#with hornet its like ???? where are you getting this from? did we play the same game? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lightrises · 3 years

Text

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

#hollow knight #hornet (hollow knight)#hornet hollow knight #hk hornet #the radiance #hk radiance #herrah #hk herrah #hollow knight meta #sup folks it's been a minute since i dropped a whole dang essay but Here We Go!!!!!!

104 notes · View notes

heliads · 4 years

Text

Fortune Favors the Love-Struck

When Y/N’s best friend Race asks her to help him ask out some Manhattan girl, she feels reluctant because of her own feelings for him. What will she do when Race finds out that she loves him?

masterlist

You’re curled up on your bed, knees bent in front of you in an attempt to spread out on the narrow space of your bunk. A battered and beaten paperback is propped up against your legs, your eyes glued to its pages. Across the room, the door opens and you barely have a chance to realize someone’s there before a sudden blur flashes across the room and knocks you back against the bed.

You tense for a moment, then laugh despite yourself when you realize that the blur was just your best friend, Race, knocking you down in a running tackle. “Jeez, Race, you trying to kill me?” Your joke dies slightly on your tongue when you look up and see his face only a few inches away from your own, his legs strewn over yours and his chin propped up on his palm to grin victoriously at you.

Race just rolls his eyes at your complaint. “Y/N, do you remember how we first met?” You attempt to calm the beating of your heart, and speak in a slightly exasperated tone. “You mean when I saw you on that street corner selling papes and bet I could sell twice as many as you?” Race nods in agreement, cheeky grin on full display. “And for some reason, I let you sell with me despite the fact that I had no idea who you were, and even after I won the contest I brought you to Jack out of the goodness of my heart and had him make you a full-time newsie?”

You don’t need Race’s anecdotes to remind you of that day. It seemed like it had just happened recently, despite the fact that you had now lived with the Manhattan newsies for well over a year. After you had first met Race out on the streets, the two of you had formed a fast friendship that would lead to you selling him with him more often than not, him even allowing you to steal a cigar or two from his treasured stash, and instances like this one, when he would launch into a running tackle just to rough you up and joke around like you were just another one of the boys.

That was one of the first things you had noticed about Race- he never seemed to care that you were a girl. He never treated you differently, like a glass ornament that could shatter at a moment’s notice. He never seemed to see you as anything more than a selling partner, a friend, a newsie he could talk and laugh with whenever he wanted to.

The next few things you started to notice about Race were the sudden, startling blue of his eyes when the light caught them, or the way his mouth twisted up into a crooked smile when he was having fun. The way he’d raise his eyebrows slightly when talking about something that he’d seen earlier, which made him look like an excited kid again for just a second. The way his arm slid around your shoulders like a missing puzzle piece that was supposed to have been there all along. The way you loved him for all of that, and would keep loving him until the day your heart finally stopped beating.

The worst part about loving Race is the best part about him, too- the way the two of you were closer than anything, closer than either of you were to any other newsie across the entire city of New York. You were his best friend, and he was yours- even though you were the most important person to him, you were still stuck in one place in his heart, somewhere in between a sister and a friend. He would never see you as a girl he would fall in love with, even though you’d been head over heels for him for a long time. So, you fake your smiles, and pretend your eyes don’t linger on him when they do, and you force yourself to snap back to reality instead of swimming around in your thoughts like you’re doing right now.

You raise your eyebrows doubtfully. “Actually, I think I won the pape-selling contest, and you were so amazed that you practically dragged me over to the lodging house so you could beg Jack to let me sell with you.” Race frowns. “I don’t remember it being like that.” You laugh at his cross face. “Maybe you should get a better memory, and maybe you should get off of me and tell me what you want.”

Race stares at you for a second, then stretches out an arm to your side to push himself upright into a sitting position just a few inches away from you. You sit up yourself, trying to stop the hammering of your heart. Race crosses his arms over his chest. “What do you mean, I should tell you what I want?”

You give him a look. “Race, you only bring up that story when you want a favor. Now, can you stop wasting my time and tell me what it is? I want to get back to my book.” You reach for the abandoned paperback, but Race beats you to it and snatches it away before you can close your fingers around it. “Y/N, I’se your best friend. The book can wait.” You raise an eyebrow. “What could be more important than my book?”

Race clasps his hands together melodramatically. “I met a girl.” You stare back at him, unmoved. “A girl? I thought those only existed in the papes.” Race swats you on the shoulder. “Toss the attitude, Y/N. This is important. I met the most beautiful, most amazing, most everything girl in the entire world.”

There’s a slow dullness that’s starting to spread across your heart, one you can’t acknowledge, not right now. It would destroy you. So, you return his gaze, pretending to the world like you’re completely unaffected by this. “And what does this incredible girl have to do with me?” Race leans forward, wrapping his hands around yours. “I need you to help convince this girl to go out with me. I can’t do it alone, I need you. You’re my best friend, and the only one who could make me have a fighting chance with her.”

You shake your head slightly. “I’m not sure I’d be any good at that. I don’t even know who this girl is, let alone what she likes in a boy.” Race jumps up from the bed. “Then let’s go see her. She’ll be walking home from school now, we can glimpse her from across the street.” You stay where you are, but Race drags you up by the hand and out of the room, laughing at your protests. “Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fun. You know I can’t do this without you!”

Race pulls you down the city streets, up blocks and around corners. You pretend to fight him the entire way, but you can’t hold back your grin for much longer and the two of you dissolve into laughter. For a moment, you can’t feel anything but a blinding joy- this is how life should be, isn’t it? Just the two of you, out in the night and letting the dark surround you, uncaring to the troubles of the world. He is all you need, and he needs you just the same.

Then he stops you in your tracks, one arm flung out to stop you from coming out of an alleyway. He jerks his chin across the street at the figure of a young woman heading down the sidewalk. “There she is.” You narrow your eyes at the girl, and you feel a wave of sorrow begin to break over you.

She’s gorgeous. Flawless, even. Dark hair, falling in curls to frame her face. Bright, warm eyes that look like twin pools of honeyed sunlight. You’d seen a picture of an ancient hornet caught in a chunk of amber once, in a scientific section of a pape you’d been selling, and for some reason this girl reminds you of that. You feel like the insect caught in the amber- maybe you were drowning in her eyes, but it was such a beautiful sight that you’d stay there happily, even when it killed you.

You glance over at Race, but the boy is obviously caught under the girl’s spell. He stares at her, a light smile playing on his lips. It hits you then like a ton of bricks- you will never have a chance with him. Not in a million years, not when he has this goddess of a girl to love instead. Who are you to stand against her?

Race is looking back at you now. “So, will you help me?” You nod, and force a smile that feels like it’s poisoning you from the inside out. “Of course. I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” And why can’t you be content with that?

Even though it hurts, you’re determined to do right by Race. So, you coach him through how to speak to this girl, how to compliment her laugh and shy smile without sounding weird. How to secretly wrap her morning pape around a bunch of roses so that the blooms spill out into her hand. How to catch her eye from across the street, and have his hand linger on hers for just a second longer than he does with anyone else. How to make sure the girl falls utterly in love with him, just the way you already have.

After a week or two, you feel you’ve prepared Race to the best of your abilities. You finish selling your papes a short while before he does, and give him one last pep talk before he has to face the girl again. Race looks nervous, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looks around the crowded streets of Manhattan. “You’re sure I can do this?” You give him a reassuring smile. “There’s no doubt. You’ve got this.” You turn to go, but Race catches your hand and spins you back around to face him. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can’t do anything but stare at him, suddenly only a few inches from you.

Race flashes you a grin. “Thanks for your help, Y/N. Honest. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You stare at his hand, at his fingers linked so casually with yours, then force yourself to meet his gaze once more. “Of course. Now go get your girl!” Race walks off confidently, and waves to you one last time. You watch him go, only turning to leave when he rounds a corner and disappears from your line of view.

You’re waiting for Race when he returns to the lodging house. The second you see him slip through the doors, you eagerly head over to him. “How’d it go?” Your excited tone starts to drop off when you notice the distress evident in every line and crease of his face. You wince. “Not that great?”

Race just sighs. “I don’t know what I did wrong. I thought she felt the same way about me, but I guess not. She just said ‘maybe later’ and walked in the other direction.” You frown, reaching out to touch his shoulder lightly in sympathy. “Well, she’s missing out. Any girl here’d be lucky to have you, Racer. You know that.”

Race nods hesitantly. “Maybe. Still hurts, though.” You click your tongue understandingly. “Well, I can’t think of anything we could have done differently. There’ll be other girls, and we’ll figure out how to deal with them too.” Your gaze brightens as you remember a detail from earlier that day. “Say, I forgot to tell you but I managed to snatch a Corona or two off of some sleeping banker during my rounds. Want me to get you one?”

Race’s face brightens almost immediately at the mention of his favorite cigars. “Y/N, you’re a gem. What would I do without you?” You grin. “Probably go into cigar withdrawal and die a spectacular death. I’ll get them, be back in a second.” You disappear into the throngs of newsies, heading to your room to retrieve the fabled stash of cigars. When you return, you notice that Race is now talking to Davey, and you approach quietly so as not to interrupt them.

Race is sadly talking about his earlier disappointment to Davey, who nods understandingly. “City girls is weird, honestly. I don’t know how Jack managed to convince Katherine to go out with him. Maybe he’s got blackmail or something.” Race chuckles at that. “Y/N’s been great during all this, though. She’s been helping me with the girl over the last couple of weeks.”

Davey frowns. “You made Y/N help you ask this girl out? What, you have an argument and get mad at her?” Race looks up at him, confused. “What do you mean?” Davey rolls his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Y/N’s been crushing on you since forever, and you just made her coach you through asking some other girl on a date. It’s almost mean.” Your eyes flash to Davey. Surely he didn’t just say that, surely he wouldn’t tell Race.

You must have gasped quietly, because Davey looks at you and his expression quickly changes to regret. Race sees his sudden change in character and turns to see you. His face drops into a frown when he sees the look of horror on your face, realizing that what Davey said was true. You can’t stay here, not after all this, so you turn and walk hurriedly out of the lodging house, breaking into a run when you’re free of the door.

You run and run until you’re forced to come to a stop, panting for breath in the brisk night air. You’re still afraid to be seen by anyone, so you climb a rickety fire escape on the side of a building, heading up and up until you crumple into a heap on the roof. Then, and only then, do the tears finally come. They burst out of you, and you dissolve into sobs that rack your entire body as you remember that look on Race’s face, that haunted realization that bordered on disgust. It’s all over now. He’ll never want to even speak to you again.

Finally, night falls heavily on the streets and you’re forced to retreat shamefully back to the lodging house lest the cops catch you out after curfew. Getting tossed in the Refuge would only be the icing on the cake judging by how badly today’s gone. You manage to make your way into the lodging house without getting noticed by Race, and you quickly pull Elmer aside to talk.

“Hey, Elmer, can I switch bunks with you?” Elmer nods eagerly. “Absolutely- your room’s got the best view. Consider it a deal.” You both spit on your palms (as per newsie tradition), and you hurry to grab your few belongings from your bunk and bring them to your new location without being seen by any blond, blue-eyed newsboys.

Thus begins your habit of avoiding Race- you sleep in an entirely different room, you don’t sit with him during meals, you pretend you don’t see him across the room even when you’re sure you can feel his eyes burning holes into the back of your head. A few times, you’ve had close calls and glanced up only to see him starting to move towards you, but you’d been able to quickly disappear into the crowd in time to lose him when you had to.

However, it doesn’t look like the universe is interested in protecting you for very long, as you’re heading to bed early one night when you hear the sound of someone quickly approaching you. You know Race better than you know anyone else, and you certainly know the sound of his footsteps, so you pick up your pace in an attempt to lose him in the twistingly narrow halls of the lodging house before he can catch up to you.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t look like it’s going to happen. A hand reaches out and closes around your wrist, forcing you to come to a stop. You whirl around to see Race, and, panicked, try to walk away again, but he wraps an arm around your waist to stop you in place. All you can do is stand there, breathing heavily after your hurried escape attempts.

Race looks down at you, and for once, you can’t tell what emotions are lingering behind his eyes. “You can’t avoid me forever, you know.” You glance away. “I can try.” Race sighs. “I’m supposed to be your best friend, right? Please, stop trying to get rid of me.” You force yourself to stare back at him, feeling frustration bubbling up inside of you.

“This is what’s best for both of us. You want your best friend back, and so do I. Just give me a little while to get over the fact that I love you and we can be back to normal. Maybe I won’t see as much of you for the time being, but we can go back to being friends.” Race’s hand doesn’t move from your hip. “Is that what you want?” You look at him, feeling tears starting to prick at your eyes. “It’s what you want. It’s what’s best for both of us. It doesn’t matter what I want, it’s what’s going to happen.”

Race’s hand lightens on your side, and you take advantage of his softened gaze to slip away. You think for just a second that he might be about to say something else, but you know you can’t stand to hear it. So, you disappear into a darkened room, and pretend that you can’t feel the shattering of your heart.

It’s a warm summer day, the cheerful glow of the sun at complete odds with the dull ache surrounding you. It’s been about a week since that conversation with Race, and he’s respected your wishes to stay away. You don’t talk to him, and he doesn’t talk to you, and you can’t help but hope that it hurts him as much as it’s killing you.

You hear the sound of someone approaching behind you, and force a smile as you recognize the customer holding out a few coins in exchange for the morning pape. The man is a regular, and you’ve become pretty accustomed to his habits. He’s got a tendency to overpay for a wink and a flirty smile, so you look at him through your eyelashes and force a coy grin that you don’t feel at all.

The man, as always, hands you a few extra coins, and you, as always, wave him goodbye in thanks. However, you’re startled when you see Race suddenly appearing from around the corner, and are taken aback by the intensity of his glare. He gestures for you to follow him into an alleyway to speak, and you follow him, albeit a little hesitantly.

You’ve barely entered the alley when he pulls you close, out of the view of any passersby. His breathing is hard and uneven, as if he’s furious. He glances towards the opening of the alley to make sure nobody else can see you, then turns back to you. “I can’t do this any longer.” You frown up at him. “Do what?” His voice comes in a low, incensed whisper. “I can’t stay away from you. I can’t pretend I don’t see you across the room, and glance away when men like that look at you like you’re a piece of candy.”

You can’t do anything but stare at him, and a moment later his lips come crashing down onto yours. You feel your breath come in a sharp inhale, and Race pulls away just slightly to speak in a low murmur. “I thought I wanted us to just be friends, but I’m not sure that’s right anymore. I don’t want to be your best friend, not if it means I have to stay away from you any longer.”

You stare at him for a second, then break into a quiet laugh. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” “And you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to realize just how important you are to me.” Race says, and you can feel the slight upwards tilt of his smile when he kisses you again.

146 notes · View notes

conscience-killer · 2 years

Note

*pops up in your asks like snoop in half baked* yo gimme 3, 4, 7, 8, 16, 17, 20 aaaand 25 for the asks, por favor 😎

THANKS FOR ALL THE HARD ONES BABE 🫣 Tho legit the snoop reference exonerates you. (Imma gif that someday.) Anyways it’s been a while and I am likely to ramble like a motherfucker.

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Okay so there’s been an idea for another (yes.) Cricks fic that has been rattling around my brain-pan since around like the fifth month of March 2020. I have a title and premise all thought up but literally one (1) scene. Anyways that scene is p much Cricket getting off to Dennis being passed out after too much (crack? heroin? whateverthefuck?) and basically Cricks jerking off in his face. BECAUSE for some reason the facial was always a staple with my Cricket fics. Shruggers. Anyways the whole fic that may or may not (probably not) happen was gonna be around 5-10 chapters (yes.) and there’s a running theme which I shan’t spoil in case the stars align and I decide to write it. Which I probably won’t.

But I might.

One day.

Does the world even need more Cricket fics? :)

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

This part from Shakin’ Off the Rust:

The mail doesn’t stop, and neither do the insects buzzing around his mind as Charlie explains this entire shitshow to Mac. Mac isn’t getting it, and he doesn’t see Barney, either. Goddammit, it had all sounded so plausible before. Maybe he does sound like a Charlie Brown teacher, after all. Was he named after Charlie fucking Brown? When he popped out, happy as a clam, did he make goofy mute trombone sounds instead of crying like a normal baby? Shit. He takes a drag of his cigarette and stills, the upbeat bassline of Day Bow Bow penetrating his thoughts for reasons known only to the brain hornets.

“You’ve lost your mind. You’ve lost your goddamn mind, Charlie.”

So it’s like, this fic was never supposed to happen. A few factors came into play here: 1) The podcast reigniting my love for the show and these talented assholes. 2) A rewatch of Sunny I’m having at work lately with the Sunday locum between the endless swathes of belligerent patients. We got to Pepe and a little bell chimed in my head and I was like... “I could work with this, but will I?” 3) The Writing Itch. Y’all know it. 4) Brain hornets.

ANYWAY it started writing pretty much autonomously which is my favourite way for these things to happen, and this was the paragraph that took it away from Charlie’s manic intro monologue and into the actual canon Pepe Silvia scene. It felt nice to tie it in. :)

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

I mean copious profanity and blasphemy aside, I’d like to think that my attempts to give the narration a voice that rings true to the main character of the story work for the reader. It gives each story its own tone and different headspaces are so much fun to explore for me.

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

Undoubtedly. My perpetual boner for hate sex will never subside. :) (That said Pepe was soft as holy fuck but hey I’ve been away for three years.) I haven’t read much at all throughout the pandemic but a few things have crossed my path, such as this incredible Saw fic right here, and this exquisite The Boys fic. Sometimes I seek shit out and hit the jackpot right away.

16. Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)

Literally just writing a fic lol. And I guess in a way it was kinda fluffy (for me), which hasn’t happened since Time to Pretend and even then that was prefaced with an extremely dubcon gangbang sooooooo yeah. Where was I going with this?

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

I actually have a pretty low sex drive. I have phases where I’m horny for days but mostly I’m just lagom, as mom would call it. That said, I mostly only read explicit fic so therefore I write it too. It’s just such a satisfying payoff. Especially when you write a shittonne of exposition just to facilitate some porn. *Looking at you, Birby.* Also, I haven’t the vaguest clue about the mechanics and conventions of writing. I just put shit together and hope it works.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Oh oh OH! I’m gonna link the lame reference doc of lame. It is perpetually expanding because there’s nothing I enjoy more than referencing shit in fics. NOTHING. As for callbacks, the entire Cricket Chronicles was loosely woven together by a thread of facials and reciprocated fellatio. Like secret santa with dicks. (I’ve used those descriptions before but fuck it it’s been forever.)

/edit ALSO! Shakin’ Off the Rust itself is a meta title because 1) I’ve just discovered The Blue Stones (click me I’m awesome), and 2) because I was literally shaking off the rust of not writing for three years and 3) because Mac and Charlie were shaking off their own rust at not manhandling each others’ genitalia for however long it’s been. META.

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

I like working inside heads that aren’t quite functioning on the right level. It’s why Pepe wrote so easily and why I have such a fun time with characters like Charlie, Cricket and Cassidy. It’s cathartic to me for so many reasons. Also, any occasion where I can stick a real-life drug anecdote in makes me very happy. And who doesn’t enjoy serotonin?

#rissalf #ask #ao3 #shakin off the rust #time to pretend #the bird and the worm #THANKS BABE THIS WAS CATHARTIC AND THIS BITCH IS ALL ABOUT CATHARSIS LATELY #also huzzah for shameless plugs

2 notes · View notes

bre-meister · 4 years

Note

I need some pre married/family angst

this is early relationship so pre-family and pre-married Cleon. I hope it’s angsty enough I kind of got distracted while writing to fight a huge ass hornet in my room ( I was super terrified ngl). This was such a journey for me to write that I don’t even have an official title for it like I normally try to do lol. This has also taught me that I need to work on angst that is not “person A and Person B fight”. Sorry for the rant here's the actual work:

Claire was mad. No, Claire was beyond mad. Claire Redfield was absolutely furious. Her rage was so blinding that she couldn’t even be bothered to apologize to the nice looking doorman as she barreled through the lobby of the apartment building of the object of said anger. She was sorry - felt the apology in her bones as soon as the smaller man began to cringe and cower slightly in her presence - but again, her anger prevented it from passing her lips.

Secretly, she did take a little pride in the fact that, as she entered the elevator, a young-looking couple decided to “wait for the next one” instead of sharing with her. It gave her a little more time to stew in her anger - pulling from the depths of her soul, every time that she had said it was okay even when it wasn’t - before she came face to face with him.

“What the hell Leon!”

The door to his apartment opened with such force that if circumstances had been different, she would have been worried about possibly putting a hole in the wall. Alas, her attention was not on the wall, but instead on the man lying on the couch in front of her. Leon was clearly either drunk or hungover. Although considering what she’d heard from both her brother - half the reason she was here in the first place - there was a distinct possibility it could be both. Claire wasn’t sure that could actually happen, but if anyone could make it a thing it would most definitely be Leon S. Kennedy.

All that came out of his mouth was unintelligible garble mixed in with a few pained groans. Claire took pleasure in that for a moment and allowed it to further stoke the flames inside of her. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was about to do. She’d kind of just gone on autopilot after getting. Chris’s concerned texts. Apparently, Leon had been ghosting everyone over the last week. So, there she stood, upset and silent until Leon made the mistake of finally speaking real words.

“Red,”

Claire didn’t let him finish. She exploded,

“No! You don’t get to do that, you hear me? You don’t!”

Claire moved towards the couch and yanked off the blanket covering Leon with more force than was probably necessary. The blanket had apparently been completely wrapped around him and, in his current state, that was enough to cause him to tumble to the floor. He let out another grunt of pain as he landed but Claire didn’t care.

“Get your ass up.” Her voice had calmed, steadied to an even tone. Her anger no longer manifested itself in yelling, but instead as a low growl behind her words.

When he didn’t make any effort to move, she said it again,

“I’m not asking Leon. Get up.”

He finally did as told. Standing he slowly moved to the small kitchen behind the couch. There he found a glass that looked somewhat cleaned and began to fill it with water.

This wasn’t the first time that Claire had been there to pick up the pieces whenever Leon fell apart. Safe to say, those instances had never quite played out like this one and Leon was a little jarred and, admittedly, a little afraid of what the red-headed woman might do.

They stared at each other as Claire gave Leon a moment to swallow the little bit of water that was left in his glass. When he sat it in the sink and she remained silent he let his impaired brain convince him that meant he should speak.

“What’s your problem? Chris piss in your Wheaties this morning?”

The look on her face caused concern. The laugh that followed chilled him to the core. Leon S. Kennedy had faced down and won so many B.O.Ws that he had lost count but at that moment as he looked across the room at a laughing Claire Redfield, he knew that he had quite possibly signed his death warrant. He also knew that if this truly were how he died, several people would help her cover it up, and frankly, he couldn’t blame them.

“My problem?” she continued to laugh, “What’s my problem?”

Leon was getting a little nervous. In yet another mistake, he even let out a few nerve filled chuckles himself.

“No, you don’t get to laugh! This isn’t funny,” and yet she was still laughing.

Leon was not.

“Do you know why this isn’t funny? Because I don’t think you do.”

He couldn’t have answered even if he wanted to - Claire cut him off as soon as he opened his mouth to fumble through some bullshit excuse.

“You don’t. I know you don’t because if you did you would have had your ass at the restaurant last week, Leon!”

Leon felt his stomach drop. Oh no. He really had fucked up this time.

“Sherry’s birthday.” He felt more than heard the mumbled words slip past his lips.

“Ya, Sherry’s birthday,” Claire turned around to finally close the door and Leon took the opportunity to sit down in one of the few chairs at his tiny kitchen table.

“You know, I was okay with this when it was only me you were fucking over. I know I shouldn’t have been, but I was. I told myself over and over that it was fine, you needed this time, you needed me and I was more than happy to give it to you - everything. I give you everything! But it was okay because you were always there for me too. Most of the time at least. And I get it, Leon, hell I get it more than probably anyone else. What we went through was hell, no one should have to go through that once let alone as many times as you do. But I was there too, I have to deal with that shit too. Sherry has to deal with that shit. She was Twelve Leon.”

“I know -”

“Then where the fuck were you? This was all she wanted! All she asked for for her birthday was for all three of us to be there, together and you couldn’t even get your shit together enough to give that to her. No call, no text, not even a half-assed excuse just nothing. The hurt and disappointment on her face - I’ll never forget that Leon. And to top it off, I had to cover for you and as much as I love you,” she saw that way his whole body seized up at her words, “I’m tired. I refuse to do that anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Claire.”

Claire pulled at her hair which, for once, wasn’t in its usual ponytail.

“Stop! It’s always sorry with you. For once could you just stop!”

“Stop what? Tell me what I have to do to fix this.” He was desperate. He didn’t want to lose her or Sherry. The idea of that - of finally being completely and utterly alone - was almost too much to bear.

“For starters stop making promises if you know you can’t keep them. Stop overcommitting yourself. Stop overworking yourself because that’s always how you get this way in the first place. And stop looking like that.”

“Like what?” he was a little puzzled. He may have also been on the verge of tears but, if anyone asked later he would deny it vehemently.

“Like...like I just killed your puppy or - or like I’m taking away everything from you - it’s making it really hard to stay mad!”

In any other situation, he might have laughed at that but he had sobered up enough between when Claire had burst through his door and now. Now, he really did feel that Claire leaving here like this, Sherry being disappointed with him - that truly was as if everything were being taken away from him.

“I’m sorry. I - I don’t know how to make you believe that I am, but I truly am sorry. I would never hurt you, Claire. I would never hurt Sherry.” He was pleading at his point. He didn’t know what else to do.

“But you did. You hurt us Leon, and I’m not saying that I won’t forgive you, but it’s going to take some time. You fucked up and your usual ‘sorry’ isn’t going to fix it when we always end up in the same cycle again.” She sighed and as the air left her body she could feel all of her anger leaving as well only to be replaced with immense sadness and disappointment.

Claire turned and walked towards the door. A small clang echoed through the silent room and, although Leon couldn’t see from his spot in the kitchen, he knew that Claire had dropped her spare key on the table next to the door.

“Wait! Claire, please, don’t.”

“Don’t what Leon?” She didn’t turn around, she knew she wouldn’t be able to leave if she did. So, head down she gathered her strength and continued,

“Don’t leave? Give me a reason to stay then.”

“ I love you.” It came out in a soft whisper.

Those three simple words - the first time he had ever said them to her in a non-platonic way. They made her heart soar and ache, both at the same time. She’d imagined this moment a lot but never like this. Never at the end of a fight that had been building for a long time. Never with her back to him, preparing to leave. Never with him sitting in his kitchen, a mess, crying in a way she’d never seen from him. Never like this. And, as much as she wanted to stay…

“ I love you too Leon. But that’s not what this is about. Call Sherry, she deserves to hear from you why you couldn’t do this one thing for her.”

With that, she left. With her, Leon felt a part of him leave as well.

The tears turned to outright sobs as he collapsed on his kitchen floor - dirty. The floor was dirty. He was dirty. He hadn’t cleaned or showered in a while but it was kind of fitting. His apartment was dirty, his clothes were dirty, his body was dirty but he was dirty in a way that was deeper than just the physical sense.

He’d let them down. The only two people in this world that he still gave a damn about. The only two people he would try for.

Then why hadn’t he? Why hadn’t he pushed himself harder? In the same sense, why hadn’t he taken a break when he had pushed too hard. Why hadn’t he tried harder to stop her? Why hadn’t he?

There were too many questions. If he left himself to ponder them for too long he’d never get up from this dirty kitchen floor and he couldn’t afford to stay here forever. He had business to attend to, phone calls to make.

First, to his job. Claire was right, he needed to stop overworking himself and he’s acquired more than enough hours to take some time off. Then, to Sherry, because he owed her an apology in more than just words. He only hoped she would allow him to make it up to her.

He wanted to call Claire - show her he was trying, that she was right and he would do better. However, he knew that would probably only make things worse. She always gave him the time he needed, now it was time for him to do the same.

But before anything, he had to get up off the floor. The floor was dirty. He was dirty. Leon was tired of the blood and grime that seemed to fill almost all of his waking hours as D.S.O Agent Kennedy. He decided he wouldn’t let it follow him home anymore. So, Leon got up.

On his way to the bathroom he passed by the bowl he kept on his front table by the door. It was a housewarming gift from Claire who knew he was always misplacing his keys and yet never making an effort to get more organized. Always looking out for him, his Claire.

Leon wouldn’t even let himself question if there even was a ‘his Claire’. Not that he owned her, no one could ever own Claire Redfield. But, looking at the two keys laying together in the bowl, Leon couldn’t help but think they were the same - a matching set. One complementing the other in a way that, while they were separate, they were still part of the same.

Yes, Leon Kennedy got up and as he looked at his dirty face in the mirror, he turned the faucet on because he was tired of being dirty. He was ready to get clean.

#Cleon #Cleon fic #Leon Kennedy #Claire Redfield #claire x leon #Claire/Leon #angst #resident evil #i wanna make my angst better so please hang with me until i do #sry for the long wait #sry again for the long ass rant at the beginning im super tired and it's kinda late but I wanted to post anyway #lol i'm doing it again

78 notes · View notes

flame-shadow · 3 years

Note

Thoughts on areas like the Soul Sanctum, Deepnest, or the Mantis's area?

(My brain doesn't wish to cooperate with the name)

you’re going to get all three because two of those areas are faves of mine and the last one has one of my fave boss fights :3c

[i don’t have the wiki pulled up or anything so obligatory disclaimer that i might misremember some things. also, im gonna throw all of this under the cut because this is going to be more of a stream of consciousness than an actually coherent thing]

SOUL SANCTUM

let’s just get this out of the way first - love love love love love the music holy shit. it’s not something i’d listen to when i want to chill out, but oooohhhhh those organs. and when the whispers are in there too?? and “Mage Under Glass” with the laughter??? yesss

Anyway. In general, I’m a sucker for unethical laboratories in stories and games. There’s so much potential for fucked up and creative ideas within canon and in the fan characters/interpretations (I’m looking at you, Fraught. i love you, you fucked up spider <3).

How do you get soul? you harvest it. and you get on the king’s bad side in the process of course. and the watcher’s too, im sure. lurien’s like, ‘hey wtf those bugs are citizens under my watch. stop it’ and ‘well fuck you, im gonna point my telescope right into your office window, you soul bastard. i can read all the notes on your fucked up experiments now. whatcha gonna do now?’

How unethical were the experiments before the radiance’s insidious presence became a factor? Even if the Sanctum started as a safe place of learning, I think it wouldn’t have taken long for at least some of the bugs to start doing questionable things. Not everyone needs a moth to nudge them to cross the ethics line. But when the soul master changed course, set the scholars to study immortality, what did they focus on? improving the body so it won’t slow and cease its function as time passes? prolonging the stability of the mind so age doesn’t corrupt memories or cognition? focusing on a bug’s own soul to do something that way? any combination of this could fuck up the stability of the mind and/or body of the subjects. That’s where we get the mistakes/follies, right? too much soul for some that cause melting pretty quickly. for others that don’t have a negative reaction right away, maybe a dependency on soul is built up and must be maintained to stave off negative effects of withdrawal, then of course there’s a shortage. you can’t harvest bodies forever. maybe the souls of the infected bugs aren’t viable, maybe the infection taints them, spreads the infection to whatever bug absorbs it. there are options here.

There’s also the soul warriors. They have dream dialogue where they say something about not remembering how they have these moves or how to fight or something like that, right? so what if those bugs had souls of trained fighters like city sentries implanted in them? they suddenly have new instincts for situations that they themselves didn’t experience or train for. i kinda get neuromod vibes from this concept (from the game Prey).

Also, the parallels between the soul master and the pale king are neat. they both have corpse pits. they both think they’re hot shit (and to be fair, they are both powerful even if they’re in different leagues). the radiance directly fucks with both of them. neither of them admit defeat in their final dream nail dialogue. (iirc, arty-cakes has made a similar observation about the parallels, but i noticed this long before they made their post. still, it’s a good observation)

uhhh okay i’ll stop there for the Sanctum

DEEPNEST

...skitter skitter skitter skitter...

i feel so sorry for anyone who has arachnophobia and couldn’t enjoy the game because of this area. that sucks. this is one of my fave areas specifically because of the skitters and clicks and snaps and wibbly music/sound effects that occasionally made my skin crawl.

im a fan of spiders and centipedes, and deepnest delivered!

i have a lot of headcanon stuff for deepnest society and beasts that has little to do with the game or established lore, so i’ll leave that for another time. But for more game-related stuff, let’s see...

i think nosks and corpse creepers and grub mimics, if not different life stages of the same species, are at least related. like how wild cats and cheetahs and panthers are related but not the same. nosks have the most developed shape shifting capabilities, and they have a sort of pocket dimension that they can fold their body into so they can fit into smaller disguises (how else do you explain how large the infected nosk actually is compared to the much smaller knight that it ran around as to lure the player in? magical dimension powers is what i’ve decided)

the weaver’s den showed much more development of architecture. more metal and arches and stuff. i can’t recall to what extent the basic shapes and materials reflect parts of hallownest, but i think that place was a more recent development compared to the rest of the Beasts’ infrastructure.

PK reeeaaallllyyyyy wanted to get a tram all the way across deepnest, didn’t he? we get one tram to the eastern edge which conveniently takes riders to the ancient basin below where most of hallownest’s citizens are. but then the failed tramway that heads for the distant village. could it have been one of the lesser conditions of herrah’s and pk’s agreement? but herrah would be asleep so she wouldn’t need the tram to visit the palace or have hornet visit her. but why else would a tram be intended to cross to there? idk that one doesn’t make much sense to me. maybe i’m forgetting a detail, but whatever.

deepnest is a horrible maze that i will continue to get lost in.

[bonus - okay i’ll share this: one of the made-up swears i use for my beast character is “writhing mass” in reference to the skittering, scuttling pit of writhing things found as an area hazard in lieu of acid. like “bloody hell” or something haha. also it’s just fun to say.]

MANTIS VILLAGE

Alas, i don’t spend a whole lot of time in this area. I think the mantids are cool and honorable, and i apologize for my weaverlings attacking friendly mantids, but sometimes a little deepnest should be allowed to cause mayhem in the mantis village, okay?

mantis lords/sisters of battle are great boss fights. the choreography and smoothness and reflexes and aaaahhhh yeah

i seriously wonder what’s up with all the giant spikes though. like. not even deepnest has giga-spikes like that. ......actually. i wonder if those spikes are there in case the beasts overrun the village. they’d certainly be painful obstacles to beasts trying to climb out of the village and into the fungal wastes.

I think it would’ve been cool if there had been some bit of dialogue or a lore tablet that hinted at the mantis traitors. i know there’s the broken throne, but i didn’t notice that; it was pointed out to me after i’d already played once or twice through the game. don’t get me wrong- it’s a cool little thing to look back on and be like ‘i see what you did there’. environmental storytelling or whatever. but i’d like a little more anyway.

i wonder how the fungal folk feel about the mantids. i imagine they occupy their own sections of the fungal wastes and just mutually don’t bother each other. i wonder how diplomacy would work between a mantis of individual mind and a mushroom of shared consciousness? they make a nice contrast in a sharp and cutting/soft and bludgeoning way as well as a swift and silent/energetic and noisy way with how they attack and stuff.

okay that’s it. thanks for asking! if you read all of that, have a cookie

#alskdflasf maybe this is why i shouldn't make posts with takes #i just ramble instead of having cohesive ideas #still! this was fun to ramble about!#thanks for sending the ask!#rambling #flame answers #even though i feel like i asked a lot of my own questions too haha #alistairillustrates #the pale king #the radiance #soul sanctum #soul master

14 notes · View notes

seagreen-meets-grey · 4 years

Text

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 14

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

When Astrid woke the next morning, the world felt different – tilted, somehow. Her head was swimming with emotions and her entire face felt puffy from crying. The crust of her overwhelming late-night revelation was still stuck to her skin, so she made sure to wash her face twice.

One of her swim girls lived two streets over and her parents had offered to give her a ride today, since she’d done the same for their daughter a couple times. They were going to pick her up shortly, which meant she had to be ready at record speed.

Lucky for her, Lola’s parents were early birds in every way, so once at the swimming hall, she had enough time to dive into the pool herself for a few much-needed laps. The movement and the weightlessness of the water helped her clear her head. By the time her team had completely arrived, she was back in her trainer clothes and her concentration was solely focused on her girls and their competition.

She went through their group tactics again, reminded the girls to use the bathroom one last time before their race, and checked if all of them had had breakfast. Then she made them stretch and swim a few lanes to warm up.

In the second half of the pool, where four lanes were separated from the rest, the first race was about to begin. Several swimming clubs were here today, some of them bringing more than one team from different age categories.

Astrid’s girls still had some time before their race, but as their excited chatter started to die down the longer they were doing their warm-up lanes, she sensed their growing concentration and fluttering nerves. Giving them all an encouraging thumbs-up, she let them focus and looked around the swimming hall. Behind her, in the non-swimmers pool, a group of curious old ladies was watching the event, gossiping over their swim noodles. On the other end of the pool, a few families with toddlers were splashing around. Usually, this place was rather crowded on a Sunday, but at eight in the morning, most people were still sleeping in.

She let her eyes roam aimlessly over the spectators on the benches at the side, primarily parents, primarily tired. Suddenly, something caught her eye, causing her heart to stop all on its own. It quickstarted itself a moment later and competed in its own race even before her other senses could catch on.

There, in rolled-up sweatpants, flip-flops, and a t-shirt with the swimming club’s logo on it like they sold it at the info desk in the lobby, her own personal dilemma strolled in. Mixed feelings tore their way through her focus, misery combined with butterflies that turned into angry hornets, stinging her from the inside.

His eyes found her and he smiled, followed by a tentative wave. He had remembered the competition. He had shown up without her ever asking him to. Even after their fight yesterday. The hornets were buzzing around in her chest, stinging her lungs; their poison made her throat close up. She waved back.

Someone called her name and she surfaced. It was time for her team to get ready. With one last glance behind, she saw Hiccup awkwardly shift through the row of parents, squeezing himself between Theresa’s mom and a wall. Astrid shook her head. She needed to concentrate.

Fortunately, she could. From calling her team over to the racing lanes, talking strategy and encouragement one last time, watching the race and cheering them on from the side, to whooping victoriously when Viola hit the edge of the pool a quarter second before her opponents – she did not once look over at the spectators. She was proud of herself, honestly. Because as soon as she sent the excited kids over to tell their parents they won, her eyes immediately went searching for him.

She barely managed to thank another team’s trainer for congratulating her, because he was coming right over and she didn’t know what to say. Waving him over to a quiet corner where neither the old ladies with their swim noodles nor anyone else could overhear her personal drama, she willed her heart to calm down and her nerves to untighten. It didn’t work.

“Hey,” he greeted her, a bright smile on his face. There were bags under his eyes and she wondered if he'd slept as well as she had. "You guys won, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah, it is.” She couldn’t look him in the eye. How could he be so chipper and nice after everything?

He seemed to sense her discomfort, because his smile disappeared and he took a small step back, burying his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. Her eyes drifted to his t-shirt and a rush of warmth went through her.

“Did you buy that just for some kids’ competition?”

“Huh?” His eyes followed hers. “Oh, that? Yeah, I, um, I– I just wanted to be supportive. And besides, maybe I’ll watch you swim some time and can cheer you on in this.” He shrugged and she had to hold herself back from doing something stupid, like kissing him.

“Oh. Okay. Cool. Um…” The air in here was suddenly too hot, too humid, and she toyed with the idea of jumping into the pool with all her clothes on. She wanted this conversation to be over with. Not because she didn’t want to talk to him, but because she knew she had to address a few things. But running from conversations she needed to have hadn’t ended in any acceptable results so far and she had to start somewhere if she didn’t want to be stuck in the same place forever.

“Look, Astrid, about yesterday–”

“I’m sorry,” she cut him to the chase. “I’m so sorry, Hiccup.” Finally, she met his eyes. And what she found wasn’t resentment or judgement. It was something deep, something genuine, something she felt tugging at her gut. “You were just trying to help and I reacted poorly. I never intended to hurt you or shut you out like that. I’m really sorry.”

He ran a hand over his neck. “Ah, well. It’s okay. It’s not like I didn’t snap, either.”

“No, you had every right to! I was being a bitch and you were just being honest. But there are just some things that… That I’m not ready to talk about. Yet.”

After a few agonizingly long seconds, he nodded. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready, I’m there if– if you wanna talk about it.” One of the hornets buzzed for a moment. How did she deserve to be around such a sweet, caring and incredibly patient guy? No wonder she fell for him.

With a shy smile, he stuck out his hand. “Friends?”

She stared at it for a moment. “Are you kidding with this?” she asked, right before she pulled him in for a hug. “Of course we’re still friends, you muttonhead!” She could feel him relax, could feel his heartbeat against her chest, and quickly stepped out of the hug. “Now come on, let’s celebrate my victory!”

“Your victory?” he asked as he followed her back to the girls.

“My team’s victory is also my victory.”

“But you’re not the one who swam.”

She turned to him with narrowed eyes. “Are you trying to provoke me?”

“Yes,” he said with a lopsided grin that didn’t waver even as she gave him a playful punch on the arm.

His flip-flops squeaked on the damp tiles as he walked beside her and for the briefest of moments, she smelled blooming trees and sunshine. In another world or another time, she’d reach for his hand. But even though she couldn’t, she enjoyed the idea. The world was just beginning to tilt back, no need to fret over her heartache right now. For the moment, they were good, they were friends. And if he were to disappear from her life again, she’d feel incomplete and restless all over again. They still had to talk about certain things, but not on the day her girls had placed first.

Curious looks were thrown Hiccup’s way as they approached her little victors. Finding seven pairs of eyes on him, he gave a small wave. “Hi, there.”

“Hi!” Viola, the shortest and fastest of the girls, greeted him with a wide smile. “We won!”

“Yes, I saw that. Congrats!”

A few more girls stepped closer. “We were like dolphins!” declared little Theresa and Hiccup’s eyes grew big.

“Real dolphins?” Theresa nodded. She was the youngest of the group and imagined herself all kinds of sea creatures when she was swimming. It was adorable and she had long earned a soft spot in Astrid’s heart. “You know what? Now that you say it, I can see it, too.” Theresa’s eyes shone brightly and Astrid’s stomach did a sudden backflip. Her mind conjured an image of Hiccup playing with his own little dolphin girl, telling her stories about the wide blue ocean, making her eyes shine just like Theresa’s now.

“Who’s that?” Annabelle’s voice tore her out of her daydream. She was standing a bit to the side, shyly pointing at Hiccup who had overheard the question.

“That’s Hiccup. My…” She locked eyes with him, a million unspoken words and needed conversations dancing between them. “My good friend.” His lips curled upwards.

“Are you a swimmer, too?” Lola asked inquisitively.

“Aah… I can swim, but I’m not much of a swimmer, actually. Not like you.”

“Do you have a phone?”

“Um.” Hiccup frowned, not quite sure why Lola wanted to know. Astrid, too, grew slightly wary at the giggles and mischievous looks flying through the group. “I have one, but it’s in a locker. Why?”

“Oh, just asking. You know, for safety.”

“Safet–”

“NOW!” Viola shouted and collectively, several little bodies jumped forward, startling Astrid and pushing Hiccup to the side. A surprised yelp escaped him before he fell into the pool with a loud splash.

“HEY! What the hell was that?!” Fists on her hips, Astrid grew to her full height while the girls seemed to lose a few inches under her glare. “You can’t just push people into the water! They could get seriously hurt, even if they know how to swim! Besides, what would you say if someone just pushed you into a pool or a lake and all your clothes got wet?!”

Approximately half the swimming hall was looking over curiously at her loud, chastising voice. The old ladies had stopped chattering and were shaking their heads at the kids staring abashedly at the tiles in front of them. Hiccup was spluttering somewhere to her left. She looked over – and had to suppress a laugh. Pushing wet hair out of his face, flip-flops floating next to him in the water, an absolutely baffled expression on his face, he made for a memorable sight and she desperately wished for a camera.

Stern frown back in place, she turned back to the girls. “Now go tell your parents what you did while I’m going to think of a nice extra exercise for training next week!” Despite her strict tone, they’d picked up on her amusement, lips pressed together while still trying to look abashed. She sent them off with a flick of her hand and shook her head.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to Hiccup who was treading water on the spot.

“Ah, it’s fine.” He shrugged. “Nothing that Dagur hasn’t already put me through, like, five times.”

Chuckling at the mental image, she crouched down and held out her hand. “Here, let me help you.” The ladder was only a few strokes away. But she didn’t even try to lie to herself, fully aware she just wanted an excuse to take his hand. She called that progress.

Busy bracing herself for the contact, she didn’t notice his smirk at first. Only when he grabbed her hand did she realize she had no chance. Pushing himself off the pool’s wall with his feet, he used the momentum to pull her forward. Only years upon years of diving head-first into pools were the reason she managed to not get chlorine water into her nose or accidentally swallow any. Breaking the surface with a gasp, the first sound reaching her ears was his laughter, melting away the unpleasant surprise in an instant. Spluttering, she shook her head, water droplets flying in all directions.

“And now you’re drinking up the pool?! Oh, Astrid!” Her response was to splash him with as much water as she could, instigating a water fight. When he hit her with an especially large wave, she chased him through half the pool, pretending she was going to dunk his head underwater. He just splashed her again before making towards the next ladder. She followed him, and there they were, completely drenched, dripping onto the tiles. His formerly baggy clothes clung to all the right places, she noted with a briefly distracted eye.

People were looking at them, some with mirth, some with displeasure. She couldn’t care less.

“This feels weird.” Hiccup wrung out a corner of his shirt, revealing a patch of skin that she had to pry her eyes away from.

A few of the girls came up to him, holding out their hands, faces speaking of the earful they’d received from both Astrid and their parents. “We’re sorry, Hiccup!”

He sighed and nodded, shaking each. “Ah, well. Apology accepted. Just, please, don’t ever do that again without at least a warning, okay?” Receiving eager nods, he smiled at them good-naturedly. Astrid frowned a few moments longer, just for appearance. Then she gave way to her own smile. No one had been harmed (except for their previously pleasantly dry clothes) and they had just won a competition, after all.

"Viola, go get his flops out of the water. As for the rest of you, I want you to swim five slow lanes each. After that, go get yourself some large fries or a burger, you’ve earned it today. I’d say food’s on me, but not after that little stunt of yours just now. Now off you go.”

She watched them leave, making sure they actually did what she’d said, before she turned back to Hiccup, only to have a small heart attack. He was wringing out his shirt. Standing there in nothing but his pants. It wasn’t like Astrid had never seen shirtless men before; hell, she was in a swimming hall! But the way her lower gut was so utterly fascinated by his naked torso felt weirdly lewd in her current environment, with families and harmless old ladies all around.

A low sound escaped her, prompting him to look over. There had to be something telling on her face, because at the sight of it a deep blush crawled up his neck. “I, er… My shirt is very wet.”

“Yeah, me too.” She could have slapped herself. “My clothes, I mean!” Oh, lord…

It was one of those situations where both parties were absolutely aware of the awkwardness of it, and that, whatever they said, it could only go downhill from there. Luckily, the sound of a pair of soaked flip-flops hitting the ground saved them from that demise.

“Here you go.” Viola, innocent child that she was, wasn’t picking up on the tension between the two adults, looking at Astrid expectantly. “What should I do now, Astrid?”

“Thanks. Thank you, Viola.” She brushed her bangs out of her face, hoping she wasn’t blushing as hard as it felt like. “You can go join the others; they’ll tell you.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and Viola?” The girl turned back around. “Good race!” Showing a proud grin, Viola skipped away, almost slipping on the tiles but catching herself and carrying on as if nothing had happened. Which was a strategy Astrid was very keen on copying as she prepared herself and turned back to Hiccup. But he had already put the shirt back on, now very wrinkled and inside out.

“Good thing I already came here in a spare,” he said, skin returning to its normal color. She noticed he was trying not to look below her face, remembering she was wearing white. She’d never been more thankful for the extra padding of her bra.

“Did you bring a towel? You can sit on it so you don’t wet your car seat too much.” The word wet was still bouncing around her brain like a tomato in a pinball machine. Sound effects, flashing lights and all.

“Luckily, I did.” Also luckily, he’d returned to normal-conversation mode, playing with the hem of his shirt. “Or rather, I bought one matching the uniform.”

Her damp hair only reminded her of her own already used towel, stuffed into her locker. If she’d come in her own car, she wouldn’t have minded, but…

“Hey, um… Could you give me a lift, later?” she asked. “I came with one of the kids and since you’re already ruining one seat of your car…”

He shrugged. “Suuure, I can ruin another. Anything for you.” He said it with a sarcastic overtone, but there was a sincerity that came with it that made the impulse to stick her tongue down his throat hard to control. At least he was wearing a shirt again.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He gave her a multi-layered smile. “What are friends for?”

She bit her lip as an idea sprung up in her mind. “Are you hungry?”

“Um… Kinda. Swimming does make hungry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You were in the water for what, five minutes?”

“Yeah. So? I burned a lot of energy fighting a sea witch.”

Her jaw dropped and he took a step back at the look on her face. “How about you take another swim, you cocky little–“

“Food sounds great!” he practically yelled to drown out whatever insult she was going to use, glancing at a number of kids trotting past and at the parents over on the benches. A few heads turned at his loud voice. “Are you thinking fries that always have either too little or too much salt?” With his head, he gestured in the direction of the snack bar.

“Eh… Too overpriced.” She fiddled with a strand of hair that had escaped her braid. “I was thinking someplace dry. Didn’t you mention this new burger place near your apartment?”

“Right! Someplace dry. Makes sense. Dry. Burger. Yes. Sounds great!”

Sitting on a towel-covered car seat as he drove her home, she kept arguing with herself that this was as much a date as their walk through the woods. Which was not at all. And the little bit of mascara and lip gloss she put on after her shower was only reflecting her celebratory mood after her team’s victory. She even used the raspberry and cheesecake shaving cream she found in her duffel bag, although the smell of it was way too artificial for her taste.

As she took a last look in her mirror before she left for her lunch not-date, the evidence was staring right back in her face. She wanted this to be a date. She wanted it so badly. But it wasn’t, and it shouldn’t be. Just two friends trying out a new burger place. Case closed.

_______________

“Now listen to me, you little tyke! Astrid will be here any minute and I want you to behave! That means no jumping up legs, no clawing at pants, no impersonating hurricanes on crack, no begging for food and– Toothless, no–“

Hiccup pried his hand away from his cat, inspecting the marks its teeth and claws had left on his skin. Nothing very visible, at least. “You, sir, are a hopeless case.” With a last disapproving shake of his head, he got up from his crouch and scanned the place for the hundredth time. He’d tidied up, but not completely, leaving just enough of a mess to seem casual. He didn’t want to give her the impression that he’d cleaned the whole place because of her.

He probably should have insisted they talk about whatever thing was between them. Not agree to wait for her to come around. But in that moment, she’d been standing right there, a vulnerability about her that rendered him unable to go through with it.

And there was this part of him that was afraid of the outcome. Walking out of her life when they’d hardly known each other had been hard and made him miserable for such a long time, he didn’t want to know what it would be like this time. Because why would she choose the mere friend she had sort of a special connection with and was perhaps kind of attracted to over someone she’d been in a relationship for years with and was also married to? Besides, there was still a big chance it was all just in his head.

He groaned. He was overthinking again. He’d been over this. Several times. As if on cue, a confirming yawn weaseled its way out of him. If she needed time for herself to figure things out, to navigate herself and come to terms with whatever she was feeling, he would give her the time. He just had to make sure they weren’t running to nowhere, circling the problem like scared vultures.

But he wouldn’t worry about that today. Today was a day for burgers and friends.

“That doesn’t include you, you butt-licking scallywag,” he called in the direction of his cat who was still sitting on the floor, cleaning its backside with a leg stretched over its head. But Hiccup didn’t have time for imaginary arguments with his pet, wincing at the sound of the doorbell.

Her hair was loose, only a few front strands braided back. It was falling freely down her shoulders and back, shining like her eyes when he invited her in, heart pounding in his chest.

“We can leave in a minute, I just have to hang my laundry real quick. In the meantime, my roomie will give you the tour.” He gestured towards the living room where Toothless was hopefully done licking his behind. Or even still in the room. Would be awkward if he returned to Astrid standing there all alone, probably bored out of her mind, just because he hadn’t timed washing his sheets right.

But he didn’t have to worry, because when he returned from his small roofed balcony, he could hear her talking to his cat – he strongly assumed she was talking to his cat, otherwise he’d be concerned – in a voice one would talk to a laughing baby with.

“Who’s the little dwagon? Who’s a little dwagon? You’re a little dwagon!”

“Don’t boost his ego too much, he already thinks he’s the alpha of the house.” She looked up as he entered the room, walking in on her sitting cross-legged on the couch, petting Toothless’ stomach, his claws and teeth playfully buried in her hand.

“Oh, but he’s so cute!” She wiggled her hand and didn’t even wince as the claws dug deeper.

“Don’t let him fool you. By tonight, he will have established for himself that he’s the king of dragons or something, if you keep on telling him that.”

“Hiccup is just jealous,” she whispered to the cat in a conspiratorial voice. “Because he’s not the one getting belly rubs.”

“W-wait, what?”

She let go of Toothless, swatting away the paws chasing after her retreating fingers. He could see the red lines left by sharp cat claws, the burning phantom sensation dancing across his skin at the sight. “Don’t worry about it,” she remarked, getting up from the couch and brushing past him. “Let’s go for lunch!”

Blinking a couple times to ban the idea of Astrid giving him belly rubs from his mind, he grabbed his keys and made sure the cat didn’t get out when they left the apartment.

The dry, warm weather from the past weeks had shifted into a cloudy sky and a drizzle, humidifying the air and painting the pavement in a darker color. The walk to the newly opened restaurant wasn’t far, but in the fifteen minutes it took them to get there, the rain steadily increased and they made it just in time for the big downpour.

“Maybe we should have come by car,” he mused. Hers was parked right behind his, back on his street. “Or at least brought an umbrella.”

She waved it off. “It’ll stop while we’re eating.”

And she was right; by the time they took their first bites, the odd sunbeam here and there reflected the light in the puddles on the street and the only drizzle came from dripping awnings and overflowing gutters.

“Told you,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, a piece of lettuce sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she chewed. It was lethally cute.

The food was amazing, even though it was cold when they finished it, wasting so much time talking and laughing and pretending this didn’t feel like a date, somehow. It was like he’d known her forever. He realized his initial plan (or rather hope) of getting over her had been doomed to fail from the start. And there was no turning back now, or ever again. He might as well have sold his soul to her the night they met.

He supposed it was just his luck that the sky opened up again on their way back. Cold rain drops ran down his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He kept his head down as best he could but he had no chance against the forces of nature – a theme that seemed to be a running gag in his life at this point. They reached his house soaked to the bone.

“Drenched twice in one day,” he complained over Astrid’s ecstatic giggles. That girl seemed to be alive around every shape of water.

“Now imagine being a swimmer,” she quipped back.

“As a swimmer, I’d get wet voluntarily.” Once inside the apartment, he went to grab two towels from the bathroom, almost tripping over a bundle of black fur. “You know, I almost don’t miss living with you, bud.” The cat brushed along his legs. “Almost.”

He found Astrid in the kitchen, inspecting his old radio. Accepting one of the towels and wringing out her hair, she nodded at it. “We used to have the same one at home once.” She tried switching it on, but no sound came out.

“You have to switch it back and forth fast a few times.” She did so, and after a few seconds of static noise, the antenna found a signal. The quality of the speakers was better than the ancient device let it appear, playing music through the kitchen and the adjacent living room with a clear sound.

Humming along, Hiccup towel dried his hair as best he could, willing it to not stick in every possible direction after.

Astrid started swaying to the fast beat, bent forward so her hair was almost reaching the floor. Between herself and the towel, her voice came out slightly muffled. “I like this one. It’s at the same time modern and has an eighties flair.” At once, she threw her head back, hair flying through the air, smacking against her back.

He turned up the volume, watching her movements become faster, the spark of the music infecting her whole body until she jumped and twirled through the open doorway to the living room. Past the shelves, the TV, the stereo that would have provided much better sound quality, wild loose hair framing her face.

“Uuuh, I’m blinded by the liiights,” she sang, hitting maybe half the notes right, not bothered by it in the slightest. He felt her spirit in his chest, unable to stay still any longer. His dance moves likely made him look very stupid, but in his current company, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

The song ended, blending into the next one neatly, despite the initial change of rhythm. It picked up speed, slowed down, picked up speed again. He bumped into his furniture, into Astrid, and was sure he heard a brief animalistic shriek before a dash of black disappeared around the corner.

Taking a deep breath in unison, they shouted out the lyrics. “Toora loora, toora loo rye ay!” Her hands found his, twirling some more, completely caught up in the cheerful music. “Eileen, I’ll hum this tune forever!” Said tune slowed considerably into a swaying rhythm, only to come back fast for the finale, for which Astrid twirled herself around in dizzying speed. She was a human twister, a tornado of gold and blue, sweeping through the room, journey ending at the counter back in the kitchen. As he caught up with her, the song faded out, a newscaster taking its place.

They were both panting, wide grins matching. She staggered a little, catching herself on his shoulder and holding onto it until the room stopped spinning for her. When she looked up, her grin slowly disappeared, the heat of her body so close. He gulped as she inched forward and he was equally pulled in, eyes fluttering closed, the force of the magnet between them too strong to fight.

For the briefest of moments, their lips brushed, and the strong surge of lightning rushing through his veins at the faint contact brought him back to reality. Back to the tiled floor of his kitchen, back to his damp clothes, to the monotone voice of the newscaster on the radio. When he opened his eyes, he was met with two conflicted reflections of a stormy sky. Taking a shaky breath, she removed her hand from his arm and took a few steps back. He could neither move nor speak, muscles seized up from electrocution.

“I…” She took a deep steadying breath. “I need to go.” For a moment longer, she was equally frozen in place. “I just… I need to go home.”

And with that, she turned around, and then he heard the front door close behind her. Through the kitchen window, he saw her getting into her car. Starting it. Driving away.

He didn’t know how much longer he stood there. The clouds parted. She didn’t come back.

#httyd #hiccstrid #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #when lightning strikes #modern au #a bit of angst with a dash of drama #or the other way around #maja writes #ff #fanfic #how to train your dragon

21 notes · View notes

allstarsstorymode867 · 3 years

Text

ALL-STARS -STORY MODE- CHAPTER 18 PART 4

Part 3

Part 5

Half way through the chapter, half way done!

Once again, it features @mortal-kombattore-115's CODZ OC, an Ultimis version this time ^^

He had risen out of where he was sleeping, yelled in terror with sweat rolling down his brow as it had caught his allies’ attention. “Are you alright, Edward?” Shaw was the first one to ask as Scarlett and P!Nikolai had walked over to where he was.

He breathed heavily as he was wide awake with a chilling feeling going down his spine, trying to form words of what he had dreamt or what he had seen in that dream.

“Ha… Ha... “ he then shook his head with a chill up his spine, placing his hand on his forehead as he had to shrug him off as he stumbled onto his feet with Frank West walking into the hall with his arms crossed and said “Well well well. Look who finally woke up, after we managed to get Dr. Barnaby here today.”

That got his attention and he had the courage to look at the photojournalist with a stare, then finally he asked “How… How long vas I out?”

“A couple of hours into the morning,” he answered before looking at the security door and continued “The old man was kidnapped by the guy who might be the one who started all of this-”

“And you two managed to get him back here, unconscious.” P!Nikolai added to his story as he and others looked at him as Dell then said “But Brad was injured before they could catch that yellow-bellied terrorist.”

Richtofen looked at Dell with little surprise and looked at Frank West, “Vas he alright?” he is concerned honestly, since that dream was bad enough, he felt like in this reality it could be worse.

“Medic, Jessie and Shaw had managed to stop the bleeding but he’s sick right now.” Frank continued as he looked at P!Richtofen and several others then asked “Which is why we have to get medicine for him.”

“I will go, we owe Brad so much.” P!Nikolai was the first before looking at P!Richtofen, “Since we have doctors here, besides Barnaby, to watch over him. And Dell is coming too.”

“Well, Ah can’t deny the bracket,” before looking over to U!Takeo with a soft smile, “Do ya think ya can come with us too?”

Ultimis Takeo bowed as he said “I am honored to go.” as Scarlett crossed her arms, “We’ll let you know if anything happens.” Shaw had said with little hope for them, “For a strange reason, we need to be more cautious, something about the mall is becoming uneasy to be in, not the zombies.”

“The psychos,” Frank understood his worry, “I am sure we can handle them with numbers.” before he turned and left the room with P!Nikolai, U!Takeo and the Engineer following behind.

6:32

They walked towards the North Plaza with Frank West leading the way, on the way, zombies, not too many yet a small group of them, they had no trouble killing them here and there but one thing that caught one of them off guard was a bug buzzing over the Engineer’s head.

Dell ducked and he looked to see what the bug was; a wasp, hovering over the Texan with gestation before going for him with fast speed but Frank intervened, pushing him out of the way as he said “Get back!”

The photojournalist swatted the hornet to the ground and one of its wings was damaged as P!Nikolai and U!Takeo found another group of the undead and took careful aim but they’re confused with the horde’s sudden change in their behavior. Zombies’ eyes were wide open and groaning in pain as one of them raised its hand to it’s head as if its suffering a headache.

Frank West was watching this as well but he was the only one that wasn't as surprised as the other three as he nudged Engie for this part and said “Watch this.” in a inhale of breath before he stomped onto the wasp that had advanced onto Dell, killing it.

The four of them had watched as zombies cried and blithe in agony as some of them had fallen to the ground and much to the three’s surprise and shock, their heads exploded, brain matter and blood caked the floor in puddles. Most of them were lagging behind before they too had met the same fate as their comrades while P!Nikolai had lowered his shotgun as U!Takeo stood down as they watched the bizarre scene happen right in front of them in confusion.

“What has caused these demons to die without either of us killing them first?” The warrior was confused as Frank had stepped away from the crushed wasp.

Dell looked at the photojournalist and said “Ya think these bugs had something to do with this?” as Frank looked back. He nodded.

“I had figured that part out already before we found you guys.” as he looked at the dead wasp again, “My guess is the same as yours, Engie.”

“And whenever you kill a wasp, it kills a whole horde, correct?” P!Nikolai had asked as he and Takeo looked over their shoulders. “Yeep, that saves you guys the trouble.”

Nikolai looked at the corpses and thought about it, if this is true, it could be useful to their advantage. Heck, it could save their ammo unless whenever they need to use them if there’s too much. This city is populated with zombies now after all.

“Is there any way to trap the wasps?”

“Jars are useful to keep these bugs in, then tossed it at any group of zombies you saw.”

“Rhen re rill make a note of it, West-san.” Takeo nodded as he turned and then looked at the store as wondered for a moment.

“Rhe store may be at the end of the hall, re must getting close.” before walking towards the end of the hall where the store is located with the other three behind him.

“You are good at leading the way when I was,” Frank was a little bit envious of U!Takeo walked to the doors. “I was using a map for this mall when you already knew it like it was on the back of your hand without one.” as the doors opened for them to enter.

Music in Seon's Food & Stuff grocery store was playing softly when they entered it, as they looked around; no zombies around but they couldn't let their guard down just yet but Frank seemed that he wanted to. Engineer looked at P!Nikolai and spoke up first after a long silence. “They started playing music in the 1930’s.”

The three looked at the Engineer as he continued “But stores aren’t the only ones to play it in them, boys.”

“...It is not comforting when it comes to zombies though.” P!Nikolai had stated the fact as he feared that Frank’s world was on the verge of a zombie apocalypse. He can only hope that even if his story gets out, the people and the government could be able to stop it, somehow.

U!Takeo walked over to the windows of the store with the sign that read “Pharmacy” and peered into them, scanning the room until he noticed something inside it and on the desk: a first aid kit.

“Men!”

He had called them over and Takeo pointed the first aid inside. Frank West smiled and patted his back as he said “Good to say heads up.” and then goes over to the double doors to go inside but when he tried to push them open, they were locked. He cursed under his breath.

“What is wrong, Frank West?” P!Nikolai asked upon seeing what he was trying to do, “The doors are locked,” Frank looked at them before looking at the doors again, “We need a key to open it.”

Nikolai patted his shoulder as he looked at the double doors, “Hold on.” Then he had gotten ready to kick it down and he did, a sound surrounded the store as the doors stood still but when he got ready to try again; a sound of a single cart was coming from the aisles nearest to them. Frank West looked to where it was coming from and so did P!Nikolai as well.

“Re are not alone…” he sensed someone in the store with them, the Engineer nodded as he looked at him and soon they went over to the aisles with weapons in their possession, looking into each aisle, expecting someone or something to be on the other side.

They then went into the aisle on the right in the middle, when they did this however, they heard someone pushing a cart from where they came and making U!Takeo unsheathed his sword to look but no one was found so far as others followed suit.

“Ahright,” Dell muttered, “This store wasn’t empty as we were led to believe it to be.”

“You think?” Nikolai was stern to the situation happening, “Keep your guard up.” he cautioned with a shotgun at the ready. Frank was ahead of them when something fell onto the floor and rolled into their mist, a lone canned food on the floor and a feeling had gone up his spine.

They turned to look for whatever caused it and a man was there, with a shopping cart that had torches, a pitchfork and knives stuck into it, making it into a weapon. Inside the basket was a woman, a familiar one laying in it unconscious.

This man appeared to be a normal manager of the store itself, he’s partly bald with brown hairs on top and on the sides of his head, yellow dress shirt, a green apron, tan pants and black shoes.

A name tag on the apron was “Steven Chapman” with a picture of himself as he scratched under his chin and the back of his neck then adjusting his red tie for a moment to compose himself as silence fell onto the grocery store and it was suffocating them as it felt like hours. Finally Steven places his hand onto the handle of the cart, seemingly normal until-

“THIS IS MY STOORE!!”

Psycho Encounter!

Steven Chapman

That caught them off guard when he exploded in an outburst, he then advanced towards them threateningly as he breathed slowly “all four of you… came to rob my store? HUH??” while they backed up slowly to keep a healthy distance from him then he yelled at them again “NOT ON MY WAAATCH!!”

“C-Calm down, sir! Someone is hurt and we are only here for medicine please!”

“It’s true, Nikolai is telling the truth!” Frank backed him up on their story, hoping this insane manager would let them have the keys to the doors but that seemed to anger him even more as he roared “Hurt!?”

Steven then grabbed the woman’s hair and then shook her head as he explained in a bellow, “That’s what this b!tch said when she came to vandalize my store!”

“Maybe she had the same reasons as us to do, we have to-”

“Shut it!” the crazed manager interrupted, “As you can see, I don’t take vandalism too kindly around here… I won’t allow it!” he gripped the handle of the weapon cart tightly so that his knuckles turned white from holding it.

“Now all of you listen to me, and listen good, partners…” he then roared “I DO NOT DORATE VANDALISM IN MY STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!” as he bug eyed and spit flying.

It wasn’t loud enough to wake the dead, but it shook the world around them as they looked at the manager who then ran towards them with the fire flying from the flares. They turned and ran off to different directions as he came out of the aisle they were in.

P!Nikolai turned around to look and he was after the Engineer as he yelled at them to get out of his store. “Words are not going to go through to him…” his brian said as he got out the hatchet and then tossed it at the manager, it barely got him on the arm but it did make him turn around towards the Russian’s direction. P!Nikolai found himself regretting that decision right away as Steven ran towards him and P!Nikolai ran to another aisle.

“No choice…” the sergeant thought as he cocked the shotgun back while he ran, “Have to take him out…!” as he spotted Frank West who waved him over, “Over here!”

He ran over to the photojournalist as the manager had barely missed him and stood by him with short breath. “Psychopaths…” he breathed, getting much generous oxygen in his tired lungs. “Is this what you meant, Frank?”

“Pretty much,” Frank had hidden behind the aisle that was located at the far end of the store, “Got a plan?”

“We have to put him down, if he does this to us then-”

“Nick, I am aware of how "putting someone down” is, and it’s not the first so far.”

“Me and my allies had done it before.”

Sounds of shotguns firing in the store that made both men ducked a moment as they heard Engineer cursing as he reloaded. “That was Dell…!”

“Mr. West, hold on.” Primis Nikolai peeked from the asie and saw Steven, with a shotgun rifle of his own as he was firing buckshot after buckshot until U!Takeo slashed him from behind. It had done damage but not enough as the manager turned his attention towards the samurai and rammed his cart into him. He grunts in pain from the flames.

“Takeo…!” he muttered as Frank stopped him, “Hold on, we need a plan!” as Nikolai turned to look at him.

Nikolai wondered for a moment and answered “We will distract him, you can get him while he is unaware.” and handed the rifle to him, “Do you know how to use it?”

“I’ve been trying to get a good aim.”

“Pony up!”

Engineer had wacked the manager, then ran off from him as he roared at him about assault with the cart with flames throwing from the canned flares. “Let’s hope your aim is good enough, I had to trust you with our lives for this.” as the Russian got out the hatchet.

“I am a lot better with a camera but yeah, I’ll give it a shot.”

He nodded as he listened closely to where the Engineer and Steven were, much to his surprise, they were making their way over to them, to where they were with stomping echoing the food store.

“Switch places.” He cautioned the confused reporter and he did, he was on the right side and Frank on the left,weapons at the ready.

“Get ready to run.” P!Nikolai stood his ground, waiting for one of them to pop out from the end of the aisle as his eyes were fixated towards. Feet are stomping louder and soon, a familiar hard hat wearing Texan appeared with the Frontier Justice in his hands as Nikolai shouted “Go!”

Frank felt like his feet had grown wings as he took off from the direction of the yells from the three, one was the Sergeants, the other the Engineer and the third being the manager.

He had found Ultimis Takeo patching himself up from the wound Steven had caused behind register 4, sword at his right side. “Ya alright?” he asked as he knelt down.

“I am.” he lied, to keep his pride in. “Liar.” Frank knew that from that tone of voice before he started to help but the samurai hastily refused. “I can treat my own wounds.”

“And risk an infection, best not.”

“I can do rhis myself, West-san. '' He does not want him to see the vines he had hidden inside his sleeves. “I rill have Medic rnd Richtofen treat me rater now rhat is the situation right now?” as he shakingly got up at Frank’s charging.

They heard a buckshot before the latter could explain, the Engineer was shouting at P!Nikolai to take cover and then threw a wrench at the manager. Frank then turned to Ulitmis Takeo and said “You guys gonna have to distract him while I had to blow him away…” before looking at the shotgun that the Russian had given him, “Literally…”

Takeo looked at the scene a bit longer before he nodded, turned to Frank West once again.

“You must take him down, res?”

“Yeah”

“I have little strength left in me to distract the manager.”

“Are ya sure?” Frank looked at U!Takeo who got up with his katana in his hand.

“I am, reporter.” as he buttons his shirt and coat with stains of blood on them. “In order to do that, re must have him facing towards you.”

Frank nodded, looking at the warrior as he limped and running towards the scene that’s unfolding before them. He paused and then whistled for their attention.

Engineer and P!Nikolai looked to see him as Steven was charging at them again, they hardly felt the impact when he rammed into their backs, making them fall down to the floor and ran for Captain Takeo who stood ready, closer and closer and closer the cart had caught up towards him.

The moment had come right before him and he stepped out of the way and, as he planned for the manager, he turned away from the cart to scream but he turned to yell at the young man with a command. “Now!”

The rifle was triggered, a noise rose to life, soon droplets of blood as well with Steven stumbled and made the weaponized cart fall and the unconscious woman fell out of it as well. Steven then limped over and grabbed one of the registers closest to him.

“My store…!” gasping with his blood pooling the ground. “My store…! Who will run my store if I’m gone!?”

One buck shot to the heart was critical, one quick way to kill a bear or a human mad man as Frank and others looked on Steven, unsure to help him, maybe out of fear that he would finish what he started.

“My food…? My sales…? And with them, my…” he coughed up blood that dripped onto the register with one arm dropped down. “Customers…?” before he adjusts his tie slightly before looking at the reader, strangely and says his last words.

“Have a nice daaay…” and fell to the ground. Silence was flooding the store-

“CLEAN UP!” Steven raised his head up, he shouted at someone that was non-existent, spooking the four in the process, “Register Six!” he then fell back down to the floor, finally bleeding out and gone.

The four walked over to Steven and inspected the handy work of Frank West, P!Nikolai was going to ask for his Olympia rifle back when he spotted the woman, laying unresponsive on the floor.

“Look!”

They all turn to look at the woman, Frank firstly thought it wasn’t a coincidence until it hits him: it’s the same lady from the Entrance Plaza as they went over to her. A groan from her and she rose up, the other three were a little tensed by this but Frank kneeled down as she only sat up right and held her forehead.

“Still with us in the land of the living?” he looked at her with a soft tone, “You are one tough cookie.” before he helped her up but she then pushed him away with a foul when she looked at him.

“Re are not here to hurt you,” U!Takeo tried to explain to the angry lady, “Re only wanted to help-” she then cuts him off. “I don’t need any help from the four of you! You don’t know a damn thing!”

“Heya, let’s not get off on the wrong foot here, ma’am-”

“It was you Americans on the ‘wrong foot’ here!” she spat out with hate, “You always looked after yourselves with fat meat!”

“Listen to us,” Nikolai stepped up to try to reason with the strange woman, “If it is what you hate, two of us beside the two men are foreigners as well and we had heard you are in need of medicine as well, maybe we can help each other.”

“He’s got a point there,” Frank added with little hope, “we’ll take you back to where-”

“I said I never wanted help! Americans like you are the ones that started all of this!” She is surprising and confusing them more and more at the same time, “You ruined Santa Cabeza and began this nightmare!”

She then turned without any more words and quickly walked out of there, leaving the group in confusion. Primis Nikolai watched her leave and out of sight, as he turned to look at Frank West and asked “What does she meant by “You ruined Santa Cabeza?””

“I don’t know but I think this has something to do with the zombies and the-”

“Wasps” Takeo interrupted with an annoyed tone, “I do believe they are related somehow.” as he looked down and something gleaming on the floor, he lowered his upper body and reached his hand out for the metal piece with a tag attached to it; a key.

On the tag itself read PHARMACY in capitalized letters, he turned and gave Frank the key in his hand as he said “Now let’s get rhat re came for.”

Engineer walked over to the doors with Nikolai, fearing that if there’s one mad man here then there could be more. He couldn’t blame them for that, the outbreak has put everyone on edge he thought as he goes over to them and with caution, he puts the key inside the slot and turns.

Click.

The sound gave way as the doors slowly opened for the group to enter freely. They looked around the hallway with shotgun rifles, a bat and a sword in their hands. They entered the check-in counter where the first aid is located.

Frank sagged it from it’s place and muttered “Let’s get the hell out of this store.” as Takeo nodded to acknowledge him.

Nikolai and Engineer are on the lookout for a horde of zombies but now with the information that they can use to their advantage as Takeo and Frank walk out of the check-in counter. Leaving the store without looking back except when the feeling of the undead and… something else was here. Watching them go.

*Something is following you…

Nikolai’s heart is pumping with fear and adrenaline, the text just below his chest wasn’t helping. He has to speak up for his group, just a peep. “Men…” was the first word that he could think of saying to the three, making them all turn to face him.

“I do not want to fear you all but Nikolai has the feeling that we are being followed.'' He informed them, Ultimis Takeo could sense the fret in his voice and much as he didn't like his Nikolai but he respected the Primis one better. The reason why is that he knew the battles and wars well, survival instinct and most importantly; he’s sober.

But something about the alternate version of the Russian had him on edge, if Nikolai was this tense up by sensing something threatening yet horrifying, whatever or whoever it was following them must be bad.

“You must be sensing that something is following us.” Takeo peeped up, he began to feel the same thing from the situation. Frank West seemed confused by this and spoke out “It could be just a feeling of paranoia, it could be nothing.”

“Frank West,” Engineer places his gloved hand on the photojournalist's shoulder, “Ever heard of the gut feeling when something ain’t right boy?” he spoke softly with the Frontier Justice resting on his shoulder. “If that’s the case, best keep your guard up.”

“He is right, we…” he muttered as his breath was lynched with worry, “We need to use it, somehow. We can’t lead it back to the security room.”

Frank seems to worry now but he keeps his cool as he thinks of a plan for this and half-remembers the zombies. “Well, since this town is infested with rotten walking corpses. We can just run through and let it deal with them while we leg it.”

“Rith weapons, re can be able to fight back if your plan does not go rell, West-san.” U!Takeo informed him, making him look at him with acknowledgement, Nikolai and Engineer stood by, already seeing a big horde of zombies ahead of them, seemingly unaware of their presence and stumbling by each other as others tripped.

“On three…”

“Da.”

“One… Two… Three!”

Without a word, they dashed towards the undead army as they began to notice. They ran in and began to fight their way through them. The other zombies behind them were shrieking in pain as well, a severed arm flew into Nikolai’s point of view and landed with a resounding thud just centimeters away from where he was when he was struggling to get the zombie away from him.

That confirms what he believed his guts to be the sense of dread; someone was following them. He now knows that and knows he can’t let them follow them back to where they were hiding, he can’t risk the summoning key falling into the wrongs. Much as he doesn’t want to admit that it was in Richtofen’s to begin with but still.

Primis Nikolai had mustered enough strength in him and pushed the rotten corpse off of him as it was met with a barrel at it’s temple and a bullet ripped through it.

“Frank!” he catches his attention, thrill and robustness in the fight for their very survival, “The wasp!”

Frank nodded and then he held the zombie with a bat holding it inches from him, rummaging as he didn’t notice one of them had grabbed onto his arm. “Hey, F*** off!* he shouted as he struggled for the untoten to let go of his forearm as it tried to bite into it but only getting the sleeve.

Sword came from the above out of the blue and two heads of the zombie rolled onto the floor, the face of Ultimis Takeo looking at Mr. West as he had taken care of the problem. “Thanks!” he yelled as he managed to get the jar with the same wasp in it.

Engineer is shooting one zombie after another as blood decorating his rusty brown overalls in drops as he yelled “Time to make an exit!” as Frank got ready to throw, a hatchet came out of nowhere and it struck Dell on the shoulder, making him yell in pain. Nikolai turned to look at what happened and he ran over to the injured Texan.

Engineer fell onto the floor, holding his right shoulder where the hatchet had struck him from behind as he muttered “Aww hell.” as he greeted his teeth, it was almost like the time back in 2Fort where BLU Scout had got him on the back with a medieval bat with spikes, yes, spikes on it. “Haven’t felt a hit like that since the Gravel War. I feel like I am going to pass out in a minute…” but his head rose up to meet the faces of the undead, he got a good look at them from up close and too personal for comfort.

Alarming and deathly faces with life-threatening injuries on their heads and faces, flesh and muscle revealing teeth and eyes ghostly white, empty of life and murky is almost soul-destroying thing he had to see. Corpses would eventually decay once the soul leaves the body.

“Uuugh…! More like any secon’!” he thought as he gazed at one face in horror. It reminds him of a song his father had sung after his mother had died. He almost swore that a woman was slinging this in his mind for anyone to hear.

Oh, Death

Won't you spare me over 'til another year?

Well what is this that I can't see

With icy hands takin' hold of me

Well I am Death, none can excell

I'll open the door to Heaven and Hell

“Well, this is it.” and he shut his eyes but what he heard next was glass shattering and the pained groans of the damned. He opened his eyes to see a familiar face, alive and well that helped him onto his feet.

No wealth, no land, no silver no gold

Nothing satisfies me but your soul

“Come on!” It was Frank who helped him onto his feet and managed to throw the jar at a horde that was surrounding him while he bled from the gash inflicted by the hatchet. Wobbled back on his feet, he held the injury with his shaking hand and cringed when he felt the warm blood pooling out of it.

“Ah gotta need a medic…!” he groaned in pain, Frank wanted to use the first aid but Dell had to stop him, “It’s for Brad! We’ll worry for mahself later.” as he is still holding the Frontier Justice in his other hand. A scowl on his pain purified on his face as he clanged onto the wound on his back.

When God is gone and the Devil takes hold

Who will have mercy on your soul?

Ultimis Takeo ran over to his side and helped the Engineer to stabilize his footing as he raised the rifle just beside Frank’s head as he jumped in surprise before a loud bang was heard.

The zombie that was coming towards Frank from behind fell down with a chunk of its head missing, brain matter and crimson pooling on the tiled floor.

Soon, four men were surrounding as a horde marched in, again, “There’s just so many!” Frank yelled in annoyance as he held the bat close to himself as he looked around for a way out.

Oh, I am Death.

I have come to take your soul.

Leave the body and leave it cold.

“この地獄を気に入れ..!” He raised his sword upright, pointing it at the several zombies on his way, he cannot use the power he had literally in his sleeves and as much as he does not want to use it around Frank West but he’s highly considering that option.

Nikolai was looking around but he was looking where he had gotten the feeling from, a figure that would confirm it and he had the feeling in his chest that they had hurt Dell to get them in a vulnerable position. He rather not know but he hoping, yes, hoping that the horde will kill them before they could.

My name is Death and the end is here...

They were ready, to fight or to die and be eaten trying to do so. Accepting their fate to be dinner for the walking dead but when the horde was getting closer, a hair ornament flew out of nowhere and struck one of the zombies’ forehead, making it fall backwards in a flash.

They were confused when they felt a figure run past them, wind following close and swiped the pin out of it’s skull. An Asian woman, dressed in Chinese WWII Medic uniform, white gloves, short unkempt raven hair as she clenched the ornament in her hand, blood stained the glove as she went to her another victim unfortunate enough to be in her line of sight.

It felt like the odds are even so they are able to go through the horde, guns blazing, beating, and stabbing too. Literally what they did with weapons as they had massacred their path through. They only stopped when Nikolai had stopped to turn to see if zombies or their stalker was following but much to his solace, whoever had thrown the hatchet was too busy slashing stumbling corpses surrounding them.

“We have to get away, right now!” The woman grabbed P!Nikolai by the forearm that snapped him out of his trance as he shook his head in bewilderment before running with them.

“That was insane.” the woman commented, out of breath as he ran. “Don’t mention it, come on, to the warehouse.” Frank West replied as he led them away from the scene fast.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hold still, this will help a little.” The woman was giving Dell a bottle of medical alcohol. She had a bag of bandages, bandages, medicine, medical equipment and almost an empty pack of cigarettes in it.

He had drunk it a little as he did not want to waste the whole bottle, he felt like she needed it to clean the blood off his back and gave it back to her as he felt his throat burn with that warm feeling, the beverage was numbing the pain so it worked a little.

“Ah do appreciate the timing of you coming out of nowhere to save our skins but we handled the aggressive negotiation with the lovely residents of Willamette.” he lightly joked to her, making the WWII Medic giggled while U!Takeo, P!Nikolai and Frank West are keeping watch for any undead corpses walking around and any objects falling from the above, the storeroom with that cautious error will make any worker aware, even with an initial zombie outbreak if survivors are not careful enough.

The dress shirt was more red with his blood, even staining the overalls, and an undershirt with the sleeves ripped a little on the edges. The woman soaked a rag with the same drink and then went behind to clean off the blood. He hissed in pain when he fit the rag making contact on the wound, she was being very gentle on the injury as she is focused on it.

“Mind if Ah ask ya a name, ma’am?” Dell had turned his head towards her with his blue eyes, his helmet on one of the crates and goggles on his forehead since he could hardly see sometimes. It was often a manner of a soft-spoken Texan and it’s both a gift and a curse from his father and mother.

“I am Jin Bai Chen.” the woman introduced as she ringgit the rag to get the red liquid fall onto the floor, coloring the concrete. “I am a medic and I had heard they called you Dell?”

“Dell Conagher, Miss Chen, mah friends call me Dell but with mah teammates call me “Engineer.” or “Engie.” so call me the latter.”

“It is nice to meet you Mr. Con-ugh-er?” she mispronounced the surname, “It’s going to take a while for me to pronounce it, Engineer.” she continued awkwardly. The Engineer lightly chuckled under his breath, trying his best to ignore the pain on his shoulder. “Ah had gotten that a lot when I’d first join the RED Team”

“You can say that again, Dell.” Frank had his arms crossed as he looked at the two, making note that the way they wore may seem a few decades apart. Jin’s Medic uniform is from the late 30’s to early 40’s and the Engineer’s 60’s two years away to the first years of 70’s.

Jin shook her head as she finished cleaning the wound, she gave the bottle to Dell and said “I think you may need this.” as he took it from her with little confusion but he felt like she was going to do what he believed she was going to do.

She rummaged through her bag as he looked at her over his shoulder with interest, she got out a surgical suture, he kind of jumped and drink the liquor as she had realized what he did and shook her head with a soft smile curled on her red lips.

“I had gotten reactions like that from the soldiers.” she had explained as she got the thread through the suture and gotten it ready for its use. “Them being scared by a tiny sewing needle or just wanted to risk letting a cut get infected?” he asked as he closed the bottle, he can feel the alcohol hit him a bit better now. “It could be both, still since I had survived a war and I had never thought I would participate in this one.”

Frank got the warrior’s attention and they both look over to the procedure, “Do you think he could use something to bite down on, Jin?” he asked out of curiosity, she simply shook her head and said “No, they don’t but unless their limbs needed to be amputated then I could consider it.” and she then pierced the skin with a small needle, a sharp pinch had reignited the fire on the right shoulder of the Engineer, he could feel it through his drunk haze but it was numbed enough for him to burly feel it.

He greets his teeth through the agony with his eyes screwed shut, “Damn…!” he muttered as he clenched his fist that rested on his knees. She was very careful piercing through the skin as thread had danced over the injury as it bled a little again.

“Do you like to come back with us?” Primis Nikolai offered as the Engineer, being brass as nails, had endured the pain as much as he could, Sergeant Belinski can see why he preferred the medicine the Medic had and would never have to go through this again until today.

She had finished sewing the skin, the thread over the cut and open, she cautioned “Dell,” making him look at her, “This next part will hurt a little but brace yourself.”

He nodded and braced himself for the worse, it’d slowly happened and he was recovering from the alcohol-induced numbness and it was a bad timing as she pulled the thread gently yet hard to fully close the cut, pulling the skin together.

The injury was fully closed and Jin lightly tapped his shoulder while he was going to open the bottle again with his hands due to the aching. “Can I trouble you with that?” she asked as she pointed at the same bottle. He snakingly gave it to her while Frank came over to them with concern and cringed to the scene that happened.

“It must’ve hurt like hell.” He had commented as he kneeled to Engineer as he nodded and said “It hurts but ya know the medics had given soldiers a drink in the civil war?” as he looked at Frank West. “The alcohol beverage helps numb the pain so they can’t feel the doctors sawing their legs off.” Engineer finished as he felt the rag on the injury after she had it closed with a surgical knot and dressed it with the medical alcohol to clean it again.

It hurts, yes but Dell doesn't complain when she finishes again, Jin rummages her bag and then gets bandages out and then begins to wrap around his shoulder and chest. Jin had done it again at least a few more times until Dell’s right shoulder and chest was covered in bandages.

She cut the bandage with a knife and tied it to secure it, she then lightly patted his back. “Alright, I am all done now.” as she got the undershirt for the Engineer. He placed it on and as well with his crimson and normal red dress shirt and then placed the straps of his overalls. It almost looks as good as new except the blood.

“Engineer, do you rhink you can still walk until we get to the office?” Takeo asked as he helped his teammate up onto his feet again. “I had been through something like this before so it’s nothing new to me, boy.” Engineer smiled as he placed the goggles over his eyes once again and the helmet back on his head.

He groaned in pain, holding his right shoulder to sooth the warm, hurtful feeling coming from the wound. Jin looked at Dell with concern.

“Do not rub it too much, Dell, it will rip the stitches.” she placed her hand on his shoulder, he looked at her and simply nodded. It’s best to be careful until he goes to the Medic while he is fighting for his life.

“Are there others with you?” she asked as she looked at the three remaining members. “There are.” Frank answered, “But I think you’ll fit in the World War II section because of Tak and a marine.”

“Wait, one of the marines is here?” she was astonished, “Yeah. a corporal I think.” he rolled his eyes, the marines often get the girls, he thought.

“Then take me to the office, right now.” she demanded, P!Nikolai obied and then cocked the rifle back before saying “We must go now, we must not keep Brad waiting longer than we already have wasted.”

When he said that, Frank West looked at his wristwatch to check the time.

10:48

“Shi…” he muttered before turning and then running, leading the way with four teammates back to the rooftop.

Ultimis Takeo had no idea why but Jin Bai Chen looked familiar to him, had he met her before… Well, meeting her again?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

September 19th, 2006

11:54

Brad is going to be just fine, thanks to Jesse and Shaw and Jin’s help. A hand placed on his forehead to check the temperature, only normal warmth so far. “Mr. Garrison is stabilized,” looking at Jessie over his shoulder, “He’ll be fine for now.”

Jessie sighed in relief as Jin was sitting down next to Brad, in case that she’s still needed. Shaw looked at her, “You have done enough for now, Miss Chen, go meet up with the others in the back please.” he said, Jin bowed and then went into the back, closing it behind her.

“Still, two men injured yet survived the odds.” Shaw muttered, as he looked at Frank West, “I cannot comprehend how you would manage that.” Frank simply shrugged and then crossed his arms. “Pretty much, Shaw.” he replied but Jessie noticed something on his dress shirt: a spot of blood.

“Frank, are you alright?” she asked, Stanton looked at Jessie and then towards Frank in confusion. He too noticed the blood spat as well. Frank looked at them confused when she said ”You’ve got blood on you.”

“Huh?”

Frank realized and looked at the blood, remembering what had happened earlier yet he was amazed how quickly he forgot about it. “Oh yeah, it must’ve come from the girl we have saved.”

“The girl?” Shaw was a bit taken aback, standing up on his feet to face the reporter, “Was she hurt or…?”

“She’s alright, professor.” Frank had stopped him, Jessie walked over to the two men with worry.

“Where is she?” she questioned as she adjusted her glasses. Frank looked down at the ground as he turned around. “We had offered to help but she took off, I kinda wished we would’ve convinced her otherwise.”

Shaw shocked his head before checking his watch, “I guess she doesn’t have time to decide to trust in others.” he rationized. Jessie agreed, “Stanton is right, you can’t blame her for running away from your good looks.” she teased, earning a nod from Frank West in return.

“Anyway, she was saying something about Santa Cabeza before she left.”

“Santa Cabeza?” Jessie asked, inquired as she looked at Frank West with Shaw raised an eyebrow but they had heard a noise, they all turned to face the storage room as Jessie walked over to the door as Shaw tried to do the same.

The door opened and the same old man, Dr. Barnaby, was on the floor awake and alarmed to see her, he crawled away from the entrance as Jessie maintained her composure with a little delay.

“Dr. Barnaby,” she politely said, “You’re awake.”

Shaw had once heard from his old friend, Alistair, that looks can kill. He had laughed about it but now he had the feeling that Scarlett’s father was right as he saw that look on the fellow professor’s face: disgusted, confused, and angry.

“Santa Cabeza…?!” he growled, finally finding the words to say to this new information. “I should’ve known this…! I thought everything about that village was erased and forgotten!” he snapped angrily, looking at the group with a look of kill, “You have planned to dispense justice now?!”

Stanton Shaw and Frank West were confused and taken aback from what Barnaby had said, Jessie kneeled down, “Calm down, Doctor,” she reassured him as she reached for his arm, “We’re only following orders, we have to protect you-”

Dr. Barnaby pushed her arms away and shouted “Protect?!” wrenching his arm away, “More like imprisoned!” he accused, pointing a finger at this monarchy.

“Doctor Barnaby, is it?” Shaw walked over to the confect, “as a fellow professor, you must’ve known what Santa Cabeza was.” As he kneeled down, the brace on his leg squeaked a little as Dr. Barnaby’s attention was gone to Shaw. “And I think that Jessie is right.”

“Of course,” she insisted, “If you want us to protect you, we need to know the truth. All of it.”

“Just help us here, talk to us.” Shaw urged but then they heard a click and a snapping sound, they turned to see Frank West holding up his camera as he was standing there, awkwardly.

Shaw was annoyed and unpleased as he shooed Frank back a bit, grabbed the doorknob and then pulled the door to a close. Frank raised his hands in the air and let them hit his sides with fixed and crossed.

“Fine!” he mumbled, “I will get my information somewhere else, thank you very much.” as he walked a bit, his attention turned to the monitors as he headed towards it with an idea already formed in his head.

“Maybe I can track down that woman again…” he muttered under his breath, looking at the screens as Jin, Diego and U!Takeo walked in the room, wanting to inspect what had happened.

“What had happened-” Diego started to say but Ultimis had to stop as he looked at the monitors as well, on one of the monitors, the woman from before came up on a motorcycle in front of the store, she then got off of the bike and then entered that same store.

“You intended to go after her.” Ultimis Takeo said as he clearly knew that’s what Frank West was going to do, he nodded and got the bat off the floor and headed out, turning to the two and said “Re rill be back, wait here.”

“Of course, Takeo.” Jin nodded as they watched them go out the door. Diego and Jin looked at each other and the latter said “Well, since you are new, senorita, would you like to know me?” with a smile that a woman will fall for.

Jin shook her head and giggled before turning and returning to the room, she had been introduced to the group and already one man that caught her interest was the Ultimis Tank Dempsey, she had knew one of the marines is here and yet, she had jokingly said he may be the last one. To him, it felt like it was back in the times of him killing wave upon wave of zombies and like Takeo, something familiar about this woman but he can’t tell why.

Jin walked towards Medic as he was making another medicine with blood, medicine, yellow water that came from a body, and electricity to power it. “Oh Jin,” Medic greeted the woman with a soft smile. “Have you come to know what I have been making?”

“No thank you, Doctor,” she answered, “I am curious on how the Engineer was doing now.”

Medic was disappointed, “Oh, Dell, he is on zhe roof vith Pyro and Corporal Dempzey I believe, on zhe heilpad. I would’ve be happy to tell you all about zhis healing medicine.”

“I would love to, Medic.” She smiled a little yet this German was almost like the Butcher she had heard from the Chinese Soldiers and Marines but she maintained a polite expression however, he’s the field medic so they should be safe with one.

She walked up the stairs and found them, with a makeshift campfire made from a trash can, broken bench pieces as the metal scraps of what was once a trash can to begin with was cut away to make it a form of a barrel.

Fire softly danced inside the green barrel as U!Dempsey fed it with wood he had broken from the benches as the Engineer was sitting close to it with Pyro by his side, holding an axe close to themself.

A scar left behind by the injury is visible on the back of his right shoulder as his back faces the entrance to the security office. A noticeable bruise on his left shoulder as the skin was darkened a little from something that was heavy while he carried it.

The Engineer was singing softly under his breath, maybe to lighten the mood of the situation they were put in by an unknown entity as he sang “The sky is clearing and the night has cried enough. The sun, he comes, the world to soften up. Rejoice-”

“Hello?”

Dell jumped out of his skin as Pyro and Dempsey were getting ready to fight but was relieved to see it’s Jin. “Jeaus Christ, Jin, don’t scare us like that!” Dempsey breathed in air from the jump of adrenaline.

“I am very sorry, I thought I could check up on the Engineer and see how he is doing.” She explained her reason for being up here, sitting down on one of the chairs they had pulled up here and looking at the fire.

U!Dempsey scratched the back of his head with little unease, walking over to the forth one at the end, settled beside the medic and muttered “still, it’s badass that you saved their skin.”

Jin simply shook her head a bit with a soft smile that made the Marine a bit flustered with her eyes closed, “I happened to be there when I had come to.”

Come to? The three surrounded her had turned their heads to look at her, has the same thing happened to her as well? “Let me guess,” Dempsey was the first one to question her story, “You blacked out when you were doing something?”

Jin only shook her head, “I don’t remember anything but I had remembered being put inside a capsule that had the numbers 935 and that was it.”

U!Dempsey had a flashback when she had recalled, looking at the fire as a memory came back to him.

Dempsey was thrashing left and right to break free from the Nazis before being shoved inside something metal and glass placed over him. He was pounding on the glass as he saw a familiar man looming over the mechanical coffin by his side with a white lab coat and a sinister smile. It was Richtofen. On the coat was the number 935.

The memory ended there as he grasped at his forehead with a groan, Jin looked concerned as she placed her hand on his shoulder before asking “Corporal, are you alright?”

Ultimis Dempsey looked at Jin with bewilderment yet relaxed a little, “I’m fine, alright?” he answered as he removed the hand from his head to let it hand in front of it, “I’d just expressed a flashback, that’s all.”

“What’s it about, soldier boy?” Engineer asked out of curiosity, looking at Ultimis Dempsey with Pyro who tilted their head. “Something similar to Jin’s, I was forced inside a tin can with a 935 doctor looking at me like a damn weirdo.”

Jin was surprised, no doubt that number had to be related to their amnesia that could be also related to the events of what’s happening they were in.

“How did you wake up?” it was the only question Dempsey could think about. “I had woken up in a store with a startled man, it’s no doubt I am in the U.S.A since he had answered that.” she had explained herself, “He had also explained that these zombies had taken over the town of Williamette. I didn’t believe him at first but when I saw the horde myself, I wanted to wake up from this nightmare.”

“It’s a reality we lived in,” Dempsey said as he looked at the evening skies with his hands resting on the back of his neck and his legs resting on the other. “I knew my way around a meatbag or two.” before looking at her with a smile. The way he smiled had dusted pink on her cheeks and hooked her hair back a little.

“The different kind is this reality is the parasite type of a zombie,” Engineer had added, “The zombies had been affected by the element from where we had come from and here, they were affected by parasites in the form of wasps. The stinging pests.”

Jin was confused, where did they come from? Engineer could see Jin’s expression and said “From our own realities, dimensions if you like to call.”

“I know that,” Jin said softly as she rubbed her arms, “I just didn’t think the same thing happened to you all as well.”

“Tell me about it.” Dempsey commented sarcastically, Jin looked at him and then back at the Engineer, “What happened before you came is a long story…”

6 notes · View notes

lovesouroboros · 3 years

Text

It’s Frightening to Meet The Person We Could Have Become

Tonight I met the girl who I am nearly capable of being. She arose from within me, she pushed me toward the flame. For a brief time, I was vengeful - angry, inspired with rage. There was a flicker, a moment in which I did not recognise myself.

Earlier tonight, I wanted to hurt someone. Not anybody - somebody specific. I wanted to make him feel pain, I wanted him to feel frightened. I wanted him to hurt the way he’d hurt others, the way he’d hurt someone I knew. I wanted him to be scared, the way that she was scared.

I thought it unfair that those who’ve been hurt have to cower while their abusers run free. While they drink at the neighbourhood bar, laughing with friends - the ones who’ve they’ve bruised sit alone, in another, hopefully safer place. The ones that they’ve bruised are still hiding, afraid.

I’d looked for him for a week before now. A few people knew to call me if he was spotted. Soon enough, there he was : on the corner, as if he’d never left. When the dust settles, the monsters crawl back beneath our bed frames. No one dares to stop them. I thought I would.

The call came - I prepared. There was a plan. There were pills crushed to powder, stashed in a tiny ziplock I’d nestled within my purse. I changed clothes - swapped my stained jeans for an expensive mini skirt, name brand. I wanted to look valuable, like someone worth breaking. I put makeup on for the first time in weeks - blush, lipstick, mascara. Looking in the mirror, I thought, “I am ready to kill this man.”

I laughed, but it did not feel like a joke.

I bring my puppy, Scar, to the bar. It’s counterintuitive and premeditated - there is an image to create. “Dainty Damsel totes Dime Sized Dog, falls Head over Heels for Dreamy Drug Dude.”

In reality, I don’t wear heels. It’s good - he’s not as tall as I’d imagined. The table next to him is free, and I feel him watch me when I sit down. I make a spectacle of myself, aided by the passerby patrons who try to chat me up. Not now, I’m on a mission. Today, I’m going to kill a man.

I thought he’d be more bold. I move around a lot, I give him something to comment on - drawing in a notebook, coloured pencils splayed about. I feel him watching me, but he does not speak. I “drop” an orange pencil on the ground and wait for him to return it. He does, but he does not inquire more - it is an act of good grace, no openers to follow.

An acquaintance from the neighbourhood enters - an older man, Jacob. I smile when I see him, and he joins Drug Dude and their friends. I did not know they were acquainted, and I am glad to discover the fact - it is to my advantage. I continue to play manic pixie dream date in the corner until Jacob goes inside to the bar. I wait a minute, then follow.

“Who is that boy you’re with?”

He smiles.

“It’s a long story. I’ll join you in a moment, I need a whiskey first.”

I am intrigued, returning to my table. It isn’t common knowledge, what’s happened between the boy and my friend. In fact, it is Top Secret Info. So what’s the story, too long to express without a drink?

When I sit down, I notice the boy is leaving. We make eye contact, but my courage fails me for a beat. What am I to say?

“Stay, so I can drug you!”

But that isn’t the plan at all. It has to be him first, I need him to hold an illusion of power. I let him leave.

Jacob joins me, now nursing his whiskey. He begins to tell me the story. This boy, he’s just come out of a horrible relationship. Truly violent. (So it is known, there was violence). More than being beautiful, he is kind, and intelligent. Jacob thinks there is a sadness within him. He tells me that the boy does too many drugs, but when he is not wasted, he is a wonderful soul.

Jacob is confident that I am shy, that I am tail between my legs nervous about winning over the Dreamy Druggie. He tells me that he think I’d be good for him, because I am kind, and I don’t drink, and maybe someone loving like me is exactly what DD needs in this moment. I swallow my saliva.

“In any case, he’s gone now. I was too nervous to say hello.”

“I know where he’s gone, I can give you the name of the bar.��

I pause, something strikes me. The feeling passes.

“Would you go with me? I don’t want to do it alone. You could introduce us.”

Jacob smiles again. He is drunk, and happy to play Cupid. I suspect that he is also happy that I’ve placed my trust in him - we were not friends before tonight. He throws back his whiskey.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

The bar isn’t far, about a 5 minute walk from the last one. Still, we have time to chat - and I let Jacob do the talking. He’s a photographer, and he tells me that he wants to take photos for DD’s portfolio. He tells me that DD doesn’t think he is beautiful enough to model - objectively, this is untrue. Apparently he’s told Jacob that his “teeth aren’t nice enough” to have photos taken. Jacob’s solution? Don’t smile.

The new bar is loud. From wall to pavement it is crowded with drunk and sweaty college students chanting in unison about the football match. “Karim! KARIM! KARIIIIM!!” To be there is to be exhausted.

My puppy is scared - she is either too young or too old for this nonsense. I tell Jacob I’ll wait outside, lighting a cigarette and projecting an air of disinterest. He returns quickly, DD in tow. Showtime begins. I am nervous once more.

“Asha, I’d like to present you to a friend of mine. This is Wren. Wren, this is-”

“Asha,” he finishes. My name sounds funny coming out of his mouth - heavier. His eyes are big, like mine. He holds my gaze, and for a moment - I think he knows what I’m up to. Then -

“Enchanté.”

“Enchantée, à toi aussi.”

Jacob is smooth, busying himself with someone beside him without looking like he’s fucking off to give me time to run game. Whether his smoothness is appreciated or not is unapparent, for Wren does not seem to notice his departure.

“Do you live in the neighbourhood?”

Already he is trying to trap me, pre-strangulation analysis. Does whether I’m local play a factor in where he’ll choose to hurt me?

“Two blocks from here, and you?”

I already know where he lives, but it’s nice to ask.

“A bit further, near the bar we were at before. Do you remember me?”

Freeze.

“Have we met?”

“We haven’t, but I’ve seen you many times. I thought maybe you’d have seen me, too.”

Narcissist.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m sure I would have remembered you.”

It’s a cheap line, but it works - he smiles.

“You have nice teeth.”

I’ve seen the bite marks they leave.

“Thank you. Would you like a drink?”

I shake my head.

“I don’t drink, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like who I am when I drink.”

He pauses, studying my face. I don’t know where the words came from, they’re completely misaligned with my charade of innocence. Some part of me decided to offer its truth without consulting the rest, and I’m not sure which part of myself deserves a kick.

“I understand that. I don’t either, usually, but I’m not sure how to stop. It doesn’t make me feel better, but I already feel bad anyway.”

Now it’s my turn to pause. His words feel honest, and it disturbs me. My mother told me once that abusers will wear their vulnerability on their shirtsleeve, like a pin. This is how they keep the “poor me” narrative running, this is why we feel sorry for them rather than angry. I am in the process of reconstructing this knowledge into walls around me when he speaks again -

“What are you when you drink?”

What. Not who. What?

“Violent.”

“Yeah, me too. I don’t want to be, though. I want to be good for people.”

“Are you? Sometimes?”

He crouches down to sit crosslegged on the pavement. Immediately, Scar walks to join him, resting her head on his leg. Two against one, I join them on the ground.

“So?”

“I was thinking. It’s easier here. Yes, sometimes I am good for people. More often, some people are good for me. I try to learn from them, and it works sometimes.”

“What about when it doesn’t work?”

Wren winces, withdrawing his pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He pulls out two, offering the first to me. I accept, and he lights them both before speaking again. I inhale.

“Sometimes I’m too angry for anything to work. Except the people I’m angry with, they’re not around anymore. So the people who’ve stuck by me, they get my rage. It’s fucking backwards. I’m fucking backwards.”

I look up to the sky. It is night, but the sky isn’t fully dark - it never is. Light pollution shifts the black to blue, adding in a reddish tint. There are no stars to be seen.

“Why are you telling me this? Is this how you usually flirt?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m not flirting, I’m talking. Because I think you’ll understand me. You don’t need to flirt with people who understand you, there’s not a game to be played. Flirting is hiding. When I look at you, I see the same thing that I’m talking about in me. It’s in your eye, the left one : rage. But more than that, you are soft. I see you choosing to be soft. So I trust you, because for some people - it is not a choice. It is much more powerful to have the option to be wicked and choose not to be than to have been kindhearted all along. I am trying to choose that same power.”

“What stops you?”

“Exhaustion.”

I feel a sharp and sudden pain grip my chest, like a hornet sting to the heart. I reach my hand out without warning and grip his tightly.

I cannot explain what happens now, not properly. There are lights, flashes, a lifetime before me. My surroundings disappear. There is a chorus of memories that are not my own. I hear glass shattering and raised voices, I hear door slams. I taste blood in my mouth, my whole body aches. I feel drunk, distorted, disgusted, disgusting. There is a stained mattress, abandoned house, paint peeling. I feel myself making love to a woman, many women - my body is not my own, it is pale, it is Wren’s. I feel decades of tears rushing forward like a tsunami, pouring out of my eyes, filling up my mouth. I feel like I am being waterboarded with saline and screams, writhing and fighting to get out. Finally there is a climax, a tipping point - I manage to pull back, break free.

I am back on the street. Shaking, I look at my hands- they are my own once more. I look up to Wren and see his huge brown eyes, staring back at me. It occurs to me that I have just experienced every pain he’s ever suffered, and now I believe him to be deserving of love. It occurs to me that now, I think I may love him.

“Wren--”

He closes his eyes and places a hand up, stopping the rest of my words before they can meet the air. For a moment he is silent, pensive. Then, finally --

“Asha, did you come here to kill me?”

#tw: abuse #tw : domestic violence #creative writing #vigilante mode #nonfiction #creative nonfiction #essay #abuse #shadow work #magical realism #my writing #writing #writers of tumblr #short stories #short story #original writing #my fiction

5 notes · View notes