#this chapter is a monster

[jennamacaroni]

Chapters: 4/6 Fandom: Hacks (TV 2021) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ava Daniels/Deborah Vance Characters: Ava Daniels, Deborah Vance, Barry the Corgi (Hacks TV), Cara the Corgi (Hacks TV), Josefina (Hacks TV) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Idiots in Love, Angst and Feels, Mutual Pining, How Do I Tag, Age Difference, It's Requited They're Just Stupid, Smut, Domestic Bliss Summary:

Deborah teaches Ava to fish during a break from touring. There are feelings. A lot of them.

[original-missif]

The Hitter Job, Extended Edition: Chapter 3 Sneak Peek

I'm posting a sneak peek because I've hit the wall of creativity and need to shovel my way under it so in the mean time here's a sneak peek!

Alec Hardison was terrified.

It’s weird. He wasn’t normally scared when they did jobs. He was a master of his craft, an artisan of the keyboard, the team’s escape artist. He was the rope that kept them from falling on the high jump. It was his job to watch from the sky and keep the team safe from the unexpected. That was his element, and it was hard to get scared when he was normally in his element. But on jobs where he ended up getting a little too close to the action? When he was away from the keyboard and ended up running through the street? Then he got scared. Of course he did, what kinda person wouldn’t be terrified putting their life at risk the way Eliot and Parker did way too frequently?

But this feeling? The terror and sheer panic Hardison felt upon finally meeting Damien Moreau? This feeling right now was a whole new and terrible kind of terrifying.

They’re dead, is what Hardison thought as he and Eliot were escorted down that elevator and into that pool room. They were dead men walking, Moreau was going to kill them, Nate and Sophie would never know what happened of them, and Parker…

Alec really, truly tried not to think about what Parker would do when she found out he and Eliot were dead. He just prayed to God she got away safe.

Meeting Moreau, the criminal mastermind they’d been chasing for around six months now, was an experience Hardison would never forget. How could he, when it turned out Eliot knew Moreau, had worked for Moreau, and never thought it was worth mentioning?

Then Alec was suddenly being escorted – alone, by himself – out of the hotel and back onto the street he and Eliot had been taken from, given a USB with information about the auction of the Ram’s Horn, and told to leave.

Alec had never run faster in his life. He made it back to the motel the Leverage team made its HQ in thirty minutes.

“Hardison, wh-?” Sophie barely got his name out before Alec threw himself into her arms as he cried. She shot a bewildered look to Nate before gently putting her arms around Hardison, holding him close. “Alec… sweetheart it’s alright. Whatever it is it’s alright.”

Hardison shook his head and sucked in a desperate breath, but the words stuck in his throat. “No, no it’s not. It- it’s…”

Sophie quietly shushed him as she rubbed circles into his back. “Easy Alec, easy. Take a deep breath in, and a long breath out.” She took a deep breath as Hardison copied her, held it, and then exhaled slowly like he’d seen her do with her theatre students.

Once his breathing had slowed and the tears of panic and frustration dried, Sophie eased him off her shoulder to look him in the eye. He was just over an inch taller than her now.

“There you go, sweetheart. Now, tell us what happened. Where’s Eliot?”

Taking a deep breath, and a tissue from the box Parker offered him, Hardison said, “He’s with Moreau.”

He told them of how he and Eliot had been on their way back from casing out the hotel Moreau was rumored to have been staying in, and how the two of them had been escorted by an armed man to the sublevel pool room after Eliot was recognized. He told them about how Moreau was surprised to see them, two teenagers had apparently been part of the collapse of his empire, and near fury Hardison had seen in Moreau’s eye that Eliot specifically was part of the cause.

Hardison told them everything, how Moreau hadn’t even spared him a glance when he and Eliot had been forced into that pool room. How Moreau gave backhanded compliments and spoke at Eliot like he was a disappointed parent. The way Hardison’s own heart dropped as he heard Moreau say to Eliot “You’ll attend the auction with me, of course. As a show of faith that your, ah, temporary employer upholds his end of the deal”, just as Alec was escorted out of the room.

Hardison held up the USB, “The guy who walked me out of there gave me this. Said it has everything we’d need for the auction and then told me to scram. I ran here as fast as I could.”

Handing the USB to Nate, Hardison took a very welcomed seat on the couch. “Eliot knows Moreau. He…he used to work for him. I don’t know how long ago he stopped, or even how Eliot got away from Moreau, or…if he even ever stopped working for him but Eliot knows him. Like, knows him knows him.”

The man had been silent as Hardison told the team what had happened and how he and Eliot had gotten separated, but Hardison could see the way Nate’s jaw had set. He could see the calm anger in Nate’s eyes as he stared at the USB, almost strikingly like the cold, calm anger Hardison had seen in Moreau’s eyes as he’d looked at Eliot.

“A piece trade,” Nate muttered. “Okay. Hardison,” Nate turned to face the boy, the calm anger Hardison had seen in his eye replaced with the determined, mastermind gaze the team was more familiar with. “Parker and I got the schematics for the Ram’s Horn, I want you to look them over, make sure the Ram’s Horn at the auction is legitimate.”

Parker handed him the tablet depicting the schematics as Nate continued.

“Sophie -”

“Nate we’re not going to even talk about this?” Sophie interrupted, stark terror and disbelief written on her face and in her voice. “That Eliot lied to us? That he knows Moreau so personally? He and Alec could have been killed down there and we’d never have known! And now Moreau’s taken Eliot hostage? How can you be so calm when Eliot could be-!”

“Sophie!” Nate gently cupped Sophie’s face with his hands as he looked her in the eye. “Listen to me. Eliot is going to be alright. We are going to stop the auction, take down Moreau, and we are going to bring Eliot back home. I promise. But we need to deal with this auction first before we go save Eliot. He’ll be fine until then. Moreau won’t hurt him.”

“How can you be so sure?” Sophie nearly whispered.

“Because if he knows Eliot as well as Hardison says, then Moreau knows how valuable he is. Eliot is worth more as a hostage than anything else right now.” He moved his hands to Sophie’s shoulders. “Eliot will be alright, so the first thing we need to focus on is the auction and how we can stop it.”

“So we can buy a bomb?”

Nate and Sophie turned to the couch to look at Hardison. A look of abject horror was written on his young face as he stared at the schematics on the tablet.

“Pardon me?” Nate said.

“The Ram’s Horn,” Hardison clarified, looking Nate in the eye. “It’s a bomb. A pretty big one too.”

[dunmeshistash]

One of the things I really appreciate about Dungeon Meshi is how the text is so clearly full of love for animals. Like the true kind of love Laios feels for the monster where he wants to know everything about them, but most of all he respects them and loves them as animals.

One of the chapters I can't stop thinking about is the one about Anne the Kelpie. It's kind of impressive how well it illustrates the different kind of love people have for animals. And how someone that loves an animal isn't necessarily an animal lover. If that makes sense.

When Senshi calls out Anne what he says is "Don't worry Anne's Harmless" but she isn't, she's a wild animal.

Marcille immediately reacts positively about it thinking it's cute she accepts the treat Senshi has for her. And hers and Chilchuck's reaction to Senshi wanting to cross the river on her back is more surprise while Laios immediately realizes how bad of an idea it is.

But Laios is the animal monster lover so how come when he finally is faced with a "docile" monster he doesn't react positively like the others? Marcille even calls him a monster. That's because Laios loves monsters, and Senshi loves Anne.

I've seen this attitude around me several times, where people love a specific animal but what they love is their idea of that animal, they don't really know them because they don't love the animal part of them.

It becomes a "this one is special because I love them" that can quickly become an issue for the animal as much as it is for the person. It's something unfortunate I see time and time again irl.

Anne wasn't wicked, Anne wasn't mean, Anne didn't trick him. Anne was a wild animal and Senshi loved her as Anne but not as a kelpie.

She acted on instinct, maybe she did love Senshi in the way kelpies can love, but animals are still animals and must be respected and treated as such. Climbing on top of Anne's back was the equivalent of putting your arm inside a alligator's mouth, the mouth is gonna close because that's what they're designed to do.

The real life equivalent I see the most of "I love this animal but I don't love the animal part of them" is with dogs. If you insist on loving an animal without acknowledging they ARE an animal they might hurt you, you might hurt them, it will only end in grief.

The best way you can love an animal is by understanding they're an animal.

That is all to say I don't mean that the love Senshi felt for Anne wasn't real or that it's all his fault. He couldn't have known with the information he had and unfortunately it came down to the worst outcome.

I just love dungeon meshi dearly.

[sonialiao]

monster trio monster trio ah yo ah yooo

[semisolidmind]

Does Dogday like pets?

(meanwhile me who wants to pet him so bad-)

i'd say he's the kind of fella to enjoy a good pet from someone he trusts.

[darkaudi]

I love this character, especially his monstrous version.

[huecycles]

Chapter 4 - Divine Manor

[hotpotghosts]

[beaulesbian]

gotta love that the anime added some frames when the strawhats were escaping from the marines at the end of enies lobby, and very injured luffy still wanting to help and fight

and they just use him to repel the incoming attack, same as in the manga asdksffd

monster trio being idiots again (affectionate) ✌️

[randomeggart]

A hat under waters: Subcon seas!

Planning to edit snatcher's design in the future because I'm not that proud of it & already have something in mind, but have this for now :) (...aaand I now realize that most of the text might be hard to read! whoops I'll make it clearer on the next one, apologies)

[diggykit-kat]

𝑫𝒐𝒈𝑫𝒂𝒚 x reader PT.2

You stared at him for a long time, opening your mouth to say something before shutting your mouth and backing up “I don’t know-“

There was a low growl from DogDay that cut off your words. "Eat it. Unless you want me to get mad at you. I don't want to get mad at you, do you?"

There was a slight pause from the monster. "Look, Angel, I'm tired of this. If you don't do as I say and take a bite of this meat, then...I'll have to use other means." the monster stepped closer.

You slowly start to back up the more he comes closer. “D.D. What kind of meat is this. Come on…you’re not like the other entities…you’re good. Right…”

"Right...right...just...just try it..." DogDay's voice got an edge to it. He moved closer, until he was within arms reach. "Just take the meat. Take a bite and all my little worries go away. If you don't...I can't guarantee I won't snap."

Looking at the meat in front of you, you stare down with uneasy eyes before you bite into it... As your teeth bit into the meat. The juices filled your mouth. It tasted...weird, but also...not that bad. A meat you couldn't describe the taste of. You chewed it and swallowed it. You almost...liked it?

Sighing you turn to him a ask “Now…what is this.”

DogDay is shocked, almost pleased that you took a bite without trying to run away. He also looks surprised that you liked the meat. However, the monster recovers and gives you a wicked grin.

"Lets just say that it's a mystery meat and an acquired taste, Little Angel. But...now that you like it...you'll eat whatever I give you, won't you?"

He knew what it was and so did you…“It’s human isn’t it…”

The monster pauses, the wicked grin leaving his face. "Ah, my Little Angel is so clever. What gave it away? Does it bother the precious Little Angel to know she's eating a person?" he took a step forward.

Suddenly, your throat closed up, and you felt like vomiting. You rubbed your neck with your hand.

“you know this is the only way to survive. stop acting like a child. you need to stay alive doll. I need you to stay alive” DogDay stepped forward and looked down at you. His voice was back to the soft, comforting one. “please understand…I have to do this because I care about you….Please don’t leave me…I can’t stand being alone, You’re my light.” he continued to walk forward, approaching you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑.)

[dunmeshistash]

Dungeon Meshi - Chimera Falin Anatomy By Laios

[krislgfox]

Just how DD and CN falling asleep almost every week:

DD just think CN bed is softer and warmer than his so he always trying to "steal" CN's bed

[sirensea14]

A doodle of the cuties🥰

[han-ban-bam]

thank you candela for the nightmare fuel & Ashly I salute you

[thegnomelord]

CH 1: With a Spark It Starts Just Like It Ended

CW: NSFW Blood, gore, cannon typical violence, M reader but can be read as GN, Mage reader, Monster 141 AU, reader is described as having thick fucked up arms.

AO3 3.7k words, more of an intro to what's to come lol.

Old man Abdul had lived a good life. A harsh one. But a good one.

He was amongst the first to grab a gun and raise the fight against the Russians, risking life and limb for the freedom of Urzikstan even as members of his pack bled and died to artillery fire and noxious gas. And he alone had survived to see his country set free of tyranny and chose to stay in the military long after his hair had greyed.

And how was he rewarded for his service?

With a 'promotion' to guard the basement of a conference hall. They even called it the 'Peace House' as if that made his position grander, though in his humble opinion the only peaceful thing happening within the halls above was the lack of physical violence.

"Hey, did you fall asleep on me old man?" Taim, a bright eyed and gap-toothed human private so young he could've been one of his grandsons, asks as he throws down five playing cards on the floor between them. Royal flush, again.

Old man Abdul's eyes are soft with a glare and he throws down his own cards, already knowing he'd lost. "Go fish." He huffs, leaning back into the chair they'd been able to squirrel away.

It was embarrassing to think that boredom could torture him more than the Russians did, but they were only a few hours into their shift and he was already thinking of biting a bullet. Chances were they'd stay down here long after the diplomats up top finished bickering about who knows what...

"Hey," Taim perks up, and from the few weeks he's known him, Abdul knows the glint in his brown eyes heralds something stupid. "How about whoever loses this round takes a shot from your leg?"

He is proven correct.

"How about I throw you into a minefield so we can match?" Old man Abdul responds, his tail wagging from side to side. His tail looks more at home on a rat than any werewolf, the fur there an accidental casualty of a Russian fire mage's spell that had taken his leg off. The prosthetic leg only fitting on his human body isn't nearly as insulting as the warding totem they'd given him to protect against lethal magic after his leg had gone flying.

Taim gulps and holds his hands up. "There's no need for that sir." He quickly adds, clearing his throat and reaching to the floor to pick up their cards and shuffle them.

Taim's warding totem slips out from beneath his jacket, but it's different from old man Abdul's. Not in appearance, with the same materials every mage will make theirs differently, but in feel. It feels different...wrong.

Eyes narrowing he reaches out and holds the piece of faintly glowing rock between his claws. Heat radiates into his fingers, the magic inside pulsing in a steady even thrum like a machine instead of beating like a heartbeat; like something not quite alive.

Abdul had been in combat long enough to know how good a warding totem is with how his body reacts to it.

The shit one he'd been given barely gets the remaining fur on his tail to bristle.

Taim's makes his skin want to melt off.

"Where did you get this?" Abdul asks, tail curling up as he lets go of the totem with disgust clear on his face. "That rock could probably protect you from L3 mage without cracking, maybe even L4." Call him paranoid, but a private getting a totem to protect him from mages rarer than unicorns doesn't make any sense.

"Oh, that-" The young man clears his throat, the totem laying flat against his chest like an insult to life. "Came from up top a few days ago, guess all those terror attacks spooked command and they want to keep us normal people safe." He realizes his words and quickly adds. "-not that I'm calling you not normal or anything sir, it's just that-"

"-You're squishier than me, yes, I know." Old man Abdul rolls his eyes, leaning back into his chair with a huff.

Taim gives a nervous little giggle, scratching at his curly dark hair. "No offence sir. It's just...you know."

"We all look out for our kinfolk first." Old man Abdul sighs, going to wave him off.

His pointy ear twitches and immediately he's jumping to his feet when his sensitive hearing picks up the sound of the elevator mechanism running. No one is supposed to come down at this time, and Abdul already has his rifle raised to point at the elevator doors by the time Taim is able to get to his own feet. The old werewolf doesn't even need to say anything for the young man to stand on opposite side of him, they work together well, both guns aimed at the person revealed by the opening elevator doors.

It's just the janitor.

Taim lets out a small breath and lowers his gun, relaxing as the janitor gives them a small greeting both of them have to strain their ears to hear as a face mask muffles their words.

"That was a bit embarrassing." Taim chuckles weakly, nodding his own greeting and taking a step back so the janitor can push the heavy cart past them. Abdul notes the janitor's hands are thick and large, the veins poking out beneath latex gloves. Murky water sloshes inside the mop bucket, the trash bag filled to the brim and budging.

It's just a janitor.

But like an annoying tick on his ass, something doesn't let old man Abdul relax.

There's a buzz in the back of his mind like the one he'd get when he was being watched, and when he catches sight of the janitor's eyes beneath the wide-brimmed cap that buzzing stops; Instead replaced with a flash sense of wrongness in his bones and the feeling of tar inside his heart and an indescribable scent — like stale beer and burnt grass and deep dark rot — it has his fingers moving to the trigger before the sight of magic melting through latex can make the short trip from his eyes to his brain—

Glowing lines spring into thin air to form magic circles before their eyes.

The warding totems shatter.

'Pop' goes a head.

Both bodies drop to the ground.

"Could have told me there was a dog." Your words scrape against your throat like shards of glass from the disuse, melted latex stretching into long strands as you take off the cleaner gloves and throw them away, your fingers steaming and glowing hot with mana before you hide them away in tactical gloves.

"I-" Taim tries to say but his voice fails him, eyes and mind still blinded by the harsh glare of magical fire.

"Save it." You cut him off, pulling open the lip of the trash bag to dig out your facemask helmet. It's both a full face helmet and a gasmask, scratched up from years of use but still able to protect your head while keeping you anonymous. A shame it can't filter out the stench of burnt flesh, but you've gotten used to it.

Taim's vision clears and the moment his eyes settle on the charred remains of Abdul's head— the hollowed out skull where concentrated flame had burned a hole straight through everything in it's path, the flesh and bone charred black —he's scrambling away as fast as his feet can push him, the shattered remains of your warding totem crumbling beneath his fingers. Bile rises in his throat and he coughs when he breaths in, but his stomach is thankfully empty so he ends up dry heaving.

"On your feet." Your words are hard to understand under your gasmask, but you don't need to raise your voice. The tone you use has him scrambling to his feet in seconds.

"I- I- yes sir!" Taim manages to stutter out, doesn't even have to fake his fear as he stands at attention. He watches you reach into the dirty water to pull out a Handheld Personal Computer and shake off the residual droplets to ensure it still works before putting it in your pocket.

"When is the next check in?" You ask, reaching further into the trash bag to grasp the handhold on the heavy gas canister hidden beneath office trash. You pull it out without much effort, setting it carefully on the ground so you can recheck that the release valve is intact.

"20 minutes sir." Taim responds and he doesn't need to know Arabic to know what's inside the canister when a grinning skull is printed on the metal.

You let out a low sound, and Taim tries not to peer too closely at you. Sometimes he wonders what face a person who burns people alive without a single second of hesitation could have, but then you look at him and he sees that unnatural glow of mana in your eyes behind the darkened lenses of the helmet and he's glad he's met with the emotionless visage of the mask rather than the one beneath it.

"You have 10 to get out before Hell opens up." You say, standing back up and picking up the canister without complaint. "Use the emergency tunnels, don't spook the VIPs."

Taim is human, not sensitive to magic like the monsters are, but even he can feel the latent mana in your veins that strengthens your body. Like maggots at the back of his skull. It makes a second round of bile rise to his throat. "Yes sir."

You pay close attention to him until he disappears down the corridor before going the opposite way. Alone, it is easier to calm the lingering heat in your veins until the eternal engine of mana in your chest fizzles down to embers like a sleeping beast. Can't have your mana mess with sensitive electronics, even if that does leave you exposed on the cams (as if there's anyone alive to watch them)

"Ifrit, status?" The small radio in your ear crackles.

"Moving to the target, encountered and neutralized a wolf." You answer, taking sharp turns as you follow a path you'd memorized beforehand. "No other monsters to report."

You were lucky to run into one down in the bowels of the conference hall instead of at the front gate. Otherwise your espionage mission would have turned into a frontal assault. Not that Khaled would have minded, you were getting paid to send a loud statement after all.

"Good." You don't need to see his face to know he's smirking, your employer wasn't a huge fan of subhumans. "Continue to the objective."

You respond in affirmative, coming to a heavy metal door, locked with a passcode and even a palm scanner; It's all a valiant effort to keep sensitive data safe, but it may as well be cardboard to you. You summon another circle, this time right on the door, biting your tongue. You're not good with 'subtle' but you haven't forgotten what Taurus or Sierra had taught you; first pushing a bit of loose ash magic between the large atoms making up the metal to disrupt the bonds, then a single pulse of fire ignites the volatile ash and has the entire bottom half crumbling into red hot shards.

Molten slag drips down to the floor when you duck down under the remaining half of the door to find yourself in the server room. Steam rises when the cold air meets your hot skin, but you hardly notice as you first head to the ventilation system at the back of the room. It's dark, but you don't bother turning on the lights, the subtle mana in your eyes enough to give you primitive night vision.

"Ifrit to Alpha-Actual, connecting the payload right now." You say, setting the canister down. The ventilation collects the air from the server room to push it through the entire building and then outside, so all you have to do is melt a hole through the exit pipe until it's big enough for the hose on the canister to fit snugly inside.

"And the files?" Khaled's voice sounds in your ear once you're finished.

"Going now." Standing back up you head to the central server. Taking out the HPC you hook it up to the mainframe, watching the screen until it shows 'connection secure'. "I'm connected."

"Copy that." Your eyes scan the cracked screen (which you broke less than a week after getting it), seeing the file transfer start before Khaled even finishes speaking and trying to read and memorize the names of dozens the files but they change too quickly. "File transfer ETA 5 minutes. Sit tight."

Giving confirmation you keep an eye on the doorway. Though you are positioned in such a way that you'd see the shadow of someone coming in before they see you, years of being behind enemy lines and acting as a friendly to your foes has taught you to be careful. Especially when you can't use more than a smidgeon of mana without frying the entire server system.

You are lucky that no-one comes, the remaining guards too busy guarding the diplomats above you to check what's beneath their noses. While waiting you access the public stream to watch the peace talks, setting the sound to the lowest possible setting so you can keep an eye on the diplomats in case you need a change of plan.

"Got the files, you're clear to finish." You're moving before Khaled can finish speaking, leaving the HPC to hang by the cord from the server. "Oh, and remember: Loud."

"You get what you pay for sir." Kneeling down next to the gas canister you check to ensure your gas mask is firmly on and breathing in deeply; It restricts your breathing and makes muscles work harder, but your body is so used to it that it feels like coming back home.

"Letting the gas out now." Even with the gas mask you still hold your breath when you open the valve, the gas hissing as it escapes the canister, the fan right next to you helping push it through the system. You know there's not enough gas to reach the diplomats on the top floor, it's part of the plan, so when the gas pitters out you cast another circle inside the pipe.

The servers around you flicker meekly and crackle with electricity when you use your mana fully; Something intense and suffocating burns behind your sternum for just a second before liquid mana is rushing down your veins into your hands and coming out through the magic circle as copious amounts of ash.

The rotating fan right next to you spews some of your ash right back at you, flooding the server room in magic that has long since accepted your body enough not to hurt you. But even your seasoned stomach feels tight when you breathe in the mixture of ash and toxic gas, the chemicals turning your magic a nasty shade of green, and you make a mental note to change the filter when you're done with the op otherwise the toxified sediment collecting in there will poison you for months.

You can hear the diplomats begin to cough over the livestream in the HPC, but it all feels so distant when you shift and feel cold dog tags press against your burning chest. They're light like a noose around your neck, yet the absence of weight mocks you in a way their owners no longer can.

There's a familiar sting in your bones when your mana reservoir begins dwindling, but it's easy to push through it until the engine in your chest goes into overdrive from the stress the magic puts on your body. You only stop when the burning mana in your veins starts burning small holes in the sleeves of the janitor jacket, revealing bits of your mage marked skin.

Stopping the flow of ash your hands find themselves in your pocket, taking out a lighter. It's one of those old zippo lighters, the exterior is rusted from years of action and numerous initials are scratched into the metal, but somehow it still functions; It's the strange thing about it— the more you use it, the longer it lasts. Stop, and it dies.

"It's a bit like you, firebug."

Absentmindedly you trace the scratched initials in the metal, trying to ignore the hollowness in your chest when the screams beyond the smokescreen of ash start sounding familiar.

"Going dark." You say to them, flicking it open.

One spark is all it takes.

. . .

With Makarov having gone underground like a wanker after his escape from the gulag, Price and Laswell had been stuck with their heads in mountains of paperwork searching for the bastard. Price had known he'd be in for a headache the moment he agreed to let the boys watch a live football game between England and Scotland, but he reasoned they'd all been working hard enough to earn even a small break.

At the very least it gave them all a moment of reprieve from the stress of a possible world war.

It didn't stop Soap from being a bloody muppet.

"Oh fockin' 'ell!" Soap roars and jumps to his feet, growling at the teli where a ref held a red card above her head. "That should've been a yellow! Fock, one more eye and the ref's a right cyclops." He waves obscenities at the teli as if the ref can see them, his tail hitting Gaz every time it wagged.

"Soap!" Gaz groans and stretches one black wing to smack the werewolf over the head with his long flight feathers to stop him blocking the screen.

Though Gaz's wings are hollow, the smack still hurts. "Ow, what's that for?" Soap groans, rubbing the back of his head.

"At least take your defeat with a wee bit of dignity." Gaz smirks, folding his wings.

"Bold assumption he has any." Ghost mutters next to Price, making him chuckle.

“Oh ho! I’ll get me dignity when the bloody ref gets off 'er knees an’ stops blowing the entire game.” Soap turns to playfully snap his teeth at Gaz. "And what's tha-"

The football match cuts out, replaced with a news segment.

"-Oh, what the fock?" Soap grows quiet when the newscaster begins speaking.

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you breaking news. As we speak, the conference hall in Al Mazra, where diplomats from over 40 countries had come to discuss peace and trade agreements with the newly reinstated Urzikstan government, burns in the flames of another terrorist attack."

The footage shifts to a drone filming a bird's eye view shot of violent flames spewing from every hole and window to engulf the entire three story building in consuming fire, heavy plumes of smoke rising into the sky like a maw of a hungering beast to spew a storm of ash and cinders down to the ground. The clouds of ash have a sick green undertone to them.

"Shit." Gaz sucks in a breath.

"Mokarov's done hiding." Ghost notes, leaning in to look closely at the screen with narrowed eyes.

"How the fock did we miss this?" Soap asks the question in their minds, turning to look at Price. "This popped up like bloody whack-a-mole."

At that same time Price's phone rings. The dragon quickly fishes it out of his pocket, seeing Laswell's name as the caller ID before he picks it up while the reporter drawls on.

"Price, are you-"

"Yeah, I'm watching the teli." He cuts her off, knowing what she's going to say. Distantly he can hear the same news report sounding on her end.

"Authorities warn citizens to vacate the immediate area as toxic gas has been detected in the air. Military forces are already enroute, but the prospects for the diplomats survival are nonexistent."

Price's draconic eyes focus on the screen when the footage shifts to that inside the conference hall. Two diplomats argue about something Price can't begin to try and untangle, his focus on one man near the back who begins coughing. More follow suit, and even over the screen Price can tell the signs of toxic gas inhalation by the way more diplomats begin wheezing and coughing wetly.

"This isn't the Russians." Kate says after Price has put her on speaker.

"How come? Looks like some terrorist shite Makarov would pull." Johnny says, his tail curled up and the tip wagging occasionally as he pays attention to the screen.

Seconds later plumes of blackish-green smog erupt from the vents above the diplomats, spewing out with such force it knocks the the camera and the man behind it down to the ground. Ash Magic, Price realizes when he sees smoldering cinders drift almost peacefully in the all consuming fog. Seconds later something causes a spark and the volatile ash magic explodes.

"Ash mage." Ghost grunts, "Just great."

"Makarov doesn't use mages." Price says, scratching his beard.

"No, but Al-Asad does." Kate's voice drifts through the silent room as they watch several APC's arrive on the scene, armored soldiers exiting. But without any monsters who can stomach the heat like Price and with the fog of ash so thick it could be cut with a knife, the best they can do is secure the perimeter. "The CIA intercepted his broadcast before it went public, this is just the start."

Gaz hops off the couch, crossing the small distance to tap one claw at the screen. "What is that?" He asks. Seemingly hearing him, the drone camera focuses on where the main entrance of the building had been.

A dark silhouette of a person can be seen in the flames, growing darker and more refined until finally a featureless helmet emerges from the flames, a deep glow emanating from behind the lenses. It's followed by a body, clothes burnt away in some parts but the flesh beneath unharmed. Price can tell immediately it's a mage by the state of the arms — even from far away it's easy to tell the mage marks, the skin turned rough and dark like cooled magma, veins brimming with volatile mana.

Before the soldiers can fire a single bullet you lift one hand up, the dark mage marks turning to bright like fresh lava when mana flows from your chest to your fingers. A magic circle etches itself into the ground in an instant, so large the surrounding buildings fall into it's perimeter.

And with a second motion of your hand everything erupts into an all consuming cloud of ash.

Laswell's voice rings out. "That's Khaled's new attack dog."

Price and Ghost share a look, both know what will happen long before some nervous soldier caught in the ash cloud pulls the trigger. The cloud of ash explodes the second a spark is created in a weapon's chamber, plunging everything into chaos.

Great, a new wanker to worry about.

Price sighs, brows furrowing. "That's trouble all right."

Tag list: @resident-cryptid @diejager @lovingtyrantkitten @lieutnt

Masterlist <- Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

You can imagine the helmet however you want, but it's in the style of the Devtac Ronin helmet.