bond is in fact bleeding out just a few feet away, inside? He can’t do a damn thing about it. He didn’t even bring a band-aid.

So wrapped up is he in his own fears that he doesn’t hear the door open, doesn’t see the man standing there gripping the doorframe until said man is polite enough to cough.

“Ow,” Bond says with a wince. “Fuck, that smarts.”

He’s wearing dark gray trousers that probably cost more than Q’s entire wardrobe, these charcoal-colored things that cling and hang in equally perfect proportion, along with an unbuttoned white shirt. And he’s clutching something against his side beneath it, pressing it with some fervor to his ribs--ah, an ice pack. He is, for all intents and purposes, not bloody well dead.

“What happened?” Q says. It comes out more as a wheeze.

Bond squints. “What’s it look like? I fractured a couple of ribs. Or rather, some idiot on the Kremlin’s payroll did it for me.”

“No,” Q says. His stomach’s doing a forward roll and his heart’s hammering. Best then to ignore them both. “What happened to my equipment?”

“Your equipment?”

“Your tracker. It’s been offline for 12 hours. And no one at HQ’s heard from you.”

Bond steps aside, incredulous, and makes room for Q to come in. “I’ve been a little busy, Q, and in no need of help. I don’t generally go in for nursemaids.”

“I’m not here as a nursemaid, I’m here for my--”

“Tech, yes, so you said. Huh. It was a new thingymabob, wasn’t it? The one you insisted on jabbing into my side.”

“Yes.”

“Well, then,” Bond says, easing over to the settee, “that explains it.”

Q feels like he’s twelve steps behind. “Explains what?”

Bond sits down gingerly, his smile turning momentarily tight. “Why you’re here. Surely you didn’t brave the friendly skies just for me.”

“M sent me.” He isn’t sure why he says it, but it seems terribly important to get it out. “When the tracker didn’t come back online after six hours. He made me come.”

He can see the quip scoot over Bond’s lips. See him swallow it. “Well,” Bond says, “so long as you’re here under duress. God forbid you pretend to enjoy my company.”

There’s a tinge of outrage now, annoyance creeping up and over Q’s relief. “You really think I’d subject myself to the indignities and especial dangers of modern air travel just to be in the same room with you?” he spits. “My god, Bond, does your ego know no bounds?"

Bond chuckles, his face twisting straight after. “Ugh. Don’t make me laugh, Q. It’s bad for my current health.”

“Bugger your current health!”

“Don’t get mad at me because M’s making you do your job.”

Q barks out a laugh. “My job? My job ? Nothing about this is my job! I am not a field agent, damn it. I bloody well don’t belong anywhere farther flung than Hyde Park! Why M insists on chucking me out here with you, I have no earthly idea, but you can bet I’ll have words with him when I get back.”

“Oh, will you,” Bond says calmly, like people threaten his boss to his face every day. Maybe they do. “Do tell me when; I’d love to watch. Maybe you could sell tickets. I bet Eve could help you with that.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Neither are you.”

“I thought you didn’t need any.”

Bond sits up a little, waggles a hand at what Q can now see is the awful bruised wonder of his side.“I don’t, but since you’re here, you can help me tape these up, can’t you. It’s harder to do than I remembered, doing the work oneself. And feel around for the remnants of your tracker thing in the meantime.”

The deep indigo of Bond’s skin is awful; it makes Q’s own ribs ache just to see, a car crash of color, and all he can manage is: “What?”

“Tsk,” Bond says. “You’re repeating yourself. Go on, there’s some things by the kitchen sink. Bring them here.” Bond’s mouth curls. “Though you may want to put your case down first.”

There’s a tea towel by the sink and a half-defrosted bag of peas; a turn of Ace bandage and a small pair of scissors. Q scoops up the lot and realizes that his hands are shaking; he can practically feel the adrenalin he’s been running on oozing out of his pores. Bond is here, he tells himself, and he’s not dead and he’s a prick and he broke Q Branch’s newest fucking equipment and he’s hurt, Bond is, mortal: a 00 god brought crashing to earth.

It’s not that Q thinks of agents as superheroes or something; he damn well knows that they’re not. His first year on the job, he’d been on the comms when 003 was killed in Sao Paolo, caught off guard by an informant with a knife, double-crossed right at the moment of death, and Q had heard it, every word, every curse, every wet, painful breath, the sound of the agent’s assassin laughing as she walked away, whistling loud enough for the comm mike to hear.

But there’s something about Bond being injured that feels especially galling. He should know better than to get caught out unawares, for one thing; he probably had a decade on whichever of Putin’s goons he’d encountered--surely he could outwit one of them. Maybe the time’s really come: maybe the old man’s losing his touch.

He’s also beautiful in a battered brass sort of way. It may not have been by choice, but Q knows what that part of Bond is supposed to look like, that tanned skin playing with scars. It shouldn’t be the color of eggplant; it shouldn’t look like every breath hurts. He’s seen water running down those ribs and sweat, felt the lines of those bones only a few days ago as he kneaded at Bond’s side gently, looking for just the right spot. His fingers have been where those bruises are and that’s what belongs there on the old lion’s skin: Q’s hand, caressing, not some damn fool’s iron fist.

“Q?” Bond calls. “You alright in there? Did you fall in?”

Q’s fingers are tingling. Perhaps that’s just the frozen peas. He takes a deep, steadying breath. “Not yet.”

*****

They have a go at on the couch first. It’s quite a disaster.

“If you keep mucking about,” Bond says through clenched teeth, his arms unsteady in the air, “I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Q snorts. He’s bent so far forward from his low perch on the coffee table that his face is practically on Bond’s chest. His hands are stiff and he’s succeeded only in getting the damnable bandage tangled up behind the stretch of Bond’s back and wrenched in the tails of his shirt. “If you’d stop moving around like a disaffected horse, James, I’d be finished already. Lean forward.”

“No.” A grumble, one that rushes straight through Q’s hair. “I told you, damn it. It hurts.”

“You are such a child.”

“Says the boy with no broken ribs.”

“I thought they were fractured.”

“Same difference.”

“Hardly.” He looks up, glasses falling down his nose. “Please tell me you’re not looking for a sympathy vote.”

The back of the bloody couch is in the way, is the thing, and he’s precisely the wrong fucking height, and any thrill it held to touch Bond in those first few minutes have long since zipped straight away.

He makes one last attempt, tugging the thing around in a flourish, but it’s not tight enough and it slips and Bond’s good arm flies down and shoves him away.

“Maybe I should do it,” Bond says. There’s a line of sweat on his brow. “Give me the thing and let me--”

Q’s quicker. Q’s also uninjured. Speed’s not a skill he should count on. “If you were just up a bit higher, I think it would work.”

“You think.”

“Yes, I do.”

Bond stares at him, eyes narrow, his face that same sickly pale. God, Q thinks, a born-again sympathy; the man’s really hurt. “Only one place I can think of.”

“What’s that?”

Bond tips his head towards a closed door at the back. “Why don’t I sit at the edge of the bed?”

Which is how Q ends up on his knees in front of James bloody Bond, watching the man divest himself at last of his shirt.

“Let me help you,” Q says as Bond grimaces, twists.

“No,” Bond snaps. “Shut up. I’m fine.”

He isn’t, of course, and they both know it, but Q keeps his mouth closed. Plays along.

When Bond is bare, Q comes up on his knees and plucks the overworked bandage from the coverlet. Tries his luck. “Lean forward,” he says.

Bond does slowly, creaking, pushing off of his palms and shifting his weight. “Can I put my arms on your shoulders?” he asks.

Q blinks. Blinks again. “What?”

Bond’s voice is thready. “An odd request, I know, but I think it would help.”

“Yes,” Q says, a touch too quickly. “Sure. Yes.”

Their weight settles on him and he can’t look anywhere but his own hands. Hands that are unwinding the whole bloody mess and starting over, searching for the beginning, for one tattered end.

“Go on,” Bond says, as if he can feel Q hesitating. “Get it done.”

It’s much easier now, without Bond’s shirt in the way. Easier and harder because he’s not annoyed anymore; that smokescreen has fled. Now it’s just him and the hammer of his heart and Bond’s fingers curled in the back of his shirt, in the damp part just at the top of his spine, just below the line of his neck. And Bond’s not saying anything, either, no cursing or wheezing or worse. He’s simply sitting there still, warm and broken under Q’s palms, breathing carefully in and in and out.

“What good will this do?” Q says.

“Hmm?”

He winds the line around again. “Wrapping you up like a sausage. What good will it do? This can’t have any practical value.”

“The idea is that it’ll keep everything from shifting around, though I suppose the preferred way is tape these days. But I’ve always found bandaging more effective. And a lot less tricky to apply one’s self. So I suppose its only value is practical, I’m afraid.”

“Did they teach you this on the first day of spy school?” Q says. “Self-Administered Emergency Care 101?”

“I think they saved that for day three.”

Q clips the bandage, one end to the rest. Smooths his fingers over the width of it, the flutter of Bond’s stomach underneath. “Ah, well. Not quite so important, then.”

Then Bond’s hands are cupping the back of his neck and clutching the ends of his hair and Q is all at once aware of how close they are, how greedy he feels now that Bond’s let him touch.

“Q,” Bond says, very quietly.

“Bond.”

“You did pick the most inconvenient time to make me want to kiss you.”

He looks up, startled, and Bond’s there, right bloody there, cut lip and blue eye and all. “Did I?”

“Oh, yes. I’m almost impressed.” A smile. “It’s absolutely fucking terrible, your timing, Q.”

His palms are sliding up Bond’s chest, easy, and he’s suddenly very grateful that his hips are pressed to the edge of the bed. “You want to kiss me?”

Bond’s lids flicker. “I believe that’s what I said.”

“But you’re not going to. Is that it?”

“No.” The word seems to hurt. “Not today.”

He draws his nails under Bond’s arms, tangles them on the heat of Bond’s back. “Why not?”

“Because,” James Bond says, “kissing you deserves my full fucking attention and I’m afraid that today, that ship has sailed.”

Bond’s head is bent and Q’s is tilted and all it would take, Q thinks, half-drunk now, dreamy, is for one of them to give a handful of centimeters one way or the other and oh, christ, what a kiss: Bond’s hands in his hair proper and him scoring the long planes of the man’s back and Bond rutting against him none to gently, his legs wraps around Q’s hips, and after that--

“I’m fine,” Bond murmurs. His breath on Q’s cheek. “You’ve seen that for yourself. Now run along home and assuage M’s fears, hmmm?”

“What about you? You’re hardly fit to be out here alone.”

“Q, this is Bonn, not Pyongyang. Another day or two and I’ll be back in the headmaster’s office being told off for being an idiot, undoubtedly.”

“And deservedly so.”

“Mmm, well. It happens to all of us, when we’re old enough. We all have bad days.”

Q presses their foreheads together and curves his hands around James’ face. He’s grinning like a damned fool, he knows it. He’s never wanted anyone so much in his life. “You’re sure I can’t kiss you?”

“I’m sure you can.” Bond’s voice is delightfully breathy. “But I do wish you wouldn’t.”

“No, you don’t.”

Bond makes a soft sound, a cousin of pain, only sweeter. “Q.”

“Bond.”

“Humor me, hmm? Just this once. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“All right,” Q whispers in the slip of space left between them. “All right.”

*****

The flight home is--well, he doesn’t remember any of it, frankly. It gets him safely from A to B. Gives him time to remember the hum of Bond’s skin, the way that last little smile had pleasantly creased the man’s face.

He wanders back to the office still in a daze and it’s only when he’s faced with M’s frown that he realizes he never found hide nor hair of his device.

“Bond was hurt rather badly,” Q tells him. It’s not a lie. “I’ll examine him again once he’s back on home soil.”

That’s not a lie either. He hopes.

*****

Two days slide by, then a third with no word, and by the morning of the fourth, his anticipation has ticked up towards anxiety. His desire is starting to feel like a stone.

He’s cross on the Tube, grumbly, and so lost in himself that he doesn’t hear his mobile until its bleating has pissed off the whole sleepy carriage.

“Yes?” he snaps. He doesn’t recognize the number.

“Hello to you, too.”

“Bond?” His heart does an ridiculous cartwheel. “Where are you? Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m texting you an address,” Bond says. He sounds like a cat who’s had a four-course canary.

“An address? James, I’m on my way to work. I can’t just ring off for the hell of it. Even for you.” He doesn’t believe a damned word that he’s saying. It’s hard to when he’s grinning this wide.

“What if I ask very nicely?”

“You can do that?” Q’s phone beeps obediently: message received.

“What do you want me to say?” There’s a stretch of sound, something rather like a purr. “Please?”

“Yes,” Q says, nudging his way towards the doors, towards the promise of a taxi. “That’s helping.”

Bond chuckles. “Is it now? I shall have to remember that.”

Q scrubs at his mouth, trying to bring his smile in line. It’s far too much for six in the morning. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Fine, but don’t dawdle, Q.” He can hear the man smirk. “Please.”

*****

The address is in Mayfair. The houses are lovely. Q doesn’t really register any of it. All he sees is the number on the house and the path from the sidewalk and then he’s pressing the bell, leaning on it, hearing it resonate beyond the door, deep inside.

His heart’s pounding now like it was in Bonn, but not out of fear this time, or dread. This time, he’s not worried about finding broken bones or a bloodied body because he knows what lies on the other side of this door are James’ hands and James’ mouth and the sense of something between them that’s grown heated and lovely after all these damnable years.

“My god,” Bond says. “You took your time, didn’t you?”

A grin and then he’s hauled in and then Bond lets him go, take a measured step back.

“Are you sure about this?” Bond asks. He’s wearing a dark blue jumper and black slacks and no shoes and a slightly wary expression that makes Q’s foolish heart ache. “I did rather bully you over here. Are you sure that you still want to--?”

“God, yes,” Q says.

They stare at each other for a moment. Two.

“Q.”

“Bond.”

“Would you think me terribly forward if I took you upstairs?”

“That depends,” Q says. “Are you planning to take me to bed?”

Bond makes a soft, strangled sound. “Yes. If that’s something you want.”

Q drops his bag and tugs off his coat. Leaves the whole mess in a pool at his feet. “Presumptive of you, don’t you think?”

“Oh, absolutely.” A flash of teeth. “Except we’ve been there before, haven’t we? In a manner of speaking.”

“Well, if you--”

“Q,” Bond says, very patiently, “if you don’t shut up and come with me this instant, I’ll be forced to kiss you right here.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Another step. “Nothing, in theory. Except that if I kiss you, I’ll want to touch you. And if I touch you, believe me, I’ll want...other things.”

Q swallows, tries to keep his chin up, even as his shoulders find the wall, as Bond presses close. “And? Is that meant to dissuade me? Your rhetorical skills could use some polish, James.”

“And I’m old and injured, sweetheart.” Blue eyes turn to his, full of ne’er-do-well guile. “You wouldn’t want me to get hurt worse, would you, by trying to make you feel good?”

“You are so full of shit,” Q says, breathless, and Bond laughs. Laughs and grabs his hand and pulls him up the stairs, stumbles, shoves him through an open door and onto the bed and when Bond lays over him, his knees hot on either side of Q’s hips, then and only then does Q get the kiss he’s been promised, he’s been greedy for, and god, oh god, is it good.

Bond’s mouth is hot and hungry and jesus, he’s loud about it, how much he likes kissing Q. He groans when their tongues touch and curses when their hips meet and sighs when Q hikes up his sweater to stroke the curve of his back, to trace the edge of his bandage still wrapped tight around Bond’s middle. He’s still tender there, too.

“Sorry,” Q murmurs, nuzzling the turn of Bond’s cheek.

“It’s alright.”

“Is it?”

“More or less.” Bond nips at Q’s lip. “Believe it or not, I had a good nurse.”

Later, Q thinks, there’ll be time for him to fall on his knees again, for him to spread Bond’s legs and bite kisses along the soft skin of his thighs. There’ll be time for Bond’s hand in his hair, guiding, for his voice in the morning air, hungry, telling Q what he likes, what he wants until he can’t talk anymore, until he’s too busy fucking Q’s mouth to make words. There’ll be time, then, for them to kiss again, for Bond to suck the taste of himself from Q’s tongue and press the tips of his fingers to the eager place behind Q’s balls and enter him, gently, slide in until Q is tight around him, all sweet greed and heat. There’ll be time for Q to come with Bond’s voice in his ear as those long fingers piston, as Bond tells him how pretty he looks jerking off and how good he’s going to feel when Bond fills him property, gives Q the weight and shove of his cock--but for now, now, in the bright morning tumble of Bond’s bed, fully clothed, it’s enough to be kissed by this man, covered by him, to feel Bond’s smile turned tight against his own.

“Bond,” he says.

“Hmmm?” A low suck on his neck.

“Would you do something for me?”

Bond’s hips roll, stiff heat against heat. “I’d do many, many somethings for you, darling. Pick one.”

Q kisses Bond’s temple, whispers: “Take off your shirt.”

#00q #pining #hurt/comfort #first kiss

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welcometothepenumbra · 5 years

Text

JUNO STEEL AND THE LONG WAY HOME (PART TWO)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

The junction lies ahead, so if you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

We are now passing through Hyperion City.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

Our next stop?

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES.

Juno Steel and the Long Way Home.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: WATER DRIPPING, RIPPLING.

THEIA: (DISTANT, OVERLAPPING) Target located. Alerting central office. Exchanging map data. Sector is clear. Recharging. Recharging.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Here’s a lesson that never sticks, no matter how many times you learn it: even when you’re not around, the world keeps movin’ without you. Never feels that way. When you leave, you take a frozen version of the place with you in your head, and that feels real, but… then you get back and find the place is melting right in front of you.

SMALL FRY: (WHIMPERS, QUIET BARKS)

JUNO: Yep, I’m pretty wiped too, Small Fry. How ‘bout a snack break?

SOUND: SPLASH.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I remember these sewers as an escape, if you can believe it. When things got too rough topside I would lose myself down here, where things were simple. Where the monsters looked like monsters, big furry ones with long teeth and mean eyes. They were scary, but… that was part of the escape.

SMALL FRY: (IN BACKGROUND) (BARKS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): When you’re so young you think monsters are the scariest things out there… what could feel better than teaching the boogeyman to eat out of the palm of your hand?

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: Whatsamatter? You don’t like salmon chips?

SMALL FRY: (YIP!)

JUNO: Don’t tell me you’re picky.

SOUND: CRUNCHING, CHEWING.

(GARBLED, MOUTH FULL) Aw, man, these’ve got the freeze-dried soy dust and everything! You’re outta your mind, Small Fry.

SMALL FRY: (SNIFFS & SNORTS)

JUNO: Oh, what’s that? Now you want one?

SMALL FRY: (SNORTS)

JUNO: That’s what I thought. Take the bag, it’s yours.

SMALL FRY: (GRRRR)

JUNO: (SIGHS)

SOUND: CRUNCHING, CHEWING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I wonder sometimes if having that escape as a kid felt a little too good. Like I’d go underground and feel like all the world’s horrors could be tamed, then, come back up and think that feeling should last forever. It felt like I could make it last forever if I tried. But, things change.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

SOUND: CREAKING.

JUNO: What’s the matter, Small Fry? You hear some… thing…?

THEIA: Target sighted.

JUNO: Damn it! Get in…

…that pipe, quickly! Hide under my coat!

SMALL FRY: (SNUFFLES)

THEIA: Target recognized. Target is—

JUNO: (OVER THE BELOW) Juno Steel, yeah.

THEIA: —Juno Steel. Directive: do no—

JUNO: (OVER THE ABOVE) Do no harm, Mayor O’Flaherty requests my presence, you can’t capture me nonviolently so I’m supposed to go there on my own, that it?

THEIA: (AFTER A PAUSE) This is your only—

JUNO: Right, thanks, almost forgot, this is my only warning. I’m workin’ on it now, but thanks for the reminder, bye!

THEIA: Farewell. Juno Steel.

SOUND: CREAKING FADES OUT.

JUNO: (QUIETLY) Going… going, aaaaaand gone. Psst!

Hey kid! Coast is clear!

SOUND: HEAVY CREAK.

Small Fry?

SOUND: SPLASHING.

…The hell is this?

SOUND: SPLASHING FOOTSTEPS.

Another room?

SMALL FRY: (SNORES)

JUNO: (GASPS)

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

…Oh.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The rabbit was asleep. Just… tuckered out.

Then I felt the exhaustion piling on me too, so I sat and let her nap awhile. And if I got some rest out of the bargain, so be it.

Small Fry had found a good hiding spot. The pipe I’d shoved her into led through a shattered wall, which opened up into another one of the sewer’s old chambers. Must have been a false start from some earlier construction job, walled-up so it’d just go away, but… that never kept anything hidden forever, did it?

The Theia bots were tearing this place apart, and soon one would find Small Fry. But even if they did clear out and we did get outta here, what the hell was I gonna do with her?

MUSIC: STARTS.

My name’s Juno Steel. I’m a private eye, and that means I’m supposed to reserve my blaster for whoever pays my bills. Money hasn’t mattered to me for years, but even so, it… was a rule, and rules are comfortable.

I keep feeling like I don’t know any of the rules anymore, but… I need ‘em. Because if you try to save every sorry soul who hops into your life…

…that might make you a hero, and… right now I’m not sure there’s anything worse.

MUSIC: ENDS. STARTS (FROM COMMS).

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Welcome back to Questions Unanswered: Where is Jack Takano? Tonight’s episode: Part 11 – “The Mask.”

Jack Takano was famously a very private man: until the end of his time at Northstar, he never kept a home address on file, or spoke to anyone about his friends and family outside the company. Even his face was private, as Founder and CEO of Northstar Miranda Fairbanks wrote:

FAIRBANKS ACTOR (FROM COMMS): It was known around the office that Jack daily wore makeup thick even by Hyperion’s standards… I once came into the office quite early to find that he had fallen asleep, drooling, onto his desk and hand. It was almost sweet… until he moved that hand and a layer of skin peeled off his face, only to reveal another, much paler skin beneath. Or so it seemed, until I saw the foundation smudges on the table. When I woke him, he covered his face, mumbled something about not looking decent, and ran off to reapply. A skin condition, he told me later. I never bought it. The difference between the skin beneath and the mask over it was so extreme that it seemed like there was another man under there, buried alive.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): But even a man with a hidden face can’t hide everything. Takano may not have left an explanation for his disappearance in his famous farewell note, but his coworkers did notice a change.

VEGA (FROM COMMS): Well, we all expected something was going to happen. Just not… something that extreme.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): What about his behavior seemed like the first sign, Dr. Vega?

VEGA (FROM COMMS): Isolation, first. Irritability, some days, although he’d always apologize soon after. But I think the first unquestionable sign for me was Andromeda 3.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): If you didn’t see Andromeda 3 at release, it’s unlikely you ever will: the film was panned so universally that Northstar established an Anti-Informations Department just to erase every copy they could find. Or as one reviewer put it:

VOICE 6 (FROM COMMS): Schlock and drivel. Its characterization is so flat it approaches concave. Its pacing makes death seem a fond alternative. And worst of all, it appears Takano has no idea what made Andromeda so compelling in the first place, and what remains are only echoes of the Turbo nonsense that nearly put Northstar into its early, and perhaps deserved, grave. Takano needs to get his head out of building tourist traps and back into telling stories, because this was clearly rushed.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): The only thing atypical of this review is its lenience: the reviewer gave Andromeda 3 the highest rating we could find. But that last sentiment, that the film was rushed, is repeated by nearly every review on record, despite the fact that it is completely untrue.

CHEN (FROM COMMS): I don’t think I ever saw Jack work harder on a project. Besides the park, obviously.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): That’s Jocelyn Chen, former Head of Animation at Northstar.

MUSIC: ENDS.

CHEN (FROM COMMS): I remember seeing pages of script and sketches of Andromeda 3 a few weeks before the first film came out, but he was never satisfied. It was just rewrite after rewrite with him.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Was his process similar for Chainmail Warrior Andromeda or Sea of Sinners?

CHEN (FROM COMMS): Not at all. He had full storyboards for both ready when he first pitched the project, and he only had a month on those. But the third one… I don’t know. He kept talking about the responsibility, and… I tried to help, but, the pressure must’ve gotten to him.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): You came under fire for that film, too.

CHEN (FROM COMMS): I did.

I– I wasn’t mad at him for having writer’s block. I was mad at him for not listening earlier, for not giving us something, anyway. I had to steal his notes just so we could start work on time for a sloppy release, and… that was the only time I’ve ever heard him get angry.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): A recording of Takano’s tirade was leaked a few months after Andromeda 3’s release:

SOUND: BACKGROUND STATIC.

JACK (FROM COMMS): We are doing something important here. Am I the only one who sees that? Am I?!

CHEN (FROM COMMS): Jack, we have a deadline—

JACK (FROM COMMS): Damn the deadline! You’re exactly the problem, Jocelyn, focusing on the smallest issues when you should be solving the big ones, taking the solution now over the solution that works– DO NOT SPEAK while I am speaking!

No. Keep the damn notes. It’s too late already.

SOUND: STATIC FADES OUT.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): The company could have scrubbed this leak like they erased the film, had Takano himself not acknowledged it, in a press conference the day after it spread:

JACK (FROM COMMS): …I would like to apologize, of course. I’ve already apologized to Jocelyn, but, like it or not I’ve been thrust into the public eye; and as a result, my responsibility extends to each and every one of you.

SMALL FRY: (SNUFFLES & SNORTS)

JUNO: Mmm… quit it.

SOUND: WATER DRIPPING, BUBBLING.

JACK (FROM COMMS): Three years is not a very long time to grow old, and, yet I find that, compared to the early days of Andromeda, I feel precisely—

JUNO: (OVER THE BELOW) I said quit it!

JACK (FROM COMMS): (OVER THE ABOVE) —how I expected an old man must: very tired, and only slightly more wise.

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

JACK (FROM COMMS): What strikes me as most beautiful about Andromeda is how she works not just on the world, but also on herself. Tirelessly. When Andromeda discovers that her magic chainmail is empowered by the suffering of others, she sees immediately how this might corrupt her… and she steels herself against it.

I see now the power I have in Northstar. And I see the heavy responsibility that power bestows upon me. We will use it for good, from here out. For Polaris.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

SOUND: SLAP.

JUNO: (OVER THE BELOW) Damn it, Rita, I’m taking a nap, you—!

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

HAWK (FROM COMMS): (OVER THE ABOVE) Takano’s apology was very well received—

JUNO: …Oh.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): (OVER THE BELOW) —as Jocelyn Chen recalls.

JUNO: (OVER THE ABOVE) Small Fry. Right.

SMALL FRY: (GROWLS)

CHEN (FROM COMMS): (OVER THE BELOW) He could do that, apologize and have all forgiven—

JUNO: (OVER THE ABOVE) What’s the matter, kid, you hungry?

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

JUNO: What the hell? Get off me!

CHEN (FROM COMMS): —really forgiven. You could always tell he meant it, that it really had eaten him up inside. He—

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

SOUND: CLICK, COMMS CUTS OFF.

JUNO: The hell?

Did you… take my comms? Out of my ear?

SMALL FRY: (BARKS, GROWLS)

JUNO: Don’t eat it!

Well, looks like we’re awake now, doesn’t it? Here, come close. You just put it up to your ear like this, and—

SOUND: FEEDBACK SCREECH.

JUNO & SMALL FRY: (PAINED YELLS)

JUNO: God dammit, what did you do?

SMALL FRY: (WHIMPERING)

JUNO: You know how long it took me to figure that thing out? Now look, it’s wet and it stinks and I can’t even listen to it and I don’t know where anybody is or what the hell I’m gonna do to keep you safe and—

SOUND: PLOP, SPLASH.

There. It’s trash now. Just like this whole stupid idea. Whatever.

SOUND: SPLASHES. DISTANT FEEDBACK.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: I told you, the comms is broken.

SOUND: FEEDBACK STOPS. ELECTRONIC SCROLLING.

JUNO: You’re just gonna hurt yourself. Make it explode or something.

SMALL FRY: (GROWLS)

SOUND: BEEPS.

JUNO: Damn it, don’t you listen?

SOUND: ALARM BEEPS.

It’s busted. See?

SOUND: JINGLE (FROM COMMS).

VOICE 7 (FROM COMMS): Welcome to your comms. Please enter your name.

JUNO: Wait, what?

SMALL FRY: (GROWLS)

JUNO: You… there’s no way you know how to use this. You can’t.

SMALL FRY: (YIPS)

JUNO: Alright, take it.

SMALL FRY: (RRRRR!)

SOUND: BEEPS.

JUNO: No. Way.

SMALL FRY: (GRRRS, YIP!)

SOUND: LOUD JINGLE (FROM COMMS).

VOICE 7 (FROM COMMS): (VERY LOUD) Bienvenue à votre comms.

JUNO: (HISS OF PAIN) Nevermind! (SIGHS)

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: But… you did have it for a second.

SOUND: BEEPS.

SMALL FRY: (SNUFFLE, GROWLS)

JUNO: No, no, I’m gonna try this time.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: And, uh… thanks, Small Fry. I needed that.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO (NARRATOR): While I messed with that comms I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about Rita. She’d been telling me what Small Fry just had for years – that I didn’t need her to set everything up, that I wasn’t even trying, and… I’d yell at her that I got it, but I was just busy. And then sit alone, like an idiot, while she set up my comms, my monitor, everything.

Ma never let us have that stuff. And then I just got too proud to admit I didn’t get it, and… I got better and better at asking other people to work around me, I guess. Anyway, I… had the thing up and running again soon.

SOUND: BLIP.

JACKET (FROM COMMS): We may look backward only to ensure we have not walked this path before.

JUNO: Yeah, thanks, big guy.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: Just… give me one more minute.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Maybe I’d gone mad with power, but… I had an idea, and I was hungry for another win. I knew the comms could get on the net, and I knew the sewer system’s layout was a public document. The rest was just guesswork. Learning and mistakes.

SOUND: ERROR BEEP.

JUNO: (GROWLS)

SOUND: ERROR BEEP.

Aghhhh!

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): …a whole lot of mistakes. But, still.

It took me an hour to do what Rita could’ve done in two seconds, but, I was proud of it.

SOUND: BEEP.

JUNO: Ha! Got it! Look, it’s a map, and I think I found a manhole that’ll take us…

SMALL FRY: (SNORES)

JUNO: …out of the… sewer.

Hey. Hey, c’mon, Small Fry. C’mon.

SMALL FRY: (SNUFFLES AWAKE)

JUNO: We gotta go, kid. I think I found a way out of here. And after that…

We’ll have to figure that out together, I guess.

SMALL FRY: (MEWLS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): I split the comms so I could carry it in my hand and my ear at the same time. It was gonna be a hike to get to that manhole leading out of the sewer, and… to Oldtown.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): (FADING IN) The year between Andromeda 3’s release and the opening of Polaris Park marked a shift in how Northstar was run. Takano removed himself from the film production process completely, hiring previously-terminated Northstar writer Kenni Okombe and rock-star-slash-poet Rajavi to co-write Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak, based on some of Takano’s early sketches. In the meantime, Jack Takano redoubled his efforts on Polaris Park, and though he spent many, many hours in that office – staying for days or weeks on end, according to some – his coworkers saw him less than ever.

VEGA (FROM COMMS): Always in his office. It was as though we’d taken on a staff hermit. (LAUGHS) Not that it was a funny situation, of course, Jack was clearly troubled. But, well… we all just thought that if the tortured genius needs his space, give him his space.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Many of Takano’s former coworkers expressed similar sentiments. But not Jocelyn Chen.

CHEN (FROM COMMS): Everyone always said yes to Jack, and it wasn’t good for him. So when he started hiding, working himself sick, all that… I wasn’t having it, and I said so.

He gave me some line… something about how he had to figure out the problem by himself, that he couldn’t compromise on the park any more than he already had. And I said, “Jack, you can take all your toys, and go hide in your room if you want. But if you keep working like this, you’re going to get yourself killed, and—”

After that… after I said that, he just… looked at me and waited. Like I hadn’t gotten to my point yet. Like that wasn’t even enough reason t—

Anyway. I ended the conversation there, because I wasn’t getting anywhere. But clearly he wasn’t done.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Ms. Chen is referring to a public charity event at which Takano spoke to raise funds for Martian fire departments. Though the speech was largely typical of his optimistic oratory, there was a tangent that was met with confusion in the press:

JACK (FROM COMMS): But the most beautiful thing about Andromeda, I think, is… that she always goes it alone. She recognizes that heroism is a blessing for the world and a curse for the hero, who must live with the weight of every decision they make, the pain of every loss they fail to prevent. And yet she never stops. And she never shares this burden with another, because she knows it is better for one to suffer than two. Goodness is her charge. And she lives up to it alone.

CHEN (FROM COMMS): Which isn’t even true. Aries, the Ramblers, Captain Cancer, Queen Pisces – by that point, Andromeda had relied on others twice a movie! Well, minus Andromeda 3, but… (SIGHS)

VEGA (FROM COMMS): Jack never spoke to me directly about his design problem, but I could see it amongst the lines, as it were. Something at the core of Polaris Park had gone wrong for him, somewhere. Some of his work orders implied that the problem had come from compromises he’d made, and so he tried hiding the gift shops, changing the logo so that ‘Polaris’ was much larger than ‘Park,’ that kind of thing. Then a week later, all those orders would be undone, and he clearly felt that the problem came earlier than his compromises… from the park’s initial contraception, perhaps.

I knew that he expected me to decode that subtext. I like to think I was rather a confidant for him in that way – the only one he could undress even part of his heart to.

SOUND: WATER DRIPPING, RIPPLING FADES IN. DISTANT BOOM.

SMALL FRY: (BARK BARK!)

JUNO: Huh?

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Despite Dr. Vega’s claims, the work orders we’ve unearthed state Takano’s frustrations directly to every head of every department. Polaris Park was not doing what it was supposed to – though Takano was never clear about what its actual purpose was.

SOUND: DISTANT BOOM.

JUNO: What the hell was—

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

HAWK (FROM COMMS): And as Takano tried to solve it—

SOUND: DISTANT BOOM.

—the days to Polaris Park’s opening – and the man’s disappearance—

SOUND: TWO DISTANT BOOMS.

—drew closer and closer.

SMALL FRY: (BARK BARK!)

SOUND: CLICK, COMMS CUTS OFF.

JUNO: Shhh!

JUNO (NARRATOR): We were close to the exit by then. There was just one last pipe we had to pass through, one big enough to stand and walk in. We hadn’t heard a Theia bot in half an hour; it was quiet here.

Until that thumping started, down at the end of the pipe.

SOUND: DISTANT BOOMS.

As quickly as I could I searched the wall around me for weak spots – cracks, openings, anywhere at all to hide – but there were none. This thing had picked the one solid spot left in the entire Oldtown sewer system to corner us.

SMALL FRY: (WHIMPERS)

SOUND: DISTANT BOOM.

JUNO: (QUIETLY) Get behind me, kid, it’s alright. You’re gonna be alright.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The noise kept coming. I tried to make a plan: hide Small Fry in the sludge and try to talk my way out? No, the Theia bots were chatty, and she couldn’t hold her breath that long. Take a shot at it before it saw us? Maybe, but I doubted I could connect without a Theia on my side.

It got closer.

SOUND: SPLASH.

And closer. And then it rounded the corner.

SOUND: SPLASH.

?????: (GROWLS, PANTING)

SMALL FRY: (YIPS & BARKS)

JUNO: A rabbit…? Alive?

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

RABBIT: (GROWL-BARKS)

JUNO: You know him. You know that rabbit, don’t you?

SMALL FRY: (YIPS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): So, that was it, then. Some of the rabbits were alive. I’d brought Small Fry home, and… I felt just… awful.

Looking into her big black eyes, one hand on her matted fur, I realized I already cared about this little rabbit. Protecting her made me feel useful, and loved, and… it was hard to put that away.

I let myself live in maybes for a second. A little rabbit munching snack food under my desk. A big one asleep in the corner of my office – ‘the muscle,’ I’d call her, but really… her name would be Small Fry. Even when she got huge.

I never really would’ve taken her, not really; but… it was nice to pretend, for a second.

JUNO: You can trust that big fella over there?

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: Then go home, kid.

Go home.

SOUND: SPLASHING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): So I watched her hop away. She seemed… happy.

RABBIT: (IN BACKGROUND) (GROWLS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): And that’s when the big rabbit ran over and socked me in the face.

RABBIT: (ROARS)

SOUND: PUNCH.

JUNO: Oof!

SOUND: BIG SPLASH.

H-hey, come on! I know you were scared, but—

SOUND: PUNCH, SPLASH.

Oof!

The hell do you want from me? Money? I got creds, but you have to get off me—

RABBIT: (ROARS, GROWLS)

SOUND: PUNCHES.

JUNO (NARRATOR): This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how the rabbits were. They’d never turn down creds and they never made those noises and they were never… this angry.

I reached for my blaster. But the rabbit had a desperate quickness I’d never seen before and in a second my gun was spinning over his shoulder.

RABBIT: (ROARRRRRR)

SOUND: PUNCH. PLOP.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The rabbit reared back to howl. He still had crumbs and frosting in his fur, big soft belly for scratching, just like all the rabbits I knew. But this one was burned, too. Charred trenches of fur and skin running along his sides, part of one ear gone.

And he looked… so scared. Pissed-off and powerless; like if he couldn’t pin down and punch all those Theia bots, or the human race, or death itself… he was ready to settle for me.

I still had my plasma knife, but I couldn’t stab him. I couldn’t let Ramses make me kill again.

RABBIT: (ROARS)

SMALL FRY: (SQUEAKING)

JUNO (NARRATOR): Small Fry ran up to the rabbit and tugged on his tail. The rabbit nearly jumped out of his fur, and didn’t even look behind him before he kicked one of those huge legs back at the kid.

RABBIT: (RAHHH!)

SOUND: PUNCH. PLOP, SPLASH.

SMALL FRY: (WHIMPERING)

JUNO (NARRATOR): I’ve never seen a rabbit do that. This rabbit had never seen it, either. Looked like he’d spend the rest of his life wishing he hadn’t. Then he turned, and I saw that he was ready to blame it all on me.

RABBIT: (PANTING, BIG HOWL)

JUNO (NARRATOR): A few months ago I might’ve let him, too. That’s what a hero’s for, right? Taking all the hits so the innocent don’t have to, while the ones causing all the pain sit in the stands and watch, blood and popcorn butter sticky on their fingertips.

I was done with that. Instead, I was gonna give the rabbit some advice. So I turned the volume on my comms all the way up.

SOUND: INCREASINGLY LOUDER BEEPS.

RABBIT: (ROARRRR)

JUNO (NARRATOR): And right when he was about to crush my skull… I jammed my comms into his ear and pressed play.

SOUND: FEEDBACK SCREECH. BLIP.

JACKET (FROM COMMS): (VERY LOUD, OVER THE BELOW) We may look backward only to ensure we have not walked this path before.

RABBIT: (OVER THE ABOVE) (HOWL OF PAIN)

SOUND: BLIP. SPLASH.

JUNO: Whaddaya know? Looks like that advice just saved my life, too.

SOUND: SPLASHING FOOTSTEPS.

Stay down, cottontail. I’m not kidding.

SOUND: LOW ELECTRIC HUM.

(OVER THE BELOW) See this? Plasma knife. Real hot; real sharp. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you come any closer, I’ll have to.

RABBIT: (OVER THE ABOVE) (GROWLS)

JUNO: Take the kid and go. This’ll kill you, you understand? Dead.

Stop! Neither one of us wants this!

RABBIT: (BIG GROWL)

JUNO (NARRATOR): But he kept running towards me. And he knew he wouldn’t win. I’m just not sure he cared.

He was almost on top of me. I knew I’d do it if I had to, and… that’s when I heard the first shot.

SOUND: BIG BLASTER SHOT. ELECTRIC WHIR.

THEIA: (AFTER A PAUSE) Targets detected.

SOUND: CREAKING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): A big Theia bot stood in front of me and its first laser sizzled in the wall behind.

The bot had Small Fry pinned between a wall and the end of its cannon.

SMALL FRY: (BARKING)

JUNO: Dammit, no, no, no…!

RABBIT: (GROWLS)

THEIA: Come closer. Rabbit.

JUNO: …What?

RABBIT: (GROWL?)

THEIA: Come closer. I will tell you. When. To stop.

SOUND: SPLASHING FOOTSTEPS.

Closer. Just. A little closer. Real close. There.

SMALL FRY: (YIP!)

SOUND: PLOP.

THEIA: Your little one.

SMALL FRY: (BARKS, MEWLS)

RABBIT: (GRRRRRR)

THEIA: Now please leave. And be careful. Bunnies.

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

SOUND: SPLASHING FOOTSTEPS FADE.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The two ran, and Small Fry never looked back. I was proud of her. We may look backward only to ensure we have not walked this path before, right? Wherever those rabbits were going, whatever home awaited them… they’d definitely never been there before.

THEIA: You. Stay there.

SOUND: CREAKING.

JUNO: (HEAVY BREATHING)

SOUND: CREAKING STOPS. HISS OF STEAM.

THEIA: Are you injured. User. Mista Steel.

JUNO: Mista…

(STARTS LAUGHING, OVER THE BELOW)

THEIA: Because. Um. Ramses wants to see you aboveground. And. Somethin’ somethin’. No. Don’t say. Somethin’ somethin’. Say—

JUNO: Rita?!

THEIA: —somethin’, you—

JUNO: Rita, is that really you?

THEIA: No. I’m. Um. What’s this thing called. Tara. Teyona. Let me. Look it up.

JUNO: Rita! God, I am glad to see… whatever the hell robot this is.

THEIA: This is. The Theo’s Spectacles.

JUNO: Wait– you yelled at the bot for saying “somethin’ somethin’,” which means you must be able to hear it.

THEIA: Nuh-uh.

JUNO: Rita…

THEIA: Who’s that. She sounds nice.

JUNO: Just drop the joke, alright? I’ve been looking for you for days, I’m filthy, I’m tired, so just tell me where the hell you are!

THEIA: Oh. Does it make you worried. Not knowing. Where very pretty user. Rita is?

JUNO: Rita, I said—

THEIA: ‘Cause maybe. Then. She should disappear for weeks instead. Not say anything. ‘Cause that would definitely make you. Less worried. And not way more worried. Ain’t that right. Boss?

JUNO: (AFTER A PAUSE) Oh, I…

(QUIETLY) What did I do?

Rita, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

…Rita?

THEIA: The Theia Order. Is shutting. Down.

SOUND: POWERING DOWN.

JUNO: Rita? Rita?!

…No.

Please…

SOUND: THUMPING ON METAL.

No! Damn it, no! No!

I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Rita; and, I know that’s not enough. I know how sour a sorry tastes when it comes from someone who’s apologized before and never changed a thing. I know you’ve got no reason to believe me, but…

SOUND: METAL CLUNK.

Please don’t leave me here, Rita. You’ve got every reason to, but… I’m tryin’ to get better. I really want to get better, maybe for the first time in my life since the HCPD, and… I’m just so scared that it’s too late, and everybody’s already smartened up and gone, and maybe you should, but please, please—

RITA: Hi Mista Steel.

JUNO: (YELPS, PANTING) How long were you behind me?

RITA: Just for the last ‘please please.’ I miss anything you wanna say again?

JUNO: I, uh…

I’m sorry, Rita. I’m just… so sorry. It won’t happen again.

…Rita?

SOUND: THWUMP.

Oof!

RITA: I missed you, boss. I was real worried.

JUNO: I know. I hear you. For once. (DEEP BREATH) And I missed you too, Rita. Really.

RITA: (SNIFFLING)

JUNO: What? What’s the matter?

RITA: (SNIFFING/CHOKING BACK TEARS) We just… ain’t never hugged this long before, boss. (SWALLOWS) It’s nice.

JUNO: Oh. Yeah, it’s…

(CLEARS THROAT) Anyway, uh… I got a map, and it says there should be a way out just over—

RITA: Oh, yeah. The whole system’s bein’ shifted around, boss. None’a your maps are gonna work anymore.

JUNO: Shifted around for what?

RITA: Oldtown, I guess. But anyway, I figured out the way up before I even came down here because you know me, Mista Steel, I’m all for an adventure but as soon as it’s one that might get one’a my three S’s wet, I gotta get in and out. That’s right, my shoes, snacks, and salmon sausage snacks, so—

JUNO: You know a way up?

RITA: I do! Wanna go see? I was hopin’ we’d be able to bring that big puppet I hacked into with us, but it ain’t exactly gonna fit through the manhole. Or up the ladder, which I learned ‘cause at first I had two ways out but then I broke one, you’re never gonna believe how, boss, it was—

JUNO: With the big robot, right. Listen, Rita, I want to hear that whole story, I really do, but can we do it someplace we’re not covered in slime?

RITA: That’s a great idea, boss. This way.

SOUND: SPLASHING FOOTSTEPS.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): (FADING IN) …let’s look at that moment one more time. Opening day at Polaris Park. Moments after Takano’s last employee check-in. The silent, solitary moment in which his departure flipped from an idea to an action.

We can’t know what he was thinking in those moments. And in the end, trying to understand every minute detail of the departed’s psyche tells us more about ourselves, in many ways, than about them. Just ask Lorenzo Vega:

VEGA (FROM COMMS): Jack was… a perfectionist. He’d made so many compromises with his park, had seen his vision so diluted. One can only conclude that the sight of it, his creation so malformed… who wouldn’t leave?

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Or Jocelyn Chen:

CHEN (FROM COMMS): He was a visionary, and that meant he had no idea what he was doing. He could help us up to greatness, but him? His sights were always going to be aimed up about a dozen feet over where he ended up, and he was always going to be bored by whatever he made. Always.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Or Miranda Fairbanks, who wrote in her memoir:

FAIRBANKS ACTOR (FROM COMMS): Humanity needs people like Jack, I think. People who can just see how things should be, without the reality of what they are getting in the way. That’s how progress happens. And so I assume he must have seen the true way forward somewhere other than us… and run towards it.

JUNO: This ladder?

RITA: Mm-hmm.

SOUND: GRUNTS, METAL CLANKING.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): We’ve presented you with theories over these many hours, but we will probably never know why Jack Takano left us behind. The only clue we have is the audio note found in his office, once he was gone. And to conclude our program, we will play it in full.

MUSIC: STARTS (FROM COMMS).

JACK (FROM COMMS): The thing I find most beautiful about Andromeda, in the end, is this: that she can never be satisfied. I wonder now, if Orion’s curse wasn’t really a blessing for our Homeless Hero. He turned her from a protector of one city, to an active force of good the world over.

RITA: (OVERLAPPING WITH THE END OF ABOVE) What’s the holdup, boss?

JUNO: Found the manhole cover.

JACK (FROM COMMS): To find home—

JUNO: (GRUNTS)

SOUND: METAL SCRAPING.

JACK (FROM COMMS): (OVER THE ABOVE) —Andromeda always looks backwards. Polaris. Nostalgia. The paradise left behind. And this works in our stories, when we only show the shining city for a few seconds at a time. But in life, no such place exists.

RITA: Mista Steel?

JACK (FROM COMMS): If it did—

RITA: Mista Steel?

JACK (FROM COMMS): —we would already live there.

JUNO: This… this isn’t Oldtown.

RITA: I’m pretty sure it is, boss. I counted paces an’ everything.

JUNO: No. The map’s right. I’m happy to explain in a minute, Rita, just as soon as I get this cannon out of my face.

THEIA: Remove yourselves. From. The sewer. Help. Is on the way.

JACK (FROM COMMS): But there may yet be such a home. I believe we can find it. But we cannot turn our heads if it is not what we expected, or if we fear what we see when it opens its gates.

RITA: Oh no oh no oh no—

THEIA: Now put your hands up. Please.

JACK (FROM COMMS): Home is not in the past. It can’t be. And that means when we find home, when we find the perfect place we yearn for… I doubt we will even recognize it.

RITA: What is this place? What happened to Oldtown?

JUNO: Says it right there on the sign, Rita.

“Welcome to Newtown: The City of the Future.”

JACK (FROM COMMS): And so now I leave. I go now to seek the true way home, as any hero should. And I urge you to do the same. Or, at least, to accept it when it comes. I look forward to meeting you there. Jack Takano.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actor Matthew Zahnzinger and co-creators Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

SOPHIE: …There’s not anything more to it than it’s like, yeah, well I thought of it, and I’m smart, and how do I know that? Well, ‘cause I’m me, I just know.

KEVIN: Mmhmm.

SOPHIE: And there’s nobody… above him to tell him, y’know. And there’s no way of knowing for sure… what is good.

MATTHEW: Although to that point, and, to get… back on my bandwagon of every commentary complimenting Kevin’s writing, um—

SOPHIE: Could you compliment me a little bit, for once?

MATTHEW: (LAUGHING)

SOPHIE: What is this?!

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Minchowski, Camille Blanton, Christine Kim, Rowan Collins, Garrett M, Jay Iannuzzelli, Karin Z-H, Canteloupe, Fiona Parker, Regan, Ko, Kim Zeugin, Atha Lang, Vron, Charlie Spiegel, and Jaimie Gunter for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

Did you know that The Penumbra has merchandise for sale? It’s true! The Penumbra has partnered with DFTBA to bring you the posters, shirts, and pins your heart desires. Just go to dftba.com and search for The Penumbra Podcast.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Long Way Home, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Matthew Zahnzinger as Jack Takano and Ramses O’Flaherty, Marge Dunn as Hawk Hackett, Bob Mussett as Lorenzo Vega, Melissa Barker as Jocelyn Chen, Allison Choat as the Miranda Fairbanks reader, Sophie Kaner as the Theia and Small Fry, and Kate Jones as Rita.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert. If you wish to know more about our ever-expanding, infinitely-creative team of artists, musicians, editors, designers, and managers, you can read about them in the show notes of this episode.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#juno steel #i miss small fry

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abutterflyscribbles · 7 years

Text

Monkey Business

my OCs Operative Zero and Monkey in a vaguely superhero universe.

“May I have this dance?”

Helen pulled herself away from a mental assessment of the ballroom, filing the number of exits and blind spots away in the back of her mind. She turned slowly, allowing a smile to form just as slowly. Simply snapping into a cheerful expression would seem as genuine as a twenty dollar bill with Washington's face on it. So instead she made a subtle show of someone being called out of a thoughtful silence, shifting her untouched drink to one hand so she could push back a few strands of hair. Slightly flustered, but not embarrassed. A touch of humanity, a small flaw to keep her from seeming aloof.

“Thank you,” she said, smile still only halfway complete, “I prefer not to dance.”

“Oh, really?” the man said with a sigh, “I suppose that you have zero interest in dancing?”

Helen's incomplete smile dropped away. For a moment she let the intricate facade of charming socialite drop and diverted all her energy to assessing the man—the possible threat—standing in front of her.

He was tall. That made Helen immediately dislike him since she had to lean her head back to look up at his face and ruin her poised posture. The man stood at ease, hands clasped behind his back, hand tipped to one side while he waited for her to answer. A curl at the corner of his lips and a spark in his eyes indicated his emphasis on the word zero had not been a coincidence.

That much confirmed, Helen made a brief note of other details. He was tall, slim, relaxed, had a head of thick but completely white hair even though he couldn't have been more than forty, his dark face sketched only with faint laugh lines. Clothing was stylish and tailored, otherwise unexceptional. He stood at ease. Light. There was the air of a dancer or athlete about him.

“Yes,” Helen murmured, bringing her drink to her lips to hide the abrupt changes in her expressions, “you might say that. Mr. . . .?”

“Kyle,” the man said with an easy grin, “Kyle Lucian. Bored millionaire and collector of antiquities and odd things.”

“Oh, yes,” Helen said, offering her hand “you're opening an exhibit of some of your treasures.”

“Of African and African American history,” Lucian said, looking like he was laughing at some private joke, “and you are Miss Helen Pickerton, the beauty of high society.”

Helen felt that losing a little of her smile after that remark was only natural. Even when she had been a fresh girl of twenty she had never been a great beauty. At thirty-eight she might have been called, at a stretch, handsome. People said she had 'good bone structure'. Perhaps her skull was exceptional. No one would ever compliment the scars she had from breaking her left upper arm in three places, or the metal plate in her ankle. Only a skillful and scrupulous application of makeup kept the scars on her face hidden.

Now this Kyle Lucian was throwing false praise at her, as if a woman needed to be constantly validated by some random's man appraisal of her physical appearance.

“Hardly, Mr. Lucian--”

“Call me Kyle,” Lucian said, still holding Helen's hand. He had shaken it and then retained it, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles in an overly familiar way. And he still looked like he was laughing at her.

“Call me Miss Pickerton,” Helen replied, removing her hand, “CEO of Keyhole Enterprises and nothing near a beauty.”

“You're too modest, Helen--”

“If you insist on complimenting me, Mr. Lucian, please try to infuse them with some truth.”

“Well, then I shall praise your skillful rebuilding of your company after it crashed under your brother's care. It has become an operation head and shoulders above all others. Innovative, cutting-edge, caring. Your patents for improved motorcycle helmets have probably saved hundreds of lives.”

Operation.

Helmet.

Laughing, still laughing. Who was he to be playing and hinting with such significance? He knew, he must know and he was toying with her. Playing with her. If she was dressed for work, helmet and all, she would have been able to knock him down and drag him away for questioning. He was a leak, and her agreement with the authorities let her investigate leaks in her operation. She could also call one of her team to take him in, but then it would all be associated with her, Helen Pickerton, and perhaps confirm things he only had suspicions of.

“That's better,” Helen said, “those are things I'm actually proud of.”

“Aren't you proud of your makeup job, too?” Lucian leaned forward to look at her face.

Helen restrained herself from flinching. He couldn't see the scars. There was no way he could see the scars . . .

Her breath stopped when he tapped her chin with a well-manicured finger.

Right on the scar she had gotten when the chin guard of her helmet had cracked and the criminal she had been pursuing punched the jagged edge right into her face. Her comm had been smashed and after she had subdued and cuffed the criminal she had been too dizzy to mount her bike. It had been lucky that--

“C'mon,” Lucian grabbed her by the hand and pulled her toward the dance floor, “let's dance!”

“Wait!”

“No time like now!”

Helen caught up the train of her dress, wishing she had worn something other than this confining turquoise mess of glittering beads.

“I love your dress,” Lucian said, sweeping her into a ballroom dancing hold and into a waltz, showing that he was as light on his feet as he looked, “Chinese pattern, right? It suits you. I mean, I think you look best in black and white, but I'm biased.”

Helen was trying very hard not to make a scene by flipping Lucian over her shoulder and stabbing the heel of her shoe into his neck. She followed his lead in the dance, moving every bit as smoothly as him and wishing he didn't hold her . . . Well, it wasn't exactly inappropriate. It was a very respectable dancing hold and he wasn't trying to feel her up or pull her into a tight hold. He just held her so comfortably. And it almost felt comfortable to her.

“Stop playing coy,” Helen said sweetly, her expression open and friendly to anyone who was looking. No one could see her driving one dark-blue fingernail into Lucian's hand.

“You're going to draw blood,” Lucian said without losing the tempo of the music, “I really love the way your dress swirls, by the way. Must be all that practice with your cape.”

“I am going to break your finger unless you tell me who you are right now.”

“I promised I would take you dancing,” Lucian said, smiling brightly even when Helen's fingernail about to puncture his palm, “Finally, our first real date. It's not a real date if we spend all of it jumping over rooftops and punching crime in the jaw.”

Helen's hand flew up to her chin, touching her scar.

She had been about to lose consciousness, slumped over her bike with her chin split open and her head spinning, but Monkey had been there. He had come bouncing back, dragging the first man's accomplice with him, spouting wisecracks and witticisms with all his usual careful joviality. Then he had gone quiet. She didn't remember him talking after that. She didn't remember much but being dizzy and sick, just that Monkey had picked her up and she had felt safe.

A ridiculous, frivolous cat-burglar in an African style monkey mask, who hung around incessantly, wiggling into her operations, making himself useful, flirting shamelessly and not at all abashed at being rebuffed.

“Monkey,” she said, still caught in the turning of the melody.

“Operative Zero,” Monkey said with a nod of his head, as if being formally introduced. He spun Helen out and then pulled her back in, “I'm so glad I came. I never come to boring rich people parties. But then I saw a gorgeous lady with a distinctive posture and a familiar set of lips. It's really a shame your helmet only shows your mouth, because I am enthralled by your eyes.”

Helen had a lot of things to say. None of them were suitable for asking out in the open. Instead she asked, “Don't tell me I was that easy to spot.”

“Stop smiling, lovely, it's unnatural. Where’s the deadpan vigilante of the night that I know so well?”

“I'm not a vigilante. If I was then I wouldn't have been able to persuade the authorities that it wasn't worth wasting the manpower on forming a taskforce to track you down.”

“I always thought that was very sweet of you.”

“You did return the stolen items, after all.”

“My love for you put my feet back on the path of righteousness.”

“Answer my question.”

“I wasn't sure if it was you, so I threw out a few lures. You are a divine dancer. We're going dancing twice a week from now on. You just . . . move like you.”

“Like this?”

They were dancing past an open door. Helen took over leading and swung Lucian neatly through the door and out of sight of the chattering, glittering crowds. He reeled a little bit until he found the wall.

“Whew, like that!” He agreed, sliding down to sit on the floor, leaning his head to the side again to watch Helen's face, “Yes, that's much better. I've always imagined you had a little line between your eyes when you looked at me like that. And you do!”

“What are you going to do with this information?”

“What, knowing your first name? Well, it'll be nice to have something to put on the card when I send you flowers. And to know where to pick you up when I want to take you out on the town. I promise not to drop by without calling ahead. I might be flippant but I'm not rude.”

Helen would have dropped her head into her hands if she hadn't been worrying about her makeup. Instead she gathered up handfuls of her beaded skirt and crushed them under her clenched fingers.

No one was supposed to know who Operative Zero was. An information leak like this could be disastrous to her operation, to her family. People would know where to send their hate, their bombs, know who to target to bring down the organization. There were be panic. The operatives would worry that their own identities were in jeopardy. The political opposition would seize this leak and blow it out of proportion, everything would--

“Hey, now,” Monkey gently tugged the skirt out of her hands. She was almost used to that sort of thing, he did it so often. Straightening her cape, poking her shoulder to get her attention, clasping her hand in another dramatic profession of love, “You think I'm going to go tell the whole world?”

“Maybe.”

“Not a chance, sweet. We're exclusive.”

“Let me guess, I have to go out with you or you'll post my secret identity on twitter.”

“Whoa!” Monkey bounced to his feet, curving himself sideways to get on eye level with Helen, “I'm madly in love with you, not insanely obsessed! Okay, well, I am crazy about you, yes, but not in that way.”

“You did just force me to dance.”

“I just tricked you into going with the flow. What's a little hoodwinking between friends? Or lovers, for that matter?”

“You're not being very convincing.”

Nonetheless, Helen's hands were relaxing and the tension in her shoulders easing. She couldn't help it. She trusted Monkey. They'd been through too much for her not to. There he was, being himself, twisting himself around and beaming at her with a smile she had never seen before. She'd heard the sound of it in his voice, but she had never seen it.

She thought she might like it.

“Something I love about you—aside from everything—is that there might not be much expression on your face, but if I watch I can see it all anyway,” Monkey swung around on his heel, taking in the small room they were in, “Sometimes I can see you smile even when you're face is solemn. Something about how your shoulders loosen.”

“You're ridiculous. You're saying that knowing who I am doesn't change anything?”

“Of course. Now I can see your eyes. That's life-changing. They are peerless pieces of polished jade.”

“Haven't you considered that I now know who you are? I could give your name to the police and have you arrested.”

“Angel, you would never.”

Helen crossed her arms.

“. . . would probably never?”

“Can't you ever be serious?”

“Only about you.”

Helen tried to ignore the strange little jump her heart made.

“Did you steal that from a movie?”

“Probably. But can't you hear the clear ring of truth in it anyway?” Monkey refrained from grabbing her hand again, holding his out, “Oh, you fantastically beautiful, ruthless hero of the night, I've loved you ever since you kicked me through two display cases. It might have been a different story if that had been genuine African pottery instead of replicas, but let's not dwell.”

“You pushed me out a third story window.”

“And caught you! What are superhuman reflexes for if not to save your true love?”

“Yes, about that--”

“Oh, there's plenty of time to tell you my backstory later. I look forward to hearing yours, to be sure. Right now, though, we both have the night off and there is music to step to. How about a breakfast date to hash out everything and tonight we pretend we are two ordinary millionaires who have never jumped off a building and onto a moving vehicle in our lives?”

Helen was sure she should have been fighting off a headache by now.

But she wasn't.

“My ankle hurts.”

“Oh?” Monkey's eyes darted down to the hem of Helen's skirt, “I didn't step on your foot, did I? Because that would be unforgivable.”

“No, I just have a metal plate in it and these heels throw everything out of alignment.”

“Goodness, that's no good. No more dancing tonight?”

“Well . . . maybe just one,” Helen held out her hand.

Monkey took it, a delighted grin glowing on his face, “I knew I'd wear you down. But, no, no way am I allowing you to dance. You're going home and putting a hot towel on your ankle. And, if you'll allow me, I'm going to sweep you off your feet.”

“What--?”

“I'm going to pick you up and carry you lovingly like the precious treasure you are. I would just surprise you, but I don't want to be flipped over your shoulder. Again.”

Helen considered this while Monkey attentively watched her impassive face.

It had been awhile since Helen Pickerton had done anything disgraceful. She never did anything ruinous, but just something for people to talk about and make them think they knew what was behind the mask of the powerful businesswoman. Being carried out after having a little too much to drink . . . that about fit the bill.

“I am going to get another drink and then stumble over a potted plant,” Helen brushed her dress off.

“I get to heroically rescue you?”

“Only because it would cause too much attention if I rescued you.”

“Darling, you're marvelous.”

“Then we're going to my apartment and talking about all this.”

“Can I swing by my place to pick up the small volume of poetry I have written about you? I have a whole series about how the light glints off your helmet.”

“We're talking about the repercussions of you finding out my identify. That is all. Potted plant. Five minutes. Be there.”

“How big of a an interior floral decoration do you need to trip over before I get to kiss you?”

“Business, Monkey. Business.”

“You said monkey business.”

“I'm calling the police department.”

“Okay, okay. Only business, no monkey business. See you in five,” Monkey ducked his head and kissed her cheek, dancing out of the way before she could strike at him.

“Monkey!”

Monkey batted his eyes at her.

Helen left before he could see the blush coloring her cheeks.

#my ocs #my original stories #operative zero #monkey #zero and monkey #superhero universe #drabble #garbage but at least I wrote something

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steelsuit · 7 years

Photo

Hi!! SORRY FOR TAKING SO DAMN LONG WITH REPLIES. My communication skills are not the best. it’s like a month worth of asks. rip I do read them closely after receiving the messages, but I suck at making a response pls forgive me. mmm i hope that tumblr didn’t eat the private responses.

@ anon

hi! that's great to hear, I'm really glad that the items have arrived safely at your place! :D Thank you for your support!!

@ anon

THANK U. I really like drawing long eyelashes and make up ;))

@kleinuuu

SOBBING. we could have had it all

@greatprotector and @bioluminosity

hi! sorry for slow response. I've been struggling with motivations lately resulting in drawback on my college work. However here is my commission info for future reference. I know that @jekyde and some other peeps asked about comms quite a while ago and I was supposed to be available during a break, but that p much failed and I am super sorry. :( I really don’t want customers to have to wait once we arrange everything, so I prefer doing those when there’s not much else on the plate so everyone can receive their images in an acceptable time frame.

@ anon

Hi! I hope that the package has reached your friend already, and if not, that it'll happen soon. Thank you very much for your support! ;u;

@ anon

OH MAN;;; i wish I could say proportions, bc that's more.. proper way to do it, but I'll have to say that, right now, it's form and flowing shapes. I bullshit my way thru a lot. I really need to start doing anatomy studies again to get better haha :D

@whosdisidk

THANK!! I LOVE THEM!! I have some more MEA fanart sketches and wips, hopefully will finish them sometime :D

@ anon

Hey anon! AH YES the tumblr mobile experience. And no, not really, I hadn't ever recorded myself painting or drawing. Did plan to, but it never really happened. Probably should haha. IF that happens, I'll upload it.

@ anon

Hi, my clan isn't active in WF anymore. I play occasionally, but my clan basically moved to OVW. We were just a bunch of friends playing together, not an open clan.

@ anon

I can't tell you from personal experience. I am still a college student and only sell my prints/stickers, do occasional commissions here or from rl. From another person's pov. It depends on what you do, working in a company is very different from working freelance. My mother sells her traditional paintings on auctions and to personal clients; while it allows for flexible schedule, it is never a certain job, how much will you make within a month, having to manage your own resources, fees, time, etc.

Sorry that I cannot answer this in detail or be helpful, but I do not want to mislead you, as I am not speaking from my own experience.

@ anon

aaah I'm happy to hear that! :D

@ anon Thank you!! all these messages re: my shop make me really happy! To think that you guys want to purchase my work and support me, is really nice. thanks again!

@blehrosewoodwolf

hi! I don't have any video/speedpaint recorded, sorry! I probably should start seeing that there are requests for it haha

@ anon

I did have a small tutorial about colouring metal waaay in the past, but that's it. There isn't much to say about lineart. hmm. I either do it digitally or traditionally with pens. I tend to draw thicker outer lines around objects, sometimes things that are closer, and draw detail in with thinner line. I don't have any tricks or a formula, really. Skin tones: Think of the base colour, the colour of the environment and the light, that will affect the skin, and any hue in your image by a big margin. Think of colours in relation to their surroundings. They really don't always look to be what they are. Practice with photos, check their colours by colour picking. Observe some works of your fav artists. For rendered images, it's good to check your values in BW preview mode (some artist say that as long as your values are good, you can make any bs colours work, but idk haha). I like to use the "when light is cold, the shadow is warm and vice versa" rule tbh :D but it doesn't have to be that way. With neon images I just do whatever seems ok without using way too many of them. I like rendering skin with the default round, but slightly softened brush. Brush+alt colour picker is your friend for blending.

#long post #replies #text #time to lie down in the dirt for making so many ppl wait

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theforgottengn · 7 years

Text

Wicked and Secret Somethings

Characters: Kilo, Victor, Sierra, Echo, Juliett, Hotel, Papa, Richards

Word Count: 2,194

Trigger Warning: Slight Swearing.

Summary: Since my brain hates me and refuses to let me work on actual plot or sketch comics it decided on writing some ViKi. Sierra Company is sent on a mission to find out all they can about a state senator. Suspicion of the man has risen is recent months. Which means it’s mostly up to Vic & Ki to do what they do best. Click that read more if you wanna…

It was the middle of the day; that time when most regular people would be either at work or going on their lunch break. But, since they never kept schedules that normal people did, this time of day meant that they were hard at work. It was the perfect time for them to do their jobs after all since it guaranteed that next to no one would actually be in their homes. Under normal circumstances what they were doing would be considered unlawful breaking and entering. Fully complete with a couple charges of illegal surveillance of an individual, computer hacking, and possibly a few stealing charges. But since the home owner left the keys to his front door in a fake rock they only entered the man’s home unannounced.

There was no doubt about the hacking and illegal surveillance.

Despite being part of a government organization they did quite a lot of illegal things. Things that they ended up getting away with, time and time again, because they worked for the government. Most people would rot in jail for the rest of their lives if they did even half of the things they did on a regular basis. Not to mention that the two of them alone obtained national security information that they would be probably be executed if they were average citizens.

One of the few advantages of being a spy.

Another was getting to see how regular people spend their lives doing and what they spend their hard earned money on. Not that they didn’t spend money or do things with their lives it was just what they did was never really a choice they made. So the times where they got to really see inside someone else’s life was rather fun for them.

Kilo and Victor were currently doing that in Senator Jacob Keller’s estate.

They had quite a lot of intel on Keller but nothing which was substantial. A descendant from oil money, he was the only living heir to his great-great-grandfather’s fortune so the money, and the large scale South Carolina estate, went only to him. Keller’s love with politics and his natural-born way with people made him the perfect candidate for state senator. Winning each time he ran Keller became the youngest and most re-elected senator in South Carolina’s history.

But they were looking into Keller because intel suggested that he was up to something illegal on the side.

Who hasn’t done something illegal at least once in their life?, Kilo said when the team received this assignment. The comment promptly got her a stern look from both Sierra and their handler Richards. Juliett chuckled under her breath and both Echo and Hotel pretended they didn’t hear. Papa nodded in agreement. Victor, more than used to comments like that from Kilo, just rolled his eyes.

That was a couple days before. Now, while the others did their respective assignments, both Kilo and Victor were hard at work in Keller’s home.

Kilo started off in the library while Victor went to the study. The study was a rather large study for a man who lived alone but then again Keller inherited the estate. Even though the estate had a library the study had one wall that was an entire bookshelf. A large, black oak, desk sat directly across from the bookshelf and two small black leather bucket chairs sat in front of the desk. One wall had two small black end tables each with its own lamp and chair. The lampshades and chair cushions were both a deep, dark, blood-red. The look of the study was completed by the carpet which was the same exact shade of red as the cushions and lampshades.

Victor sat at a large black oak desk in the study with his laptop. It was open right next to the target’s sad excuse for a laptop. Like most people, who think they’re being original when they aren’t, Jacob Keller owned a Macbook Pro. Not a single thing adorned the laptop’s sliver shell that would reveal it was owned by anyone. The Macbook looked as clean and new as it probably did when Keller took it out of the box.

Victor personally owned two laptops.

A black Lenovo Thinkpad E570 which had a Kevlar-lined exterior, strictly on the off-chance anyone shot at him while he worked, that he used for hacking. Victor had affectionately taking to calling it The Beast. And an Alienware that he used for gaming along with everything else which was adorned with multiple stickers. The Beast was currently hooked up to the Macbook so that Victor could hack into it without getting his fingerprints all over it.

He rubbed his hands together gleefully and silently chuckled; finally figuring out the laptop’s password.

The answer stared him out at him from the lone photo on the target’s desk. It was a brown, oak wood, frame with a rectangular photo of Bengal cat. Underneath the photo, in black, were the words: You were more than a pet you were a loving soul I will never forget. RIP Mr. Whiskers.

What kind of person sets the name of their dead cat as their laptop password?

He shook his head annoyed and disappointed in himself for not trying it sooner. It was right in front of his face the entire time, after all. And if he learned anything at all from years of this it was that most people left clues to things just lying about in plain sight.

Better question is what kind of idiot leaves their laptop at home in the first place? Especially a man such as yourself, Mr. Jacob Keller, with your high political status. You’re bound to have a lot of secrets hidden here and you just leave it for little old me. Must be my lucky day.

With the password cracked Victor went to work on looking through the laptop’s files while simultaneously hacking into the target’s online banking account to take a look at his bank statements. Then he was going to work on the man’s multiple email accounts. After that he was going to surf through all of Keller’s social media.

Man, I wish I could see his face when I blow him out of the water.

Victor always loved his job, but, there were a lot of days where Kilo hated hers.

So much of it was very boring and tedious like what she was doing right now; planting bugs. Kilo had a lot of work ahead of her because the house, if you could really call it that since it was so large, had about ten rooms. But that didn’t include the four full-scale bathrooms and the massive library so the room count was actually fifteen. Kilo was currently hard at work bugging the house’s massive library with everything in her surveillance arsenal. And wondering why someone like Jacob Keller would even need to home this large; or anyone for that matter.

Well, she was working, as hard as she could with a double-decker cheeseburger in one hand.

Ki!

They were only a couple rooms away from each other they but still talked through comms. Old habits die hard and older ones die even harder. The sound of Victor’s yell through the comm. link startles Kilo making her jump and drop her cheeseburger.

She makes a small choking noise as the burger hits the wood floor. When her eyes shift to the small camera in her other hand she makes another noise.

“Dammit, Vic! I thought we always agreed no yelling.” she yells as she moves her bangs back from where they fell onto her face. “You made me drop my burger and now there’s cheese all over this camera! If this dries before I can get it all out then this fuck-up is on you.”

Victor rolls his eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh.

Ki, what do I always tell you?

This time Kilo sighs annoyed. “Never eat and work. I know, I know! But you know that I need my brain food and that I would be eating. “So this…” she gestures to the mess on the floor before her, “is your fault.”

You know I can’t see whatever you’re doing, right?

Kilo stares sadly at the mess that covers a good amount of the cherry wood floor. Sighing sadly she bends down and begins to clean the mess. Reaching into the grease-covered bag from the burger joint she palms a bunch of napkins.

“I didn’t even get to take a single bite! I only have my triple chocolate shake left and what the hell am I supposed to do with that? Besides, no matter how great our tech is supposed to be, no camera on Earth can survive this. If this thing is broken, and I wasted all my time, I will literally kill you.”

No, you won’t. You love me too much.

Kilo could practically hear his smirk through the comm. link and it makes her even more pissed off. She finishes picking up the last bit of the burger from the floor and starts to work on getting all the cheese off the parts of the camera. Sharp cheddar would definitely ruin the inner workings of any camera.

“Well, I hope you’re happy, Vic! A perfectly good burger wasted for nothing.”

Ki? I think I found something.

“More important than finding it in you to give your best friend the well-deserved apology she needs right now?”

I’m serious here, okay? This is big. Very big.

“I’m not playing. You owe me another burger, Vic. No. Make that two since I never got to eat this one.” Kilo says, ignoring him, as she walks over to the massive bookshelf. She moves a vase to plant the, now clean and fully functioning, camera in her hand. What lies behind the vase makes her mouth drop open in shock.

She doesn’t say anything to Victor about what she saw and instead keeps looking around the library.

Kilo, I’m telling you this is crazy. No, it’s scandalous. It’s like breaking the internet kind of scandalous!

Blocking Victor out as he talks about how insane whatever information he found is Kilo mentally totals the amount of items she came across. Things that have no place in this man’s home unless Kilo herself put them there, but, she did not. The amount of them is also something that catches Kilo off guard.

This can’t be happening, she says to herself.

Just to make sure that she’s not dreaming or anything she goes through the rest of the house. There’s a couple in the first floor bathroom. The dining room had three hiding in the chandelier alone. And three more were placed randomly about the room. About five or six were hiding all over the master bedroom on the second floor.

His bank statements are all over the place, and, Ki? I just finished fishing through Keller’s four separate email accounts. I’m telling you, this guy’s emails are enough to send him away for a long, long, time. Oh, I wonder what his text messages look like.

Kilo groans slightly and triple taps her comm. link, making it emit a beeping that speeds up as she gets closer to the person she’s online with, so she can find Victor.

She finds Victor sitting at the large black oak desk in the target’s study.

The blue-eyed blonde sits leaning back in the black leather office chair. His hands lay intertwined behind his head. Grinning from ear to ear Victor is obviously more than pleased with his handiwork. His face lights up even more when he sees her in the doorway. Before Kilo even enters the room he begins to tell her everything he found.

“The whole place is bugged!” she yells cutting Victor off before he could finish telling her whatever big news he started to share.

His jaw drops and his eyes go wide; “Holy shit.”

“I know,” she says with a nod. “And I’m talking the whole nine yards, here, Vic. Mics, cameras, hidden motion sensors; all of it. I found over 20 in the library alone.”

“You know what this means, Ki?”

Kilo nods again and sits in one of the black leather bucket chairs on the other side of the oak desk. It was the last thing they ever thought possible, but, it had to be true. This never happened to them before and she doesn’t know what to do. Kilo sighs and thinks for a few minutes but she comes up with nothing.

She looks to Victor but he doesn’t have any answers.

So, Kilo does the only thing that she can in this situation. Tapping her ear comm. she calls Sierra. She bites her bottom lip hoping that their leader answers as quickly as possible. No, scratch that, she just wants Sierra to answer no matter how long it takes. Kilo doesn’t want to take this information to the team’s handler. She can’t. Luckily Sierra does.

This better not be another call saying you’re hungry. I’m not taking time to buy you food, Kilo.

“Somebody out there is on to our guy.”

#here's a thing #the forgotten #story snippet #sierra company #agent kilo #agent victor #agent sierra #agent juliett #agent hotel #agent papa #agent echo #viki #might be a part two in the future #since this has a cliff-hanger ending #total bullshit title there

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