#stop scrappers in one shot who cares.

[sagedgeek]

The Child

Part 4 of The Whispers of Fate (A Rey Djarin fic)

Summary: Rey makes yet another friend. Two, if she counts the new baby. 

Rating: Gen (Platonic)

Word Count: 5.4k

Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist ~ Next Chapter

They spend the night in Kuiil’s little home on his farm, and Rey was immediately enraptured. There had been a few known moisture farmers on Jakku, but they were really strict when it came to scrappers trespassing on their land, especially her. So, she’d never got a good look at one up close before, and she has to say it was just as fascinating as she had expected it would be. Maybe even more so.

It was different from knowing scrap; the opposite really. Instead of each little screw and cell worth only a bit of something on its own, the farm and machines functioned together. Each little screw was important, just like on the Razor Crest, and she was eager to learn as much as she could.

She asked Kuiil several questions after Mando wandered off outside to eat the dinner he was offered. She bounced around the small home, quizzing the amused Ugnaught on everything she’d ever wondered, most of which were not even remotely related to moisture farming. Kuiil happily answered each question though without anything more than an amused chuckle and several praises towards her raving curiosity. He was patient and kind, and he treated every question she asked just like the first, explaining with care and with a wealth of wisdom and knowledge that he’d acquired through his many years of living.

Then Mando had to come in and ruin her fun by announcing it was time for bed.

Rey grunted in frustration and shot him a rebellious glare then looked towards her new friend in hopes he would argue on her behalf, but he only shrugged his shoulders and turned away to finish tidying up his kitchen. Despite her best effort to explain that she wasn’t at all tired, she was sent off to bed, tucked in on a comfy cot set up in Kuiil’s storage room. It was much nicer than the floor of the Razor Crest, but not quite as nice as being cuddled up underneath all her blankets.

She fought off sleep as long as she could, trying her very best to hold in her yawns keep awake just to prove to Mando that she wasn’t tired and she didn’t need to go to bed. It was harder than she thought it was going to be, because apparently she was tired after all, and the hushed undertones of Mando and Kuiil talking in the next room served as a quiet hum of reassurance enveloping her in a warm cloak to remind her that she wasn’t alone. It made her smile. Eventually she drifted to sleep to the low whisps of the turbine just outside the hut and the synchronized chirp of the frogs outside. It didn’t take long at all, and she was already lost in a deep slumber by the time Mando came to check on her and adjust her blankets carefully before he went off to rest himself in preparation for the day to come.

The next morning, while they were waiting for Mando to emerge from his quarters, Kuiil gave her a small tour of the farm, pointing out the machines and parts of the farm he’d explained to her the night before during her incessant quiz of questions.

After Mando woke and came from his room, they all three sat at the breakfast table together while she ate the bowl of porridge provided to her. She chattered throughout breakfast, excited about the things to be done that day. After breakfast she darted outside ahead of the other two, aiming right for the blurg pen. She’d been waiting for it all morning after Kuiil told her the plan he and Mando had discussed the night before. It was a completely foreign wealth of excitement she had only felt one other time in her life. That being when Mando promised to show her his ship.

And she was happy to say it was just as exciting as she hoped it would be. She stood on the makeshift rails of the rounded fence as they watched Mando try and fail to stay atop the stubborn blurg. She giggled repeatedly every time he landed on the ground in an ungraceful lump of metal. Once his cape fell over his helmet as he sat in the dirt and even Kuiil chuckled under his breath at the frustrated Mandalorian. She asked if she could try once, but Mando said it was too dangerous and Kuill agreed with him. She, of course, didn’t agree at all considering she’d climbed on top of that same blurg just yesterday in her effort to save Mando, but she didn’t dare argue and test the man’s patience today. She didn’t want him getting upset with her again and perhaps leaving her behind with Kuiil this time… he was nice and all, but it seemed kind of pointless to escape one desert planet to end up stranded on another, and this time without any hope of being reunited with her parents. So, she passively sat by the fence, chin resting atop her hand, and continued to watch.

Her patience paid off too! When Mando did eventually tame the blurg after much trial and error, he trotted it around in a circle in the small pasture a while. Then he looked up at Rey, and he must have seen the crestfallen look on her face because he lifted a heavy hand to wave her into the pen. She vaulted over the wood she was perched on and ran towards him with an eager smile, and he hoisted her up onto the blurg in front of him. He even let her hold the reins and guide the fish faced monster around the large circle. It was so fun!

Afterwards, things progressed rather quickly. Kuiil had Rey help him saddle up the newly tamed blurg while Mando went to fetch his rifle he left inside, and then they were off.

Rey rode with Mando, squished between him and the bar at the front of the saddle. He let her hold onto the reins to offer her the small illusion of control, but he was sure to hold on loosely with one hand as well, keeping his other arm wrapped around her waist so she didn’t end up flying off during the very bouncy ride. She was small, and even with Mando’s arm keeping her in the saddle, she felt like she could very well take a tumble right off the blurg with every downstep of the large, ungraceful creature. She didn’t know how Kuiil was able to stay on like he was.

It was a long ride, and after the first hour passed, she’d grown tired of the repetitive journey, slumping back against Mando and letting him take the reins from her. She swears she saw that exact same rock formation an hour ago…

Then they stopped.

“That is where you’ll find your quarry,” Kuiil announced, pointing at a small outpost beyond the rocks. Rey strains her eyes to get a good look as Mando and Kuiil begin to converse, but she’s a tad too short to see over the rocks.  

Kuiil mentions the turmoil plagued on his land because of that outpost down there and she turns to avert her interest, looking back and forth between her Mando and Kuiil, paying rapt attention to their discussion.

“—Then why do you help?” Mando asked him.

Kuiil looks at her that time before glancing up at Mando. “I have never met a Mandalorian. I’ve only heard the stories.” Rey cranes her head backwards to look at Mando, and then turns back to Kuill with wide eyes as he begins to speak again. “If they are true, you two will make quick work of it. And then there will again be peace.” Kuiil begins to turn away with his blurg, but Mando holds a hand up to stop him quickly.

“Wait,” he insists, “I have one more favor to ask you.”

Kuiil turns a questioning gaze onto him.

“Take her back to your farm until I return for her.” He nods down at Rey, who squawks indignantly by the prospect of being left behind yet again.

“No,” she replies fervently. “You said you wouldn’t leave me behind. You shook on it!”

Mando slowly dismounts the blurg and looks at her straight on and she could feel the burn of his gaze even through the black visor of his helmet. “I said I would not leave you behind on the Crest. I will return for you as quick as possible.”

Rey scrambles, trying to dismount the blurg before he had a chance to stop her, because she was not going to let Mando do this to her again. But he’s too quick for her and he pushes her back onto the creature, placing his hand on her leg to keep her from trying again. “I am not leaving you behind. I am keeping you safe.”

She turns to Kuiil for help, but he’s only looking on passively as an innocent bystander. “But-but Kuiil says everyone dies who goes in there. You’re going to need help!”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want you coming. If something happens to me, you’ll be safe with Kuiil.” He turns to Kuiil then, grabbing the reins of the blurg she still sits on and handing them over to the Ugnaught.

“No!” Rey exclaims again. “I’m going with you.”

“No,” Mando gripes firmly, “You’re not.”

She glares at him, desperate to express her anger for the situation, but unsure how to properly execute. What more can she do?

“You behave,” he points his gloved finger at her, “I’ll be back soon enough. It won’t be long.” He pats her knee gently as reassurance and Rey feels the sting behind her eyes returning yet again. And she doesn’t dare open her mouth in fear it’ll break the supports holding her composure together. So, instead she holds out her hand to him to shake, using her other to wipe away the moisture from her eyes before the tears could fall.

“Promise?” She squeaks.

He grabs her hand gently, holding it tight in his larger one as he slowly shakes their joined hands to finalize his promise. “I promise I will do my best.”

He lets go and steps away, as hers falls limply to the side while she watches him turn his back to her and approach the overhang. Her blurg lurches forward to follow Kuiil’s and she grapples for purchase on the large saddle, keeping her eye on Mando the entire time in hopes he would suddenly turn around and declare a change of heart.

“Come little one. Your father has much work to do.” Kuiil turns to wave at Mando who had finally turned back around to watch them leave. “Fair well Mandalorian. Your child will be in safe hands. I have spoken.”

Rey mopes while they rode back to Kuiil’s farm, and the Ugnaught was not ignorant of the fact. She held tightly to the saddle so she didn’t fall off because this time Mando wasn’t there to keep her safe and steady.

“Your father will be fine little one. There’s no need to worry.”

“He’s not my father,” Rey sniffles, swiping at her nose. Kuiil gives her an odd look.

“Then who is he?”

And Rey herself didn’t quite know the answer to that one and she had to pause, scrunching her nose in thought while she contemplated their odd predicament.

“I-I don’t know really… I’m his Foundling. That’s all I know.”

“So, he is as your father,” Kuiil discerns.

“No,” Rey argues petulantly, “my Mama and Papa left me behind on Jakku when I was little. And I know my Papa wasn’t a Mandalorian.”

Kuiil makes an amused sound. “That is not what I meant, little one.” She looks at Kuiil and raises a brow in question. “How long have you been with your Mandalorian?”

Rey shrugs. “Not long. Just a few days.”

“Hmm,” Kuiil hums, “So I suppose that means you haven’t learned of their creed. Why do you think he took you in?”

Rey shrugs again, this time with a small grunt. “I don’t know! When I asked him, he just said ‘This is the Way’ and walked away!”

“From what I’ve witnessed of him, that seems very in character for your Mandalorian,” Kuiil jokes with her, casting her an amused smile which makes her giggle in return. “But by that creed they follow, a Mandalorian could not leave an abandoned child behind.”

Rey frowns. “But I’m not abandoned! My parents were going to come back for me one day! They promised they would!”

Something sad crossed Kuiil’s face and he turned away from her. “There are different forms of abandonment, child… and your Mandalorian saw you, wherever it was you came from, and saw that you were in need of a home. Will you deny that?”

Rey frowns and pulls her arms across her chest, nearly falling off the blurg as it leapt over a crack in the rocks.

“Now it is up to him to care for you just as a father would. It is the way they follow.”

Rey looks up to stare at him. “How do you know so much about the Mandalorians?”

Kuiil doesn’t look at her this time as he speaks. “I was sold as an Imperial slave. Several of my companions had come across captured Mandalorian’s in the time when their homeworld was destroyed by the Empire. I had many years to listen to the varying stories relating back to the Mandalorians and their ways of living. Their people are rare now, and they are known to be some of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. That is the only way their kind has survived.”

“What happened to the ones caught by the Empire?” Rey had only heard stories about the Empire. When she heard it had fallen, all she remembers is a loud celebration near Niima. All she knows is the Empire was bad, and they did bad things, and the stories she had heard were bad enough to give her nightmares for days.

“They died when they refused to betray their brothers and sisters. As did most who were captured by the Empire.”

Rey frowns and she slumps her shoulders while rocking side to side to the sharp rhythm of the blurgs steps. Another bad thing the Empire did… It was so sad to think about.

“And after all these years of waiting,” Kuiil begins with a small smile, “I finally met a Mandalorian for myself. And he did not disappoint.”

***

Rey struggled to sleep that night, her rest plagued with nightmares from the day her parents left her behind in the hands of Unkar Plutt himself, intermixed with her awoken fears of the Empire. Flashes of blood red light flickering the horizon surrounding the silhouette of her parents as their bodies slowly dispersed into an ashy wind fading into the mountainous landscape. Darkness… black… and then Mando surrounded by the dark aura which she knew he couldn’t see. A danger to him that only she could witness, but her mouth unable to open to warn and plead with him to run away. And soon red plunged from the darkness, pulling him from the ground and lifting him into the sky where he too became nothing more than ash billowing into the dark atmosphere… more darkness, more red, and more ash. She awoke in tears, cradling her knees close to her chest as she sat up in the small cot she slept in the night before.

It was still dark when she rose, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. It was not dark like in her dream, she couldn’t feel it, and now the stars acted as a source of light in the dark sky, and she loved the stars. So, she wandered outside the house and sat up against the tall tower just outside the door, looking out in the direction they had went the day earlier on blurg, watching for the now familiar glint of beskar to break out across the horizon.

There was none.

The sun eventually rises, and she hadn’t moved, eyes now dry like they had been on Jakku. She hears Kuiil exit the hut, and she looks over her shoulder at him.

“There you are. Come,” he waves his arm for her to follow him inside, “it is time to eat.”

She follows. She tries eating as much as she could only to prevent the familiar pangs of hunger, but now her stomach was in knots. She could barely choke down the watery milk, all she felt was sick.

“Are you alright?” Kuiil questions her when she was barely able to finish her porridge.

She nods slowly, one hand braced on her stomach. She was afraid to open her mouth.

“When you are finished come outside, I have chores that will keep you busy.” He moves to place his dishes on a countertop beside the cooling chamber. “I have spoken.” And with that he leaves the hut.

Rey finds her way outside after her stomach calms down and she places her dishes beside the others, and Kuiil is true to his word. He had plenty of work for her to do. She started the day by caring for the blurgs which she had quickly grown an attachment to despite them trying to kill her and Mando upon their arrival. She petted them as they ate, and she refilled their water trough. Kuiil had a garden of edible plants as well, which he instructed her to go through and check for ripened fruits or vegetables. It was fun work, and afterwards he had let her have a taste of whichever ones she wanted to for lunch. Her favorites were deep orange, they were so sweet and juicy it had startled her! She had never tasted anything so sweet in her life; she didn’t even know things could be so full of taste. Kuiil must have enjoyed watching her enjoy the fruit because he offered her as many as her tiny tummy could eat.

Then she’d saddled up the blurg like Kuiil had taught her, and rode them around the small pasture for exercise. She was so busy, she almost forgot about Mando being gone! But then she unsaddled the last blurg, and wondered if there was anything for her to do next. She looked out at the empty landscape of sand and mountains, and it was like an immediate switch had been flipped…

She frowned, and sat on the ground, slumping sadly against one of the fence posts.

It wasn’t until the sun began to set that she began to really worry. Mando should’ve been back by now! It’d already been more than an entire day since she and Kuiil dropped him off. What if he died in there like all the others had?

Just as she began to contemplate running out into the desert to go and find him herself, Kuiil called out to her. “Little one! I need your assistance.” She followed his voice back to the front of the house, making sure to glance every which way into the desert just in case Mando appeared.

He stood at the top of the tall vapor spire she had been leaning against that morning.

“I will talk you through checking the cistern.” Kuill calls down to her. “I must remain up here to adjust the chilling bars.”

She listens and goes through the motions of checking the cistern and reporting back what she saw on the display to Kuiil. They were at this for a while, the sun almost having fully set. She tells herself that if Mando doesn’t return tonight… then that’s that and she’ll have to accept it. It made her sad to think, but she had to be strong!

At least this time around she had a friend. And a fun job that didn’t involve scrounging the hilly dunes of a barren desert and fighting off fellow scrappers just to earn half a portion.

“I believe someone is here for you.” Kuiil muttered from the top of the tower, still fully concentrated on his work. Rey tweaks a brow as she looked up at him, then looks to the side, off into the desert to find who he was speaking of.

A familiar silhouette breached the horizon, his new shoulder pauldron glinting in the little remaining sunlight, and an odd cylindrical case following at his side. Rey takes off at a sprint, relieved tears springing from her eyes which sting against the dry air as she runs.

She was so happy he wasn’t dead!

When she launches herself at him, she wrapped her arms around his waist tightly, pressing her face against the soft padding just beneath his cuirass, and she squeezes him with all the strength she could muster.

He halts in his step, remaining stiff and awkward as she hugged him, never making move to reciprocate the affection other than the odd pat on her shoulder. All too soon she realizes what it was she was doing, and she jumps away from him in a flurry of panic. “Sorry-sorry-sorry,” she whispered repeatedly, terrified she had hurt him or upset him in some way.

She sees skin… skin surrounding a recently cauterized wound. The fabric of his sleeve had been ripped and she gasped as she grabbed his arm to tug him down and examine the wound. “You got hurt!”

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he affirms her with a tired sigh, quickly curtailing any further inquiries or panic regarding the small injury. He tugs his arm out of her grip and places that hand on her shoulder to turn her around and urge her back towards Kuiil’s camp. She was barely able to catch a glimpse at the closed pram and prepare a question when Kuiil himself spoke up, sounding somber.

“I thought you were dead.” He turns to look down at them, a frown prominent on his face, and Mando drops his head with a sigh. Turns out there was quite a bit of explaining to do.

***

Rey was instantly fascinated by the young creature in the pram. As soon as Mando opened it and placed the tiny thing on the ground to stretch its little legs, Rey was right at its side to examine him. Mando worked on fixing his vambrace, and she follows the child around, watching aptly as it chased after a small frog hopping along the ground. She could sense Mando watching them, but she didn’t bother to look his way.

There was something odd about the child, a weird but comforting aura she could feel emanating from him and which gave her funny little tingles in her tummy.

She listens with mild interest as Kuiil and Mando discuss the Jawas and what had happened at the ship when Mando went to fetch it in order to come pick her up, she was much more interested in the baby who had seemed to just now notice her. He coos at her, reaching out a hand as if to wave with a wide baby-ish smile then turns back to chasing after the frog.

Rey laughs outright when he catches it, barely able to grasp it in his tiny little claws, and stuffs it right into his mouth. She cringes with an amused chant of ‘ew’ as she squeezed one eye shut at the sight of the child trying to eat the poor frog.

“Hey!” Mando scolds. “Spit that out.”

The child doesn’t listen and swallows it whole, and Rey giggles excitedly, especially when the baby has the audacity to gurgle innocently up at Mando as if he’d done nothing wrong. Rey has a feeling they’ll end up having a lot of fun together. She assumes this must be another Foundling… he was a child after all. So hopefully Mando would let him stick around.

“Child,” Kuiil calls for her. “Go saddle a blurg. We shall leave soon.”

And that they do. They travel through the night to reach the Jawas.

It rained too! She’d never been in rain before and it soaked right through her clothes almost instantly, but she didn’t care. She sat in the back of the drag sled, arms outstretched and mouth open as she caught the small water droplets in her mouth. It was like taking a cold shower in the fresher!

The rain eventually dissipated and she was able to sleep a bit despite the bumpy ride. Come morning the child joins her on the back of the trailer where they play with a few rocks together, sliding them back and forth across the metal floor. They laugh and squeal, especially when things start to get a bit rambunctious, and Rey ends up nearly tumbling right out of the sled to get away from the child in the midst of a spontaneous game of tag. Thankfully Mando was there to grab her around the collar and haul her back onto the vessel before she could face plant into the dirt.

“Calm down,” He snaps from his mount at the front.

“Sorry,” Rey replies meekly, shoulders pulling up to her ears in a shy manner.

The baby taps her leg, hitting it repeatedly with an eager giggle, staring up at her with his big eyes and a wide smile. “Maybe we should go back to playing rocks.” She suggests softly, sitting back down on the metal floor, hoping that if she emitted a calm aura the baby would follow her lead and calm as well.

It seemed to work, and they pass the rest of the ride playing silently in the back. Rey could still feel the slight tingle emanating from the baby ever so often. It tickled and made her teeth itch, but there wasn’t much she could do to fix it. Nor much she wanted to do to fix it, it was like a magnet almost, dare she say an addicting feeling.

Neither of them really looked up from the little game they were playing until Mando slowly leaned down to grab his rifle without moving his gaze from the towering metal box coming into view. She’d never encountered the Jawa sandcrawler in person! She’d read about it once on a datapad she’d swiped, but wow! It was so much bigger in person.

Rey scrambles to her feet, standing up behind Mando as she stared up at the large ship, then down at the hooded Jawas. She’d never seen so many all at once before!

“They really don’t like you for some reason,” Kuiil states in response to the Jawa’s passionate chattering and aimed blasters.

“Well, I did disintegrate a few of them,” Mando mumbled.

Rey grabbed at the folds of his cape around his shoulders. “You did?” She whispered in awe. “How’d you do that?”

Instead of answering her, Mando looked up and she followed his gaze to see even more Jawas beginning to peak out from the ship. Rey huddled back a bit, hiding behind Mando’s larger frame.

“You need to drop your rifle.”

“I’m a Mandalorian,” Mando grunted, “weapons are a part of my reliegion.”

The blurg came to a stop beside the large sandcrawler, and Din sighed as he moved to set the blaster down. That’s when Rey saw it… lying there on one of the large tarps spread out on the ground.

It was her helmet! The one she had left back on Mando’s ship!

“Hey!” She shouted, face heating with anger as she jumped down form the drag sled with her staff in hand. Mando grabs the back of her clothes, halting her angry approach with so much ease it only angered her more.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He scolded.

She fought against his grip, tossing her arms and twisting every way to try and break from his hold, but she only ends up caught in the fabric of her own tunic. He yanks her back, even further from her most prized possession, then steps in front of her which effectively blocks her view of it completely. She’s too worked up to see the blasters several Jawas had pointed at her head, and Kuiil trying to calm them down with placating gestures.

“Let go of me,” Rey shouts at him, now kicking her legs when Mando lifts her up to place her back on the trailer. The angry tears run rampant down her cheeks. That helmet was one of her most prized possessions… the only thing she had to remind her of her parents, and the Jawas stole it from her.

“What is it?” Mando reiterates with an irritated snap in his tone.

He finally releases her when she gives up the fight and falls back on her rump beside the child with a defeated frown. Then she points out towards the far tarp behind the huddle of Jawas. Mando looks to where she’s pointing. It gives him a few moments, but he pieces it together and gives her knee a firm pat. “Give me one moment.”

Rey wipes her eyes along the sleeve of her shirt as Mando pulls away and begins his approach.

The Jawas begin pitching yet another fit and Kuiil stops Mando again, gesturing to his side. “Your blaster.” And Rey can see Mando pause in frustration before pulling out the blaster from its holster and dropping it onto the floor of the sled with a careless thump.

He turns and points his finger at Rey sternly then nods at the blaster. “Don’t touch.”

Then he approaches. He looked much more stiff than before, and most definitely angry.

He and Kuiil eventually sit down across from the Jawas, but they were too far away for Rey to hear any of the negotiations. She sat on her knees, hands braced against the sides of the tow so she can lean forward and strain to hear the conversation.

She takes it wasn’t going well when Mando tries lighting them on fire. Which… awesome… by the way.

And when a few Jawas creeped up on her and the baby, she frowned, nostrils flaring in anger at their audacity to approach when they’d stolen from her. She reached behind her for her staff just in case they tried to hurt the baby or anything else she might find distasteful. They spoke a few words she couldn’t understand, and she lifted her staff threateningly just in time to hear Mando’s angry roar at them to get away.

They quickly scuttled away from the sled, but Rey pulled the baby onto her lap and held the staff tightly in her hands just in case. The baby only cooed at her and played with the fabric of her vest.

It didn’t take long before the Jawas seemed happy with some sort of decision and began their loud chanting.

Soon they all quiet and start packing up their things to bring back into their ship. Rey’s heart leaps into her throat as one of them reaches for the helmet. But Mando stands and calls out to them, pointing at her helmet in the tiny Jawa’s hands.

It was a quick fold. She doesn’t know what he said, but they eagerly ran up to hand the helmet over to him. Kuiil stares at the helmet with an odd look, but Mando doesn’t speak to rectify his confusion as he turns to approach her and the child still waiting at the sled.

Rey grins up at him in relief. And when he’s close enough he places the oversized helmet onto her head and gives it a small pat. She places each hand on either side to secure it in place for a moment then throws her arms around the Mandalorian in thanks. She wasn’t so scared to upset him this time, especially when he was much quicker to return her affection with that awkward, yet familiar, pat on the back.

Then he lifts her off the sled and onto the ground, then turns to the child to transfer him to the pram. “We’re going with the Jawas. Stick close to me.”

She obeyed, grabbing the fringe of his cape and following him towards the large box on wheels.

~ Next Chapter ~

A/N: Let me know what you think! I’m also open to starting a tag list if anyone is interested so let me know XD

[ahsoka-lives]

Apprentice

SUMMARY/ AN: INQUISITOR CAL SOULMATE AU The first words your soulmate says to you appears on your wrist after they’re spoken. Reader is almost in Cal’s position except the backstory is different(you’ll see what I mean and reminds me of Rey a bit). I’m sure you’ve all read a fic that started with the Bracca scene so I tried to change it up. Gif is by @ciricinnamonroll​ and it’s sos os goood. Please lmk what you guys think!! 

WARNINGS: A bit violent and a little sad

WORD COUNT: 1594

   The weather on Bracca was as cheerful as ever. Grey and dark blue clouds were scattered across the sky as the rain carried on into the night. You were exhausted, no beyond exhausted. If you were to spend one more minute on top of that frigate you would have fallen asleep up there.

You’d been a scrapper for as long as you could remember, Bracca was all you’ve ever known. The woman who raised you claimed that you just appeared on her doorstep in a small wooden basket, barely a few months old. She took you in and raised you as if she was your mother but she was already old when you arrived. She passed away when you were young, leaving you to learn the ways of the junkyard planet by yourself. You were eternally grateful for the time you had with her but there was part of you that ached for that feeling of belonging again, for a family. Everyday alone here was the same; Wake up, go to work, take the train back to the husk of an Imperial Walker that you called home, and do it again the next day.

One day, you told yourself, one day you would meet your soulmate and then you would get to have that feeling. You dreamed of the day you would look down and see the first words of your true love on your skin. You knew only a handful of people who had theirs and the envy you felt was unparalleled. 

Suddenly the train began slowing down but it was way too soon for it to be your stop. The calm chatter of the train transformed into hushed gasps and you could almost feel the tensions rise. You jumped to your feet and looked toward the commotion at the front of the train car. 

“Imperial troopers!” A small boy who couldn’t be older than 15 yelled from against the window. 

“Troopers are stopping the train?” You mutter aloud to yourself. This was unusual, sure troopers were just about everywhere nowadays but they almost never did random stops. 

The train finally came to a full stop and the doors to hissed open. The sound of the rain pattering onto the ground could be heard from inside. Two troopers walked onto the train and side-by-side inspected the car while ordering identification papers from everyone on board. This was also unusual, your stomach began to churn with anxiety. What was going on?

“Everybody outside now!” A trooper ordered with the usual lifeless tone. Within seconds all of the passengers filed out onto the muddy Bracca terrain. You pulled the hood of your poncho over your head in an attempt to protect yourself from the onslaught of rain. 

Standing side by side perfectly still were two Imperial Inquisitors. You recognized them from a propaganda poster that the Empire used to trick young boys into willingly enlisting but you weren’t sure of their purpose. Living out here kept you hidden from a lot of the Empire’s atrocities and you considered yourself lucky. As you were pushed toward the Inquisitors by the wall of troopers that formed behind you, you fixed your gaze to the mud that caked your boots. 

“We are here today because we received word that one of you may be a traitor to the Empire.” A bitter voice called from behind her winged helmet. “It would seem that one of you is a Jedi.” 

Her words sparked visible confusion from the group and everyone began exchanging worried glances between one another. A Jedi? Aren’t those extinct? 

“If this traitor doesn’t come forward and reveal themselves, all of you will be executed. Show yourself, or we will spill all of your blood!” She shouted angrily and the sound of blasters being aimed could be heard from behind you. Mere moments passed before she sighed in mock disappointment. “Very well, open fire.”

“Wait! Stop!” The young boy from earlier shouted from his place next to you and stepped forward, arms raised above his head in submission. Shock ran through the line of your peers at the events unfolding in front of you. 

“Kestis, time to play your part in this.” The woman commanded and stepped away from the other Inquisitor. 

The second Inquisitor reached to his hip and grabbed a small piece of equipment. In one fluid motion the Inquisitor released it from its clasp and brought two fiery red blades to life. You let a loud gasp slip past your mouth and terror flooded throughout your body. The man called Kestis stalked toward the boy like a predatory animal and that he was. The boy was backing away with fear written all over his face and your heart was racing. Rapid eyes moved from the Inquisitor to the boy and you couldn’t help but think they had to be mistaken. This little boy couldn’t possibly be that much of a threat. 

“Kestis, he has to prove himself first.” The woman growled from behind him, clearly aggravated. 

“Fine, we’ll do this your way.” The deep voice of the man just a few feet in front of you sent chills down your spine. He deactivated his weapon and placed it back at his side before extending a menacing hand to the boy. When the boy hesitated his wrist was grabbed harshly and pulled into Kestis’s arms. He kicked against the Inquisitors hold and grunted useless “get off”s and “let go”s, your heart ached for him. There has to be something I can do.

Before you knew it he had dragged the boy to the cliff side and the Inquisitor hoisted the boy up by his collar and held him over the edge with ease. 

“If he lives, he’s a Jedi and I get to kill him myself. If he dies then we kill them all.” His voice was riddled with irritation, Kestis clearly didn’t like to be told what to do. The Inquisitor gave the line of bystanders one last glance before turning back to the child. “So long, Jedi.” 

The gloved hand left his collar. Screams left the strained throats of those around you and the rain seemed to quiet itself to allow the sound to echo louder. Your hand shot out helplessly as if to grab the boy and a scream of your own left your throat raw. The next few seconds defied all of what you thought possible

It was as if the air obeyed the profound “NO” that you screamed and halted the movements of the plummeting child. He floated over the edge of the cliff for just a moment before your reflexes pulled your hand back to your chest. While the words “What did I do” rattled around in your brain, you cradled the hand that acted on its own and the boy fell. His screams were heard only for a moment as he fell from earshot. 

“So, it wasn’t the boy.” The woman hummed curiously as the two Inquisitors turned toward you. Tears pricked your eyes and mixed with the rain against your cheeks as guilt filled your consciousness. “You don’t even know what just happened, do you?” 

You were panting and staring at the rogue hand, barely paying any mind to the Inquisitors ahead of you. They paused unsure of what was to be done with you. The Inquisitors seemed to be arguing over the issue but you really didn’t care, your mind was still reeling at what just happened around you, to you, and to that poor boy. 

“We can’t just leave her here, Kestis.” 

“We shouldn’t kill her either, she doesn’t even know what she is.” Kestis bit back in a hushed but aggressive tone and stared down the woman in front of him. 

“Do what you want, I’m done here. Troopers, they’re free to go.” The Inquisitor snapped and turned on her heel to leave. You were finally pulled from your trance at the damning sound of his boots stomping over to you. 

Your eyes snapped up and your instincts kick in once again making your feet start to step away from him. The man let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist pulling you to him while he simultaneously brought his masked face to sit in front of yours. From this close you could hear the heavy breaths that left his modulator.

“You’re with me now.” He gritted and within seconds a burning sensation tore into your skin making you scream out in pain. “Oh come on, I barely touched you.” 

You yanked your wrist from his grasp and looked at him appalled. Thankfully, the burning quickly subsided and you blinked away the tears to let your eyes focus on the words forming in your skin. 

Oh my gods, this is it? 

“You’re who I’ve been waiting for?” Your unnerved state was evident in your tone. Kestis hissed and pressed his hand over his wrist as the words you spoke burned into him. He hurriedly ripped his glove off and pulled up the sleeve on his uniform as if they were the cause of his pain. The cold rains of Bracca fell onto the newly revealed skin and soothed his skin.

“What an interesting turn of events.” He chuckled as he read the words over and over again. He was surprised to say the least. “You’re really stuck with me now, hun.” 

He pulled his glove back on and laughed once again, he couldn’t believe his luck. His soulmate and a new apprentice all in one.

[mk-wizard]

Ratchet is not and never was a Decepticon

Hello, fans.

Today, we’re doing something a little different. Instead exploring how an obscure fan theory can possibly hold water, I am going to discuss how one is complete nonsense. It is one that was started back in the day when Transformers was still a new thing and characters only had bare bones backgrounds so we had to go by their words in conversation, very special episodes or behaviour as a means of putting together their story. Basically, people started to theorise that the iconic Autobot medic Ratchet was once a Decepticon. Why? Because he was an old grump who didn’t seem to like people. Because Ratchet is a fan favourite and deserves his own movie just like Bumblebee had his, I want to stand up for our favourite medic by clearing his name by debunking this outlandish theory.

Number one, Ratchet is not grumpy because he is mean spirited or sadistic. He’s grumpy because underneath it all, he is hurting and is in mourning for everything he lost during the war. And he also lives with tons of regrets because he’s not actually a warrior at all. He is a doctor and deep down, a pacifist. He actually abhors violence and wants to heal the sick and wounded, but he was cheated out of that career due to the war. And if that wasn’t enough, he lost his home, his life and who knows how many friends and family he lost. All of the Autobots are in fact mourning, but they don’t show it. Ratchet just happens to be the guy that does show that he’s hurting especially in the Prime continuity. Yet, even still, he is the most compassionate and really does care about everyone’s well being. I mean, he was firmly against the kids in Prime being part of the team and when you stop and think about it, he has a point. Kids shouldn’t be involved in war. Yes, sometimes, he takes this grouchiness too far especially in Animated where that version was at times outright mean, but even though I don’t condone it, it was never personal. Ratchet hates no one except the Decepticons and even then, he doesn’t have it in them to hit them back. In other words, his grouchiness is not because of some Decepticon programming (which might I add is phooey within itself because an “evil gene” doesn’t exist). He’s depressed. If anything, he is the guy that needs kindness most of all not these wild accusations of being a Decepticon.

Number two, Ratchet’s past has been established by his age and life experiences. Ratchet is older than Optimus who might I add is an older mech himself who is the equivalent of a human man in his early fifties. This makes Ratchet the equivalent of being in the mid sixties. It was stated that Ratchet received training in the Autobot way from way back when and has lived as an Autobot peacefully before the war. In some versions, he is either married with grown children or had a girlfriend (further proof that Ratchet is loving at spark). Plus, he has a lot of deep knowledge of Autobot culture which one would only have if they had lived their whole life as Autobot. So unless he was secretly adopted by his parents and was converted without his knowledge, it’s safe to say he was an Autobot his whole life.

Number three, it has been established that Ratchet has Autobot biology. You can tell by just looking at him. He looks like a harmless blue collar type of guy rather than a fighter.

Yes, he is a perpetual frowner, but even then, he looks docile and blocky. It has been confirmed that Decepticon biology works in such a way that they always look like warriors of some kind with pointy and edgy features. Ratchet has none of those. He has the standard Autobot features which are friendly, docile and made for work. Plus, even when Ratchet does look mad, he’s not scary and not all that aggressive looking. Just unfriendly. I have never once looked at Ratchet even when he was at his most livid and felt afraid of him. The most one version of Ratchet ever did was be unlikable which was the Animated version. The only time this medic ever scared me was when he was high on the artificial energon in Prime and in his defence, anyone’s personality can be warped to become scary when they’re on drugs. Decepticons (even good ones) will look scary when angry because that is just how their faces are put together. Animated Scrapper even looked threatening when angry and we all know he wouldn’t punch a dent in a wall when angry. Ratchet’s features are all Autobot and not one bit Decepticon in both body and personality.

So there you have it. Myth busted. Ratchet is an Autobot, he always was an Autobot and he always will be an Autobot. The only long shot, blue moon, one in a million possibility I could think of Ratchet ever having been a Decepticon was that he was born one, but underwent full surgical conversion as a sparkling. And even then, there is not one spec of evidence that suggests this happened to him. The only way I think Ratchet could have ever been a Decepticon is if someday in the future, Hasbro creates on specific version that is like that and even then, he would be exception not the standard kind of like Armada Starscream.

So let’s leave the poor old bot alone and not tarnish his good name, ok? While I am one of the few that believes there is nothing wrong with being a Decepticon, I don’t think it’s nice to suggest Ratchet is hiding such a thing. He’s not that type of guy. He may be grumpy, but he doesn’t have any skeletons in his any of his closets.

Ratchet is not secretly a Decepticon. This theory is just a baseless rumour.

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (9)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: I’m trying to come up with ways on how to write and publish like I normally would. Good thing I have a few spare tech I can use!

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions | Additional tags (also TW): Destructive habits, Depressed! Cal

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 | Previous: Part 8 | Next: Part 10 | Masterlist

9 of ?

The forgers at the Imperial armory fashioned your mask with a hybrid of square and triangular accents. Meanwhile, you donned the ash-gray ensemble that goes underneath your armor plates. In the set, you’re granted a pair of pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves to go with the calves of your pants, and a breastplate with a red stripe along at the hem. They all fitted like a glove.

The piece de resistance is all that’s left.

You watched the Imperial armor technician weld and solder the helmet until it morphed into their ideal, desired shape. Sparks flew, shimmered to light the room, and then die out almost instantly. Bit by bit, you’re starting to see his artistic vision realized.

“I do not discriminate. Newcomer or otherwise, I put a lot of attention to detail in all of my crafts,” the technician thought out loud, perhaps sensing your curiosity and worry that it might not look as good as the others.

“I’m sure you do, considering how many we are right now,”

“It doesn’t matter to me whether there’s dozens of you. I can make one unlike the other—always.”

He harrumphed a scoffing laugh as a response, taking pride in his declaration before continuing.

The armor technician has finished the shaping phase, next he lets it sit for a minutes before cooling it with vapor. You watched the whole process with great intent and curiosity, at the same time, it’s as though you’re watching your new face being created right in front of your very eyes.

He gingerly took the helmet in both of his hands, cradling it with an esteemed carefulness—treating it with royalty and high regard, for crafting an Inquisitor’s mask was a heavy yet rewarding task to complete. This particular forger was an expert crafter, he hand-designed and sculpted most if not all Inquisitors’ helmets and masks. Feeling the weight of yours in his hands, he carefully stepped away from his smelter and toward you; like a monarch’s crown, he presented it to you and inched it closer for you to take it.

“Twelfth Sister,” addressed the armorer.

The gloss of the duraplast once cooled distorted your reflection on its convex surface. A part of you doesn’t recognize this face, the other acknowledges it but doesn’t accept the reality—at least not yet.

From the armorer’s hand to yours, the helmet rests in its rightful owner’s grasp. You hoist it to the top of your head and then lowered it once you’ve aligned it. One moment, your eyes were shrouded by black, and then the next thing you know you’re seeing red—literally—through the visor of your helmet, though you see things as clearly as you’d normally do.

“It’s a perfect fit,” you said blankly, although the comment delighted the armorer very much.

He bowed and returned to the front of his smelter, he’d afford small glimpses of you getting used to the helmet. From your end, there were functions that you’re new to—such as infrared scanning—and there were buttons disguised as accents on the side of the mask that respond to these features.

“Interesting,” you mouthed to yourself, not caring whether the armorer heard it or not.

You tried breathing through the mask, fortunately for you, this won’t hinder the strenuousness of your fighting style—let alone movements in general—as well as catching your breath. For a moment, it’s as though the same world was unraveled before you with brand new eyes—ones that stopped fighting the hatred and used it as strength, rage that blinds yet helps you see with great clarity, the intoxication to power was a permanent leech on your skin and you relished it.

Now completely outfitted in your Inquisitor’s garbs, you make your exit out of the armorer’s chamber and head out to join your “brothers and sisters” in conference. Being the newest, therefore the lowest in rank, the crew and Stormtroopers have mixed feelings about you—though you could care less.

They looked at you with curious yet skeptical eyes as you strode past them. You arrived in the conference hall, heads turned to the door at the sound of the sharp, metallic buzz and then revealed you standing on the other side.

“Ah, the newbie, right on time!” the male Twi’lek Inquisitor chirped, his pointed porcelain white teeth standing out of his glistening, obsidian-black skin.

You stepped in, took that one gap in the line and seemed to have closed the circle surrounding the holotable. You didn’t miss much of the briefing, though they picked up where they left, you intently studied all the holographs that are flashed on the table: battle tactics, ship routes, and person profiles. You listened to the Second Brother explain everything down to the last detail; you saw what kind of person  he is when the two of you aren’t swinging your sabers at each other’s neck, trying to kill one another.

The next part of his presentation included a whole collection of head shots. He explains that they are the current, surviving Jedi across the galaxy. The images of unnamed faces encircled the holotable and slowly rotated for each and every one to see. Below their portraits are short, bulleted write-ups of the latest reports about them: be it last known locations, current agendas, potential accomplices, and recent activities.

After the one you’re looking at, the next one made you quiver in your armor—you can spot that splash of red hair, a naïve freckled face, that boyish charm and a scrapper’s roguishness from a parsec away.

Cal’s head shot rotated and froze right in front of you; blank, jade eyes blending in with the fluorescent blue of the holograph as it stared through your helmet’s visor.

The most crucial part of your past life stares back at you.

The male Twi’lek, namely the Fourth Brother, noticed you in the corner of his eye, sensed your uneasiness and discovered your intrepidity replaced with a sudden, dramatic loss of self-confidence. The Second Brother continued his exposition.

“According to our latest intel, these are the Jedi currently in hiding. Some of them are so bold enough to join factions, such as the traitor—the former admiral Jax Beneb who made with a faction in Ulfin,”

“This one, Cal Kestis, joined them not too long ago. He travels with the Mantis crew comprised of its pilot, a Lateron named Greez Dritus, the right-hand and former Jedi Cere Junda, and… er… a witch. We don’t know the latter’s background, we can only confirm she’s Dathomirian.”

“She’s called a Nightsister,” you corrected the Second Brother.

“He and his crew got themselves involved with the uprising in Ulfin,” the Fifth Brother continued.

“Until the Imperial fortification was bombed—no thanks to Twelfth Sister right here.” The Seventh Sister finished with a voice of chagrin and sarcasm.

There were soft gasps and quiet murmurs amongst the other Inquisitors who apparently had no prior knowledge.

“In my defense, I wasn’t one of you that time,” you dryly chuckled before adding. “Took a few good voltages before you broke me, eh Seventh Sister?”

Feeling outclassed, Seventh Sister rolled her eyes and avoided eye contact from you. The sight of her furrowed eyebrows and the crease on the side of her nose warranted a satisfied, mischievous smirk. You bobbed your head at an angle while the next head shot proceeded, and then Cal’s image rotated to the female red-skinned humanoid with cropped brown hair on your left—this one is known as the Eighth Sister.

Second Brother continued with his plan, catching everyone’s attention by clearing his throat and getting back to the objective at hand. The point was to fan out to selected planets and systems where the Jedi stragglers ought to be and hunt them down—which is their original prerogative ever since the Inquisitorius was formed. Before anyone else could call it, you pressed a button which prompted the ring of head shots to spin wildly until the picture of Cal glows right in front of you.

“I’ll find him, along with Cere Junda,”

“Pheh! Hey, who says you get to have first dibs?!” the Eighth Sister screeched.

“Do you know them like I do?” you raised your voice against her and you were met with a stifled silence due to the lack of a good answer. “You’d be more productive in recovering junk parts salvaged by Jawas than finding the Mantis crew and the Jedi boy!”

The same silence hung around the holotable. You seem to have a knack in making anyone who spoke against you to hold their tongues. It seems everyone was waiting for you to elaborate on your rationale.

“I know the pilot’s flying tactics as well as Cere Junda’s technical tinkering that go hand-in-hand. The Nightsister is not to be underestimated lest you won’t be meeting her good side; and her powers exceed urban legend—she can cloak a ship like a normal cloaking device would, she can raise the dead, she can bury you alive six feet under without even touching a hair on you. That’s how potent her magick is. The boy, on the other hand, I know the most—his fighting, his emotions. Point is: I’m the best chance in finding them.”

You glanced left and right, searching for an objecting reaction from the Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother, and then looked straight into Second Brother’s eyes.

“And you can’t deny that, Second Brother. So do the two right beside you.”

The rest of the Inquisitors turn to the Second Brother for his reply, he gave in and he cannot deny that cold, hard fact—that you were once in connivance with these people. And so, you’re granted with your chosen targets; the others followed suit in selecting which Jedi to go after.

—–

Cal wakes up in a cold sweat again. It has become a frequent occurrence, an unwanted habit that he’s trying so hard to kill.

The weeks turned into months, he’s honestly lost count that he had to ask someone else.

They’ve moved on from Jax Beneb’s rebel faction and went off-world. At first, it was difficult convincing the boy that they had to go and leave the planet, as there’s nothing coming back to him as much as he hoped, and whatever he’s waiting for is just dead air. He had developed a destructive habit of drowning himself in trances—he’s practically returned to where he was before: where he loses control in meditation, doing so has distorted his subconscious vision; he eats only once a day—sometimes not at all—and locks himself up in his room. BD-1 is his only companion through and through, but not even the tiny droid can get a word out of the Jedi boy.

The bracelet, your bracelet, is now worn around his wrist; but in the first time he’s secured it on his arm, the leather cord felt like it was burning and searing through his skin, but when others would take a look at it there’s nothing out of the ordinary. The metal pendant, with the scorch marks obscuring the finish, felt like a red-hot branding iron on his arm, his hand twitched and jerked, yet he couldn’t bring himself to swat away or rip the trinket off.

He hated the pain, but it was the only comfort he knew of remembering you by.

A self-imposed penance.

He blames himself for not coming sooner to get you out.

“[Y/N] would hate to see you like this, Cal,” Merrin started to scold.

There was nothing the Nightsister got out of the Jedi.

When he looked at her straight in the eye, she flinched; and then she got a closer look of the sorry state he’s in—there were dark circles around his eyes, the swelling and the redness of the lining of his eyes suggested restless nights whiled away with crying, untreated cuts and bruises spotted his knuckles and the damning evidence is the small yet noticeable streaks of blood on the gray walls.

“Merrin, I can’t crawl out of the grave that I’ve dug for myself,” Cal shuddered, his voice muffled as his mouth was blocked by his knees folded and drawn to his chest. “I know she’s still here. And I’m talking like the sentimental kind, no, I really know. You have to believe me. You all must think I’m crazy.”

“You don’t see or hear any of us saying so,”

“I know, I just… I don’t know if I’m imagining overthinking it but I just feel like you guys are only humoring me,”

“I don’t do that kind of thing, Cal, it’s not in my nature,” Merrin shook her head. “But I miss [Y/N] too. More than you’d like to know.”

Cal sighed and didn’t speak further. Merrin dismissed herself out of his bedroom and reminded him that Cere had left a plate of dinner for him before closing the door. When he was left alone again, he hung his head low and ran his fingers through his loose, unkempt hair.

He had been alone for most of his life, but this was a different kind of loneliness—one that he isn’t entirely used to. The emptiness, the silence, and the depression bore an alien, coldly terrifying air that hung heavily around his bedroom. The engine hum drowned out his sobbing as he tucks himself away in bed, deliberately forgetting his meal outside.

Cere feels all of that grim emotion pooling inside that room, she wonders how much of those feelings will she pick up if she opens that door—could she take it? Will she be overwhelmed? These were the questions she asked herself.

“Give him some more time. I don’t think he needs us right now, Cere,” Greez glumly said, stopping her in her tracks in any attempt of consoling Cal.

Cal could not sleep—another problem he’s dealing with. He lies with his back flat on the bed, tears trickle down his temples and pools on his pillow just below his ears, he feels like he’s nestled in his deathbed. He can close his eyes, but he cannot catch a wink of sleep. Sometimes, he mistakes dreaming for meditation—of the other way around.

As the meeting pronounced adjourned, they scrambled out of the conference hall while you’re left alone. Arms crossed with one another, you stared at the set of head shots you projected on the table—Cal and Cere. Even though you know them so well, you wondered what kind of information the spies have written about them in their reports.

Your eyes trailed to the write-ups for each profile.

CAL KESTIS

Last known location: Ulfin City in Pevera, Goltan System

Potential accomplices: Cere Junda, Greez Dritus (shipmate), unidentified Dathomirian female

Recent activity: Involvement in rebel-initiated terrorist assault

Charges: Conspiracy and acts of terrorism against the Empire

CERE JUNDA

Last known location: Ulfin City in Pevera, Goltan System

Potential accomplices: Cal Kestis, Greez Dritus (shipmate), unidentified Dathomirian female

Recent activity: Involvement in rebel-initiated terrorist assault

Charges: Conspiracy and acts of terrorism against the Empire

You sighed as you finished reading through the facts of their profiles. You turn away from the holotable and stand in front of the mirror that oversees the operations happening outside the Fortress in Mons Golotha. It’s originally a spice mine owned by a crime syndicate who capitalized in the illegal spice trade, but since the occupation and establishment of the Fortress Inquisitorius, the propriety was handed over to the Empire.

Through the window you watch the moving specks that are the people slaving away to harvest the raw, unprocessed spice, loading them into crates and then into freighters. But the turmoil of these pitiful workers weren’t your focus, you’re channeling it to finding Cal’s connection in the Force and through the Force. The storm in your mind has calmed for a time, allowing you to think and meditate clearly; even in the darkness, you see a light at the end of the path. You pursue it, as you run towards it like an excited, curious child you utter his name.

Cal…

His eyes shot up, he was on the verge of falling asleep already until he heard his name in the distance. He sat up, surveyed the bedroom and found nothing. He shrugged it off as nothing and decided to lie back down… but the voice called again.

Cal...

Now this time, he recognizes the voice. He bolted up.

“[Y/N]?!” he gasped.

Where are you?

“Where are you?”

You didn’t answer, one question led to another.

I need to find you. Tell me where you are.

“I… I’m in—”

“So, Twelfth Sister! How’s the hunt coming along?”

The boisterous Fourth Brother interrupted you and deprived you of the most vital part of your plan. He barges right into your personal space; before he could utter another word, you grabbed him in a chokehold using the Force and slammed him against the window wall. The impact was so hard that a crack appeared right behind his head almost like an icy halo.

The grit of your teeth hissed out the words, “What. Do you. Want?”

He gurgled his words but turned out into frothy noises, you saw him tap for submission on the glass and his ankles buckling.

“What is it that you have to say that is so important that you had to interrupt me and my meditation!?”

“I…. Guhhkk! Wanted to ask if… aagghhk! You plan to go alone!”

You released the Twi’lek, he fell to his knees coughing and clutching his neck.

“I work alone. Go.”

You turn away and wait for the Fourth Brother to leave your sight. Despite calling each other brother and sister, there was no filial connection amongst one another; simply put, it was only tolerance and putting up with each other’s bull. You, on the other hand, hate everyone. Some of them may have not played a part on your turning, but you can’t help but remain hostile towards them—the Eighth Sister deduced that it’s a normal feeling when you’re the fledgling of the Inquisitorius.

You leave the room and make for the hangar to your TIE Fighter.

Meanwhile, Cal was met again with silence and the ecstasy he felt in hearing your voice—even just in his head—died with his melting smile. He sighed and slipped under his sheets again, his heart ached as he coaxed himself to sleep.

Another long night awaits.

[enchantedlokii]

Mistakes I’ve Made

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of slavery

Characters: Brunnhilde, Bruce Banner, Loki Odinson, Thor Odinson, Heimdall, Korg, Miek, Grandmaster, Topaz

Relationships: Brunnhilde & Bruce, Brunnhilde & Loki, Brunnhilde & Thor, Brunnhilde & Grandmaster, Brunnhilde & Topaz, Loki & Thor, Brunnhilde & Bruce & Loki & Thor

Brunnhilde would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised that the guilt of her secret had been growing ever since she first saw a graying man trailing behind Thor during the riots. She had never felt guilty about any of the slaves that she had captured for the Grandmaster before. She realized now that must have been because she was constantly drowning the guilt of failing Asgard and had eventually grown numb to the familiar feeling. At one point, she would have been terribly angry learning about a planet that still held slaves, even outside the Nine Realms. After centuries of drinking, she had found that she no longer cared. That’s why the twisting feeling in her gut took her by surprise.

The Valkyrie had managed to hide her newfound emotion in the moment, pretending like she didn’t recognize Bruce and had never known him as anyone other than his alter ego. He had bought it, and so had Thor. She had acted surprised on the Bifrost bridge when he attacked Fenris, and the topic hadn’t come up again until weeks later when Brunnhilde found herself being approached by Loki.

“So, when are you going to tell Banner the truth?” He had asked casually, appearing out of nowhere as he leaned against the wall of the shared quarters. Bruce had only just left the room, and she was under the impression that she was now alone in the room. Apparently Loki had been there the whole time, hidden by one of his many illusions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied easily. There was no way that Loki knew the truth. Even as close as he had been to the Grandmaster, she knew that the man would never release the secret to anyone. As far as she knew, not even Topaz knew the truth. The leader had ensured that their meetings were held in private, never letting anyone eavesdrop on their conversations that he shielded with his seidr. Seidr that only a few Sakaarans knew he possessed.

“You do realize that I am the God of Lies, Valkyrie,” Loki shot back, his green eyes locking on hers. “You can not deceive me as easily as you can my brother. I may not know the truth of the situation, but I know that you knew who he was before you brought him to your apartment. You knew the whole time that he was the man behind the monster, yet you continue to let him believe you were clueless.”

“Why do you even care?” Brunnhilde finally snapped, moving forward in an attempt to pin him to the wall. Loki simply phased to the other side of the room, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You two don’t even like each other.”

“I don’t dislike him,” Loki retorted. “Our history is not the best, but I have revealed truths to him that have helped the situation. I would not call us friends, but we are not enemies. Not anymore. He is a very understanding character. Not bad for a Midgardian, truthfully.”

“I assure you, the truths I am withholding from him will do nothing to ‘help,’” she huffed, turning towards the door. “Though I suppose you know very little about friendship.”

Brunnhilde had left with that, but Loki’s words burned in her mind for days following the conversation. To his credit, the prince didn’t treat her any differently after the confrontation. He did, however, give her a sharp look any time he caught her talking to Bruce. He seemed insistent on her coming clean, but she had yet to determine whether his intentions were positive or negative. It was hard to tell with Loki, she had learned.

“You good, Val?” Brunnhilde blinked at the sound of her name, glancing around at the others. She was at one of the many council meetings that Thor held on the Statesman. The aforementioned king was sitting to her left and Bruce was at her right; he was the one who had spoken. Loki was sat across from his brother, Heimdall was in front of her, and there were a few other Asgardians that Brunnhilde still didn’t know all that well sitting at the table as well. Korg stood at the door with Miek by his side, taking on watch duty because of the lack of Einherjars who survived Hela’s massacre.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she muttered, rubbing her face. “Sorry. What was it?”

“I had just asked if you would care to lead the patrol on the upcoming outpost,” Thor told her. His voice remained as casual as always, but she could see the twinkle of concern in his eye. “Though, someone else can take it if you are feeling unwell.”

“No, no, I can lead it,” she told him. They would be at the outpost in three days or so, Heimdall had told them. She could get herself under control by then. She just needed to clear her head. That was all. But. . .

Val found herself glancing over at Bruce as he turned back to Heimdall, who had begun to speak. She knew she should be paying attention, but they were already far past that point. Looking at her friend, she felt another stab of guilt. He had started to become much more relaxed as time passed, easily falling into line and interacting with the Asgardians as if he were one of them. He was most comfortable with Thor, which made sense considering they had known each other for years, but he was comfortable with her as well, and was getting there with Heimdall and Loki and the rest of the council. On Sakaar he had seemed far too stressed, constantly on edge. And it’s all my fault.

Brunnhilde pushed away the thought, managing to finish the meeting before leaving the room and trying to get as far away from the others as she could. Eventually, she found herself in a storage room, sitting on a crate and just trying to clear her head. She stared at one of the bottles of mead that was pushed to the back, debating on breaking down and getting a drink, but her thought was broken when she heard a creak, the door pushing open. “Val?”

Brunnhilde forced a smile as Bruce stepped in, glancing around the room with a confused expression. “Hey, Big Guy,” she said lightly, leaning back in an effort to seem “chill.” She realized she was doing a poor job when Bruce turned to her, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s up?” He asked. “You’ve been acting. . . I don’t know, off, lately. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Bruce,” she assured him. “No need to worry about me.”

“That’s the thing. I do worry.” Bruce came over, pulling a crate in front of her and sitting on top of it. The position looked much more uncomfortable for him, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I worry about my friends. Just ask Thor.”

Brunnhilde hummed noncommittedly in response, her eyes trailing to the bottle of mead again. She could easily play this off as withdrawal, but she was aware that her friend was some sort of healer based on his title and would likely know that she was way past that phase now.

“Brunnhilde.” That got her attention. She had never heard Bruce use her real name, with the exception of the first time she had brought it up and he had repeated it, seeming to test it. He had still continued to just call her Val or Angry Girl most of the time.

“Okay, okay,” she sighed. “I. . . I think that there’s something you need to know, and you’re probably going to hate me for it.”

“I doubt I would hate you,” he assured her, giving her a small smile as he reached forward to put a hand on her knee. The first time he had done this, Brunnhilde had pulled away, spitting with offense until Bruce explained that it was often used as a platonic gesture on Midgard and he hadn’t meant any harm. She had been a bit embarrassed after the fact for assuming that he would even want to be anything other than her friend, but he had brushed it off easily.

“You don’t remember landing on Sakaar, do you?” Brunnhilde started, still a bit hesitant. She could see the blink of confusion that Bruce gave her before he shook his head.

“No. I remember leaving Earth, but nothing after that until I followed Thor to the Quinjet,” Bruce told her. “I assume that I was just the Other Guy the whole time.”

“You weren’t,” the Valkyrie murmured, not missing the look of surprise he gave her in response. “When you landed, you were you. And I think I owe you an explanation.”

Scrapper 142 smirked at the site of the aircraft she found among the rummage of Sakaar. As she got closer, she noticed a man who appeared to be from Midgard slipping from the shadows. He had some sort of shall covering most of his body, his hair messy and his frame tense. He didn’t even notice her until she dropped a net on top of him and landed nearby.

As she stepped out, Scrapper noticed the man looking at her. “Um, hello,” he started, seemingly a bit nervous. “I’m sorry, am I trespassing? I’m— I’m not from here.”

Brunnhilde ignored his question. “What’s a Midgardian doing way out here?” She asked, moving closer. She had an obedience disk in her hand, planning to place it on his neck before taking him to the Grandmaster. So far, he didn’t seem like a threat, but she knew that it was better safe than sorry. “You’re a long way from home.”

The man’s eyes widened a bit. “Midgard. . . You’re an Asgardian? Is this. . .” He glanced around. “This isn’t what I expected Asgard to look like.”

The Scrapper stopped, a bit surprised. Not many Midgardians knew about the Nine Realms. Odin preferred to keep it that way, knowing that humans were weak and that they were safer being on the outside of the squabbles between realms. “How do you know about Asgard?”

The man looked back to her. “I’m friends with Thor,” he said simply.

Brunnhilde just blinked. “I have absolutely no idea who you are talking about,” she said with a small snort, moving forward and attaching the disk. The man jerked away, but she grabbed his wrist and forced it on. She notice his eyes flash green as he looked at her before he seemed to steel himself. “I am not an Asgardian. Not for countless centuries. I do not know Thor and they do not know me.”

“Where am I?” The man asked then, seeming to read between the lines. His eyes had faded to the more natural-looking brown now, but he gripped the net, trying to work his way out of it. “What did you just put on me?”

Scrapper grinned and held up the remote. “An obedience disk. Either you come with me, or I use this to electrocute you and drag you to the Grandmaster myself. Your choice.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the man grunted, his eyes meeting hers. “You don’t want to make me angry.”

“Is that a challenge?” Brunnhilde raised the device again, not missing the flash of fear in the Midgardian’s eyes as she pressed the button and a shock ran through his body. She expected him to faint immediately, but instead the man bent over, gripping the dirt. She took a step back as she watched the veins of his neck starting to turn green. He seemed to fight if for a moment before he grew, turning into a figure that was the size of a Kronian, maybe even larger. The creature put a hand over the obedience disk and jerked it off, crushing it easily before turning on Brunnhilde, anger shining in his green eyes.

The creature grinned, balling his fists at the sight of her. “Hulk smash!”

Brunnhilde ran towards her ship, grabbing her weapons and activating them quickly, aiming and shooting at this “Hulk.” She felt fear slice through her as the blasts failed to do anything but make him angrier. She hurriedly went to her radio and tuned into the Scrapper Channel that would connect her to the Grandmaster. “Code 103!”

It didn’t take long for more Scrappers to appear, blasting at the Hulk as he roared back. Every now and then he would shout something at them, but he couldn’t do much as they hovered over the rubble that they were used to patrolling. Nothing they did seemed to effect the monster, not until the Grandmaster appeared and raised a hand, using his seidr to calm the beast. The Hulk slowly turned back to the Midgardian that Brunnhilde had found, except he was not passed out on the ground, naked.

Grandmaster turned to Brunnhilde then. “Meet me in my chambers.”

Brunnhilde could feel her heart pounding as she made her way to the Grandmaster’s chambers later that evening. She was being led by Topaz, of course. She wasn’t sure where they had taken the Midgardian, but she assumed that it was one of the prisoner chambers that she had been to often, dropping off slaves. “Good luck, Scrapper,” Topaz muttered before opening the door and allowing her to make her way inside.

Brunnhilde stepped through the door, flinching as it was shut behind her. She looked up and saw that the Grandmaster was looking out the window. “Scrapper 142,” he started, not turning to look at her.

“Grandmaster.”

The man turned to her now. “This is a strange creature that you have found,” he started, giving her a dangerous look. “One that I have never known to exist in the centuries that I have been alive.”

“He is a Midgardian,” Brunnhilde protested. “There’s just. . . Something different about him.”

“Indeed there is,” the Grandmaster replied. “I have made a decision regarding this new prisoner and have an offer for you. One that I truly hope you consider before turning down.”

“And what is that offer?” Brunnhilde asked.

“I have found a way to keep the Midgardian from reverting back to his more fragile form,” the Grandmaster started. “Instead, he will be kept in the green form and will be used as the new Grand Champion. The old Champion is growing old, and I fear he only has a few years left. I want you to help our new Champion get accustomed to his home and ensure that he does not try to escape or turn against us.”

Brunnhilde blinked with confusion. “He will try to kill me,” she told him. “He did try to kill me.”

“Which is why I have erased his memory for the past twenty-four hours,” the Grandmaster responded. “The Champion will not remember your failed attempt to contain him.”

“And what if I decline the offer?”

The Grandmaster smirked before turning to the window. “Then you will be his first opponent.”

That was how Brunnhilde found herself making the long trek to the Grand Champion’s suite. Already, the old Champion has been taken from his longtime home and the room had been given to the Hulk. She stared inside for a moment, waiting for the sound of Topaz’s retreating steps before she took a deep breath and opened the barrier, stepping inside before closing it again. She slowly stepped towards where the beast was sitting, looking outside the window. He was sitting there, his shoulders hunched over slightly. He almost looked sad, really. “Hey there, Big Guy,” she said softly.

Hulk looked back quickly and Brunnhilde saw something that resembled hope in his eyes before he saw who was there and it faded. “Not Tasha,” he mumbled before turning away again.

“No, I’m not Tasha,” she told him. She had no idea who Tasha was or why the Hulk had looked so excited to see her, but she just went along with her. “You can call me Scrapper, okay?”

“Hulk want Tasha,” he mumbled. “Sun real low.”

“I’m sorry, Buddy, I don’t know who Tasha is,” Brunnhilde said, carefully putting a hand on his back. When she first came in, she expected to be met with anger, not sadness, and she wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.

“Tasha scary Avenger,” Hulk muttered. “Banner love Tasha. Hulk love Tasha. Hulk miss Tasha.”

“Banner,” Brunnhilde repeated the name. That must be the Midgardian’s name. So Hulk was still aware of his host, at least. He still remembered his past outside Sakaar. That could either make things much easier or much harder.”

“Banner left friends,” Hulk huffed. “Banner left Avengers.”

“Avengers, huh?” She asked, settling down next to him. She was catching on that this creature didn’t have a huge vocabulary. He was like an oversized toddler, and it had been years since she had encountered one of those. Maybe even decades or centuries. She couldn’t really remember.

Hulk nodded and held up a hand in front of him. He made a “pew” sound. “That Tony. Tony Banner’s friend. Hulk like Tony,” he started. “Tin Can.”

Then, Hulk moved his head to the side a bit, pulling his hand back. “Steve has shield. Steve let Hulk smash. Hulk like smash. Hulk like Steve. Hulk like Thor.” The creature made a swinging motion with his arm. “Thor has puny hammer.”

Hulk paused and then held out both hands and pulled one back as if he were shooting a bow and arrow. “Clint Tasha’s friend. Clint like arrows. Clint nice to Banner.”

Brunnhilde waited until Hulk lowered his arms and was silent for a moment before she spoke up. “Hulk is going to get to smash a lot really soon,” she told him, holding back a grin at the excited look he gave her. “You like that?”

“Hulk love smash,” he told her, standing up. “Banner don’t like Hulk smash.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about Banner anymore.” Even as Brunnhilde said this, she felt a bad taste in her mouth. Something about this felt wrong. The Midgardian didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt anyone. He had warned her not to make him angry and then looked afraid when he realized she was going to do so anyway.

She shook off the thought. This was who she was now. She was a Scrapper. She captured prisoners. She sold them to the Grandmaster. She knew it was wrong, but she chose to do it anyway. She couldn’t just stop now. Not because she had a bad feeling.

Still, she couldn’t help but glance down at the tattoo on her forearm. She closed her eyes, releasing a shaky breath before looking back at Hulk. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Big Guy.”

Brunnhilde watched quietly as Bruce stared at the floor, seemingly trying to process everything she had just told him. The silence was killing her. A small part of her feared that when he raised his head to look at her again she would see the angry green of the Hulk rather than the soft brown that she was used to. She wasn’t afraid of the Hulk before, but she had not been on the receiving end of his anger since that first encounter two years ago.

“He did something to me,” Bruce said finally, his voice quiet. “Something to me or something to the Other Guy.”

Val nodded sadly. “He didn’t give me anymore details than that. I. . . I don’t know what he did.”

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, that makes more sense, at least,” he murmured. “That’s why he didn’t want to come out on the Bifrost.”

Brunnhilde nodded a bit, looking down. Bruce still hadn’t actually looked at her, his gaze pointed to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she whispered finally. “I know that what I did was wrong, and I should have told you sooner. I just. . . I couldn’t.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce told her, finally looking up at her. “It’s not your fault.”

The Valkyrie shook her head. “No, Bruce. It’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. I knew what I did was wrong but I did it anyway. And then I have the audacity to say I’m your friend like I’m not the reason he hurt you.”

“Hey,” Bruce’s voice was stern then and he stood up before kneeling in front of her, putting a hand on either shoulder. “Look at me, Val.”

Brunnhilde forced herself to look him in the eyes. “Bruce. . .”

“We all make mistakes,” he said softly, not letting their eye contact waver as he spoke. “I am not mad at you, okay? I’m glad that you told me this now and that you trust me enough to do so.”

“You should be mad at me.”

Bruce shook his head. “Nope. Not going to happen,” he told her, giving her a small smile. “You’ve already made up for it over and over. Just the fact that you’re not afraid of me? That itself means a lot to me, okay? There’s not many people who see me as anything more than a threat.”

“So you don’t hate me?” Val hated how pitiful she sounded right now, but she couldn’t help it. She had fully expected Bruce to be furious. She hated to admit that she was expecting him to hurt her. She had hoped he would hurt her, because that would be so much easier than processing these emotions that had become unfamiliar in her time on Sakaar. She didn’t understand how he could still be so kind to her after this.

“No,” he told her firmly. “You made a mistake, and that’s okay. People change. I mean, heck, when I first met Loki he was actively trying to take over Earth and use the Hulk as a weapon, but I know that won’t happen again because he’s a different person than he was then. I fully believe that you are a different person than the one who found me on Sakaar.”

Val briefly remembered her conversation with Loki earlier that week. How he had mentioned telling Bruce the truth. He hadn’t elaborated what that truth was, but she now knew that Bruce believed him whatever it was. He was willing to forgive Loki, and he was willing to forgive her as well it seemed. “Thank you.”

Bruce smiled and stood up. “Can I give you a hug, Angry Girl?”

To Val’s surprise, she found herself nodding. Only a moment later she felt arms wrapping around her and she allowed herself to melt into them, clinging to his sleeves as she lowered her head into his chest. “We’re still friends?”

“We’re still friends,” he assured her, giving her a tight squeeze before they pulled apart. “Now, how about I elaborate on those amazing descriptions of the other Avengers?”

Brunnhilde chuckled and nodded, standing up and following Bruce out of the storage room as he started talking about his friends back home. Her head finally clear of the fog that had been trapped there for days, she listened. She listened and laughed along with her friend as they spoke as if nothing had changed. Nothing was different.

From the small smile that she caught Loki giving her when the two returned to the chambers that evening, she knew that he had been right. She couldn’t stop herself from mouthing “thank you,” and didn’t miss the twinkle of mischief that flashed in his eyes before he turned back to Thor. Her and Bruce joined the brothers then, relaxing into a routine that was their new normal. For the first time in years, Brunnhilde felt like everything might be alright.

[screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse]

Tireless Roads (That Day We Drove Out to the Ocean)

Daud’s first job was to take her to school where, improbably, she was studying medicine at one of DU’s prestigious institutes — still called the Academy, two hundred years later, for just how damn expensive it was.

Someone like him should have stuck out like a sore thumb, but apparently it was avant garde, these days, for Dunwall’s upper crust to send their children to the Academy and donate a new wing or two every year in return for better grades. That included, of course, the offspring of diplomats and criminals both — and most often, those were one and the same, anyhow. Daud had given up on making the distinction when taking a new contract.

All this to say that he wasn’t the only shadow on that campus. They might as well set up a daycare for bored former spec ops and the odd former hitman. Old dogs, the lot of them, and so was Daud — at almost forty. He wouldn’t be doing this kind of work for much longer. And then, it’d either be the scrap heap or a quiet town somewhere in Serkonos where no-one would think twice about him, until one day, some young scrapper came along trying to prove himself — or trying to learn. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to either one.

But right now, that wasn’t his concern. His charge, however, was.

“Miss Kaldwin,” he said quietly once they were inside the car; which to anyone who knew him may as well have been barking her name in irritation. But he would not raise his voice to her — she wasn’t a rebellious recruit. She was a young woman trapped in a gilded cage, a loveless home.

“What did I do now?” she shot back, aiming falsely innocent and, to her credit, hitting the mark.

“You’re supposed to wait until I’ve checked the car for manipulation,” he nonetheless explained patiently. That meant: tracking devices, tags. Explosives.

“If you stopped insisting on fetching me from the lecture hall and waited here in the car instead, you wouldn’t have to bother every time,” she returned smartly.

“You know I can’t do that,” he said.

“Why, because my father told you to?” It was obedience she chafed against, but not obedience of Daud’s rules, really. He was just the middleman.

“Because it is my job to keep you safe,” he told her. He said it dispassionately — he wasn’t a caring man.

Something about her seemed to settle, while something else put that sadness back into her eyes as they met him in the rearview mirror.

“Of course,” she said softly. “You’re just doing your job.”

Read on AO3 ⟶

[petitelepus]

Decepticon For Life, Part 13

The battle is just starting and ending before you even know it.

You watched in horror how Starscream raised your lord Megatron's very own sword in the air, ready to slash your lord down. You tried to reach blindly for your gun, but it was just out of your reach. You cried as Starscream was just about to deliver the killing blow when suddenly, the Headmaster unit flew at him and cut Starscream's helm off!

You stared in shock how the Headmaster gained control over his body and the yellow little bot yelled from his spot on the wall. "I told you he was working with the Decepticons! He just saved Megatron's skin plate!"

"I saved him so I could kick his skin plate myself!" You heard Professor Sumdac's voice come from inside the Headmaster unit. Traitor, your mind shouted. Just as you thought you could trust someone. The professor used Starscream's body and attacked Megatron, but your lord threw the clones holding in place back at him and shot the unit off with one blast from his fusion cannon.

You watched in great joy how Starscream's headless body collapsed on top of its owner's helm. The con cried in pain and shouted orders left and right at his clones. "What are you waiting for!? Destroy Megatron, now!"

The clones, they just stood around their leader. The femme smiled. "Any leader has to be an improvement over you!" 

Your optics widened. They were switching sides. You felt like laughing if your helm wasn't still buzzing. You tried to push yourself up, but your arms gave up under you. You watched how the orange clone kneeled before Megatron and started to sing praises to him. "Oh wise and great Megatron, you've truly proven your vast superiority!"

"I will remain loyal to you forever!" The white clone sang to the original Starscream, only to kick his headless body before joining other clones at Megatron's side. You groaned but your processor was still aching. Despite it, you pushed yourself up and approached your leader. Megatron looked at you and motioned you towards static cuffs.

"Cuff them all. We aren't letting these Autobots ruin my plans to conquer Cybertron."

"Yes my lord." You said before getting the cuffs and snapping them over Optimus Prime's hands. The clones dragged Bulkhead's unconscious and cuffed frame over the leader and threw him on the ground. You didn't have any idea when he was beaten, but it must have been in the middle of the attack. Mixmaster took the Starscream's helm and glued it to the wall beside the yellow Autobot.

Megatron cracked the Headmaster Unit open and grabbed the professor Sumdac from inside. He took the human back to his forcefield cage where he could be no more danger. Then you heard weak noises coming from the bound Autobots and you all surrounded them, you, Megatron, 3 clones and Mixmaster. Just in time as the Autobot leader woke up, only to see how he and his team were defeated.

"How does it feel to be held captive in your own static cuffs, Autobot?" Megatron asked, but the leader bot didn't answer. Just then the leaner Construction emerged from the tunnel, Blitzwing, and Lugnut right behind him.

"Jou, look who I found!" Scrapper laughed as he pointed at the two Decepticon superiors. You smiled at the sight of them, though you had to wonder where they had been. They could have been helpful against the Autobots and clones, but now at least you got the clones on your side. Your leader's side.

"Your fate is sealed now, Autobots. While the Elite Guard forces are occupied with the Decepticon uprising at the rim of the galaxy, I will use this Space Bridge to transport my Decepticons into the heart of the Cybertron and take over the entire Space Bridge network." Megatron explained as he turned to look at the still going Space Bridge.

"Ha! You actually believe that ridiculous plan will-!" Starscream was saying when Mixmaster shot cement over his mouth and silenced him. You smiled at him and elbowed him to the side. "Nice one."

"Eh, dude talks too much." He smiled back at you and you stifled a giggle. Megatron continued his speech. "From there it will be a simple matter to transport all Decepticon forces to a virtually defenseless Cybertron and take over the entire planet. And I have your special Space Bridge expert to thank for it." He said as he pointed at Bulkhead.

"I still don't understand where this expertise came from." Autobot leader asked from his bulky soldier. "I had a lot of time to study Space Bridge schematics on the energon farm. Just had a knack for it, I guess..."

"Duh, well that's great. The one thing you're good at is going to hand the Cybertron to Decepticons." The yellow bot said, but the Bulkhead continued, "Don't get your circuits in a bunch! The Space Bridge is useless without a receiving code and for that Megatron would need to have somebody on Cybertron!"

"Don't you remember anything?" The small yellow bot asked. "The transmission I picked up? Wasp? The Decepticon spy I caught while back in boot camp?"

"You mean the spy WE caught in boot camp, don't you Bumblebee?" Came suddenly a very monotone voice. Your helm snapped up at the TV screens over the control desk and there in other side of the screen stood a con with one single crimson optic.

"How you know my name?" The yellow bot, Bumblebee sounded frightened. The con in screen did something ýou had never seen anyone done. He changed his form and not to a vehicle or jet, but into a whole new bot! "Surely you recognize your old pal Longarm." He asked and Bumblebee's eyes widened in realization.

"So... Wasp wasn't a double agent? Which means...?"

"You sent an innocent bot to Trypticon prison..." Bulkhead said much to Autobots' regret. You had no idea who this Wasp was, but he seemed to have been a scapegoat for Autobots. If you would ever meet him you would make sure to welcome him to Decepticons' side. Betrayed by their own people...? Disgusting. Autobots were disgusting.

"Decepticons! Prepare for our conquest of Cybertron!" Megatron roared and everyone, every single Decepticon roared right before him, everyone ready to take some action towards your better future. You were also crying out a warcry, though, you, Mixmaster and Scrapper looked at each other in confusion.

"Eh, what's a Cybertron?" Scrapper asked and Mixmaster shrugged. "I have no idea, you lost me at 'Your fate is sealed now'."

"I heard it's our rightful home planet so maybe we get to take it from Autobots and use as we please?" You piped in, but you were all still confused. Scrapper added, "Does that mean we get all the oil we want?"

"Oh boy, would that be so good...!" Mixmaster piped in. You grinned in excitement and watched as your lord smirked and walked up to the cuffed Autobots. "But first, we need to test the Space Bridge..." He said as he picked up Autobot leader Optimus Prime with one hand only, "Just in case our Autobot expert decides to sabotage it."

"And I will be waiting for the test subject on this side." The one called Longarm said as he transformed back into his single optic form. "Just in case he didn't sabotage it."

You watched diligently as Megatron walked closer to the Spice Bridge. He pulled his arm hand holding Prime back, but before he could throw him into the giant blue sphere the ground started to shake. At first, you thought it was an earthquake but you saw huge yellow shot being taken at the opening on the ceiling Starscream had blasted open. You were under and attack and your attacker was a yellow and red space ship.

"Mixmaster, Scrapper! Clear the rubble from the Space Bridge!" Megatron ordered and the Constructicon duo transformed and got to work. Your lord looked the rest of you. "Rest of you, attack that Autobot ship!"

You didn't need to be told twice. You hoisted your guns and activated your jets, following your superiors and clones to the battle. You all surrounded the ship, shooting from every angle ever made and taking advantage of the ship being too big to actually dodge your attacks. You were like mosquitoes, flying over a huge piece of bloody flesh, hitting it with every chance you got. It didn't take long before the ship spewed smoke and started to fall on the ground. That was until it transformed into the biggest bot you had ever seen.

You and other cons stopped on your tracks and transformed out of your alt modes and you stood there in the air with your jets. You felt cold oil freeze your joints. That Autobot was HUGE. The yellow bot took one look at you all and his voice boomed like a bomb in an empty room.

"I AM OMEGA SUPREME."

The bot turned his back at you and other cons and started to walk with his huge steps towards the mountain opening. Lugnut sputtered and cursed. "Your size is meaningless compared to the greatness of Megatron!"

"Size...?" The femme clone muttered by herself before smirking. "That's it! Everyone, aim for the legs!" She ordered and everyone did as she told. You, Blitzwing, Lugnut, and other two clones shot your biggest shots at the Omega Supreme's right leg and sure enough, the behemoth came crashing down to his right knee.

Yes, the plan was working! Or so you thought when the giant mech suddenly pushed himself up through a great struggle and opened his hidden weapons compartments. Your optics widened in shock and he shot everything he had. The cons and clones managed to dodge them expect for the femme but she stood her ground.

"Oh, great and mighty Autobot," Starscream's orange suck up clone approached Omega Supreme. "It is an honor to merely bask in your majestic- BRYAH!" The giant Autobot was merciless as he smacked the clone down like he was a mere fly. The white clone who you had learned to address as a liar flew to Autobot's leg and yelled. "Hey, look! Your stabilizing servo is unbolted!" and just then he was kicked into oblivion.

You watched in horror how one by one he took care of you cons. Blitzwing was furious if you were to believe his Hothead nature taking over and charging his flamethrowers at Omega Supreme's face.

"You overgrown Autobot! I will scramble your circuits so badly you will need GPS scanner to find your-!" He didn't get to finish as the giant Autobot headbutted him and your superior went flying out of your sight. Lugnut shot his explosive fists at the bot but his helm twirled around revealing a fusion cannon that he used to blow up Lugnut and his weapons. It was you and the femme clone against the Autobot.

"Any other great ideas!?" You shouted and the femme snarled back at you. "Just keep shooting!"

You were doing it without her even telling you to and other clones joined you but then the Omega Supreme loaded his biggest shot and it hit you head-on. You cried out as your jets shut down and you went hurling into the forests and hit your helm pretty hard on your way back down.

You groaned in pain, the ache in your joints overpowering your will to get up again, but the greatest pain came from your helm. That's when you finally blacked out for good.

'You stood there in the middle of the row of students who wore similar black cape and hat as you. You were so excited you completely shut down the principal's speech of how great your generator would be to society. As soon as you got the permission, hats went flying and you all rushed to meet your family who had came to witness your graduation. You run straight to your mother who was watching and filming the whole thing like a doting parent would.

"Did you see mom? I actually graduated!" You cried out happily and looked around. The smile on your face dropped as you looked at your mother. She smiled sympathetically and shook her head. "Your father wanted to come but you know how it is with him. His work is important and-"

"-Work comes over family... Yeah, I know." You slumped but the diploma in your hand reminded you. Your studies were over. Your Hell had ended. You were free and you could do whatever you wanted! This idea brought you joy and the endless possibilities were there before you. You could finally get a job and move out from your parent's house. You had saved a nice little sum of money by living with them through your studies so you could now move out.

"Mom, I want to move out." You blurted and your mother blinked. "Honey, already? You know you can live with us until you get your feet under you."

"No mom, I'm ready."

"You need a job!"

"I'll find one!"

Your mother scowled and rubbed her temple. "If you really want, I think your aunt might be able to get you a job at the office."

"Really?" You sounded so hopeful. Your mother smiled and nodded. "Yes, but it's not an easy job. Mister Perry insists that all his workers have clean papers."

You grinned, "Mom when you last time caught me drinking?"

Your mother blinked like an owl. "Have you-!?"

"No, I actually haven't!" You laughed, "But you thought so!"

"You little rascal." Your mother shook her head as she placed her hand over your back and insisted that you follow her. "Let's go get you some cake! You if anyone has earned it!"

BBBZzzzZZZZ

It was war, ruthless and unforgiving and it didn't take any prisoners. You shot through the explosions and the dark clouds they raised as you located your target. An Autobot soldier, high ranking and very much needed in order to defeat approaching Decepticon forces. Your frame worked on its own, instincts that the Autobot scientists had implanted on you taking over the common sense that would scream at you for being in the middle of the firefight.

You arrived to the soldier they ordered you to save and you saw another bot there. A medic by her red and white paint job. She looked glad to see you. "You're just in time! He doesn't have much time...!"

Red Alert, your mind offered you. You took in the sight of her. Energon stained her hands and you watched the source of it, the Autobot you were sent to save bleeding heavily. You looked at Red Alert and nodded at her. "Mission confirmed. Starting the program Second Chance."

"Wonderful! Now I must go, I'm needed elsewhere...!" She said and transformed, taking off so fast that her wheels left marks on the ground. You turned to look at the bot before you and kneeled next to him... Until you suddenly felt pain flare on your side and you went down like a computer that was corrupted by a hardcore virus. Your vision fizzed and serious of ones and zeros flashed through your optics.

You registered the pained cries of the bot you were supposed to save but someone else picked you up. They had a large frame, easily picking you up and taking you with them. As your optics fizzled into darkness you just thought about your mission you were assigned to.

BBBZzzzZZZZ

Mother had gotten you a job in one of the biggest law firms in Detroit. It was an okay job at first, the boss, mister Perry was a kind man... For the first 3 days, you spent there as his secretary. After that, you were just his slave and stress doll to pinch with needless and twist in fury. Only his needles were cruel jabs at you and your dedication and studies and punches were mean names he would call you with.

No one stood up for him. No one would help you without becoming his next target. You were all alone... And because of that selfish bastard you went out that day and were captured by this evil con...! Because of him, you were fried like an ant under the magnifying glass...

BBBZzzzZZZZ

You couldn't see, couldn't feel. Only hear. You heard your captors talking. They were talking about you. They called you a traitor for the Decepticon cause. Called you a dirty Autobot. You wanted to scream. NO! It wasn't you! You just wanted to be free...

"Put her in a deep freeze. Let her be your war trophy."

And that's the last thing you remember before you blacked our for good...'

You jolted awake, your whole frame tense and ready for any oncoming attack, arms up and guns ready. You panted in cold oil. You remembered. You weren't a con or Autobot. You were human. No, not anymore. Now you were a part machine. You were a victim... Everybody took advantage of you and now you were alone... But you could still seek justice...!

[beckzorz]

Crash (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 1650 Summary: Kree attack. Ruined vehicle. Broken comms. You’re lost, and then, you’re found. A/N: Day 11 of @itsbuckysworld’s hello spring writing challenge. Prompt for today was “Where should we meet?” // Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think xoxo

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Silence on the comms.

“Fuck,” you say.

The canyon is silent. Hazy smoke clouds the air. A breeze tickles your skin, and the gash on your thigh.

You’re standing, at least. It was an impressive fall, but you’re still standing. What was it that Bucky had said, last month in training when you’d sprained your ankle?

“Takes more’n that to keep you down.”

Well, he was right. Right now, you’re sporting a cut on your leg, a dislocated shoulder, a bump on your head. And disabled comms, by the sound of it. Not to mention a downed hover bike, smoking and crackling some fifty feet back.

You can’t remember the last time you made such a mess. Maybe that time in second grade, where your teacher had thrown a hissy fit at the crayon drawings you’d made halfway up the walls. Or the time you blew up a container of soup in the microwave, and also the microwave.

A chuckle bubbles out of you. Yeah, that was funny. Even if Happy had thrown a fit.

You glance back at your bike, no more than a pile of scrap now. This… isn’t funny. The real fight had been miles away, but a lone Kree scrapper had driven you away from your team until you’d crash-landed in the canyon. You’d managed to shoot the Kree down before you fell, but that’s a small consolation considering the fact that you’re alone, virtually unarmed—the pistols strapped to your body are no match for alien tech, not like the cannons on your bike. Your ruined bike. And from how things looked when you’d last been in the fight, there was no saying whether the first person to find you would be SHIELD or Kree.

Enough dawdling.

You start walking away from your bike with a grimace. If it’s Kree who come, they’ll go to the crash site first. No point in lingering in the open.

Your arm is at an awkward angle, but you know better than to try and reset your shoulder before you make it to safety. That always sends you into a daze. Of course, who knows what kind of safety you’ll find at the bottom of a gorge.

Sand crunches under your feet as you trail along the canyon wall, looking for a place to hide. Every so often, you try to reach the team again, but no luck. Probably busted in the crash.

Eventually, when the shadow of the canyon’s edge is higher up the wall, you find a crack in the rock tall enough for you to hide in but nearly invisible from eye level. Lying down feels like a bad idea, but you’re running out of steam. Better to hide and shoot their legs than be surrounded in the open.

Getting down hurts like a bitch, but by the time you slide under the rock and fix your shoulder you’re relieved more than anything else. Kree tech is advanced enough that they would’ve found you by now.

If the fight had ended. If the Kree even cared to look, given your crashed bike.

Well, hopefully someone would come look for you. Two ration bars aren’t going to last very long.

—

It gets cold fast.

The shadows are so long the whole world is black. If you wiggle out of your hole, you can look up at the stars. There’s a million more here than you can see in upstate New York.

It’d be beautiful, if it didn’t mean you were stranded in the middle of nowhere.

The cut on your leg is itchy. There’s not much you can do about it, not with your first aid kit burnt up with the rest of your bike miles away. Your mouth is itching too, but that’s from dehydration. It’s not hot, never really was, but god, it’s dry.

Dry, and lonely. You switch on your comm again, even though all you can hear is a whisper of static.

“Well,” you murmur. “Might as well talk to myself.” You prop your chin on your arm and gaze out across the canyon floor, listening to the skittering of creatures coming to life in the night.

“I think I prefer when they don’t look like us,” you continue. “It's still weird even when they look like fantasy elves. Or whatever. Cause in all those movies they’re played by human actors.” You chuckle. “I suppose a Kree could get a sweet gig for SyFy or whoever. No prosthetics required.”

Bucky would’ve laughed at that. He always at least grins at your little quips. But there’s no reply, laughter or otherwise. You sigh.

“It’s okay, Bucky, I can imagine you laughed. Not quite as nice as the real thing, though.”

You roll over onto your back and slip out from your hiding spot to gaze up at the sky.

“I bet you’ve seen starrier skies than this,” you say. “I wonder where.”

A stream of sand falls a few feet to your left. From above, the scrape of a boot against the canyon wall.

You swear under your breath and slide as silently as you can back into the crevice and twist onto your stomach. Out comes your gun. You feel rather than hear the click as you turn the safety off. A pebble bounces on the sand. Another scrape on the wall, another stream of sand, and then there’s a thud as someone drops the last few feet to the floor. Boots crunch closer, closer.

SHIELD, or Kree? Friend, or foe?

Safety, or death?

You clench your teeth against nervous shudders. This is the tightest spot you’ve ever been in, and not just literally.

“Starriest skies I ever saw were in the arctic circle,” Bucky says.

You nearly drop your gun in shock. His voice isn’t coming from your ear; it’s coming from out there.

Still, you don’t move. Is this a trick?

“Where you hidin’?” Bucky says.

He walks slow, closer and closer until you can imagine him turning in place, looking for you.

“I did laugh, by the way,” he adds. “You make me laugh a lot. Guess that’s how you could imagine it, huh?”

He’s chatting, just chatting. You tuck your chin against your arm, close your eyes, and listen.

“We could hear you, but I guess you couldn’t hear us.” Crunch. A foot in the sand. Scrape. A hand sliding against the canyon wall. “Sam found your crash. Signal got a little wonky, so he went north. Glad I got to go south, cause I know you’re close.” He chuckles, low and delightful and so warm you can’t feel the chill of the evening. “I can hear you breathin’. Hear your heartbeat, too. It’s a good one.”

Your lips curl into a smile. Usually, you’re the one who does the bulk of the talking. It’s a pleasant change of pace, really. He has such a nice voice.

Soon, you’ll go out, but for now, you just listen.

“Won’t you come out? You know it’s me, right?”

For the first time, he passes in front of your hiding spot. You can’t help the stutter in your breathing as the shadows darken behind his legs.

He drops down. You freeze, hold your breath. You will your heart to stop beating. Why did he have to stop talking? It was so nice to listen to him for a change…

A light shines in your eyes, and you yelp, throwing your arm over your face.

“What the fuck, Bucky!”

The light goes off, but the bright haze is still clouding your eyes when you lower your arm to glare.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. He holds out his hand to you. You sigh, tuck your gun away, and let him help pull you out and to your feet. You wipe the sand from your front as Bucky looks you over, and then he crushes you against him in the tightest hug in the history of the world.

“Fu—I can’t breathe, Bucky,” you gasp.

Bucky lets go just a little. “Don’t do that again, okay?” He switches his comm—off? On? You don’t know. Then he does the same to yours. Off, you guess.

“Listen,” he says, eyes bright under the stars. He cups your face in his right hand, his skin warm against yours. Your heart pounds; he swallows thickly. “Please don’t do that again.”

“I’ll try,” you tell him. You wet your dry lips and try to make out his in the darkness. “But there’s no promises in this job. You know that.”

“Yeah…” He sighs. “I guess I do.”

“But I’ll try,” you repeat. You hold up a hand, pinky out. Bucky slowly hooks his pinky in yours, eyes blazing on your face. You squeeze your finger. “I promise.”

“Good.” He tugs you closer and presses the barest hint of a kiss to your brow.

You’re frozen again, but this time it’s not out of fear.

This time, it’s wonder.

For all his lips had been on your skin for barely a moment, you can still feel an echo, an imprint where they’d been.

There’s a link between you now, isn’t there? And it’s different than before.

Bucky switches his comm back on, his pinky still linked with yours.

“Got her,” he says. A pause, where he gazes at you, expression indecipherable. “Where should we meet you?” He looks away. “Okay.”

“Who was that?” you ask. It’s the best you can do with your skin still tingling from his touch. From his kiss.

“Sam,” he says. “This way.” He tugs you along, shifting his fingers until you’re holding hands properly.

It’s not the frantic drag that usually comes with his hand around yours on a mission. It’s gentle, warm; familiar, yet strange.

“Bucky…”

He pauses, glances back at you. “Hm?”

“I’m glad it was you who found me.”

Bucky smiles and squeezes your hand. “Me too, love. Me too.”

[teatimewithclementine]

After The Order

Chapter i.

Synopsis: In his voyage to restore the Jedi Order after the Jedi Purge, Cal continues his search for the holocron containing a list of the next generation of Jedi. Unfortunately, his plans are put on halt when him and his friends are forced to land on the crime-infested planet of Jakku when his ship breaks down. Cal has one mission; find a ship scrap and get the hell out, but that too is interrupted when he finds someone who’s supposed to be dead.

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Word Count: 4,170

Cal had a hard time bracing himself despite being seated in his chair. His brain rattled and his insides churned after the Mantis’ rocky landing. He ran to the ship’s door, banging on the button, not even giving the door enough time to open completely before he launched himself out. In a blur, his feet hit the ground and one hand was situated on the exterior side of the Mantis while the other gripped on his thigh right above his kneecap. Between the Jakku sun making him already break a sweat and the inability to breathe when he threw up, it was an uncomfortable combination.

“Hey, you okay out there, kid?” Greez asked, one of his four arms reaching up to scratch at his chin.

Cal’s chest heaved as he caught his breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. BD-1 beeped from the ship’s ramp in concern for his human friend and reached out a little metal leg.

“Yeah...yeah I’m good.”

“Good, because you’re gonna have to find something to fix this ship. The faster we get off the ground the better.” said Cere.

Cal adjusted himself to stand up straight and Greez raised his eyebrows at Cere; who was leaning nonchalantly against the door frame of the Mantis ship. Her dark skin began to collect sweat and her considerably capacious eyes lingered on Cal, waiting for an answer to her thoughts.

“Hey, the kid just spilled his guts. Maybe he should take some seat before heading out there?” Greez said.

“No, no. Cere is right.” Cal said. “We can’t stay on Jakku forever. I’ll try and find some more food and see if I can score a hyperdrive scrap.”

“Be careful, Cal. If we’re stationary for too long the Empire might get on our trail.” said Cere. To Cal it only appeared to be a warning, but her stomach was churning and she grew afraid of what would become of them if the Empire was able to strike them while they were defenseless.

Cere watched as Cal straightened himself up and regained his posture, then walking off into the distant city that was just barely visible over the dunes.

Cal had never been to Jakku and never expected it to be as hot as it was; and oh was it hot. The front of his hair, a burnt and darkened orange, had fallen from its usual slicked back style into a loose side part with strands stuck to the sweat on his face. His pale complexion was red and overheated, certain he had already been sunburned and any more time out in the sun would boil him alive from the inside out.

Cal didn’t plan on ditching his clothes either, but in the sand at least two miles behind him was his brown poncho stained with oil and torn at the seams. He rolled up the sleeves of his dark blue shirt underneath the padded chest plate he wore just to feel a little cooler. There were sweat stains on his chest, back and under his arms which made his shirt cling to his body and the cotton feel unbearably scratchy.

He gargled down his last few drops of water from his canteen and swallowed his mouthful whole. BD-1 adjusted himself from Cal’s left shoulder to his right, perching eagerly and scanning in the distance. He beeped excitedly as the town seemed much closer and the sand was making his robotic joints hard to function.

“I know, buddy, we’re almost there. I think we’ll have to make a water stop before finding a hyperdrive scrap.”

A half an hour later Cal and BD-1 reached the city, standing at the edge of a colorful market. BD-1 beeped like a child and swiveled his head around to take in all the sights the market had to offer, the bright reds, blues and greens of many stalls contrasting against the monochromatic yellow sand and buildings.

It was full of all sorts of goods; edible and tangible. The smell of roasted frogs and overpriced portion bread was enough to make Cal’s stomach rumble. His mouth practically drooled when he watched an old woman stir a pot of mushroom stew while grilling a green vine snake over tin cans of coal and poorly lit flames.

Close to the old woman and her stew were two Twi’leks bickering in their native language over a canister of pod fuel. One had skin dark coal-like skin and the other was purple, both of their thick headtails that sprouted from the skulls swaying with their movements. The market was loud, full of life and had a commodious feeling attached as if everyone lived as one big family; almost as it was for Cal back on Bracca in his scrapper days. He always recalled the nights him and the other scrappers and technicians would go to the town near the scrapyard and get a few drinks under the dim yellow lights of the cantina. Although, Cal was still a year short from human adult age and was forced by his older friends to sip on Meiloorun juice while they enjoyed a glass of Spotchka.

After turning many corners, a few shifty-looking stall workers trying to coax Cal with anything from overpriced clothing to a brothel subscription, enduring sand and dust kicked up into his eyes and the ripped soles of his boots, Cal reached a substantial looking bar. It was quiet inside and the only noise was a quiet guitar duo in the back using crates for a stage. There was also the occasional clinking of shot glasses when a lonesome drinker would slam it on the table.

“What can I get you, handsome?”

A young man, presumably the bartender, leaned over the splintered bar once Cal was able to sit down on the barstool after faltering over his steps. BD-1 shook the sand from his little joints onto Cal’s back and Cal set his metal water canteen on the bar.

The bartender had a tattoo on the left side of his neck of a square and ink black hair split into a middle part. It so heavily slicked against his skull one would think it was wet. His facial features were thin and hard, with hollow cheeks and an angular nose, sharp and thin cupid-bow lips and extraordinarily slim, bright turquoise eyebrows. He had a black coat hung loosely over his salient shoulders and a black glove over one of his hands. As far as Cal could see, most of his clothing was dark a monochromatic other than the luminous green scarf wrapped tightly around the bartender’s elongated neck.

“Uh, just water.” Cal said.

“Thirsty, eh?” The bartender winked as he filled the canteen with water before handing it to Cal, who fervently grabbed. Water spilled over his hand and pants in his quest to bring water to his lips as fast as possible. Cal gulped down his water and set his canteen on the bar, wiping away his mouth with the back of his hand and contently sighed. The bartender filled the canteen again and this time Cal rolled the cap back on and clipped it to his belt next to his lightsaber.

“Never seen you ‘round Nefit before. You stayin’ a while?” The bartender seemed interested in Cal, leaning against the bar and his head cocked to the side, cheek resting on his gloved hand.

“No, I’m just passing through. My ship is broken out on the dunes. You don’t by any chance know someone who might be able to help with a broken hyperdrive processor?”

“You seem to be in a hurry. Got someone special waitin’ for you?”

The bartender used his free hand and attempted tracing his finger over Cal’s delimit, yet boyish arm. He pulled away and gave a half smile, not really wanting to engage the bartender in a specific manner.

“I just need to find a hyperdrive scrap or someone who sells them.” Cal pronounced coolly.

Finally, the bartender sighed and dropped his flirtations. He looked around, his eyes getting a little wider each time and carefully peered behind Cal then behind himself. He gestured Cal to lean in close once he was sure no one was listening; although it didn’t seem like the few heads in the room would care either way.

“There’s only one guy you can get that kinda stuff from ‘round these parts. Hyperdrive’s not cheap these days.”

Cal kept quiet and looked at the bartender intently.

“Toka,” The bartender whispered. “Pretty good smuggling biz out here  if you lookin’ for that kinda stuff. They got ‘em ship scraps, but a hyperdrive? That’ll be a bargain.”

“So how would I get a scrap from them? Someone I can make a deal with?”

The bartender grew pale and his hands went clammy. He drew a thick cigarra from his pocket and popped open a spark canister, lighting his cigarra and clamping it between his wiry lips.

“The boss. Never seen him before, not many people have, but heard ‘round he’s pretty tough. Gotta try and make it worth his while ‘less you willin’ to pull some tricks.”

“Where can I find Toka?” Cal’s brows furrowed and side-eyed the bartender keenly.

The bartender took a long drag from his cigarra and blew a puff of sour-smelling smoke near Cal’s face. Cal scrunched his nose.

“West of Nefit there’s a big warehouse. Most of their imports come through there, so I bet you can figure it out.”

Cal nodded and stood up, supporting himself with the poorly sanded down bar. The bartender looked around once again and cleared his throat before putting out his cigarra and busying himself by wiping down a damp shot glass.

BD-1 hopped off Cal’s back once they were outside again, scanning all around him. Cal looked around too, then crouched down next to BD.

“What you doing there, bud?”

Cal extended his arm and BD scampered up, perched himself on Cal’s shoulder and beeped eagerly. BD-1 projected what he had scanned; a nearby hologram map he was able to tap into. Westside Nefit was close but it seemed the warehouse was heavily guarded from the amount of red zones marked.

“Nice work, BD.” Cal stood up and continued to study the map. “Look’s like we’re gonna have to find faster transportation than just walking if we’re gonna get there before it’s dark.”

Unfortunately nightfall hung upon the Jakku sky and Cal was unable to find sufficiently discreet transportation to the Toka warehouse, forcing him to work his way on foot. He was used to doing almost everything on foot, but he thought if he could score a quiet pod he would be able to rest his feet for a bit. The torn soles of his boots didn’t help his commutes either with all the sand, rock and weed roots that would get stuck there and how he could feel the blisters on his toes every time he took a step. At least BD-1’s stims were able to numb the blistering pain until Cal could properly take care of them.

Cal crouched on the roof of a sanded concrete building that stood at least six stories tall. By the more secluded and quiet area the building was in, it was most likely a residential area for the more credit rich people of Nefit. BD scanned the area and warehouse below them. It was well guarded with six guards on the West entrance, six on the East and twelve at the main import access door. They all wore the same dirtied magenta fabric pieces wrapped around their upper arms to signify their union.

“Whoever this boss is, he sure didn’t want anyone getting in that warehouse.” Cal squinted his eyes in the dark, searching the warehouse roof for any sort of skylight. “See any shortcuts, BD?”

“Bee-boop.” BD beeped.

BD-1 pulled up the hologram map and Cal zoomed in with his fingers and swiped around to look for any marked entrances he could use without having to take down any guards.

“Wait, what’s that?”

Cal saw there was a breach in the warehouse. An area where the wall was much thinner and beginning to crumble.

“If we could get through that it could be our ticket in. Just one problem...we don’t know where it leads to.” Cal bit down on his thumb nail and continued to look at the marked breach on the holomap. “Hey bud, you think you can get through the breach and scan a bit inside? You’re a lot less noticeable than me.”

“Bee-beep!”

BD-1 scampered off Cal’s back and down the side of the building. He hopped around on the ground before making his way up the side of the warehouse and using the high ground to get around the guarded entrances unnoticed. Cal switched from his perch to sitting on the roof of the building with his arms resting on his bent legs. He looked up at the sky which had progressed from the orange and blue of the sunset to midnight black. Both moons were in full view and hundreds stars twinkled against the youthful night sky.

Cal wondered what it would be like to travel the planets for fun instead of what he was doing. He often spoke of travel with Prauf back on Bracca and sometimes when the yard master was out on business, Cal would sneak into his office and nab a few books on Galactic Culture. Above most, he favored the rich culture of ancient Pitallo and the myths of the Dark Prince Avonine.

Of course traveling for the sake of the Jedi Order meant everything to him, but he thought about getting his own ship and hopping from planet to planet, studying ancient cultures as Cordova did and enjoying the local spoils like food and architecture without being worried about whose hands his life will be in next. Hell, he’d even like to meet someone someday and perhaps even travel together.

Cal really never had any romantic relationships considering how young he is and even younger when he was a scrapper. The only thing he’d ever come close to was with Munoa, a fellow scrapper he met on Bracca when he was fifteen, however, it didn’t help that she was ten years his senior and the attraction was completely one-sided on Cal’s part. She taught him how to rewire the generators when turning on a broken ship’s lighting function and saw him, unfortunately, as a younger brother.

“Bweep!”

BD-1 returned and balanced himself on the ledge of the building Cal sat on. He projected the hologram again and Cal took a closer look on what he scanned.

“It looks like the breach leads right into a boiler room and goes to the storage units. Good job, buddy. Let’s go get that hyperdrive scrap.”

Cal jumped off the building and used his force abilities to slow down his decent, allowing him to hit the ground safely with minimal impact. The outside of the warehouse was run down with many limestone ridges on the walls, making it easy for Cal to latch on and climb up to the warehouse rooftop. Him being on the lighter side helped quite a bit too, as it wasn’t very difficult of a climb. There was the occasional crumbling limestone from the building that made Cal lose is grip once or twice but he was able to safely make it to the rooftop.

Cal ran across the roof and back down the exterior wall near the Northern side of the building unnoticed while BD-1 swiveled his head every now and then to look around. The breach had a larger break from BD-1 squeezing himself through beforehand. Cal looked to his left and right before running his bare hand over the wall to gage how thin it was. Either ripping away at the crumbling limestone or letting his lightsaber do the work, both would make a good amount of noise and attract the guards. Taking the bargain, Cal thought his saber would be the best bet as it would make quick work of breaking down the breach.

Emitting his saber from its hilt, Cal carefully observed his surroundings to make sure he had not attracted anyone to his location. Once he was sure he was safe, he cut a large enough hole for him to duck through, as the larger it was the more conspicuous he thought it’d be. BD hopped off his back and staggered through first with Cal following close behind, holding up his saber and using it as a light source in the dark, dingy boiler room.

“BD, can you pull up that map again?”

Cal took one last look at BD’s scan and double checked he knew where he wanted to head to get to the warehouse’s storage units. He quietly opened the boiler room’s metal door to a cold, empty hallway just as dark as what laid behind him. It was so silent after he had shut the boiler door behind him, Cal couldn’t even hear white noise– just a soft ringing in his ears and an occasional unsettling drip from a distant leaking pipe.

He continued to hold his saber up, illuminating the outstretched hallway with a hauntingly fluorescent green as Cal made his way down the naked, doorless walls. At the end there was a set of double metal doors. BD-1 hopped on the door handle and his scomp link connected with the rather large lock. With the crackling fry of the security system and little sparks flying from the lock, the doors popped open to reveal what seemed to be a whole other separate warehouse from the size of it.

There must have been dozens upon dozens of crates either stacked or lined up. There was also a little transport pod parked near a closed entrance; probably where Toka brings in imports. The unit smelled of stale soil and hot metal; the kind of smell when you fall and scrape your knees as a child and you distinctly remember a bit of blood. There was no ventilation as far as Cal could feel from his skin burning underneath his clothes and his tongue salivating for another sip of water.

“Alright, we just get what we need and get out.”

Cal’s jaw clenched as he waved around his saber to illuminate the room. He craned his neck to look back at BD-1 who was still balanced on his back. 

“Can you unlock a few of these crates, buddy?” Cal asked BD.

BD-1 beeped and hopped off Cal’s back and put his scomp link to work on multiple imports. Cal lifted the lid off at least two crates and dug around, still holding his lightsaber above his head for light.

“I can’t find anything. You got something, BD?”

“Beep!” BD shook his little square head.

Cal sighed and continued digging through a few more crates. If he wanted to find a good hyperdrive scrap in all these crates it’d take forever; especially since they were unlabeled as far as he knew. Cal’s hand grazed along a large button-like item deep into his fourth crate search. He grabbed hold of it and held it close to the green saber glow and identified a symbol he hadn’t seen in a long time.

It was only a bit larger than a button and was plated in gold that flaked away, revealing the rusty carbonite underneath. Engraved in the button was the old republic symbol that Cal’s old training ship used to brandish along the walls. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it and his mind began to wander to the memories of the Clones– his friends– wearing the symbol with pride as they shot down his people. He was falling deep into archived thoughts he wanted to somewhat keep away from for as long as possible. Cal didn’t even notice the tears falling down his flushed face as his eyes glossed over as he began to feel the echo; the events the button endured passing into Cal’s mind through the force.

It was painful. Cal could feel the button fall from a young boy’s pocket as he fell to the ground, a lofty man standing above the boy and a group of other young children. The man’s hand tightly gripped the hilt of a blue lightsaber and his eyes were irritated and red like he’d been crying, but the irised were yellow.

Cal exhaled a rough, sharp breath as he was brought back to reality and stumbled back over his feet.

“Bweep?” BD-1 looked up at Cal from atop a crate lid.

“I’m okay, bud. Just didn’t expect this to have an echo.”

Cal tossed the button back in the crate and kept looking for a hyperdrive scrap, trying to be as quick as possible before someone noticed the breach in the boiler room.

“Looks like somebody’s havin’ a bit of trouble.”

Cal jumped and held up his saber, looking around. He heard speaking from the left of him but couldn’t locate a person.

“Better save yourself the effort. Them imports ain’t yours for the takin’.”

The voice surely belonged to a woman. She had a distinct, unmistakable accent. Her R’s were heavy and burred, words drawled out and the way she sounded was sleek and lustrous like what you’d expect from well groomed hair.

“Whoever you are, we don’t want any trouble. We’re just getting a hyperdrive scrap for our ship and the rest of the cargo is yours.”

Cal heard a heavy drop of boots against the concrete floor and a swoosh that only heavy clothing would make. She must have been sitting atop a few heavy crates, as Cal was able to loosely identify the movement of a person dropping from substantial height. BD-1 hopped back onto Cal’s back and slowly dipped his head behind Cal’s shoulder, shielding himself and beeped while looking up at Cal.

“A lightsaber? You picked off a body?” she asked.

Cal’s stomach wrenched and his throat felt swollen. He couldn’t blame the woman for assuming he nipped his saber from someone, but it made him feel sick as he remembered the body of his master laying still as he clutched onto this exact lightsaber.

“I worked hard for this score, you best move along if you know what’s good for you.”

In the green light, Cal could see the shadow of her body moving closer.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, I just–”

By now reasoning was useless. Cal doubled over when the wind was knocked out of his gut by a hard kick. His lightsaber had slipped from his hand and the blade retracted, eclipsing the room in complete darkness yet again which made it hard to identify his attacker if she came in close range. His eyes could only see the vague figure of her every now and then.

He was kicked again, but this time down onto his back against the concrete and BD-1 skidded across the floor behind a crate. Cal laid there for a moment and wondered how the woman was able to make moves like this so quickly and precise in the dark. His thoughts were cut short as he caught a glimpse of a shadow moving down to his face. The woman had attempted to knock Cal out with her boot, but he was able to dodge and use the opportunity to feel around for his lightsaber on all fours.

“Bad move.” she said.

She threw herself at Cal and knocked him back onto his back with her on top of him, one hand pinning down one of his arms to his side and restricted his movement while her other arm was raised above with a fist. Before he could react, Cal was punched straight in the cheekbone and his head was knocked against the concrete ground. It hurt like hell, like someone had hammered his brain against his skull.

He was able to block the second attempt of a punch with his hand and thrashed his head forward in attempts to bash his forehead against his attacker’s. He was successful when his head experienced a new kind of pain, instantly turning into a migraine. The woman leaned over to the right in a weakened moment while emphatically cursing out Cal. He used his free hand to flip the both of them over so she was on the ground instead with him over her. He pushed himself off and stood up with wavering steps.

“Please,” he said, out of breath and wincing, “Maybe we can help each other out.”

He could hear her sitting up and groaning, but before Cal could get any response or reaction out of the woman, there was a blunt smack on the back of his head. He could no longer feel any pain, just the slow descent of his body as gravity took full control of him and the darkness of the storage unit became nothingness. Cal lay there, cold against the hard floor and unconscious.

[libermachinae]

Schematics [Or, Another Chance] – Ch. 3, Law/Crime

Also available on AO3! Notes: Day 3 of @prowlweek! More Constructicon nonsense bc I, too, am a bulldozer rocketing down the street at max speed and my momentum cannot be stopped.

⏳ 🚧 🚓 ⌛ 🏗 🚧 ⏳

Third walk through the timestream: wasn’t getting any easier. Prowl was waiting for them somewhere in the past, and Hook had to keep reminding himself of that while every step felt like his frame was betraying him. He was behind Long Haul this time, an experiment to see if another member of the team would be better at following Prowl’s first instruction. Bonecrusher followed him. Scavenger had passed out once they’d gotten him propped against a wall, and Mixmaster had promised to use his downtime to find a way to reverse the effects of the powder. Though he only had a small assortment of chemicals on hand to work with, Hook had no doubt he would put something together.

He startled when he bumped into Long Haul. Again, he’d withdrawn so much that he hadn’t noticed the point at which he was supposed to stop. Patience was hard to define in a place where time didn’t strictly move forward, so Hook could be forgiven if he was in short supply. As soon as Long Haul started moving again, Hook followed him, feeling Bonecrusher close behind.

They emerged on a rooftop, under a bank of stars. Underneath them, a vibrant, writhing, pre-war Iacon pulsed with nightlife. This wasn’t a sight Hook had ever personally witnessed, though he might have once helped lay the foundations for something like it.

“This is 4th cycle 501,” Prowl said as the team gathered around, snapping their attentions back to him whenever they started to drift toward the distracting collection of lights and sounds down below them. “Nominus is Prime, the Clampdown is in effect… Am I forgetting anything?”

“Decepticons are growing,” Long Haul said.

“This would’ve been before Scrapper got us recruited, though, so Megtron’s not building arenas yet,” Hook added. “Autobots are on guard, but no one’s declaring war yet.”

Bonecrusher didn’t contribute anything. Whenever Prowl wasn’t the one talking, his attention drifted outward, to the sparkling lights and distant signs of life. Like Prowl, he was a little hard to read sometimes, but the steadiness of his movements indicated that this was no trip down memory lane: he was surveying, searching for any possible danger. Prowl was doing something similar, actually, though Hook didn’t dare to assume he knew Prowl’s intentions.

“Why did our guy put himself on the roof?” Hook asked. “He a flier?”

“He’s—”

“Hey, Prowl, isn’t that you?”

Bonecrusher’s effort had paid off. Standing at the edge of the roof, he pointed down to the ground level entrance. The others joined at his sides, just soon enough to watch Prowl and some other mech enter the building beneath their pedes. Hook glanced to Prowl, whose optic had brightened in interest.

“Oh,” he said, “I see why he might’ve come here.”

“What’d you do?” Long Haul asked.

“I was performing my function,” Prowl said. “Tu—Chromedome and I did everything as per regulation. That an incident occurred doesn’t—”

“Clowndome?” Long Haul interrupted. “What were you covering his aft for? You’re better than him.”

Hook felt a thrill of alarm as Prowl’s doorwings sagged down. He couldn’t let another mission go sour, not when they’d barely gotten this second chance. Furious at his teammate for potentially jeopardizing it (even if he wasn’t entirely sure what Long Haul had done wrong), Hook took advantage of their usual conflict resolution strategy: he slugged Long Haul in the arm.

“Hey!” Long Haul yelped, grabbing at the shallow dent that had formed. “What was that for?”

“Don’t say stupid slag,” Hook warned.

“The frag are you talking about?”

“Behave,” Prowl snapped, doorwings flaring back up above his head. Even if Hook didn’t know exactly what they were trying to say, the attempt at intimidation was obvious enough. It didn’t really work, not when the size difference between them was still so apparent, but both mechs stepped away from each other and turned their attention to Prowl. He huffed and straightened.

“To answer your earlier question, Hook,” he said, “our target does possess flight capabilities, though he is not especially fast. If we move now, there is a chance we can catch up with him. Hook, you’ll come with me for a perimeter check. Long Haul, Bonecrusher, you’ll stay here and keep watch over the timestream. Do whatever it takes to keep anyone else from finding it, but keep in mind that I am currently in the building and have no memory of encountering you this night. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they said. Hook thought he heard Long Haul grumble something, but since Prowl didn’t comment on it, he decided it wouldn’t be his place to, either.

“Can you at least tell us what we’re looking for?” Long Haul asked.

“He flies,” Bonecrusher offered.

“He’s green,” Prowl said.

Long Haul and Bonecrusher took up positions to either side of the portal, the latter with more earnest enthusiasm than the former. Prowl stood back to look at them once, like a general inspecting his troops, then turned his back on them to lead Hook to the opposite edge of the roof. The alley here was narrow, allowing them to leap across. As they started to maneuver the rooftops this way, Hook distracted himself from his vertigo by thinking about anyone he knew who was green and had something against the flow of time.

“It’s not that Liege Maximal guy, is it?” he asked. “Hated him.”

“He’s dead,” Prowl said.

“Yeah, and? Seems like everything that happens is because of some guy that was supposed to be dead,” Hook said, watching as his teammate surveyed the area around them before deciding another direction to head in.

“You mean Shoackwave.”

“Yeah, and also Optimus Prime, Metroplex, Megatron.”

“Hm.” Prowl peered down from the edge of one building, as though judging the distance to the ground.

“What?” Hook was pretty sure Prowl was thinking something. It would be generous to say that meant he was learning anything about his teammate, since Prowl was always thinking about things the others wouldn’t get to know anything about, but the noise he made suggested that something significant was going on in that processor.

“Your statement could almost make someone mistakenly believe you were anything less than jubilant when Megatron returned,” Prowl said.

Hook took a moment to make sure he understood Prowl’s meaning before he responded.

“You were in our head,” Hook said. “You know it was more complicated than that. We had a bad thing with the Autobots, and no matter how we felt about Megs, he was our ticket out from under them.”

“No loyalty to the Decepticon cause, though?” Prowl said.

“Eh.” Hook shrugged. He’d had this conversation with plenty of Decepticons before and had become comfortable with his level of commitment to Megatron’s fanaticisms. Sharing it again with Prowl, whatever he considered himself nowadays, wasn’t stressful.

“Mixmaster’s into it,” he said. “Can’t stand organics, and that means Bonecrusher’s on board, too. But for the rest of us, it just started as another job. I think Scrapper read Megatron’s big book before he got us hired, but it’s not like he ever told us about it.”

“Not a conversationalist?”

Hook didn’t know why Prowl was curious about any of this, but he was delighted and didn’t want it to stop.

“Nah, it’s just that he was like you,” Hook said, “everything was always about—”

Prowl grabbed Hook’s shoulder and shoved him down, until he was almost flattened on the roof.

“Prowl!”

“Shush!”

A silent finger pointed out, across the rooftops. Silhouetted against the lights of the living city and the stars above was a figure, standing still, looking out across this small slice of the planet.

“Is that our guy?” Hook whispered.

“No,” Prowl said. “That’s Orion Pax.”

Hook felt the tide of revulsion he’d become so used to over the years.

“Ugh, Optimus? What’s he doing here?”

“Doing exactly what he’s supposed to,” Prowl said. “When a Decepticon attacks the residential building, he’ll jump down and neutralize the threat.”

“When a—Prowl!” Hook’s systems revved at the threat to his teammate.

“Be quiet, Hook.”

He forced his engine to calm down and dropped his voice to a hush again.

“You never said you would be in danger.”

“I’m not, in a determined sense,” Prowl said. “Orion does his job and I survive the war, remember? Anything that happened prior to our meeting doesn’t concern you.”

In a logical way, yeah, sure, Hook understood what Prowl meant. He didn’t understand, though, how Prowl thought he would be comfortable sitting here, several blocks away, knowing that his teammate was about to be attacked. Even with combat routines locked down, he felt like he might bust out of his plating for all the effort it was taking to keep himself in place.

“Yeah, of course,” he managed to say, “but when the others hear you being shot at—”

“Hey!”

They swiveled around, following the sound of the voice back to the rooftop they’d come from. Though hard to see from a distance and in the dark, both were able to make out Long Haul. Impressive for his stature and his natural steadiness, it was a shock to watch him as he struggled to grapple with the much smaller Bonecrusher, who was apparently doing everything in his power to fling himself off the side of the roof. And, by the looks of it, that was a lot of power.

“Let go of me, Prowl’s in danger!” Bonecrusher roared. He broke free of Long Haul’s grip and sprinted forward, before he was flattened again by Long Haul’s tackle.

“We can’t,” Long Haul said, “Prowl will—”

“Who cares?” Bonecrusher demanded. “Let me—”

“Halt!”

The whole team, two on the original roof and two watching from afar, froze as a familiar voice traveled across the rooftops. Bonecrusher used the moment of surprise to get his legs underneath him and start to physically lift Long Haul off himself. As the surprised dump truck was tossed aside, Bonecrusher once more made a break for it, only to be intercepted by Orion Pax.

When the officer spoke, his deep voice was too low for either Hook or Prowl’s audials to pick up. Twice, Bonecrusher tried to dodge around him, but a firm hand would stop and put him back in his place. After just a couple minutes of talking, there was a sound of gunfire, glass shattering, and Orion had whipped around to look down and behind.

Then, he was gone.

“Did he just—”

“Yes,” Prowl said with an air of resignation. “He was fond of that sort of thing.”

Hook followed him back to Long Haul and Bonecrusher, who had scooted back to the edge of the roof to watch the action. They both turned at the sound of footsteps; Bonecrusher jumped.

“Prowl,” he said, “how did you get up—”

“Both of you, up, now,” Prowl said, ignoring the question. “We’re leaving.”

“Already?” Hook asked.

“There’s no sign of our target and even if he had been here, you’ve caused enough of a disturbance that we’ll be unlikely to find him not,” Prowl said. “Bonecrusher, you will have time to explain yourself when we return to base.”

“Not that much to explain, Prowl,” Bonecrusher said. “You were in danger. I had to protect you.”

“I was in danger in the past,” Prowl said, the glare of his single optic narrowing as he pointed an accusing finger up at the berserker.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“No,” Prowl said. “It is not your job to reason or make decisions. You leave that to me. Regardless of what the situation is, my authority comes first.”

Hook glanced at Bonecrusher, but still his stance gave away little. He didn’t know how to explain to Prowl that this was what BC did. He was the protector, the one who always had everyone’s backs. Even if Prowl asked if he understood, and even if BC said yes, he wouldn’t think twice about it if the same situation came up later and there was no one else to help.

“Follow,” Prowl commanded, as he led the way into the timestream. Long Haul waited the two seconds, then followed, but Hook lagged at Bonecrusher’s side, waiting until they were alone to speak up.

“What’d Optimus have to say?” he asked.

“Wanted to give me a citation for ‘disturbing the peace,’” Bonecrusher said. “Told me to wait here so he could finish filling out the form.”

The cant of his helm and the glint in his optic band told Hook exactly what he thought of that.

[bxckybcrncs]

Have you ever noticed that ( JAMES BUCHANAN “ BUCKY ” BARNES ) from the ( MARVEL UNIVERSE ) looks a lot like ( SEBASTIAN STAN )? But ( HE ) also go/goes by ( THE WINTER SOLDIER ). Having the ability to/of ( SUPERHUMANLY ENHANCED STRENGTH, SPEED, REFLEXES, HEALING, STAMINA, AND AGILITY,  A CYBERNETIC ENHANCED LEFT ARM, AND EXPERT ESPIONAGE/MARKSMAN/TACTICAL SKILLS. ) sure makes them a force to be reckoned with. Rumour has it they are ( 105/30 ) and is working as ( PART TIME AVENGER / SHIELD AGENT ).

i  always  say  i’m  not  going  to  write  a  lot  and  then  write  12  paragraphs,  so  i’m  not  even  going  to  try  and  shorten  this.  it’s  going  to  be  long.  i’m  so  sorry.  

james  buchanan  barnes  was  born  in  1917.  he  was  a  good  student  and  fairly  athletic,  though  his  school  record  probably  wasn’t  great.  when  he  befriended  steve  rogers  as  children,  beating  up  bullies  that  tried  to  mess  with  him  became  a  pastime.   steve  was  a  scrapper,  always  ‘had  ‘em  on  the  ropes’  but  james  —  better  known  to  friends  and  family  as  bucky  —  was  the  kind  of  person  who  couldn’t  sit  back  and  watch  the  people  he  loved  hurt.  they  were  inseparable  and  the  majority  of  bucky’s  happy  memories  all  include  steve.  the  unhappy  ones too  probably,  considering  steve’s  health  wasn’t  great  when  they  were  young  and  he  probably  worried  about  him  24/7.   

he  was  idealistic  when  he  enlisted  and  was  assigned  to  the  107th  in  1943.   he  was  young,  all  smiles  and  charm, and  really  believed  in  the  cause.  or  believed  that  he  believed,  which  rounds  out  the  same  in  the  end.  he  was  a  waterweight  champion  prior  to  enlisting  and  was  given  sniper  training  shortly  after  he  got  his  papers.  from  there,  everything  went  from  sort  of  good  to  bad.   his  regiment  were  kidnapped  by  hydra  and  he  was  experimented  on  by  a  scientist  named  zola.  they  injected  him  with  a  walmart  brand  supersoldier  serum,  trying  to  replicate  the  success  that  they  had  with  captain  america,  but  his  regiment  was  rescued  and  he  vowed  to  fight  against  hydra  by  steve’s  side.   

on  a  mission,  fighting  alongside  steve  —  newly  super  serum’d  up  and  way  buffer  than  he  remembered  —  he  was  blasted  from  a  train  car.   he  was  clinging  to  the  railing  that  gave  way  moments  before  steve  could  grab  his  hand.   he  was  assumed  dead  as  he  fell  a  significant  drop.  the  serum  is  probably  what  saved  him  and  gave  hydra  the  perfect  opportunity  to  grab  him.   he  was  experimented  on  extensively  and  technologically  upgraded  with  a  cybernetic  arm  to  make  him  even  more  deadly.  hydra  brainwashed  him,  implanted  code  words  and  conditioning  with  triggers,  so  they  could  control  him  and  make  him  the  perfect  weapon.  

in  his  past,  in  and  out  of  cryo,  he  trained  natasha  romanoff  in  the  red  room.  there  were  a  number  of  super  soliders,  other  projects  that  were  deemed  failures  or  too  unstable  to  function,  but  the  black  widows  were  the  soviet’s  baby  so  to  speak.   up  until  recently,  he  didn’t  remember  anything  about  his  time  in  the  red  room.   or  the  time  he  shot  a  mark  through  natasha.   awko.  

over  the  next  70  years,  they’d  pull  him  in  and  out  of  cryofreeze,  wiping  his  memory  between  missions,  to  have  complete  a  series  of  prolific  assassinations  and  missions.  he  became  a  ghost  story,  referred  to  in  whispers  in  the  intelligence  community  as  the  winter  solider,  and  was  known  to  be  extremely  deadly.    

bucky  continued  to  operate  as  an  hydra  asset  until  the  fall  of  hydra  within  s.h.i.e.l.d.  in  2013.   his  programming  was  starting  to  fail,  triggers  from  his  former  life  waking  up  parts  of  him  that  he’d  thought  were  long  gone,  and  he  was  starting  to  remember  things.   the  man  on  the  bridge.  i  remember  him.   he  pulls  steve  out  of  the  river  after  the  helicarrier  crashes,   visits  the  exhibit  at  the  smithsonian,  and  then  disappears.   it  takes  years  for  him  to  sort  through  his  memories,  writing  things  down  frantically  in  notebooks  as  quickly  as  they  appear  in  case  they  disappear  again.  on  top  of  the  horrific  memories  of  the  things  he’s  done,  the  people  he’s  hurt,  he  has  blanks  and  gaps  that  he  doesn’t  know  how  to  quantify.   so  he  hides,  he  stays  off  shield  and  the  governments  radar,  and  he  tries  to  figure  out  who  and  what  he  is.    that  is,  until  his  picture’s  on  the  news,  steve’s  crashing  back  into  his  life,  and  there’s  another  fight  to  be  fought.   except  this  time,  it’s  over  him.   and  he’s  not  sure  he  deserves  it.

this  is  getting  really  sad  so  i’m  moving  on.  anyways.  after  the  events  of  civil  war,  when  nemo  used  his  conditioning  to  turn  him  against  the  people  he  cared  about,  he  knew  he  was  a  liability.   until  they  could  fix  him,  figure  out  a  way  to  condition  his  brain  back  to  normal,  he  went  into  cryofreeze  again  in  wakanda.   a  year,  maybe  a  little  more,  and  he’s  out.   he  has  a  new  arm,  which  he  refuses  to  wear initially,  and  his  mind’s  clearer  than  it’s  been  in  years.   the  memories  still  come  and  go,  the  journaling  never  stops,  but  at  least  now  he  has  a  clear  picture  of  what’s  real  and  what  was  implanted  by  hydra.   he  knows,  in  an  abstract  way,  who  he  is  again.    what  he  is,  however,  is  up  for  debate.  

anyways  yes  he’s  been  in  wakanda  for  probably  close  to  two  years  trying  to  heal,  figure  out  what  comes  next,  and  just  take  a  breather.   everyone  he  knew  before  is  dead,  the  people  he  cared  about  he  hurt,  and  there’s  so  much  blood  on  his  hands  he  practically  drowns  in  it.   (  do  i  think  he  stayed  out  in  a  hut  because  his  nightmares  prompted  violent  shouts  sometimes  and  he  was  embarrassed?  yes.   does  he  still  have  them?  sometimes. )   when  the  accords  were  overturned,  registration  abandoned,  he  negotiated  with  the  government  and  with  shield  so  he  could  come  home.   he’s  not  all  that  sure  it’s  what  he  wants,  or  even  what  he  deserves,  but  even  if  others  might  disagree  he  has  a  list  of  crimes  a  mile  long  and  he  needs  to  make  it  right.   if  they  decide  that  means  working  for  shield  instead  of  sitting  in  a  jail  cell  somewhere,  he’ll  sign  on  the  dotted  line.   he  knows  nothing  in  life  comes  free.  not  even  freedom.

 anyways  yeah  bucky  is  sad,  lowkey  hates  himself  sometimes,  wants  to  protect  the  people  he  cares  about,  and  has  a  soft  spot  for  anyone  in  a  similar  position  to  his  own.  there’s  trauma  but  there’s  also  sarcasm,  repression,  and  resilience.  i  love  one  (1)  man.

[disscnants]

( sebastian stan, 100+, he/him ) - are you ready to fight for your world, BUCKY BARNES? through everything that’s happened in the world, you’re known to go by THE WINTER SOLDIER and have been said to be DETERMINED and UNYIELDING. over the past three years, you could be located at WONDER CITY and word out there is that your abilities include SUPERHUMANLY ENHANCED STRENGTH, SPEED, REFLEXES, HEALING, STAMINA, AND AGILITY,  A CYBERNETIC ENHANCED LEFT ARM, AND EXPERT ESPIONAGE/MARKSMAN/TACTICAL SKILLS.  seems like that’s going to help you survive this apocalypses. ( c, 21+, she/her, ast ).

james  buchanan  barnes  was  born  in  1917.  he  was  a  good  student  and  fairly  athletic,  though  his  school  record  probably  wasn’t  great.  when  he  befriended  steve  rogers  as  children,  beating  up  bullies  that  tried  to  mess  with  him  became  a  pastime.   steve  was  a  scrapper,  always  ‘had  ‘em  on  the  ropes’  but  james  —  better  known  to  friends  and  family  as  bucky  —  was  the  kind  of  person  who  couldn’t  sit  back  and  watch  the  people  he  loved  hurt.  they  were  inseparable  and  the  majority  of  bucky’s  happy  memories  all  include  steve.  the  unhappy  ones too  probably,  considering  steve’s  health  wasn’t  great  when  they  were  young  and  he  probably  worried  about  him  24/7.  

he  was  idealistic  when  he  enlisted  and  was  assigned  to  the  107th  in  1943.   he  was  young,  all  smiles  and  charm, and  really  believed  in  the  cause.  or  believed  that  he  believed,  which  rounds  out  the  same  in  the  end.  he  was  a  waterweight  champion  prior  to  enlisting  and  was  given  sniper  training  shortly  after  he  got  his  papers.  from  there,  everything  went  from  sort  of  good  to  bad.   his  regiment  were  kidnapped  by  hydra  and  he  was  experimented  on  by  a  scientist  named  zola.  they  injected  him  with  a  walmart  brand  supersoldier  serum,  trying  to  replicate  the  success  that  they  had  with  captain  america,  but  his  regiment  was  rescued  and  he  vowed  to  fight  against  hydra  by  steve’s  side.  

on  a  mission,  fighting  alongside  steve  —  newly  super  serum’d  up  and  way  buffer  than  he  remembered  —  he  was  blasted  from  a  train  car.   he  was  clinging  to  the  railing  that  gave  way  moments  before  steve  could  grab  his  hand.   he  was  assumed  dead  as  he  fell  a  significant  drop.  the  serum  is  probably  what  saved  him  and  gave  hydra  the  perfect  opportunity  to  grab  him.   he  was  experimented  on  extensively  and  technologically  upgraded  with  a  cybernetic  arm  to  make  him  even  more  deadly.  hydra  brainwashed  him,  implanted  code  words  and  conditioning  with  triggers,  so  they  could  control  him  and  make  him  the  perfect  weapon.  

in  his  past,  in  and  out  of  cryo,  he  trained  natasha  romanoff  in  the  red  room.  there  were  a  number  of  super  soliders,  other  projects  that  were  deemed  failures  or  too  unstable  to  function,  but  the  black  widows  were  the  soviet’s  baby  so  to  speak.   up  until  recently,  he  didn’t  remember  anything  about  his  time  in  the  red  room.   or  the  time  he  shot  a  mark  through  natasha.   awko.  

over  the  next  70  years,  they’d  pull  him  in  and  out  of  cryofreeze,  wiping  his  memory  between  missions,  to  have  complete  a  series  of  prolific  assassinations  and  missions.  he  became  a  ghost  story,  referred  to  in  whispers  in  the  intelligence  community  as  the  winter  solider,  and  was  known  to  be  extremely  deadly.    

bucky  continued  to  operate  as  an  hydra  asset  until  the  fall  of  hydra  within  s.h.i.e.l.d.  in  2013.   his  programming  was  starting  to  fail,  triggers  from  his  former  life  waking  up  parts  of  him  that  he’d  thought  were  long  gone,  and  he  was  starting  to  remember  things.   the  man  on  the  bridge.  i  remember  him.   he  pulls  steve  out  of  the  river  after  the  helicarrier  crashes,   visits  the  exhibit  at  the  smithsonian,  and  then  disappears.   it  takes  years  for  him  to  sort  through  his  memories,  writing  things  down  frantically  in  notebooks  as  quickly  as  they  appear  in  case  they  disappear  again.  on  top  of  the  horrific  memories  of  the  things  he’s  done,  the  people  he’s  hurt,  he  has  blanks  and  gaps  that  he  doesn’t  know  how  to  quantify.   so  he  hides,  he  stays  off  shield  and  the  governments  radar,  and  he  tries  to  figure  out  who  and  what  he  is.    that  is,  until  his  picture’s  on  the  news,  steve’s  crashing  back  into  his  life,  and  there’s  another  fight  to  be  fought.   except  this  time,  it’s  over  him.   and  he’s  not  sure  he  deserves  it.

this  is  getting  really  sad  so  i’m  moving  on.  anyways.  after  the  events  of  civil  war,  when  nemo  used  his  conditioning  to  turn  him  against  the  people  he  cared  about,  he  knew  he  was  a  liability.   until  they  could  fix  him,  figure  out  a  way  to  condition  his  brain  back  to  normal,  he  went  into  cryofreeze  again  in  wakanda.   a  year,  maybe  a  little  more,  and  he’s  out.   he  has  a  new  arm,  which  he  refuses  to  wear initially,  and  his  mind’s  clearer  than  it’s  been  in  years.   the  memories  still  come  and  go,  the  journaling  never  stops,  but  at  least  now  he  has  a  clear  picture  of  what’s  real  and  what  was  implanted  by  hydra.   he  knows,  in  an  abstract  way,  who  he  is  again.    what  he  is,  however,  is  up  for  debate.  

anyways  yes  he  spent  some  time  in  wakanda  trying  to  heal,  figure  out  what  comes  next,  and  just  take  a  breather.   everyone  he  knew  before  is  dead,  the  people  he  cared  about  he  hurt,  and  there’s  so  much  blood  on  his  hands  he  practically  drowns  in  it.   (  do  i  think  he  stayed  out  in  a  hut  because  his  nightmares  prompted  violent  shouts  sometimes  and  he  was  embarrassed?  yes.   does  he  still  have  them?  sometimes. )   shortly  before  the  equation,  steve  smuggled  him  back  in  the  states  when  he  felt  confident  that  he  was  no  longer  a  danger  to  the  people  around  him....  and  after,  when  the  world  was  fracturing,  his  past  crimes  didn’t  seem  to  matter  so  much.  

what  have  they  been  doing  in  the  last  three  years?

ever  since  the  equation,  bucky’s  been  on  the  ground  in  wonder  city  and  the  surrounding  areas.  sometimes  he  helps  get  refugees  into  the  city,  or  goes  on  missions  to  find  resources;  whatever  he  can  do  to  be  helpful.  he  has  a  stockpile  of  coffee  and  is  always  happy  to  share  it  with  friends.   it  was  his  first  priority  when  the  world  started  going  to  shit  and  he  has  a  massive  stock  now.  #priorities.

his  ptsd,  however,  hasn’t  fared  so  great  in  the  apocalypse.  he  suffers  from  mild  dissociative  episodes  where  he’ll  retreat  into  himself,  disappearing  for  hours  or  even  days  at  a  time.   

oh  and  because  he  has  a  walmart  version  of  the  super  soldier  serum  pumping  through  his  veins,  he’s  semi-resistant  to  the  anti-life  equation.   he  can  be  infected  but  his  body  will  gradually  fight  it   off  within  a  few  hours.   he’s  been  infected  twice  and  thankfully  the  casualties  were  minimal.   so  while  he  takes  more  risks  than  the  average  person,  he’s  very  conscious  of  how  lethal  him  getting  infected  could  be.  

how  will  they  react  to  having  the  others  come  back  from  earth-2?

he  understands  why  the  heroes  had  to  leave,  even  if  he  doesn’t  necessarily  agree  with  the  choice.   this  world  was  wartorn,  it  needed  them,  and  he’ll  always  wonder  if  more  people  could  have  been  saved  if  they’d  had  more  help.   he’s  never  wanted  to  be  in  the  fight  but  for  all  the  hurt  he’s  caused,  all  the  pain,  he  figures  staying  behind  in  a  ravaged  city  is  a  good  step  towards  retribution.   

[chubbyooo]

Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 62 - Code

hey back again trying to keep up the writing and just also trying to quell a bit of anxiety I have at the mo

Gacen and Ash get into a scuffle while in the scrappers town

https://open.spotify.com/track/12yHvSYFXI7PGzNecUvIDu?si=VFXor7T1QiC9-8thdzMp6A

Ash scanned the room as they stood back to back, too many people to properly anticipate she’d have to be careful. The Jakal like creatures were the most imminent threat but also clearly not in control and she would need to take out those who were, she’d have to be careful from there it could go any way. 

With a grin she lunged towards the first of three Jakals stopping it’s claw and pushing it back down, she threw it to the side and focussed on the real threat spinning around to see a burly human with a pike and controller. She grabbed the knife from her belt throwing it towards the man it was met with a block as those around him took note turning towards Ash. Ash scanned each of them there were six none looking too scrappy either she’d have to brute force this, she let out a volley of blaster fire and ran towards them. She seemed to have knocked two of them back as she punched a third in the gut followed by a swift knee to the face, she felt herself grabbed from behind by the burly man but smiled knowing the mistake he’d made. Ash concentrated using the mans weight and momentum against him throwing him over his head and down to the floor, she glanced back over to the jackals and noticed Gacen reeling back from one bearing down on him. She snatched the controller out of the mans hands turning the collars off, before she could check if Gacen was ok she felt a crash as one of the remaining goons hit her with a chair. She took the force of the impact turning to the man, seeing she took the blow his confident demeanour dropped as he began to try and scurry away. Before he could Ash used the butt of her rifle to trip him to the floor stomping on his leg, she scanned the room while she fought off the remaining two thugs.

The room was still full to the brim with people many still looking ready for a fight, she saw Gacen now dodging the advances from a Trandoshan if she left him alone it probably would not go well. After dropping the two goons to the floor she lined up her rifle shooting the Trandoshan in the knee just between his scrap armour plates, they roared back in pain and Gacen quickly took advantage giving them a swift kick between the legs. 

Ash made her way around the room taking out thug after thug as she went many seemed to lack blasters or much complex tech so she was able to take out many just through unarmed strikes.

Ash turned towards the end of the room where was that Neimoidian? she saw him scurrying away from the fray behind a bunch more thugs, Ash clicked her neck running towards them. The first held an electro pike and was clearly ready to use it Ash assessed the attack the only way to overpower him would be to disarm him of the pike. Ash tensed up grabbing the shocking end of the pike ripping it out of the thugs hand, the thug was caught off guard as Ash shrugged off the shock she gave him a swift punch to the gut and moved on to the next guys. She turned to three more thugs each looking ready for a fist fight, they surrounded her as the first threw a fist towards her. She caught the fist effortlessly and twisted the thugs hand unnaturally, she heard a snapping as the thug cried out dropping to the floor, there were still two more to deal with. She felt as one tried to clock her in the back of the head ducking and sweeping the legs of the now off balance individual, he crashed to the floor with a thud. As she rose up she used her momentum to throw a powerful kick into the remaining thugs face, she scanned in front of her there were still thugs left but they were seeming to switch to blasters for their own safety. Ash smiled whipping out her rifle within a second each thug fell to the floor a scorch mark embedded in their forehead, two left now they had been smart enough to take cover Ash slid behind a table ready to advance. She smiled battles like this were rare nowadays, she noticed as Gacen fought off the remaining guards his style much more arbitrary than Ash’s calculated plan. She threw a flashbang towards the remaining goons and in the confusion vaulted over the cover running towards the thugs, one was still dazed allowing her to incapacitate him with a quick fist to the back of the head. The other however was on the edge of the flashbang and managed to line up a shot, Ash felt as the plasma seared into her shoulder but she kept running forward. She snatched the blaster out the thugs hand and slammed it against the thugs head, turning around looking to see if there was anyone else left.

Ash let out a deep breath seeing the room was now empty Gacen appeared to have handled a few of the goons left and now stood catching his breath. Ash spun around her attention still on the Neimoidian she quickly noticed him cowering in the corner.

Ash smiled as she walked up to him “told you I liked those odds” the Neimoidian recoiled back clutching the ledger tightly

he spoke shakily “I’m sorry I’m sorry you can have whatever you want I’m sorry” Ash rolled her eyes they all were like this when she kicked their guards ass, she snatched the ledger from him and began looking through it. It seemed rather than names it just had descriptions luckily ‘orange fish person’ was still pretty clear. 

Ash read through it but when she looked for departure she frowned “this says they didn’t leave the system?” she showed the Neimoidian the ledger as Gacen arrived

he squinted at it “um uh yes I remember them they bought the little shield contraption and uh said to just forget they were here then they just disappeared” Ash let out a long sigh god damn it Gacen was right

Gacen seemed to still be putting it together “wait so they’re still in the system? with the shield contraption?” Ash put her fingers to her nose come on catch up

Ash sighed “they used the shield thing you bought to enter the nebula” Gacen’s eyes widened his face broadening into a wide smile

he raised his eyebrow “soooo what you’re saying is this wasn’t an impulse purchase and actually useful” Ash let out a heavy sigh nodding. Gacen’s eyes widened “oh, oh my god we’re really close Ash we have to go right now” Ash had to admit being this close was exciting

she looked back to the Neimoidian “what about this guy” Gacen took a second to realise still clearly excited

Gacen frowned “oh I was just gonna leave him to those Jakal people they’re just outside” Ash smiled she liked that idea

she chuckled “I suppose they will be able to come up with a more fitting punishment than us” Gacen chuckled back as they left the longhouse

They made their way back to the landing pad in the now quiet town, Gacen yawned “so what are the chances they eat him?” Ash narrowed her eyes she didn’t think they’d be so barbaric

Ash held her chin “I think they’re a little more advanced than that I hope they put him in the collar” Gacen nodded smiling

“yeah that’s much smarter” Ash noticed Gacen was a lot more serious in there than usual she wondered if he’d been a slave once after all he was an alien and the empire had never been so kind to them. 

She thought it best not to ask making her way back on board their ship “so Risha’s somewhere in Gabredor” Gacen nodded clearly excited

He chuckled “you know when we arrived I had a hunch we may need to investigate the nebula, it is very Risha to hide inside a literal space storm” Ash nodded it was still weird to see him this happy instead of barely conscious.

Ash chuckled “well I guess we’re going into that storm” Gacen smiled jumping into the pilots chair

he raised an eyebrow at Ash “do you mean Risha or the nebula” he held a cocky grin for far too long as he waited for Ash to laugh, Ash just let out a sigh and sat down next to him this shield contraption better work...

[papasquatte]

Urbex Summoning

“Guys, I can’t tell you how bad of an idea this is.” the whine in my voice was evident, even to me. But I couldn’t help it considering what they intended to do. I passed the bag of equipment to Susan and climbed through the window, determined nonetheless to see this debacle thought to the end. Tony played his flashlight over the graffiti scared walls of our surroundings and spared me a withering glare. 

“ For the last time, shut the fuck up dude.” 

“Look, even if you don’t believe in the supernatural there could still be druggies or scrappers in here.” Susan handed me the bag back with slightly more force than was necessary, momentarily driving the breath from what I would call my lungs. As I staggered back I was unceremoniously shoved forward by Dan as he came through the broken window. He was carrying our sound equipment and was probably the most burdened of all of us and in no mood to dodge around people. 

“There’s four of us” he pointed out as he pulled his bag through.” Any drugie or scrapper’s probably not going to come here in more than one’s or two’s. Worse they’ll do will try and scare us off.” He glanced around the room and frowned. “That might be for the best, or we’ll have to stage something to make it more interesting.” 

Ryan stuck his head back into the room. “I’d prefer not to have to. Hallway’s clear this way of crap and the floor's still sound.” 

“Well spirits aren’t always accommodating when it comes to filming.” Dan walked over and stuck his head out to look the other direction. "We could split off into teams tonight.”

Susan crossed her arms and glanced at me. “Doug’s got a point. I’d rather stick together.”

Dan waived dismissively back at her. “ It’ll be fine.”

Thwarted in my attempt to logic us back out the window I cut to the heart of what was actually getting my hackles up. “It’s not just druggies man. You’re messing with things you don’t understand.”

Susan punched me in the arm. “What’s this ‘you’ stuff? Why the hell did you even come if you’re not going to participate?”

It was a good question, and one I did not want answered truthfully if I could help it. Instead I hefted the camera bag and muttered, “ you’ll need a cameraman.” 

She took the bag from me and unzipped it. “Any of us could

have been the cameraman. But fine, if you want to then here’s the rig. Get it set up and for the love of all that is holy, stop bitching. I had to hear this for two hours on the car ride here, and I swear if you open your mouth to whine one more time I’ll shove that GoPro so far down your throat you’ll have to drop your pants to record anything.” 

    I busied myself getting the GoPro into the steadicam rig while everyone else was issued mics by Dan and got themselves set up. 

    “Alright lads and ladies, here’s tonight’s agenda.” Tony clapped his hands together in an unnecessarily business like fashion, “We’ll be doing the introduction here.” He waived vaguely around the room. We’d picked a first floor window that had been broken for years as our entrance. It was screened from the outside by a hedge and led into a fairly unobstructed patient room. It was clear we’d not been the only ones to favor this entrance as the graffiti lay thick and graphic on the walls. “Then we’ll break off into two teams and shoot some investigation work for about forty five minutes.”

    Dan put up his hand. “ I thought we were doing voice over.”

    “We can decide that for sure later. But I’d like us to have an in person introduction ready in case we go that route.”

    “It’s easier than driving back two hours to shoot it later.” Susan put in.

    Tony nodded, “the voice over is mostly for the B roll stuff anyway. Maybe narrate some of the history of the place over less than interesting footage.” He played with his clip on mic, adjusting it in some tiny way that was more nerves than necessary. “ Anyway, I see us doing about forty five minutes of investigation shoots in teams of two. EVP work, that sort of thing. That should put us at about 11:30. That gives us about ten minutes to head down to the morgue in the basement and be set up by midnight.”

    My gut twisted into knots.

    “Can’t we just do a seance or a Ouiji board session? Why does it have to be demon summoning?” The words were no sooner out of my mouth than I knew I’d lost this argument. It was one we’d have several times while on the way over here and I’d lost every one of those too.

    “Because everyone does seances or plays with that damn spirit board.” Tony snapped. “ If we want anyone to watch our videos we need to up the ante.”

“Must we up it that high?”

Susan put her hand on my shoulder. “It’s just pretend man, none of this is real.”

I bit back my first response. These idiots were about to die over a Youtube video and here they were telling me to calm down. 

“Hey,” Tony smacked me on the chest, as if that would improve my mood. “ film me doing the intro already.” 

“Hey, why do you get to do the intro?” Dan crossed his arms and postered in what he clearly thought was a ‘badass’ pose.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Susan muttered by my arm, “here we go again.”

“What?” Tony faked a nonchalant attitude. “I didn’t know you wanted to do the intro. Why don’t you do the voice over stuff later?”

“Oh and let you edit it with your own audio?”

I shifted position and recentered the camera on both of them. “Guys, why don’t you just do the intro together?” I may not have been able to get them to give up this fool’s errand, but I could at least keep them from fighting, again. Plus their gormless expressions as they realized they’d not rehearsed the intro in tandum gave me a warm fuzzy feeling.

Tony glanced between themselves. “Wait, who’ll say what?”

Susan for her part, could think on her feet. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a steadying breath. “Dan, you do the intro, Tony you come in for the history and then I’ll step in for the ritual.”

    Tony had enough sense to defer to her. I centered Dan in the shot and counted him in.

    “Hey guys,” he threw a causal and not to code salute at the viewers, “it’s us, the Bootectives, and we’re here at the Pendleton Mission Hospital with another great video for you.” I could just catch Tony putting his face in his hands off camera. If Dan noticed, he was at least professional enough to ignore it this time. “Pendleton Hospital is about twenty five miles north of its namesake city. This whole area is saturated in psychic energy and we’re here to investigate it.”

    Susan signaled Tony as I paned over to him. “In its heyday Pendleton Mission was a tuberculosis hospital so,” he hefted one of our dust masks, “we brought ourselves some protection. Even if there’s no latent TB bugs, Pendleton Mission has been abandoned for the last thirty years, so black mold is a real possibility and we want to be safe.” I caught Susans eye and she got herself into position, sliding in next to Dan off camera. “And guys, we’ve got a real treat for this investigation.” He did unnecessary finger guns to point me towards Susan. I caught the tale end of Susan’s glare in the video, which, I felt the viewers would appreciate. 

        She hefted a book that made my insides turn to water. "We’re going to try and summon a demon.”

    The book itself wasn’t the problem. It was a rather unassuming brown cloth book printed probably in the late eighties. It wasn’t bound in human skin like some of the more ostentatious occult books I could name. Nor was it written in virgin blood. Which, lets face it, clots far too quickly for that sort of macabre gesture. No, it was typed with sensible margins, copy edited, and published by absolute frothing madmen. 

 Not cultists mind you. No, you could alway rely on cultists to get something wrong. The worst they could usually accomplish was to summon some Carrion-class table shaker and strand the poor thing here. But this book. This had been written by sensible men, in sensible shoes, who didn’t actually believe in any of the stuff they were writing about. It wasn’t real. So what did it matter to them if they wrote down and published the exact steps for summoning a Slaughter-class demon. And wouldn’t you know it? My group of would-be ghost enthusiasts just happened to find it in the dirt smelling, used book shop down the street. I could have slapped the authors. 

 Susan went on, oblivious to me mentally running in circles, waving my arms and screaming.I thumbed the record button again to end the clip and nodded at Tony. Thinking about the book again was giving me a headache.  

“Alright,” Tony clapped twice as if the act alone would turn off the recording I’d already stopped. “Check your mic’s and lets get exploring.”

“Be careful out there guys.” I couldn’t help myself, I’m a worrier at heart and I did like these idiots. “ Try and stay within line of sight of your buddy at all times. We don’t know who else is here or how stable the building is the further in we go. I don’t want to see anyone showing up on the evening news.”

The others rolled their eyes and gave the same badgered “ok’s” my mother henning always got at this point. Thankfully no one argued with me. I guess since I wasn’t actively trying to end the investigation, they couldn’t fault my better judgement.  We paired off and moved out. 

By mutual consent and habit Tony and Dan paired off while I joined Susan and headed out. Dan and Tony both held a flame for Susan so I tended to be her exploration buddy so she didn’t  have to put up with their antics. It was an arrangement I was quite happy with to be fair. 

I held no particular interest in her, not that she wasn’t nice, she was just overly young for me. I simply preferred her cool headed skepticism. She always tried to find the rationale behind an event, looking for the logic in the situation. This was in stark contrast to the boys who’d feed off each other's paranoia and jumped at every shadow. Better for the audience, but more frustrating for me who was just there to enjoy the scenery. 

As we headed out Susan turned to me. “ Do you want to film or be in the shot?”

“Film,” I thumbed the record button again, “it’ll be easier to keep the ghosts out of the shot then.”

She laughed and I smiled like I was joking. “Right.” Susan started off down the hall. “We’ll shoot some B roll stuff for them to narrate over, and then I’ll jump at a few shadows and say I’m walking through cold spots or something. By then we can head off and meet them for the ritual and be out of here in time to do a sunrise shot.”

“Oh Gods, don’t remind me about the ritual.”

Susan glared back over her shoulder at me but softened, my face must have been paler than I thought for her to notice in the wane light of our flashlights. “Come on dude, it’s not real. We’ll be fine.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because,” She shrugged, “we’d have gotten evidence of it by now.” We continued down the corridor as we talked, passing decrepit room after decrepit room. I panned the camera into each to give the futur viewer a look at the horrible conditions of the place. It was about what you’d expect from an abandoned building left to the elements. The floor was covered in a mix of waterlogged carpet and ceiling fragments. The corridor and rooms choked with the detritus of years, either left to rot or thrown here by later generations. Graffiti "artists” had redecorated the walls in the sort of school yard vulgarity that was somehow universal in these places. Nothing the viewer hadn't seen in hundreds of other Urbex videos online, but I panned around none the less.

There was a lot of decay to take in, but the panning actions I was doing were for another reason. It was the perfect cover for my erratic movements as I stepped around the Blind Spirits and other spiritual flotsam. They were too weak to affect the material world. They were even too weak for the electronics of our equipment to pick up, being mostly echos and psychic imprints. They were however, unpleasant to step through if you were sensitive to the paranormal. Like stepping on an melting ice cube in a sock, they didn’t hurt but left an unpleasant lingering feeling.  Susan barged right through them, apparently numb to the spiritual realm. Personally I think she’s a younger soul, probably hasn’t gone around the bend too many times and been steeped in the supernatural. Old souls tended to resonate more. 

“What?” I raised her an eyebrow. “You mean dick heads like us? Or ‘real’ paranormal investigators?” A shadowy hand reached out of a crumbling doorway towards her. I angled the camera so it stayed out of shot and glared at it until it went somewhere else. 

“Anybody.” She waived her hand about, going right through an orb. I shrugged. In the end, I’ve always thought it was better that people didn’t know what to expect.

“If it was easy, would it be fun?”

    She snorted and shined her flashlight into another room. I almost recorded it, but caught myself just in time. There was a shadowy figure in a nurses outfit in the corner. Her eyes appeared to have been hollowed out and the look on her face told me she was reliving some terrible thing she’d probably done to someone. I turned and let her get on with it. “All I’m saying is that it’s better not to poke things we don’t understand.”

    Susan turned back to look at me. “Fine, would it make you feel better if I messed up the ritual?”

    “Really?” I must admit the prospect cheered me greatly.

    “Yeah,” Susan stopped and turned to look at me. “It’s not like it’ll make a big difference. I’ll smudge something or other.”

    “I’d like that a lot actually.”

    “Fine then, let’s go fake some ghost shit.”

    We spent the next forty five minutes doing just that. To be honest, I missed it more than I’d like to admit. In our early days the gang just went to “creepy” places, few of them ever really haunted. I’d rig up some  wires and mechanisms to make chairs rattle and items fly off shelves. While the others jumped and pointed. I’d been damn good at it too. But then our channel had blown up and the guys kept pushing us into deeper and darker places where some real serious shit had taken place. The culmination of all this was their insistence on this damnable ritual.

I’d missed just going through abandoned places and enjoying the scenery. There was something about urban decay that cheered me up. Maybe it was just that, after everything that had been done to this planet, it was nice to see nature gently taking something back. Eventually it would reclaim it totally, and the psychic energy could dissipate. 

We wound our way around to the basement slowly. Not really talking too much, just enjoying the stillness. We eventually ended up in the basement, and Tony's ritual site.The boys had beaten us there and started setting up. It was depressingly gothic. All it needed was a ram’s skull to complete the image of satanic barbarism. Susan picked up one of the jet black candles.

“Really?”

“Hey, Hey, Hey,” Tony scuttled over from where he’d been drawing glyphis, in red chalk no less. He snatched the candle from Susan and crouched to put it back. “I had those precisely placed.” He repositioned the candle along some invisible mark only he could seem to see. 

Despite Susan’s assurance, apprehension twisted my gut again. I’d have preferred it if we didn’t complete this farce at all if I was honest. Something of my mood must have shown in my face because Tony looked up at me.

“If you touch something I’ll break your hand, just go in the corner and film us.”

I nodded silently. All I was pray to whatever Gods were listening that what Susan planned on doing wouldn’t summon something equally likely to get them killed. I really should have known better, nothing in the ethereal helps without a price, and many of the Gods have a disgusting sense of humor. However, at that moment I was unaware of what that night would cost me and simply stood by to let them get on with it. 

It wasn’t until they started chanting that I felt something was wrong. It was when they were casting the words of binding, to be precise, when the circle flared into life. It pulsed with a malevolent red energy that overwhelmed our flashlights and threw disturbing shadows against the wall. 

“Cool!” Tony seemed overjoyed. I could have killed him, if I could move. The other two looked more than a little startled that anything had happened at all. I abandoned the camera and tried to move from my spot against the wall, but my feet were cemented in place with a force I could not break. From my vantage point I tried to read the glyphs that had been chalked out in the circle. It wasn’t long before I saw what had happened.

It had been Susan after all. They say if you give a monkey a typewriter and enough time it will eventually produce Hamlet. That sort of one in a million luck had apparently just happened. Susan had been as good as her word and messed with one of the glyphs. However, the particular glyph she had chosen to deface was a very delicate one. 

The light from the circle snapped from bright red to a sullen garnet. Shafts of sparkling light lanced up from the now open portal like demonic sparklers. I felt the pit of my stomach drop out as the three of them scrambled for cover.

The rune Susan had chosen to play with had ment “strongest”. It was, in-fact, the rune that had scared me the most. But with one extra stroke in exactly the wrong place Susan had completely changed it. Instead of “strongest” it now stood for “closest”. 

The world dropped away as if I’d fallen through a trapdoor, closely followed by the feeling of being slammed against a wall. This wall, was the inside of the circle. I had just enough time to look up at my friends pale faces before the next bit of unpleasantness started. The sparking bars of light began to bend inward. Where they touched me, illusion was stripped away and my true self was forced into the material plane.

This was unpleasant for all present. Besides feeling like my skin had been ripped off like an all-over bandaid, even the prettiest of celestial beings was never meant to be seen by man. Let’s just say there’s a reason the standard angelic greeting is ‘Be Not Afraid’. Infernal on  the other hand, we took it to another level. Lovecraft didn't capture half the unpleasantness with his fiction.

I could see their minds begin to crack as I unfurled and roiled outwards, slamming into the psychic bars of my prison. I attempted to use my ‘hands’ to cover the more unpleasant bits of my anatomy and tried to ‘turn’ away as much as I could. It wasn’t much, but it helped enough. 

“What the FUCK happened?” of course Susan was the first to recover. Maybe she wasn’t as young a soul as I’d thought. 

“Uh,” I rumbled in my manifold voices. “Look, I said I couldn’t tell you how bad of an idea this was.”

[haleighdennis]

The Trial of Megatron Part One: The End? Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sari didn’t know where she was. One second, she was sightseeing with her friends, the next she was standing alone in an alleyway and she couldn’t find either of them for the life of her. They were probably worried sick, she thought. How could she help them find her? If only she hadn’t left her jetpack with Bumblebee. It was useful for zipping and zooming all over the place, but it was also heavy and Sari hadn’t felt like toting it then. Now she wish she had.

    As soon as she realized that she was lost, Sari had to dash around frantically to avoid getting stepped on by scads of big metal feet traipsing around downtown Iacon. She ducked into a dark corridor and tried to regain her bearings.

   “Where the heck did you guys go?” she moaned, running her eyes back and forth over the fast-moving Autobot civilians in vain.

    Sari heard movement further down the corridor she was standing in, causing her head to rotate around. She saw a robot and a few fembots duck into an open, empty street and creep into a dark building. Sari’s brow furrowed. She didn’t want to get tangled up with Iacon’s seedy underground world of smugglers and rioters that Bulkhead and Bumblebee had cautiously warned her about at the beginning of their outing, but maybe one of the bots on this slower-moving road would be willing stop long enough to direct her to a public place – like a quiet park or hospital – where she could hang low until the guys found her. Even better, maybe Cybertron had a police force of some kind that could help her find her friends. Without a clear plan of action, Sari started walking toward the quiet street at the end of the alley.

    Once there, she saw the building that the other Autobots had snuck into. An inconspicuous little hole-in-the-wall crowned with an assortment of fluorescent glyphs that were not lit. Sari couldn’t read Cybertronain, but while she was looking on, a few more bots scuttled in the front entrance, being careful not to be seen.

   “Hey.” A creaky whispering cockney voice behind her made Sari jump. “Are you here for Mcaddams?”

   Whipping around, Sari saw a 17-to-20-foot tall Autobot with a pointed chin looking at her wide-eyed. She straightened up. The Autobot seemed nervous, but not phased at the sight of a human. Why on earth, or Cybertron in this case, wasn’t he scared to death of her?

    Sari kept out of sight while with Bumblebee and Bulkhead. As Bulkhead had explained to her earlier that day: “Autobots aren’t used to humans running around, and we wouldn’t want to you scare anybot.”

    Even so, here one was asking her questions. The stranger wrung his hands nervously, “Well? So are you here for Mcaddams, or not?”

    Sari tried to shake off her surprise, “Mcaddams? No, I don’t think so…” The ‘bot looked suddenly distraught at this response. He looked over his shoulder watchfully.

   “Th-then you’re just passin’ through? Right?”

    Sari had wanted to say that she was actually looking for a police station, but this Autobot seemed to have enough problems of his own, most of which revolved around ‘Mcaddams,’ whatever that was. “Yes, just passing through. Sorry.” She said and tried to walk away.

    The bot appeared instantly relieved. “Oh! Oh, good. Y’know, we need more good folks like you on Cybertron. Heh, heh. Y’know, for a moment there, I thought you was gonna turn me in – Heh! – just for havin’ a sip or two a’ oil!”

    “No, not me.” Sari shrugged ignorantly.

   “Thanks a lot ‘shorty,’ I owe you one.” With that he was off, striding confidently now, into the mysterious building.

    Sari stayed behind in the road, totally confused by the exchange that had just taken place. She decided to wait for another Autobot to happen by, but no one else came near the mysterious building after that. She could still hear the noisy commuters at the other end of the corridor, though.

    Sari began to consider her options. She didn’t want to go back near the busy main street, and thinking back to her conversation, the ‘bot she talked to seemed unfazed by the fact that she was an organic. He and many other civilians had waltzed into that strange building. If anyone on this planet was going to help her find her way, maybe someone in there would. It was worth a shot. After all, what did she have to lose?

    Feeling as if she had no choice, Sari walked up to the oversized door and gave a loud series of knocks. Nothing. She tried again, making the biggest noise possible for a creature of her size. No one welcomed her in, but she began to hear movement behind the door. After a minute, it suddenly slid open to just a slit and a single glowing cyan Autobot optic hunted up and down for the source of the noise.  

    “Down here!” Sari shouted. She always had to shout to get the attention of Optimus and the others. It was a bit of a bad habit and had gotten to the point where she shouted at almost everyone – human and Autobot. She tried to make her shout sound friendly, but the bot behind the door jolted at the sound.

    Sari waved apprehensively, “Hi! I don’t mean to intrude, but I have a sorta general question I need to ask someone! Maybe you can help –“ The door slammed, tossing a blast of air onto Sari’s face. She stood stiffly outside for a moment, but then cupped her ear to the door. There was whispering on the inside of the building and then all fell silent. As suddenly as before the door swung fully open, nearly smacking Sari in the face in the process. The pointy-chinned bot from a few minutes ago was there along with another bot. “Yeah, let ‘er in!” The former confirmed gleefully at the sight of Sari, “She’s one of us!”

   Almost before she realized what was happening, Sari was ushered with warm remarks of welcome through a dark entryway and led down a small flight of four giant stairs that opened into a brilliantly lit room, which looked halfway like an old western bar and something like a gas station. Autobots of all shapes and sizes, goblets and glasses in-servo, cheered heartily as Sari jumped down the steps after her strange new acquaintance. To her shock she saw a couple of extra-large robots with massive wings on their backs and concluded that they were Decepticons. They cheered too when she bumped onto the floor before returning to their strong energon-infused drinks. Sari was amazed with how non-threatening they appeared compared to her previous impressions of Decepticons, but she still thought it best to keep her distance. After all, in her experience, Decepticons were destructive at best and malicious at worst.

    The ‘bot Sari followed shouted in the direction of the main serving counter, “Hey Cabernet!” A red and white Autobot with a smart black metallic bowtie popped up from behind the counter, “This here’s my friend! When was the last time we had an organic at Mcaddams Oil House?”

    The bartender wore a lazy smile as he leaned casually on the counter, sliding another glass of distilled oil down to a customer. His answer came slowly and thoughtfully, “Well, I suppose the last time I saw an organic here was two or three million stellar cycles ago, looked kinda like this one, but with waymore hair.”

   “Three million stellar cycles! How do you like that? Well, then, we had better show her some hospitality or they won’t be back for another three million! Isn’t that right, missy?” Sari’s new friend laughed heartily and crouched down to her level, “I’m Noir, by the way. Need a lift?”

    Sari was used to being asked that question in various forms. Noir stuck out an outstretched palm that Sari scrambled into. He lifted her up and let her hop onto the counter.

   “What’ll it be?” the bartender asked, leaning over to look at Sari face-to-face.

    “Oh, no.” She said, waving her hand to refuse, “I don’t drink – oil.” Sari didn’t want to sound rude, but frankly she didn’t drink oil or energon, and if that was all Macaddams served, it was no wonder it had been years since organic life had been there. Besides, if there was one thing Sari had learned from Bulkhead’s once-friends, Mixmaster and Scrapper, it was that bots who filled up too much on oil tended to act a little ditzy. She could already see some reckless little quarrels breaking out in the corner of the bar. In one particularly heated argument over a gambling game, the House’s bouncer – an Autobot triple-changer – ended up having to heft the two arguers out the back door by their tailpipes, one in each enormous servo.

    Noticing Sari’s apprehension, Noir shouted, “Nonsense! This one’s on me! Give her something for organics, Cabernet.”

   Cabernet never skipped a beat. He whipped out a grey, frothy mixture and filled an oversized shot glass to the brim. “Try this,” he winked at Sari, “It’s delicious!”

    Sari eyed the grey stuff suspiciously, picked it up with one hand and sniffed. It smelled sweet, like sugar.

   “Smile, everyone!” A bot with a holo-scanner jumped in front of Sari and Cabernet, startling her. Noir slid into position next to them and the two bots smiled merrily. Sari raised her drink, but couldn’t manage a smile. The holoscanner captured the image with a broad green laser that swept the threesome up and down before flashing brightly twice.

    Noir sidled up to the photographer, “Lemme see, lemme see!” A 3-D image projected from the holoscanner, “Ooh look at that! One for the data files!”

   Reminding herself that she needed to find her friends, Sari jumped to get Noir’s attention. “Hey, I have a question!”

    “Sure thing,” he took a swig of oil. “I have an answer. Whaddaya wanna know?”

    “I’m looking for someone, but I don’t know where to find them.“

    Noir scrunched up his face, “Who?”

    “You probably wouldn’t know them. I just need to –”

    “I know a lot of bots on Cybertron.” Noir slurred, “Try me.”

    Sari shrugged uncomfortably, “Just two guys called Bumblebee and Bulkhead.”

    The bar fell silent.

    Sari paused before continuing, “What? What is it? You don’t actuallyhappen to know them, do you?”

   “Wait,” a bot in the crowd said, “Are you that organic who came back with Optimus Prime’s crew?”

   Before Sari could respond, Noir stood up and faced the crowd of patrons, rubbing his servo across his forehead tensely. “A human? I-I had no idea.” Every head was turned towards him. Sari noticed that everone had become very uneasy. Cabernet stopped pouring drinks. Everyone’s glasses were frozen in their hands.

   “Sentinel Magnus warned us about this type.” Somebot said pointing a harsh finger at Noir, “and heinvited her in!”

   “Sentinel Magnus?” Sari repeated in confusion.

    “Hang on everyone, “ Noir stumbled to explain, “I didn’t know.”

    A fembot let out a single sarcastic laugh and stood up, “The humans tried to offline Ultra Magnus, and now they’ve come back to make sure the deed’s done!”

    The bouncer from earlier, fully recovered from the shock of a human presence in the room, cracked his knuckles and approached Noir.

    “Get ‘im outta here!” a once-congenial customer yelled angrily.

    “I can explain!” Noir flustered, but it was too late. Springer grabbed him by the collar and hurled him out the back door. As he did so, Sari made a quick jump from the high counter to the floor and sped across the cracked metal surface with her trusty energy skates. She was thankful for her durable Cybertronian half whenever she found herself having to make insane jumps or perform otherwise suicidal stunts in the heat of action. These outraged Cybertronians were helping her re-learn some of her cyber-ninja training as she frantically zoomed through legs and stomping feet and fell into an isolated back room with the determination of a baseball player sliding home. Returning to her feet, she rapidly aimed and threw a ball of electricity from her palms at a nearby control panel, causing a door to come sliding down over the alcove’s only entrance just in time. Bots in the main room shouted and slammed loudly on the closed door.

   Panting, she examined her surroundings. Her eyes glowed faintly in the dark, but it wasn’t enough to reveal the clutter, tools and mess that surrounded her in the tiny utility closet. She couldn’t see it, but hidden in the corner was a bot-sized trapdoor that no Cybertronian would have recognized had the room been lit. She took a few blind steps forward with her arms extended in front of her. Her human eyes wanted to squint to narrow her line of detail, but at the same time her Cybertronian optics peeled open to allow her as much visibility as possible with the glow they emitted. She turned her head left and right, up and down as she walked trying to find a light source somewhere. She could only see a few feet in front of her and eventually ran into what she thought was a wall. Feeling her way along, she inadvertently travelled back behind the building’s cooling unit. The wall became rough back here and Sari could just make out a small latch next to her waist. She took it in both hands and pulled upwards, half-expecting some ceiling lights to flutter on. Instead, the wall opened close to her feet. Curiously, Sari moved back with the latch until the trapdoor swung high above her head on springs. She emitted a small yelp as it hoisted her into the air. Hanging from the open door, Sari found herself looking down a tunnel with light at the end of it. Heaving a relieved sigh, she dropped to the ground and entered the corridor, hoping that she had found a hidden exit.

[afterspark-podcast]

G1 Episode 28: Transcript

Episode Show Notes

[This can also be found on AO3!]

[Stinger]

S: Okay, it's not actually a saber, it's a short saber, but-

O: Oh, yes, because that makes it better!

[Into Music] 

O: Hello, and welcome to the Afterspark Podcast, an episode by episode recap of the Generation 1 Transformers cartoon. I'm Owls!

S: And I'm Specs!

O: Today we're gonna be talking about episode 28: The Master Builder. Let's talk about giant robots today, shall we?

S: Sure. So we open with Powerglide, ace of the air, flying through the sky.

O: Skywarp fires on him with Starscream following close behind.

S: Now here's our main characters for this episode: Hoist and Grapple. They build stuff.

O: Theoretically. How much stuff  have  they been able to build during a war, exactly?

S: That is the question. Very much so.

O: Not enough, probably. [laughs]

S: Yeah. Grapple is an orange and yellow crane and Hoist as a boxy, green tow truck who sounds, you know, slightly like Shakespeare.

O: Dinobot called, he'd like his shtick back. 

S: They're building a model for a solar power tower to uh, harness the power of the Sun. 

O: It sparkles. 

S: Yaaaayyyyy [softly]

O: Sparkle, sparkle, sparkle.

S: Then they wheel their little model over to the main room to show Optimus.

O: Who is played basketball with Spike.

S: And, somehow, not completely murdering him or accidentally committing manslaughter which, you know, always a good thing.

O: Yeah. He is still getting the lingo, though, as he calls it “drooling” instead of “dribbling”. 

S: Well, he’s attempting it.

O: He's trying. Dad- dad-bot’s trying. 

S: Yup. 

O: Dadimus prime, if you will. [Laughter] 

S: When Hoist and Grapple enter the room, Optimus does the Optimus equivalent of “think fast!” and tosses the ball at Spike, who, when he catches it, you know just-

O: Falls over.

S: -Falls over. 

O: [Laughter] They attempt to sell Prime on their tower idea but he doesn't approve because it could cause problems if it fell into Decepticon hands.

S: It's a valid point. 

O: It is. Uh, so while this is going on Teletraan-1 declares condition ‘magenta’ because Powerglide has been shot down.

S: Do you think that's a Powerglide specific, you know, condition or something, or is just specific for that type of Decepticon attack? Any Autobot being shot down? 

O: We don't know. I don't know if they'll ever use this again. Somehow, I doubt it. Grapple, however, is dejected by Prime's react- rejection. Uh, they are sent to Powerglide’s location to fix him up.

S: So both, um, Hoist and Grapple only have one hand. They- they really, really need to be working together.

O: There’s only two hands between them. And poor Grapple wonders if he shouldn't just give up on building things and become a grease monkey.

S: Poor dude. Powerglide is able to take off again after, you know, the two guys work on him and get him up and running and then, um, our two trucks are two, uh, two trucks head back to base via a canyon.

O: They stop and chat about, you know, their mutual disappointment but are overheard by a sneaky Scrapper.

S: Wait. No, no, it's just all the Constructicons sneaking on them.

O: All of them! And poor Grapple is the saddest crane in the world. 

S: He's so dejected, man. Hoist does not like the vibrations in this location and suggests rolling out before, you know, they spot the Constructicons.

O: You know, lending credence to, they probably should have left before they spotted the Constructicons. Scavenger knocks a boulder in front of them to block their exit before they can escape, though, so… eh?

S: And then Mixmaster seals their other exit with concrete. 

O: That's gotta be some really fast setting concrete. 

S: He's a chemist. 

O: [Laughter]

S: He can presumably do that shit. 

O: See, this is what I'm talking about, though. The Decepticons just need to patent half their shit. They'll make enough money, they could  buy  a power plant or something. 

S: Yes, but that would be too sane and logical.

O: Again, they should just listen to Soundwave. You cannot tell me Soundwave hasn't had this thought.

S: Yeah but they probably have to purchase through a company but let's- let’s-

O: [laughs] Moving on! Or heading to commercial.

S: Yeah, as the two- as the two Autobots are buried in a landslide caused by Bonecrusher, um-

O: Don't worry, they're mostly fine. The Constructicons just wanted to talk, apparently. 

S: Ah, the relations between the factions. 

O: You know, that's a totally normal thing that Decepticons just want to talk.

S: Mm-hmm.

O: But with the amount of time Megatron shows up at their base wanting to talk, maybe I shouldn't make that joke. [laughter]  Eh?

S: So the Constructicons say that they've left Megatron and they want to help Grapple and Hoist build this solar power tower that they have literally just heard about.

O: Yes. Megatron and Starscream are watching this at the Decepticon base by way of a hidden camera that's inside of a rock, though. 

S: How did the Decepticons know to place that camera there?

O: I don't know. I'm so confused how that camera got there. It would be one thing if Laserbeak was spying on them but I don't even think it was that. Like, I’m pretty sure it’s a camera that pops out of a rock.

S: It's absurd. This show is absurd. Starscream continues to be a blazing hypocrite as he starts screeching about the “Traitors!!” but Megatron says to leave them to him. 

O: Hoist and Grapple are definitely tempted, but the Constructicons offer proof of their good intentions by letting them go.

S: Which, I don't know how much I'd believe that after being, you know, buried under a pile of rocks but I guess they weren't any worse for wear. 

O: I mean, they are giant robots. Maybe that's equivalent of being pushed into a sandbox, for all we know. [Laughter]

S: Maybe, oh god. So, Meg- when the Constructicons show up, Megatron proceeds to give them shit, but they manage to convince him that they were doing it just to get the solar power tower. They’re- they're tricking them.

O: I mean, seems legit. The Constructicons do need to offer further proof to Grapple and Hoist, though. so Megatron's like, “Then you must give them my most precious possession!” before laughing maniacally. So Starscream's aft, then? [Laughter]

S: [Softly] His-his Optimus Prime clone?

O: [Laughter] His Optimus Prime blow-up doll, you say? 

S: [Laughter]

O: Ehh… how many of those does he got? Really, I want to know. 

S: Costumes.

O: Costumes. That copy of him he had floating around. The clone he had made. [Laughter]

S: Yeah, there's so many options.

O: Yeah, I just- why? Why? I know why, but why? [Laughter]

S: The Constructicons return to Grapple and Hoist with, you know, metric fuckton of Energon in tow. You know, I think probably in Longhaul’s bed because poor Longhaul is just the hauler-monkey.

O: I’m still weirded out that this is his most precious possession. Like, if nothing else shouldn’t it be his fusion cannon, or something? 

S: He cares more about food than anything else, I guess.

O: I mean, okay, not starving is important. I don't know, it's still weird. 

S: Yeah, I don’t know. But, no, this is enough Energon to build Grapple’s Tower!

O: Grapple is now the happiest crane in the world.

S: He's a very- a very trusting dude.

O: Yeah. The Constructicons burst into a construction site and steal a bunch of building materials.

S: And here you see a human with a sense of self-preservation.

O: He doesn't argue with the giant robots stealing stuff. Smart man.

S: I think he just tears up the blueprints while crying.

O: He does! He does! He’s like, “Heargh...” [Laughter]

S: Poor guy. And so work begins on the tower. 

O: But back at the Ark, Optimus is playing basketball with folks more to his scale, as Spike coaches them from the sidelines. 

S: That's much safer, Spike.

O: Much. [Laughter] 

S: And oh hey, Tracks is here!

O: And then immediately injured while playing basketball, may we remind you, and Prime says it’s time for a checkup.

S: But apparently Hoist hasn't been around much lately. 

O: Gee, I wonder why? 

S: He's off having an affair with the Constructicons, with Grapple, and it's... gonna be awkward.

O: Very. Meanwhile, back with our illegal Tower, the Constructicons are stroking the fuck out of Grapple’s ego. 

S: Yep and due to the fact that Hoist is- Hoist and Grapple are missing, Powerglide has been sent out to find them. And find them he does, and their little construction site. And this little tete-a-tete-

O: [Laughter]

S: [Laughter] With the uh, Constructicons.

O: Their little home away from home, if you know what I mean. [Laughter]

S: Yeah.

O: And then Megs- wow, I'm reading the entirely wrong section. I'm serious, why am I miss-reading all the parts? Umm, [clears throat] Powerglide relays this back to Prime.

S: Who then says, “Code Blue.” Which, I mean, what the fuck does that mean?

O: Consorting with the enemy?

S: We’re- we're learning so much about the color codes- coding system today and nothing makes sense.

O: No, it doesn't. Construction vehicles fly through the air as the Constructicons form Devastator.

S: This is to, like, put the finishing touch on the tower. And then Megatron shows up and shoots both Grapple and Hoist, who were just like, “Ah, we're betrayed.” 

O: [Singing] Did we mention we're betrayed? 

S: Yeah. Megatron does call their tower magnificent, though. 

O: Is it just me, or does he really seem to appreciate well bit- built shit?

S: What's not to appreciate about well built shit? 

O: I mean, you've got a point. [Laughter]

S: Cutting to the Autobots, we see Optimus leading the charge, with a group of Autobots in tow. With Spike riding shotgun in Prime's cab.

O: Because that's always a good idea. Ah, the Autobots shoot at the tower, a fight ensues.

S: The Constructicons reform Devastator in order to fight the Autobots.

O: Devastator now shoots eye beams. 

S: Let's just give all of these robots more powers when it's convenient, I guess. 

O: Remember, kids, when you're playing with your Devastator toy he can attack with eye beams.

S: After you've bought all six of the Constructicons. So you got to get all six of them to have Devastator, remember, kids.

O: You don't want him to be missing an arm, or a head, or any legs now, would you?

S: Or the torso. 

O: Well, they couldn't really connect there was no torso so I was going with their limbs, but yes.

S: That's true but, I mean, you can stick all of them in a potato. [Laughter]

O: Welcome to the world's weirdest Mr. Potato Head. Mr. Potato Head Constructor- Devastator. I- wait, he needs a better name but-but, Potate-dader or some- Potato-nader?

S: Devas-tater?

O: Devas-tator? Yes. [Laughter]

S: Devas-tater, god, with a hyphen. Okay, so Cliffjumper attempts to shoot his, ah, patented glass gas but it's just slapped away.

O: Megatron then pulls some binoculars out of his boobs to get a closer look at what's going on.

S: Titty-noculars?

O: At least they're not titty guns, I guess? 

S: How- I mean, why doesn't he use these-?

O: Ever again? Because we know what we're watching.

S: Powerglide it takes to the air but is met with Ramjet, who's almost immediately knocked out by Devastator, because Powerglide, if nothing else, is at least good at maneuvering. 

O: True and then we have Warpath, wham-powing with his way into battle.

S: Smokescreen then gets Devastator's attention and gets him to kick the tower by, I think, using his patented smokescreen thing?

O: Or being like, “Nananananana, I’m over here.” Something like that.

S: Yeah.

O: But Prime narrates this the entire time.

S: It really seems like Smokescreen shouldn't need to be told what to do.

O: He didn't, but the kids did. 

S: That is an accurate-

O: The Autobots shoot Devastator who falls onto the remains of the tower, and then it explodes. 

S: Megatron is very disappointed in this. He didn't- I mean, he- the guy didn't even do anything to get the tower, aside from turn up afterwards, but you know. 

O: He's upper management, Specs, he takes credit for  everything,  remember?

S: True.

O: [Laughter] 

S: Oh and don't worry, all the Constructicons are perfectly fine, despite the exploding tower because it totally exploded.

O: The Autobots dig through the rubble to find Hoist and Grapple, who are also perfectly fine, albeit a little Han Solo’d at the moment. Like, they look like they're frozen in carbonite.

S: Yeah, yeah that's pretty... yeah.

O: [Laughter] 

S: But don't worry, Brawn punches them to freedom. 

O: Ah, yes, we found another good use for Brawn. Grapple and Hoist apologize which Optimus accepts immediately, unlike when Grimlock apologizes about a good 90 percent of the time.

S: [Sighs] But he does punish them. And their punishment is to go clean up the mess they made, all by themselves.

O: Everyone heads back towards home.

S: Grapple picks up what remains of this original model which, I guess, he took there?

O: He must have.

S: Yeah. He and Hoist uh, commiserate a little before they, too, head out.

O: Including tossing the model on top of the scrap heap to deal with later. 

S: Avoidance. It’s a tactic. 

O: That's where our episode cuts, so join us next time for bugs! Bugs! BUGS!! Big bugs!!! Also, mind control.

S: So much mind control.

O: So much mind control. I believe we have some fic recommendations for today?

S: Yes, we do. Ok, so our first recommendation for today is “Waiting for a World to Rebuild” by Caius. It's in the G1 continuity, it's rated G. It’s... got some shippy implications. Pairings are Grapple and Hoist. Our characters are Grapple, Hoist, and Rodimus Prime. And, in summary, “Grapple’s been waiting and designing and redesigning. When did he have a chance to build? Written for the TF speed writing prompt ‘setting the world to rights.’ It's about 300 words written in about a half an hour, revised and reposted per the authors’ summary.” The theme is Grapple and Hoist, and it's a complete- complete fanfic.

S: Our second recommendation for today is, “And the Walls Came Tumbling Down,” written by Pteropoda (SilentP). It's also in the G1 continuity, it's rated T, it's not Gen, so there's some Shippy stuff. Yeah, that's more than Shippy stuff this it's very overt, it is the subject matter in today’s-

O: Grapple and Hoist are definitely definitely, definitely in a relationship in this fic.

S: Yes. So there are obvious pairings, and the characters are Hoist, Grapple, Ratchet, Bluestreak and Red Alert, and, in summary, “Hoist has said the wrong thing and he knows it, but it's difficult to apologize when Grapple seems determined to never look him in the face plates again. Of course, the rest of the Ark knows better. According to them, those two have been together since the dawn of Cybertron and they will continue to be a couple until the end of time. All they need to do is to get those two to realize it.” And, again, the theme is Grapple and Hoist, this time very specifically as a pairing, and it's also complete.

O: That one sounds good, I haven't read these yet but I really want to read that one. 

S: Yup, they were both good. And that just about wraps it up for us today.  Remember to check us out on Tumblr or Pillowfort as Afterspark-Podcast for any additional information, show notes, or links we may have mentioned.  You can also find us on Facebook and Twitter @AftersparkPod (all one word), and various other locations by searching for, “Afterspark Podcast,” such as AO3, iTunes, Google Podcasts, Stitcher, and Youtube, just to name a few.  Until next time, I'm Specs.

O: And I'm Owls.

S: Toodles!

[Outro Music]