#SERIOUSLY HOW DID HE EVEN STILL HAS A JOB??? BLOWING UP ROCKETS LEFT AND RIGHT
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So me and my friend Ker @kerenitychan were watching KP after so long. And lemme tell you that e-learning about them had been an experience and a very welcome one!
Have some amazing highlights of the season 1
Yes, Shego is *the* cat
Ignore what I said and see The Good stuff TM
And we are pretty much Drew Lipsky protection squad. And holy hell James and his “posses” SUCK. Drakken deserves much better friends.
AND Have a theory for him
#dr drakken#drew lipsky#drakgo#shego#cyborg's stuff#ker tag#kim possible#drew lipsky protection squad#HE IS SUCH A BABY PROTECT HIM#HE IS SO CUTE AND ADORABLE AND IF HE DIDN'T GET ANY LADIES ATTENTION THEY HAVE VERY AWFUL TASTE#ANN POSSIBLE DESERVES BETTER HUSBAND#>:( IN THIS HOUSE WE SQUINT AT JAMES#SERIOUSLY HOW DID HE EVEN STILL HAS A JOB??? BLOWING UP ROCKETS LEFT AND RIGHT#ITS A SECURITY RISKS DAMMIT
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Their Booth (part 3) - Human Squirrelcrow AU.
Crow has never found making friends easy. That wasn’t so much a problem for him because, until recently, he never really wanted friends. Too much hassle. His mother had a problem with it though. She used to try and set him up with other members of the track team. Pairings in class, setting up group work after school, even study meet ups with other teachers’ kids. Each ended with the same result. The disappointment lined her face like ridges on a mountain, and Crow found it hard to not feel terrible when he saw the look in her eyes.
“I’m doing my bit, Crow.” She’d said once as they’d walked away from a track meeting that had ended with half the team glaring at Crow as he left. “I can introduce you to people, but it’s your job after that.”
“I never asked you to do anything.” It was true, he hadn’t. He couldn’t look at her as he’d said it.
“I wish you would, maybe then you’d put in a little effort.”
Effort? Effort was just standing around people. Effort was pretending you didn’t notice when people looked at your height and rolled their eyes, smirking. Effort was hearing warnings about not talking to you and not ripping into them there and then.
Crow put in enough effort.
“I don’t want to.” Was all he had said.
Ashfoot just sighed and that, strangely, was just enough for Crow’s teeth to start chattering in the summer air. “Fine. Then you’re on your own.”
She didn’t interfere much after that. Not even a question. Crow had made his point.
She must have been hiding her dismay at his attitude for a while, because every time he came home nowadays Ashfoot was practically jumping with questions.
“What was she wearing? Where’d you go? Did she notice your new haircut? Why don’t you invite her here once and a while?”
Crow held up his hands as if he was protecting himself. “Mom!” He tries to walk by her, but she pulls him down excitedly next to her on the couch. “Seriously! Calm down!” He pats himself over but he doesn’t stand back up. It wouldn’t do much; Ashfoot had a good grip.
“Come on! Tell me! Tell me!”
Crow can’t help but laugh. She looks so bright now. “Mom, we were just studying math. It wasn’t like we were seeing the Moonstone monument or anything.”
Ashfoot rolls her eyes knowingly, “Crow, it’s ten, and it’s a Friday night.” She squeezes his arm so he feels a sharp pinch. “I’m a teacher. You were not just studying."
“What can I say? You raised me right.” He wants to leave it there. The TV is on, some nature documentary plays, he fakes being interested in it to ignore her interest in him.
Her hand leaves his shoulder, she sits back, crosses her arms, her eyes go hard. “One. Two. Three-”
“Oh, really? You’re going to do the-”
“Four. Five-”
“Mom, I’m not some kid any-”
“Six. Seven. Don’t make me reach ten.”
“Honestly, we were just-”
“Eight. Nine-”
The panic from childhood authority betrays him. He’s vaguely aware that he’s begun to sweat. “Okay! Okay! Stars above, fine!” He ignores the expectant smirk and the satisfied tilt of her head. “We headed around Highstone Street for a little while. There’s some media store that she likes to check out there. Also,” He’s ashamed when he feels his ears go hot. “She wanted us to visit the museum. She said there was some cool new sports exhibit there.”
“Oh, yeah I heard of that!” Ashfoot perks up, “Was it good?”
Crow can’t lie. “They have Wind Runner’s track shoes from when she won the state finals!”
Ashfoot’s jaw drops, “Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“What colour were they?”
Crow’s grin broadens. It’s amazing to share an interest with a parent. “White with black streaks with grey soles.”
Ashfoot is already on her phone, typing feverishly into notes. “Remind me tomorrow to set up a class trip.”
“Sure.” Crow knows he’ll be recording his mother as she drifts into a fangirl state at the sight of so much sports history. He also knows he’ll be grinning the whole time as his teammates try to configure that the hysterical middle-aged woman is in fact the teacher who could easily take the role of a military drill instructor if asked.
Ashfoot is still typing when she asks, “Did Squirrel enjoy it as well?”
Crow squeezes the sidearm of the couch absently. “I guess.” He shrugs.
“Try to be more convincing.” An octave drop is all it takes to go from cheery to sullen.
He sighs. She probably didn’t enjoy it that much. It was no secret that Squirrel was not a fan of sports. Crow would be surprised if she could even guess where the last Olympics were held. She showed up at his track races, but it was only because they were friends, if they weren’t she wouldn’t set a foot near the field.
“I don’t know.” Crow chuckles. “I don’t really think she enjoyed it, except when we checked out the boxing section.”
“Did she say anything?”
“No. After we saw half the exhibits, I asked her if she wanted to leave. She said no.” Actually, she’d told him to shut up and enjoy himself, and that she wasn’t paying ten dollars to not even see the whole exhibit. Crow kept his mouth shut after that.
Ashfoot sets her phone down, “Well then maybe she enjoyed it. It was her idea, right?”
Crow nods, but he doesn’t believe her words. He’s suddenly worrying: Did he make her go through an hour of boredom? Did she waste her money and time over him? Did she get in trouble with her parents for coming home late? He feels his pulse rocketing and he wets his lips. Should he call her to see if she was okay? Should he apologise for making her act like she was interested.?
“I hope she didn’t mind.” Is all he says.
Ashfoot’s face scrunches up, “Don’t be stupid. She wouldn’t have suggested going if she hated it that much.” She must not like the look on her son’s face. Her arms cross as she leans back in her cushion. “Tell me, how many times have you gone to that media store with her?”
The question catches him off guard. He feels exposed somehow. He thinks for a moment, blowing out air. “Um, three or four times, I guess?” It’s probably more but admitting that feels embarrassing and like he’s backing into a corner.
His mother waves her hand, “And I know that you’re no Leonardo DiCaprio. Did you care when she took you there? Were you annoyed?”
He doesn’t respond. It seems he doesn’t need to as his mother raises an eyebrow. “There you go.” She says, a teacher’s declaration giving her sincere command, but with a lightness only Crow can find some kind of comfort from. “I’m sure she doesn’t care that much. It’s what friends do.” Crow blushes at how it seems his mother needs to explain what friends actually did. “You do things you’re both interested in. It’s not some kind of drama; don’t turn it into one.”
Crow can swear his home life is some kind of soft detention. He knows it’s the teacher in her voice that sounds so convincing. Maybe it’s also that what she’s saying makes sense. There really had been no indication that Squirrel hadn’t enjoyed herself, but there was equally nothing Crow could think of that gave the impression she had.
Maybe his mother was right, that she didn’t need to do either. Perhaps tolerating interests was part of the description.
But he didn’t want her to tolerate these things. He really wanted her to enjoy them. If she didn’t it felt like she was only tolerating him.
He’s silent for too long. He does that when he doesn’t have an answer.
“Oh my stars,” Ashfoot says, her chin digging into her knuckle, “Crow, what’s the worst that could happen? Do you really think she’s going to hate you because she allegedly didn’t like some museum? I haven’t even met her and I know she isn’t that shallow!”
Crow lifts his head an inch. There’s a bitter taste on his tongue. He hates it when people talk to him like he’s an idiot. He hates it more when he truly feels like one. “It isn’t that. I just want her to enjoy herself, that’s all.”
“Again, you’re just thinking that she didn’t.”
“Well, do you know any better?”
His jaw tightens with instant regret. When Ashfoot doesn’t even budge, he feels worse. If she wanted to, she could tear him apart with words. Many students could attest to that. She just sits, thin lipped, a knowing arch over one eye.
He hasn’t shown her any attitude like that for a while now.
It doesn’t take a genius to realise why he’s suddenly defensive.
“Sorry.” Crow mutters.
“God.” Ashfoot crosses her arms, “You do like her, don’t you?”
Crow stiffens up, his heart racing as he turns to his mother. She’s practically convulsing with laughter. The sight of his jaw hanging as well as his burning face must be a hell of a change. There’s no point denying it. He was an open letter to Ashfoot.
“Don’t look like that. You were only ever this happy to have company when Feather was around. And that wasn’t so hard to figure out either.”
A letter that had never been closed to begin with, it seemed.
Crow just resigns, a hand falling over his face while his mother continues to chuckle with a growing delight. “You’re really not helping.” He says grumpily.
“You’re not helping yourself, I think.” She says, remarkably even. “You’re worrying over nothing, I don’t need to say it again. If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just ask her out?”
Now Crow is spluttering, choking, trying to function.
His mother continues to laugh.
“I can’t do that.” Is all he says once he’s managed to keep himself from throwing up.
“Why not? All she can do is say no.”
“Oh, that’s just great! Then we can just forget the whole thing, can’t we?” His voice is poisonous with sarcasm. Enough that his mother’s eyes narrow.
“Watch it.” She warns. “You’re not big enough yet that I can’t treat you like a kid.” Her hand smacks her thigh to prove her point. Crow growls but he sits away with a huff. It feels like he’s going through loops on a rollercoaster. He hadn’t even admitted to Feather that he liked her when he had, not even when he didn’t anymore. He’d wanted too, of course. But just thinking about it was enough of a turn off.
He had always counted himself lucky to even be Feather’s friend. The idea of pushing that luck was like betting your fortunes after winning the lottery. She couldn’t just say no in his eyes. Everything after that would be them forcing themselves to act like it had never happened, that he didn’t feel the way he did. Soon enough, it would be too much for one of them and she wouldn’t even be able to look at him without tensing and turning away.
Those thoughts were a constant thunderstorm. And he didn’t want to risk leaving the safety of his silence.
Those thoughts were no different with Squirrel.
“Look, it would just get in the way. I don’t want to make it awkward between us.”
Crow expects it when Ashfoot rolls her eyes. But it’s smooth and alert instead of tiring. She’s nodding to herself, grunting like she’s heard some old joke for the hundredth time. “Oh, don’t make me hear another story like that.”
“Huh?”
“It’s just what your father said.”
It’s like a wasp’s net has been thrown into the room. Crow can’t keep his mouth shut. He hardly ever hears his mother talk about his Dad. He never brought it up either. He’d always assumed Ashfoot wouldn’t want to talk about him. He couldn’t imagine anyone who wanted to be reminded of their dead husband.
Crow’s never been the one to bring him up either. No one really did unless they were talking about him in general. He was a local hero after all. It would be surprising if there was one person who didn’t know about the great runner who had dragged himself, baton in hand, in the State relay just so Tallstar could win it for the region. Doing that had been what caused his early retirement after all; Crow knew what it was like to run with a strained tenon, nevertheless a snapped one.
That permanent limp had been what gave him his nickname.
A nickname he’d worn like the armour of a local hero.
Crow’s classmates hadn’t even known he was Deadfoot’s son before they found out he was Ashfoot’s.
They never talked about him around Crow. No kid hated him enough to rub salt into that wound.
Truthfully, whenever Crow had heard his father’s name, it wasn’t upsetting for him. It was just… strange. He heard teachers and students praise his father’s name, talking about how loyal he was, about what he liked and what he didn’t, and Crow couldn’t even tell what was the truth and what was a mistake.
The crash had happened only a few months after Ashfoot had become pregnant. Crow had never gotten the chance to meet this ‘credit to the city’. To hear all these things, when Crow would not even know his dad’s eye colour without looking in a picture taken before he was born, it just made him feel odd. Not uncomfortable. Just odd.
He was happy his father was someone respected, and he wished he could have met him. But how could he miss someone he hadn’t even known?
Really, the fact he only heard about Deadfoot from all these stories was just another reason Crow pushed himself in track. It wasn’t that he wanted to make his dad’s memory proud or anything, he just felt like it was something he should do. Besides, he enjoyed running. Whether he was as good as the ghost of a name wasn’t really a major concern.
But he’d always felt it was different for his mother. She’d loved him. She’d lost him. She was the only one who really knew who he was behind the highlights.
Crow didn’t dare bring him up around her. Who’s to say his name wasn’t an atom bomb in her mind?
He made sure to never cross that line.
But she’s sprinted over it so effortlessly.
“W-What?”
Her head rests against the cushion, eyes soft and sweet on her son. “Me and your father had been friends for years, and it was clear as day that he liked me. I made it pretty clear I liked him too. But it took him nearly a whole decade before he even asked me on a date.” A glitter of amusement sparkles over her. “I’ve had students sweat less after doing a circuit ten times.”
Crow doesn’t say anything. He’s so used to only hearing his father associated with terms like ‘legend’ or ‘hero’ that the idea of him being nervous, of thinking of him with emotions, is like being dunked with cold water.
“I said yes, obviously, but I still grilled him on why it took him so damn long. He said that he was worried of ruining what we already had. I could have punched him. We’d liked each other for that long and he wasted time over something stupid like that.”
He searches her face for some kind of regret, but she’s smiling passively, as if recalling an old joke. There doesn’t even seem to be a trace of nostalgia there. Just clarity. Just life. Suddenly, he feels embarrassed again. He must be obvious as his mother places a hand on his shoulder.
“Why didn’t you ask him out?” Crow wonders out loud.
She chuckles warmly, “I did.” She assures, “Multiple times.” She starts counting on her fingers, “Trips to the bar, circuit meet ups, late-night parties, even bloody walks on a night. I think I was clear enough, thank you very much!” Her voice is rough but still on the verge of laughter. “He was lucky I had the patience of a saint.”
For a moment, even Crow is pulled into how much of an idiot his father sounded like. With all the effort Ashfoot says she put in he can’t get how Deadfoot would ever let those chances slip.
Then he remembers who he is. And he knows how his father felt. He understands it all.
They are more alike than he thought.
“It isn’t the same.” Crow turns away. “You knew you liked each other.”
“Not at the start.” Ashfoot says, “I had to let him know.”
“And what if I do?” Crow asks, his voice hardening, “If she says no I’ll just look like an idiot.”
Ashfoot doesn’t avert her gaze, her hand remains on his shoulder. Crow can’t help but feel soothed by the touch. “That’s like asking what’s the point of starting a race when there’s a chance you’ll lose.”
The need to laugh out loud overwhelms him. “Really?” He splutters, “That’s your analogy?”
“It’s right, isn’t it? You’re giving up before you even start. That’s the jist of it all!” Her words sink in because she knows what she’s talking about. “You’re worrying over all this stuff Crow, but the truth is that you don’t have a clue that you’re right or not. Squirrel isn’t the one presuming all these disasters Crow, it’s you.”
“So what do you think I should do then, since you’re the expert?” Crow exclaims, his hands folding behind his head as he rests back, trying to not notice her sudden glare.
“Oh no you don’t.” Ashfoot scolds, slapping him on the shoulder like she was swatting a fly. “You’re old enough to drive! You’re not having your mother sort your messes out for you!”
“Thanks for the help.” Crow mutters, glowering to hide his wounded pride.
“Look, whether or not you want her to be your girlfriend is your own issue, Crow.” She explains, her knees rising up to rest on the cushion beneath her. Her body rotates so she’s looking straight at him. When her eyes twist with what Crow recognises as disappointment, his glare cows. “But after all the time you’ve spent with her, if you still think she’ll just abandon you because she doesn’t share one of your interests, I have to say that I don’t think you respect her as much as she deserves.”
If it was anyone else, maybe Crow might have gotten angry. Stormed up demanding how they dare presume that about him. That they don’t know him and don’t have the right to say how he feels about his friends. Maybe he might have reiterated the ways he trusted Squirrel, the ways the did respect her. On a bright day, maybe he may have listed some of the reasons he liked her so much just to clarify how much he does care about her.
But it isn’t anyone else.
Ashfoot knows who he is. She’s a teacher, and a good one, and there are many reasons for that.
She’s also an incredible mother. Especially because she was the one person who can shut him up when he’s acting like a moron.
And he shuts up alright.
He trusts Squirrel, he does. But he understands what his mother really means.
“You don’t need to worry over every little thing, Crow.” Now Ashfoot is tender and Crow allows her to edge closer to him so she can pull him a little nearer. “People aren’t made of glass.”
Squirrel certainly wasn’t. Is she was made of anything it was gold.
He thinks of what Squirrel would think of him. Her reaction to him so hung up over the thought of her not liking something.
He knows she would laugh.
Not to be mean. But because how couldn’t she laugh at such stupidity?
Crow thinks of saying sorry, people have often said that only someone like Ashfoot could raise a kid like Crow, he can see how right they are. Then his shoulder touches his mother’s as her hand squeezes his arm. They sit on the same cushion and it sinks beneath their weight.
Crow is relieved that he doesn’t need to apologise to let his mother know he’s remorseful. She didn’t want to hear that. She just wanted him to listen because that would be the only way she could help him. And despite how many of his problems still exist, he does feel better.
Like a little kid, he feels braver.
He looks at his mother with a kind of wonder. “Is it alright if I invite her here tomorrow?”
Ashfoot gives his shoulder a squeeze, “You don’t need to ask. I’ll be out trying to sort out a trip to the museum anyway. So, she can stay as long as she wants to.”
“I hope she isn’t busy.”
The hand falls off his shoulder and she’s glaring at him again. He smirks, “I’m kidding. I don’t care.” He lies.
She huffs and turns off the TV. “You are so much like your father. He had that kind of way with words too.”
“Is that a good thing or not?” Crow asks as she’s nearly out the room.
She pauses, turns, and shrugs. “Context is key.” She says with a wry smile. “Get her text!” She barks like ordering him to do another lap. Then she’s gone and her steps echo up the stairs like a countdown for him to finally grow some balls.
He finds it surprisingly easy to pull out his phone, and even more surprising when she sends the first text.
Yo.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t anything to be proud of.
The response is almost immediate, the buzz of his phone makes the skin on his neck spark.
Lol Yo birdboy to what do I owe the pleasure?
She doesn’t sound busy. That makes him a little more calm. Crow takes in a deep breath and types, trying not to picture her sniggering at his messages.
You sound unhappy to hear from me lol Are you busy tomorrow?
It’s kind of a stupid question. Nobody is really busy on Saturdays. And the next exams weren’t for another few months. Crow grapples to think that it doesn’t matter. But what did he know? Maybe she had plans with family or with Leaf or with her film team or-
The phone buzzes again.
Apart from struggling being the best undiscovered Hollywood talent, not much. Why?
Another wave of relief. Now’s the time to ask.
Now is hard to comprehend.
He knows the longer he waits, the worse it will be. For a moment he questions why he likes this girl to the point that one of his hands is shaking at the thought of asking her to hang out. He sighs. Maybe he can blame his father for inheriting his lacklustre performance with girls.
And it’s that that makes him calm down a little.
Thinking he’s alike his father, the man he’s heard so many people call a legend, the man he’s found out shook like him for ten years over a girl who he knew liked him. He doesn’t sound like a hero, but maybe that’s Crow’s fault. After all, who’s to say a legend didn’t have their own fears.
And maybe Crow has his father’s fears.
But he can make it so he has his guts as well. If just for when it matters.
Sounds terrible You want to struggle with that over at my place?
It goes quickly after that.
Ohh has Xmas come early?! I was beginning to think you were some hypochondriac!
Ha-inserted sarcasm-ha
;3 Sure that sounds good I don’t know if I’ll be able to get my parents to drop me off tho
Why?
My dads got a meeting over here and my mom is taking Leaf to look round some uni’s
I can pick you up if you want?
Can I drive?
Not a chance in hell
Booooo You’re lucky I’m bored
Is that a yes?
10:30, you show up any later I’ll call the cops and tell them you’re a stalker
Lol noted, I’ll see you then
(not joking) you better, I wanna check out Casa de Crow for myself
Say those three words again and I’ll block you
Casa De Crow
Blocked
XD ttyl
Ttyl
It’s over after two minutes. Crow’s never held a smile for that long before.
…
He makes it five minutes early, but he waits a little just in case. He knows how close to time Squirrel is, she only gets ready for the time she’s set. He wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t entirely ready a minute early.
It’s a nice day thankfully, crisp and warm, the sun kisses the street in long yellow rays. Thankfully, he’s able to park his car across the street from her house. The red sandstone gleamed under the summer sky, making it look even better than when Crow first saw it. It wasn’t luxurious or anything, just a two-storey house. But there had been care put into it. Windowpanes painted a glistening white and a garden entranced with flowers Crow couldn’t recognise, it was the effort that made the imagination.
On the drive here, Crow would admit that his head had spun a little. The worst ever possibilities still made up his head like a hornet’s nest. But now he was here, their buzzing had stopped. It might have been the summer air, sleepy and gentle, reminding him of the other days like this where he had hung out with his friend.
He guessed that was it. This was just another day in the end. One that he was looking forward to seeing through.
He didn’t need to bring anything, but he still has his wallet in the glovebox. It was better to be prepared in case of anything. (more than likely the idea that Squirrel hadn’t gotten to breakfast yet) Maybe they could head into the city for a bit before heading over to his. He checked the glovebox again, glad to see it still rested there.
When it gets to 10:28, Crow feels its fair to knock on the door. He exits the car, walking into the mostly empty street, save for one arriving car that Crow stops to let drive past. He crosses, feeling a strange smile on his face as he walks up to the door. He wonders if he should drop her a text to let her know. He decides against it. Probably too weird.
He knocks on the door, gradual but clear and pulls out his phone as he waits. He quickly decides to put it away in case he looked rude if her dad answered the door.
He can’t hear anything, so he knocks again, just in case.
His phone vibrates. There’s a text.
I’ll be down in a minute, just getting some stuff together Hold your horses
The time on his phone is 10:29.
Once again, she’s down to her time. Crow shakes his head, chuckling.
“Hey.”
The voice is soft, but it seems louder on the empty street. Crow raises a brow, turning. The guy stands a few feet away from him. His hands are buried in his brown bomber jacket, and he looks at Crow with a puzzled, but even, unaccusing expression. He’s at least a foot taller than Crow, but he doesn’t look like he’s trying to look big. His chestnut hair is smooth and wavy, and the only aura of threat comes from the broad curve of his shoulders.
Apart from that though, he looks friendly.
Upon seeing Crow, his eyes flare with realisation and what looks like a relieved smile comes over him. “Oh! I remember you! You’re Squirrel’s friend, right?”
His voice isn’t demanding or hostile, just natural and bright.
Crow almost finds it odd himself that he hates the guy.
Then he remembers who he’s talking to.
He doesn’t wait for Crow to respond. He’s come forward, “You might not remember me. It was a while ago.” His hand extends out, eager to shake Crow’s. “I’m Bramble. What was your name?”
“I remember you.” Crow says levelly, restraining the urge to growl. He takes Bramble’s hand and tightly shakes it. “And it’s Crow.”
There’s a unnerved flash in Bramble’s eyes but he keeps his smile level. “You got quite a grip, Crow.” He pulls his hand away and Crow muses on whether he actually tried to hurt the guy. Bramble looks up at the house as the sun fades, lingering over the two of them. “You here to see Squirrel?”
“Yeah.” Crow can’t help himself. “Why?” There’s an edge to his voice.
Now Bramble looks taken aback. His smile thins as he laughs dryly. “Just asking really.”
Crow stares.
“So, how’s she doing anyway? I haven’t had the chance to talk to her recently.”
He says it so casually that Crow wants to knee him where it will hurt. Chances? That was rich. She’d given him chance after chance when he’d broke promise after promise, and he had the gall to act like it wasn’t something he could control. Crow would believe the bastard was taunting him if it wasn’t for that dumb smile.
Crow wants to tell him to mind his own business. He wants him to piss off.
But he wants this day to go smoothly.
He shrugs, “She’s fine.” And he leaves it at that, even as Bramble’s smile twitches, hoping for something else that Crow wouldn’t give him.
To anyone else Crow would probably look like a jerk. Being hostile to such an openly nice boy. But anyone else hadn’t heard how Bramble had betrayed Squirrel’s trust. They hadn’t seen how Squirrel was affected when the one guy she wanted there on the most important night of her life failed to even leave a shoeprint.
Crow doesn’t have the time to worry about idiot’s feelings. He knew enough to know on what side he stood.
The awkward second is enough for Bramble to reach for another chance. “Yeah.” He coughs. “Well, uh, I’m just here to meet with Firestar.” He waits for a response. Crow doesn’t care enough to give him one. As far as he was concerned, this guy didn’t deserve to even speak to him. The taller boy shuffles on his feet, coughing again. “I’m part of the student committee, you see, every now and then we need to meet with the teachers to discuss plans.” He waves his hand. “You know, upcoming events and all that stuff.”
“Really?”
Bramble looks delighted that he’s gained a response. “Yeah.”
“So did you work on the culture festival last term?” Crow throws out the hook.
Bramble’s eyes widen, electrified. “Of course! I mostly worked with setting up the venues on that one.”
Crow’s fist tightens. Why did he expect this idiot to know what he meant? It was clear he hadn’t thought once about what happened that night. “I don’t remember seeing you there.”
His hand goes to his neck as he laughs. “Yeah, you wouldn’t. I actually had plans that night so I couldn’t turn up.” He grins. “But maybe you went somewhere I helped plan? What did you do?”
There’s consideration for a second in whether Crow thinks he should let this go or not. He didn’t want to make some kind of scene after all. This wasn’t a day he could waste on some moron like this.
Still though.
He wants to see if he’s too thick to understand what he says next.
“I checked out the student films for most of the night.” Crow watches as Bramble’s face slackens. The grin fades to a dry, only a little upturned, line and there isn’t as much life in his eyes anymore. He’s got him. There’s the recognition Crow had to see. Crow cranes his head; he can’t help himself. “You help out there?”
“No.” Bramble says, his voice isn’t weak, but it isn’t strong. “That really wasn’t an area I was a part of.”
Crow could have scoffed. “I see.” He’s playing with fire now, he realises, but the urge is so strong. He’s made some point to the idiot. He couldn’t stop now. “You missed some good stuff. It was a great time.”
“I’ll let the girl who managed it know you had a good time.” The older boy’s voice is different now, like it’s been sharpened with flint. Is he angry? Crow can’t tell, but if the fool even lays a finger on him, Crow’s aiming for the nose.
The thought of Squirrel’s disappointed face that night is enough to tell him he isn’t stepping over a line.
Besides, the guy still hasn’t mentioned the obvious.
But he’ll have to face it now, as Crow can hear the clack of keys spinning in the lock.
The door bursts wide and she’s there. She looks as vibrant as ever. Short orange shirt, bright blue jean shorts, knee high boots, and strangely she’s still wearing her usual green winter jacket despite the strength of the sun.
But Crow doesn’t say anything. He’s just happy to see her. He thinks she looks happy to see him.
“Hey!” She pipes, she pulls her coat tight on her shoulders, springing out the door. She looks ready to burst past him to the car when she sees the other boy on her doorstep. Crow is both unsurprised and scared when he sees the frown take over her expression. She stops right in front of Crow, just catching her feet like she thinks she’d catch something if she took another step. “Oh. Hey.”
Bramble’s an idiot, but even he can catch the way her voice drops. He frowns too. “Hey.”
“I forgot Dad said you were coming over.” She turns away, whipping her hand back to her house. “He’s out in the back garden. Do you want me to tell him you’re here?” Her voice isn’t hostile, but it’s low in a way that Crow knows isn’t her.
“Nah, that’s fine.” He’s beginning to take in the whole scene. His face goes between the two in front of him, his face unreadable. “You guys off somewhere?”
“Nowhere special, really.” Squirrel says quickly. She doesn’t need to explain herself to him. “I was bored and I got an invite to hang out, not gonna let it slide.” She looks back at Crow, and something instantly looks brighter on her face. “You parked nearby, right? I cannot be bothered to walk a long way because of you.”
Crow chuckles, pointing to the other side of the street. “Your lucky day then?”
“See, you can use your brain when you want to!” The inflection in her voice is so sugary it’s contagious. It’s also isolating to a select few. “Well, onward then!” She pipes at him before striding forward. When she passes the hard-faced boy, she mutters, “Have a good time.”
There was no way he could miss any of this.
Crow is split.
One possibility is that he’s happy. Happy because the way she avoids him, the way she has made her problem with him clear, it could be a signal that she is truly over him. That maybe she could move on when she was ready.
But the other, is one that makes Crow tremble. The idea that she’s making a point. Because seeing how he looks when he’s ignored, it’s clear that she truly has Bramble’s attention now. And maybe that was what she wanted. Maybe Crow was just a way for her to get back at him.
That thought doesn’t last long.
They hung out before Crow even knew he existed, it would be like saying that their whole group was made just to spite the idiot. Squirrel isn’t like that. They’d become friends because it was what they wanted.
Crow has to trust her.
He’s ready to follow her when Bramble speaks up.
“Squirrel!” He calls, some kind of desperation in his voice.
Squirrel stops, and turns back, she looks annoyed. The street goes silent again. This time it doesn’t feel natural.
Bramble sighs, he looks wrung out and caught. He meets the fiery gaze with a low stare. “I get that you’re angry at me. And I get that I deserve it. I was an idiot, okay? I know how hard you worked on your film, and I did want to see it.” He looks down and up like he’s searching for a rope. “I didn’t mean to get side-tracked.”
Squirrel looks uncomfortable, like this is the last thing she wants to talk about. “It doesn’t matter.”
“No, it does! I’m sorry, all right?”
Crow can’t deny that he’s a little impressed. The guy didn’t try to twist it and make out like he wasn’t to blame. He could admit that he messed up. He stays quiet as he waits for Squirrrel’s reaction. It was up to her to forgive him or not.
She ducks her head as she looks away, her fingers tap over her crossed arms.
Bramble repeats himself, “I really am sorry. And I still really want to see your project. Could I?”
Squirrel shrugs, “Sure. Dad burned out tons of copies for his friends. He was probably going to offer you one.”
That’s more than likely not the way Bramble wanted that to be answered. He doesn’t look relieved. He rubs his eyes with a tight breath. “Okay, great. But, um, I was also thinking, do you want me to help out with your studies again?”
Crow flinches. He doesn’t want to panic at that, but he does. Because he knows that Bramble isn’t a head of committee for nothing, he knows more than him, he could help Squirrel more than he can.
Squirrel shakes her head. “Nah. I’m doing okay now, thanks. You don’t need to trouble yourself.”
There is deep relief in Crow’s gut. Not just that Squirrel preferred him, but that she didn’t mention he was the one who was helping her. He wasn’t some leverage she needed to get something over the guy.
“It wouldn’t be any trouble.” Bramble says dryly, his face twisting. “I’m not that busy or anything.”
“I said it’s fine.” And now Squirrel is bursting back to grab Crow’s arm. She gives him a sharp look. “Are you trying to look like some emo garden gnome, come on!” She exclaims, pulling Crow away from her house.
It’s only for a moment but Crow can see the look of bewilderment on the boy’s face as they stroll past. Like he can’t believe that he’s the one being dismissed. Crow isn’t sure how long he watches after them as Squirrel drags him to his car.
“Are we going to go or not? Open open open!” She chants. She doesn’t even glance back at her house.
Crow thinks this means he shouldn’t either. They get into the car, and Crow watches her shuffle around in the seat, pulling it forward and back deliriously as she tries to get comfy. “Heh! You must have used air spray in here just for me!” She jibes. She doesn’t look phased at all.
Still Crow can’t help but ask, “Are you alright?”
She inhales to say something that looks angry, then she closes her mouth, inhales again and beams at him. “Of course, I am! Don’t worry about him! I’ve got thicker skin than that, Crow!”
“That wasn’t really what I meant.”
Crow falls silent beside her. They don’t speak for a moment. Crow looks aside and sees her porch clear now. The front door closed.
Squirrel seizes the silence. “Crow, you don’t need to worry about me.” She says, her voice soft, but sparking. “I appreciate it but, honestly, I’m fine. Okay?” Her tone implies that she really wants to sweep this brief encounter under the rug. Crow wants to as well. He can’t help but feel like he shouldn’t though.
“Are you sure?” He says, just to be safe. He watches her face closely.
Her smile broadens, “I always am!” With that decided, she swings her hands behind her head and she meets Crow’s eyes. “Now can we get going! I’m want to see if it’s the lighting in your house that makes your hair so dark!”
He lets it go now.
Because there’s a safety in her eyes, a relief, a happiness that she can let the bullshit go here. A happiness to see him and be in his company.
The idea that she can enjoy herself with him.
Crow’s chest warms and he smiles back at her, his muscles finally relax for the first time that day. “Alright then.”
Squirrel beams, but before she can open her mouth to say something else, a deep rumbling fills the car.
Crow grins and Squirrel blushes when they recognise where it’s coming from.
“No breakfast, huh?” Crow teases. A punch lands on his arm.
“Shut up! I was in a hurry this morning!”
“And who’s fault is that?”
She only mutters an angry, embarrassed reply.
Crow shakes his head, but he’s happy that he didn’t take his wallet for nothing. “So… pancakes?”
Squirrel nods behind her blush. “Please.”
...
#squirrelcrow#squirrelflight#crowfeather#human warriors au#human warrior cats#Warrior Cats#warriors au
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tell me
for @notsuchasecret
i love you
Mattsun scrunches his nose up in a way that Tooru does not find adorable — except for all ways he finds it disgustingly adorable — and gives Tooru an almost betrayed look as he sets down Tooru’s coffee cup.
“Since when do you like blueberry cappuccino?” Mattsun licks at his lips and scowls, clearly trying to get rid of the flavor. “Since when do you like blueberry anything?”
“It’s not like I hated it or anything.”
“You did when you were sixteen.”
Tooru scoffs and takes a sip of his cappuccino. “I hated a lot when I was sixteen. People, places, things. Thankfully it was temporary and I got over most of it.”
“You never hated me,” Mattsun teases. Tooru sets down his cup with a soft sigh. He can feel Mattsun’s gaze and he forces himself to meet it. “Or did you?”
“Not something I’m super proud of but, for at least a little while, yeah I did hate you.”
Mattsun’s gaze flickers around his face. “You’re serious,” he finally says.
Tooru nods.
Sixteen had not been a good year for him. Then again seventeen had been a bit of a crushing blow and eighteen had been a nightmare of hard work and an aching body that sometimes felt three times as old as it was. But sixteen… sixteen sucked. There’s no nicer way to say it. He told Mattsun that he hated a lot when he was sixteen and he did. But it would have been more accurate to tell Mattsun that he hated everything when he was sixteen; his family, his friends, his body, school, volleyball you name it he hated it that year.
He finishes his cappuccino and is rinsing his cup out in the sink when Mattsun finally speaks again.
“I didn’t realize,” Mattsun says quietly. “I mean I noticed some things that you were suddenly very opinionated about but I didn’t realize that—” He stops talking suddenly and Tooru glances over his shoulder. Mattsun is still looking at him but his eyes are a little glazed like maybe he’s looking at Tooru but seeing sixteen year old Tooru instead. “Oh,” he breathes out.
“Yeah.”
Hajime may have been his best friend since they were kids but that just meant that he sometimes had blinders on when it came to Tooru. Oh sure he could put his foot down and even now he’s one of the few people who can chastise Tooru with nothing more than a stern look. But Hajime didn’t always notice the smaller things which, at sixteen, was one of the reasons Tooru hated him for a little while.
Coincidentally noticing those smaller things was the reason that Tooru had hated Mattsun for that same little while.
“I did realize,” Mattsun says softly.
“You did.”
“I just didn’t realize you were serious about it.”
“I don’t think anyone did,” Tooru says airily as he dries off his cup and puts it away. “And I’m pretty sure you and my sister were the only ones who even noticed enough to call me out on any of it anyway.”
“Is that supposed to be reassuring? You were a giant miserable mess but oh it was okay because nobody else took it seriously either. Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Why are you getting so upset?” Tooru leans against the counter and crosses his arms across his chest defensively at Mattsun’s tone.
“Why am I? Tooru. You.” Mattsun runs his hands down his face and lets out a disbelieving laugh that twists something in Tooru’s chest so sharply he’s a little afraid something just broke in there.
He watches Mattsun shake his head and look up like he’s asking some higher power for guidance and wonders if Mattsun is still in love with him even after all these years. It’s been a constant in his life for nearly two decades now. No matter what else is going on in his life he’s always known three things for sure: Iwa-chan is his best friend, his mother’s favorite fruit is peaches, and Mattsun is in love with him.
“Why are you here, Tooru?” He startles at the question. At Mattsun’s tone. At the way Mattsun is studying him.
“What do you mean? I retired. I came home.”
“Not here in general.” Mattsun waves behind himself, gesturing to the apartment as he says, “Here as in: in case you missed it this is my apartment, not yours.”
That something in his chest twists again and this time he’s surprised Mattsun doesn’t seem to hear the sound of it snapping in two.
“Home has never really been a place for me, Mattsun. It’s always been a handful of people.”
Tooru spins the ring on his pointer finger idly, staring down at the dark band as he wills his anxiety to cooperate, to not drag him under. He takes a deep breath, refusing to meet Mattsun’s eyes and he lets out an airy laugh and heads out of the kitchen. He grabs the few things he had left laying around Mattsun’s apartment and shoves them into his duffel bag. He had gotten used to not really unpacking things since he left after high school. He was never entirely sure when he’d be leaving, was always looking out the windows at the sky and twitching with a need to go. To move.
To run.
He can feel Mattsun’s gaze on him the entire time and it makes him calm and restless in equal measure, something that Mattsun has always been good at.
He’s sitting in front of the door attempting to untie his shoes, duffel bag on the floor next to him, when he feels more than hears Mattsun come to a stop behind him.
“Leaving already?”
Tooru snorts, yanking at the knot in his shoelace. “Well you made it abundantly clear that I’m not welcome here.” He curses softly as his shoelace just gets more knotted and tangled. “So I’m going.”
Mattsun plucks the shoe from his hands and after a minute he holds it in front of Tooru’s face, lace knot-free, and wiggles it when Tooru doesn’t take it right away. Tooru huffs at him and grabs the shoe. But he doesn’t put it on right away. Because the thing is. He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to go back to his empty apartment across the city where he’s barely unpacked despite being back for almost a month now. He doesn’t want to go and stare at his blank walls and pretend he isn’t ignoring calls from his mother and avoiding Hajime and, for once in his life, hoping nobody recognizes him when he steps outside in the morning.
“I never said that and you know it. You know what I mean, Tooru. You always have.”
He does. He knows what Mattsun means. Just like he knows Mattsun loves him. Just like he knows that clouds go in the sky and ice melts when it’s hot. He knows. That doesn’t mean he has any idea what to do with that knowledge.
“What do you want from me?” He hates how defeated he sounds. How unsure of everything he sounds.
He is unsure. Of almost everything. But that doesn’t mean he’s okay with people seeing it.
“That depends.”
He wants to turn around and look at Mattsun. Or lean backwards and peer up at him. Or maybe curl into a ball and disappear from the world for a little bit. He wants a lot of things. But he already got one of the biggest things he’s ever wanted in life when he went to Argentina for volleyball. How can he even think about asking for more?
“What does it depend on?”
“Are you going to go halfway across the world again? Leave everything behind and chase after a dream?”
Pure anger chokes him for a moment, memories of all the people who had told him his dreams were silly or pointless or out of reach suddenly threatening to overwhelm him. Memories of everyone who had told him he’d never make it. That he’d never be good enough. Teachers and coaches and teammates and doctors and fellow students.
“I didn’t just chase my dream. I caught it. I held it in my hands,” he bites out. “So don’t judge me because you stayed here and putzed yourself into a job at a funeral home.”
Mattsun’s fingers dig into his scalp for a second before running through his hair. “Again. I never said that.”
Tooru lets out a shaky breath as his anger vanishes. It’s always amazed him how easily Mattsun can do that; a simple brush of fingers or bumped shoulder and Tooru settles into his own skin again. He anchors Tooru, grounds him in a way no one else has ever managed.
“I don’t plan on leaving again,” Tooru whispers.
“Good. Not that I didn’t want you to chase your dreams. I did. I do. Even if you decided tomorrow to go off again I’d support you.”
Thoughts of leaving flicker through his mind. Images of places he’s been and places he could go. Memories of being offered coaching spots and public speaking opportunities. A couple years ago, a couple months ago, hell a couple weeks ago they sounded tempting. Now they just sound exhausting.
He’s exhausted.
“So. What do you want from me, Mattsun?”
“I want you to stay.” Mattsun settles onto the floor behind him. He’s a warm weight against Tooru’s back as he wraps his arm’s around Tooru’s waist and tugs him back enough to hook his chin over Tooru’s shoulder. “You went and you caught your dreams and now you’re back. I want the chance to catch my dreams. I want you to stay. Here.”
Tooru leans back against Mattsun’s chest.
“Here as in your apartment?”
“Here as in this city. Here as in my life in general, if that’s all I can get. But if I had it my way? Here in my apartment.” He squeezes Tooru and sighs. “In my arms.”
If there was an Olympic event for most emotional whiplash moments in the span of five minutes he’d definitely be medaling. Maybe not gold. But definitely at least a bronze medal. Because any trace of anger is long gone and his heart feels about seven sizes too big to properly fit in his chest right now. With Mattsun pressed against his back, breath warm against his cheek, Tooru feels balanced for the first time in a very long time.
Mattsun has always been waiting for him. Not in a stagnant way or anything. Mattsun has lived his own life, has had his fair share of ups and downs and experiences. But he’s always had a place for Tooru at his side, in his life. Just waiting for the day Tooru came back.
He can stay planted on the ground and stare up at the night sky without worrying what would happen if he floated off into that fathomless ether. Because he could shoot off into space, rocket around among the stars a bit, and never feel the slightest bit lost. He knows that Mattsun will never tie him down, will never drag him under the surface, anchored to the point of drowning. But he’ll always be there.
Mattsun is his map, his compass, his North Star.
“Do you still love me, Issei?” Tooru swallows down all his worries and licks the fear from his lips. His dreams of pro volleyball are his past and Mattsun is his future. A future that he’s pretty sure will be bright enough to outshine even the sun one day. “Are you still in love with me?”
“Yes.”
He closes his eyes and relaxes back into Mattsun’s arms, body boneless and soul drifting free.
“I missed you,” he admits softly. “Even when I was on top of the world and had my dreams right there in front of me. I missed you.”
He can’t say that he’s in love with Mattsun. Not yet. But he knows Mattsun understands and he’ll get there eventually.
They have the rest of forever, after all.
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Voltron Rewrite Episode Nineteen - The Singularity of War
(Warning...this thing is a monster. Seriously, I really got carried away here. If you’re planning on reading this in one go make sure you’re comfortable first, because this is the big boy. Enjoy.)
The blazing light of explosions flashes across Coran’s face. He stares out at the carnage spread out across the Castle of Lion’s viewport. The forces of the Coalition and the Black Paladins tear into each other, energy blasters and ion cannons causing untold destruction. But his gaze looks past all of that, to lock onto the form of Voltron approaching that of Darktron and Sincline. He strokes his mustache nervously.
“Coran?”
He is shaken from his study of the monitor and turns to find Romelle standing on the bridge behind him.
“The Castle is in full combat configuration.” She reports.
“Ah yes. Very good. Very good…” His gaze shifts back out to the starfield, where the forces of Zarkon and the Coalition smash into one another. He sees a team of Garrison fighters swoop along the side of a Galra cruiser and unleash a payload of energy-bombs that cripple the enemy ship.
“You wish to be in the thick of it?” She ventures.
“Yes. This has been my battle for a long time and it pains me not to be backing up the Princes and other paladins. Also...if I’m being honest, I’d really like to show these galra what for one last time. But…” He looks back to the alteans manning stations around the bridge.
“...Princess Allura left all of you in my charge. And risking the Castle unnecessarily will help no one. So we will hang back and fire from afar. We will not directly engage until we are needed.
“And if we are called upon?”
“well...we’ll just have to show them just what the ship my grandfather designed can really do with a full crew of alteans.”
Romelle smiles. “Aye aye, Captain.”
He returns the smile, then turns back to the viewport. Voltron and Sincline finally meet Darktron in a blaze of brilliant light.
“I leave all my hopes with you, Paladins.” He says in a voice just above a whisper. “Finish this.”
***
Voltron swings, tearing a blue streak through space. Darktron blocks, blade crackling with violet lightning. Sincline thrusts, blade a blur of purple light. Darktron parries and ripostes, knocking the other mecha back. The three mechas strike at each other, blades are a storm of glowing blurs, faster than the eye can keep up.
A powerful clash knocks all backwards. Darktron pulls back, quintessence burning down the blade. It lowers the blade towards them in silent challenge. Sincline makes to move forward.
“Wait,” Keith starts to say, “we should pull back and try to-”
“You don’t scare me, Zarkon!” Sincline Lotor bellows, charging towards the other mecha. Keith curses, and Voltron bursts forward to join Sincline.
Darktron, Sincline and Voltron swing their blades at the same time. When the blades meet a wave of energy explodes outward. The force of the blow flings both Voltron and Sincline tumbling backwards through space.
Darktron did not give an inch from the blast.
Jets of energy erupt from Darktron’s wings, thrusting it after the two tumbling mechas. It goes after Voltron, the closer target.
Voltron’s shield is thrown up at the last second, but Darkon’s swing is powerful enough to the breach the shield, sending two halves spinning.
Sincline appears behind Darktron, twin swords raised to it's exposed back.
Darktron doesn’t even turn to raise it's sword overhead and block both of Sincline’s blades. It reaches the other hand behind to blast Sincline in the chest. As Sincline spins away, Voltron swings for Darktron’s head. But Darkton deflects with it's sword then tosses Voltron behind it to crash into Sincline.
“Get out of my way!” Lotor snarls, shoving Voltron aside.
He charges at Darktron again, curved swords spinning. Before he can reach the other mecha, Darktron's shoulder cannon materializes and fires. The wave of raw energy hits Sincline like a train. It rockets backwards to smash through a galra cruiser. The cruiser explodes into pieces, while Sincline continues to tumble backwards.
Darktron turns on Voltron. Lance, Pidge, Hunk and Allura get uneasy expressions.
“...it's alright to be afraid.” Keith says in a low voice. “They’re incredibly strong. We’ve all seen it. But we’re also not the same people we were the last time we fought them. We’re stronger together now. Not just on our own, but as a team too. This isn’t going to end the same way as last time.”
The uncertainty leaves the other paladin’s faces, replaced by resolve.
Darktron bursts into motion.
“Here we go…” Keith takes a breath. “...form shield!”
Voltron’s shield reforms a moment before Darktron’s sword strikes. Violet energy blazes against brilliant blue.
“Is that all you can muster?” Prince Lotor of Darktron says, sword beginning to blaze brighter. Pidge grits her teeth, the shield wavering, on the point of breaking once again.
But then, Lance, Hunk and Allura’s bayard ports slide open. They allow only a moment of surprise before slamming each of their bayards into place.
The shield, on the verge of splitting, suddenly blazes, multiplying several times its former size. Darktron’s sword is repelled, hurling the mecha back in a flash of lapis light.
Darktron rights itself after a moment, and all is still.
“...so,” Zarkon finally says, “you are not quite as pathetic as you used to be. You’ve acquired strength from resolve. Good. But how is your finesse?”
Darktron’s dual swords materialize.
Inside Voltron the bayard ports of the red and green lions pop open.
Lance smirks. “I dunno, how are we doing with finesse?”
Pidge lets out a sigh. “Well, until recently I thought we were doing an excellent job with subtlety.”
“Subtlety is overrated.”
“You would say that.” But she returns the smile.
Both slam their bayards into place. Voltron’s dual blades shimmer into existence.
Darktron swings for Voltron’s neck first. Pidge blocks, straining against the other blade. Lance parry’s the next attack, and counters with a thrust for Darktron’s gut. Darktron twists, blade sparking off it's side. Darktron replies with a kick, but Lance and Pidge cross their blades, blocking the strike. However it gives Darktron a chance to throw a quick jab for Voltron’s chest with one blade, followed by a second with the other. The first is completely deflected but the second grazes the green arm.
The two mechas fall into a back and forth, blades striking against one another in clashes of blinding light.
“You’re keeping up! Impressive! But for how long!?” Zarkon taunts, blades moving so fast they’re barely visible.
Keith grits his teeth. “I think-”
“Zarkon!” Sincline Lotor bellows. “I found something of yours!”
Both turn just in time for a galra cruiser to smash into them. The front of the ship crumples as they are buried in it's innards.
A burst of energy from Darktron obliterates the entire cruiser, sending Voltron flying out of the wreckage.
As soon as Darktron is freed, Sincline, hovering above, unleashes it's chest beam. Darktron’s shoulder cannon appears, firing at the same time.
The two beams collide, bleeding off waves of energy that vaporize any of the fightership unlucky enough to be nearby. The cockpits of the respective mechas tremor under the enormous pressure. Lotor throws his levers as far as they will go, intensity of the beam growing in response.
Darktron’’s beam inches backwards, starting to be overwhelmed by that of Sincline.
Zarkon only grins. “You have an impressive machine. It has only one flaw…”
Paladin Lotor, Honerva and Raimon slam their bayards into place.
“...it's not Voltron.”
Darktron’s blast engulfs Sincline’s blasting it away. But Darktron doesn’t leave it there. The harpoon gun materializes and fires after Sincline, spearing the other mecha. Darktron pivots, swinging the tethered Sincline to crash into the recovering Voltron.
They’re flung backwards, smashing through an errant asteroid, pulverizing it.
Sincline shakes off the damage, and moves to charge Darktron again. His arm is caught by Voltron’s grip.
“Stop.” Keith commands.
“I don’t take orders from you! Now get out of my way!”
“You’re being an idiot, Lotor! I know you want to take down Zarkon, but has it really been so long since you’ve had to work with a team?”
“I don’t need help! I’ve never needed help.”
“Do you want to get yourself killed!?”
He doesn’t reply.
“...are you trying to get yourself killed?” Allura is the one to ask this time.
Still he remains silent. Darktron advances on them.
“...I want to kill Zarkon, no matter the cost.”
“Then help us do that.” Keith says, “By working with us.”
Darktron gets closer.
Inside the cockpit of Sincline, Lotor closes his eyes and squeezes his throttles. He lets out a breath and opens his eyes back up. Darktron is nearly upon them, sword pulled back.
“If you have a plan…then take the lead.”
Keith quirks the faintest of smiles.
“Spilt!”
The two mechas dash in opposite directions, Darktron’s sword slashing through the empty space.
“We’ll constrict their movement, you go in close!” Keith declares.
Voltron’s cannon appears, erupting in it's spray-fire mode. Dozens of destructive motes of light spray after Darktron. The mecha’s boosters burn into overdrive as it spins away from the energy motes. The motes follow, blue lines trailing after fleeing mecha. Darktron zigzags, losing some of the motes into the faces of asteroids, and others into the sides of galra cruisers. Sincline blocks it's path, blades spinning. Darktron simply forces Sincline back with a blast from one of its hands and changes direction again, motes still following. The chase takes Darktron towards one of the planets orbiting the nearest star. It loses more of the motes by leading them into the side of one of the planet’s moons.
Sincline cuts off Darktron’s path again, ducking the hand-blast this time and going in for the kill. Darktron deflects the twin blades with it's sword, while using it's free hand to activate it's shield and block the remaining motes. The shield endurs the rainfall of energy against it, but a moment later a secondary impact hits the shield.
Voltron’s harpoon. Voltron jerks the tethered Darktron to the side, opening its defenses wide. Sincline swings again, and this time the swords strike true.
A flash of violet light burns when the blades with Darktron’s chest.
Darktron plummets down into the surface of the moon below. It's crash creates a crater, massive chunks of rock flying upwards.
“Now! Hit ‘em with everything you've got!” Keith yells.
Sincline charges up it's chest beam while Voltron materializes it's arm cannons. Both let loose on Darktron below.
The beams of energy collide with Darktron, washing over it. More chunks of rock and debris fly up as Darktron is driven deeper. The crater widens, cracking a significant portion of the moon’s surface. Then, the stone around Darktron begins to glow. It melts under the constant heat and pressure from the waterfall of pure energy, swallowing up Darktron. Molten rock bubbles up, spraying droplets across the surface. Still, they keep firing.
Finally, the two mechas let up, spent.
The Paladins and Lotor struggle to catch their breaths.
“Did...we get...them…?” Lance pants out.
“I’m not-” Keith starts to say before he is cut off.
“You children…” Zarkon says, “...deserve commendation. I hate every single one of you and will enjoy ripping your bodies out of your lions, and your organs out of your bodies, and then putting them on display for the whole universe to see. But you have forced me into a corner, and for that you have my highest praise. Supremely stupid and futuile as it was, you have graduated yourselves from a minor nuisance to a wrench in my plans. So congratulations…”
Under the lava there is a burst of violet light. Then a massive form begins to move under the surface.
“...you will get the honor of dying as few others have.”
Darktron, in it's massive armored form rises out of the pool of lava, molten rock dripping off it's armor.
“Well,” Keith says, “Quiznak.”
***
“So…you think they have a chance?”
Skriel asks the question from within the Paladin Crusher 2.0, defending from a team of robeasts’ relentless strikes. Matt is dealing with the same from Luca’s robeast. The two mechas fight back to back, surrounded as they are.
“A chance? Sure, there’s always a chance.” Matt replies, using the Atlas’ armblade to block one of Luca’s strikes. The swing is deflected but the glowing blade still lands a glancing blow on the Atlas’ armor.
“Yes, but what precisely would you put the odds at?”
“Dunno, maybe like thirty percent?”
“THIRTY PERCENT!?”
Matt smirks as Luca drives forward to press the attack. She knocks aside the armblade and thrusts for the gut of the Atlas. She isn’t prepared for the second blade that slides out of the Atlas’s other arm. The bladed spear is turned away and before Luca can pull back she receives a glancing blow on her robeast’s arm. A match for the one she left on the Atlas.
“Yep. About thirty percent. But I’ll tell you what, if it was only one percent, or even one tenth of a percent, I’d still bet on my sister and her friends. Because they’ve been beating long odds ever since they stepped in those lions. None of us would be here right now if that wasn’t true.”
“Well, I guess I can agree with that, human.”
The Paladin Crusher catches one robeasts’ blades along the haft of it's axe, but is driven backwards by it's twin, bumping against the back of the Atlas.
“You need a hand there?” Matt asks.
“We most certainly do not!” Skriel declares. “I think it's time to show these whelps what the Crusher 2.0 can really do! Mutava?”
“Yes, this battle is getting a little too close for my tastes.” The other galra replies, throwing a lever from within his cockpit.
The Paladin Crusher’s head splits open, a large barrel poking out from within. It fires, violet beam melting through the head of one robeast. Armor breached, the pilot is thrown free of the broken mecha. The second robeast pulls back, spinning it's spear to deflect the head-beam’s second shot.
“Ublok!”
“I’ve got him.” The large galra grunts, throwing a lever of his own.
The Paladin Crusher raises an arm and it's fist fires off the arm, propelled by a jet of purple flame. The robeast keeps it's spinning spear up to block the projectile, but the fist diverts downward, slipping under the makeshift shield, then tilts back up to smash the robeast in the chest. The robeast is flung backwards but the fist isn’t done. It grabs a hold of the robeast’s head and rockets in reverse, jerking it back towards the waiting axe of the Paladin Crusher. The robeast is sliced clean in half, systems going dead as the pilot rockets free.
“Ohoho! That’s what you get for trying to challenge Skriel the Great and his Mighty Lackies!”
“Mighty Lackies?” Erva says with disdain.
“Yes, feel free to be honored by the title.”
“You little...oh forget it.” She sighs.
“I’m glad you’re having so much fun over there, but do you mind giving us a hand?” Matt asks, trying to defend not just from Luca, but two other robeasts flanking her. And more are on their way to the skirmish.
“Certainly! It's time to show just how superior the Paladin Crusher is to your silly earth machine!
“...Huhuhu. Paladin Crusher you say?”
The four galra warlords freeze at the sound of the new voice over the comms.
“...a bit gaudy, but that always was your style, Skriel.”
“That voice…” Skriel says.
Across from them the galra formations split, opening a rift in their previously tight lines. Through that rift comes a massive galra ship that dwarfs those around it. Its armor is pitch black, broken only by thin lines of glowing purple running up and down it's length.
“Human, I’m afraid you’re going to have to deal with these robeasts on your own.” Skriel says in a low voice. He and Erva throw their levers, axe splitting into two hatchets.
“What? Why?”
“That ship headed towards us is commanded by Ru’vak the Unbroken.”
“Who the heck is that!?”
“He is considered one of, if not the greatest Galra Commander in the entire Empire. His title comes from the fact that in his entire career, he has never once lost a battle.”
“How come I’ve never heard of him?”
“He was sent into exile before The Voltron Coalition’s war with the Empire began. No official reason was ever given for his reassignment. However, the rumor was that Zarkon grew...uncomfortable with how respected Ru’vak was in the fleet.”
“An unfounded worry,” The voice, Ru’vak, says. “I am and always have been loyal to the Empire. Unlike you scum. Honestly, I thought I taught the four of you better.”
Skriel sighs. “He’s also the man that trained us…”
The ship begins to glow and split apart.
“Oh.” Matt says.
Metal plates separate, revealing joints and limbs. It all pulls apart and comes back together in a bulky humanoid in shape, and even larger than the Paladin Crusher. In one hand it holds a large round shield with a serrated edge. In its other, a great hammer. The pitch black armor creates the visual effect of there being a silhouetted emptiness in the space before them. The only source of light on it is a single blazing violet eye at the center of its head.
“This is Ru’vak, tell the reserves to jump in now behind the invading forces. We have the other mecha-class vehicles engaged, their forces should not be able to avoid being encircled.”
The dark armored mecha spins its hammer in one hand.
“Now, let us see how your Paladin Crusher fares against my World Bane.”
***
Coran watches the enemy’s reserve force jump in behind the Coalition ships. In seconds the enemy galra ships spread out, locking in the Coalition back line. Enemies in front, enemies behind. Nowhere to run.
“We’re between a hammer and an anvil!” Ryner cries over the radio.
“Not if we’ve got anything to say about it!” Coran declares.
He turns to Romelle, a slight grin on his face.
“Arm the Castle’s primary weapon. It seems the battle has come to us.”
She nods quickly before letting her fingers fly across the console in front of her.
“Weapons ready!” She says as a cloud of galra fighters begin their assault on the Coalition ships.
“Well then let’s see how those dastardly galra like a mouthful of this!” Coran shouts, slamming his fist into the console. Energy crackles throughout the ship, surging to its zenith at the tip of the castle’s primary tower.
A beam of pure energy tears across space, ripping a line through the cloud of fighters. Explosions in the form of bright orange orbs appear anywhere the beam meets an enemy ship.
“Multiple direct hits! Enemy fighters scattering!” Romelle reports.
“Excellent! Now let’s see about engaging those cruisers!” He turns to Vatta who mans another console. “Prime the barrier.”
Vatta nodded, doing as he says.
Coran sends the Castle forward, another beam firing. It takes a galra cruiser in the side, cracking the armoran eliciting an explosion, but not a fatal one. The cruiser, along with several of it's companions turn and fire back at the Castle.
A series of violet beams slam into the Castle’s particle barrier. The Castle shakes but remains unharmed.
“Status?” Coran asks.
“Barrier holding, but I’d avoid getting shot more than necessary.” Vatta reports.
“This is a battlefield.”Coran says, narrowing his eyes. “That may not be possible.”
“We’ll just have to destroy them first, then.” Romelle remarks.
“I like the way you think, lass! Let’s give them a little more to chew on!”
Coran slams his fist into the console again.
***
Admiral Sanda cruises through the battlefield in her fighter, flanked by her wingmates. They dip and dodge through a sea of enemy fighters, tearing a burning swath through their number.
They move towards one of the enemy cruisers. A team of fighters break off, engaging them.
“Crab formation.” Sanda says, driving forward to bait the enemy fighters before pulling back, to let her wingmates pull around to catch the fighters in a pincer attack. They blast the enemy fighters to smithereens.
“Now let’s bomb the crap out of them.”
They fly over the top of the cruiser, releasing bombs. The magnetically charged capsule lock onto the surface of the cruiser, before detonating their payloads. The fighters drop an explosive trail across the top of the cruiser, weakening it's exterior armor.
A Coalition galra cruiser fires it's ion cannon, finishing off the cruiser in a massive explosion.
“Alright! Sanda says, voice almost nearly a cheer. “Let take on the next-”
She is cut off, when she and her wingmates are caught in a stray enemy ion blast. One of her wings is clipped, one engine showing warning signs of being damaged.
She goes into an uncontrolled spin. Despite this, rather than panic, Sandra cringes.
“This is gonna be a bumpy landing…”
***
A beam of energy erupts from each of the Armored Darktron’s hands. One smashes into Voltron, the other, Sincline. Both mechas are flung backwards, plummeting down to the planet below. Bright orange plasma envelops them as they burn through the planet’s atmosphere.
Darktron chases after their falling forms, tearing a violet trail through space. It rips it's sword into existence mid-descent. Still in the upper-atmosphere, Darktron swings it's massive blade.
The shield Voltron throws up may as well not exist. Both halves go flying and the energy from Darktron’s blade slashes against Voltron’s armor. The Paladins scream, threatening to break back to five lions. They hold together. Barely.
While Voltron is hurled back to plummet back even faster by the blow, Darktron turns on the other mecha. Sincline crosses both swords to block Darktron’s swing. There is a crackle of blinding light when the blades meet.
Sincline is sent spinning, one sword cracked and leaking quintessence.
The Paladins and Lotor tremble under tremendous G-forces as the surface races up to meet them. They all make one last effort to pull up their machines before striking the rocky surface.
Darktron swings again. It doesn’t matter that the mecha is a mile higher in the air than that others. The energy from its blade carries, swinging down in a bright arc to slam into the backs of Voltron and Sincline. They smash into the surface at full-force, sending massive cracks across the stone.
A moment later, Darktron hits the ground in a crouch, shattering the ground even further. Multiple sun hangs in the sky above, varied in color, casting harsh and uneven light on the scene. Voltron and Sincline both try to rise. Both fail.
“...there is an old galra tale, about a soldier who wanted to be emperor.” Zarkon begins, “His dream brought him strength in battle. Soon the Soldier was the most famous warrior in the Empire. Finally the Emperor bestowed upon him the title ‘High Commander of Legions.” A position in the Empire second only to the emperor. But the Soldier was not content. He could not live with being the second greatest. So he challenged the Emperor to a duel for his position. The Emperor accepted. Their battle lasted all day, from sunrise to sunset. Finally, one fell and one remained. The Emperor had prevailed. As he lay there bleeding out, the Soldier asked how, how after rising to the greatest of soldiers, could he still have lost? The Emperor replied, ‘the greatest of soldiers, is still a soldier. The least emperor, still an emperor. Your blade was just a sword. But mine, was the blade of an empire. Soldiers simply die. But emperors live on forever in their empires.’ You see Paladins, you have grown strong. But your strength has reached its ceiling. And all you can do now, is look up.”
Keith lets out a cough. “N-nice...story. I bet emperors love telling it. Makes ‘em feel safe. I’ve got one for you too: At the end of the game, the king and the pawn go into the same box.”
“Perhaps. Kings and pawns, emperors and soldiers all end up in the ground once they die. Except that I have no plans to die. Not now, not ever. When I’m done with you, I will finish what I began so long ago and remake this universe as it should be. I will ascend beyond any other being before me. And there be nothing, no kingdom or empire and no memory for you to live on through. That children, is what you earn for your struggle.”
“This fight...isn’t over...yet!” Keith declares.
The five paladins strain, forcing the prone Voltron up onto all fours. Then, with a great effort, it shakily rises to two feet.
“Defiant to the end?”
“Sure am.”
“Admirable, if useless. If you’re so eager to see your comrade, that former Paladin...then I’ll send you on your way.”
Keith’s eyes burn, melting away the pain an exhaustion of a moment before. Not just his, but all the paladin’s eye blaze with anger.
“Lotor...you still alive?” Keith asks.
“...unfortunately.” His reply comes a moment later.
“Good. Because we’re about to kill Zarkon, and I didn’t want you to miss that.”
“Not not if I do first…”
And with that Sincline is suddenly back to its feet. Darktron turns back and forth between the two mechas. Zarkon lets out a chuckle.
“Paladins…” Keith says, taking in a breath. “...use everything!”
Pidge’s arm-cannon materializes and fires. Darktron raises it's sword blocking the blue beam on its edge. Voltron jets forward, Lance activating the sword. Darktron swings its own sword, energy from the blade leaping out in an arc. Keith drives Voltron low, narrowly dodging the slash of energy. The blade of energy continues past to slice off the top of a mountain in the distance, causing an avalanche. Hunk’s shoulder cannon appears. Darkton raises it's shield to block. Allura slams her bayard into place a moment later. They shift the aim of the cannon down at Darktron’s feet and fire. A blast of icy energy erupts from the cannon, freezing Darktron’s legs to the ground.
On the other side, Sincline lets loose with it's chest beam. Darktron swings it's shield around to block the blast. Voltron seizes on the opportunity, driving forward with it's sword. Before the sword swings, Pidge Hunk and Allura slam their bayards into place, expanding the sword into its greatsword configuration. The Paladins let out a collective battle cry as they swing.
Darktron deflects with a casual flick of it's sword.
“Pathetic.” Zarkon says.
Voltron tears the sword apart into its dual blades, Lance and Pidge swinging in tandem. Darktron easily turns both blades aside.
“Useless.” Paladin Lotor chimes in.
Keith slams his bayard into place, and both swords burst into flame. Darktron swings at the same time as they do. They catch the much larger sword between their two blazing ones. The ground beneath Voltron shatters from the impact. But for a moment they resist being forced back.
Sincline drives forward, spinning with both blades outstretched. The blades rattle harmlessly against Darktron’s shield, but the mecha’s bladed tail slips around the guard making for Darktron’s head.
“Thoughtless.” Honerva remarks.
Daktron twists, wrenching Voltron’s blades to the side, then slamming it's shield into the mecha as it brings its blade around to deflect Sincline’s tail.
The impact of the shield sends Voltron crashing back to the ground. Sincline snarls and unleashes a flurry of swings at the larger mecha.
Darktron releases the shield, as if completely unconcerned. It deflects blow after blow, easily keeping up with Sincline despite the blinding speed. No matter how close the blade comes to hitting home, it is always turned away.
Voltron surges back to its feet, and Allura summons the harpoon gun.
“I don’t think they seem to understand...” Sendak says as Darktron’s feet rip free of the ice.
Allura fires. Sincline swings at the same time, seeing an apparent opening.
Darktron releases its sword and catches the harpoon with one hand, and the blade of Sincline’s sword with the other. Sincline struggles to drive the blade forward but it doesn’t budge an inch. Allura is likewise unable to reel in the harpoon.
“...even working together, you will never defeat my Voltron in this form.” Zarkon says.
And with that the hand holding Sincline’s blade clenches down hard. The already cracked blade shatters into purple shards. Sincline stumbles back, Lotor in its cockpit, shocked.
Allura, Hunk, Pidge and Lance are equally taken aback.
Only Keith manages to remain focused. He slams his bayard into place, causing Voltron’s tether and the harpoon at its end to burst into flame. The flame licks up Darktron’s arm, briefly stunning the mecha’s occupants. That fraction of a moment is all they need. Allura reels in the tether, but rather than draw Darktron towards them, she uses it to fling Voltron at it. A moment before they collide with the other mecha Keith yells out an order:
“Hunk, Cannon!”
The shoulder-cannon appears, inches from Darktron’s face. It fires point-blank.
The entire upper-half of Darktron is engulfed in the monumental burst of energy. The light from the pure quintessence meeting Darktron’s armor momentarily blinds all present.
Darktron is forced back a step.
Hunk’s cannon burns until it is completely dry. Finally, spent, Voltron stumbles back, hardly remaining upright.
Waves of heat radiate off of Darktron. For a moment it, and everything else on the battlefield is still.
“...a nice try.” Zarktron’s voice says, to the disappointment of all paladins.
Darktron surges forward, snatching Voltron by the neck and slamming it into the fractured ground.
“But that wasn’t really a cannon!” Zarkon snarls.
Sendak slams his bayard into place. A cannon nearly as big as Voltron appears on its shoulder.
“This is a cannon!”
“P-pidge!” Keith managed to get out.
Pidge manages to pull the shield in between the two mechas.
The Armored Darktron’s cannon erupts.
The blast of energy that follows is so bright it can be seen by the warring ships out in space. Voltron is blasted straight through the middle of the planet. Through the crust into the burning mantle below. It rips through the core like a stone dropped into the sea. Finally, Voltron is blasted out the other side of the planet, into space beyond. There it shatters into five lions. Each of them, limp and powerless.
Back on the planet, Darktron hovers in the air as the cannon is dismissed. Below the mecha, is a hole wider than a galra cruiser and as deep as the planet itself.
Zarkon lets out a satisfied chuckle.
Sincline launches itself at Darktron’s back, ferocious as a wild animal.
Darktron backhands the other mecha so hard it flies into orbit. Zarkon watchesas its form disappears into space.
“My love, I must tell you, we are nearing our limit in this form. The cannon does use up quite a lot” Honerva informs, “We have perhaps two dobashes, even with no more major expenditures of energy.”
“That is fine. This battle is over.”
Darktron takes to the sky.
***
Bolts of energy fall across the star-filed like drops of rain. Ships belonging to the Coalition and Dark Paladins alike burn and die. The Castle of Lions takes the brunt of many of these blasts, having earned the attention of a half-a-dozen galra cruisers.
“Particle barrier down to twenty-percent!” Vatta reports.
Fighters swarm the Castle, chipping away further at the barrier.
“We should pull back!” Romelle says.
“To where?” Coran replies. “If this backline falls the Coalition formation collapses!”
“Fifteen percent!” Vatta updates.
Coran slams his fist into the console. Another beam flies free, another enemy cruiser destroyed in a ball of plasma. Two more take its place.
“Ten percent!”
Coran scans the battlefield. Their allies are held back too far to offer support. The Castle is the primary force staving off the enemy ships attacking their backline. They show no sign of letting up on their assault of the Castle. Coran takes in a breath.
“Five percent!”
Coran sets his jaw, fingers flying across the keyboard of his console. “Attention all alteans onboard!” He yells through the intercom, as periodic small palm-sized pads appear near alteans all over the Castle. “I call upon you in this time of great need! If you wish to contribute to this battle in your own way! If you wish to help fight to free your enslaved brethren! Place a hand on one of these panels and lend us your strength!”
Across the ship alteans look at the pads, dubious. One does not hesitate even for a moment. Romelle slams her palm down immediately. She nods to Coran with a determined look. He smiles and nods back. One by one, the other alteans start placing their palms down. Finally, Coran places his own palm down. A green button pops up on his console.
“Let’s hope you’re the genius you always claimed to be grandpapi!”
“We’re down to one-percent!” Vatta reports, shortly after placing her own palm down.
“I do love dramatic timing!” Coran declares, slamming a hand down on the button.
The Castle is immediately wreathed in a blinding white light. There is a lull in the fire from the galra ships, uncertain of this new development. Seams appear in the Castle’s armor. It begins to split apart and reform. It's four exterior towers rearrange, and break at the formation of new joints. They become legs, ending in clawed feet. Meanwhile the main tower reforms into a torso. Finally a feline head bursts out of the front of the body, while a spiked tail stretches out from the back.
The White Lion lets out a mighty roar.
“Transformation stabilized!” Romelle reports.
“This is Dramor in the engine-room. Our output is up three-hundred percent!”
“It worked...” Coran says, looking near on the verge of tears. “My grandfather’s design worked! The White Lion lives!”
The enemy ships, recovering from their shock, resume fire. But Coran drives the White Lion into motion, dipping and dodging around the blasts. It opens its mouth and unleashes a blast of blue-white energy that rips a hole clean through one of the galra cruisers. It explodes in a ball of orange flame.
A holographic display of weapons appear above Coran’s console. “Let’s try this one…”
A long bladed knife appears in the jaws of the Lion. It bursts forward, cleaving through the side of another pair of cruisers. Armor ruptured, the cruisers collapse in on themselves before exploding into shards of space-junk.
“Now then...who’s next!?”
***
The Atlas trades blows with Luca’s robeast. They clash back and forth before she pulls back and two of her allies trade in. The pair swing their weapons in unison, assaulting the Atlas’ twin-bladed guard, forcing it back. The moment the Atlas pulls back for a counterattack swing, they disengage and Luca dives in to slam a spear into the Atlas’ chest. Immediately it begins its energy drain of the Atlas’ power.
Another squad of robeasts move towards the group, but they are waved off by Luca.
“We have this one. Go help restore the Array, that is the priority.”
“Yes ma’am!”
They race off into the distance, where the Array of rings is quickly being repaired by the remaining robeasts.
Luca continues to drain the Atlas.
“Stealing our energy, how rude.” Matt says, fingers flying across a projected keypad over the wrist of his control fixture. Alarms blaze across the Atlas’ screens but he ignores them.
“Sir-” An officer starts to say.
“Yeah, I’m aware we’re getting our power sucked dry! Isolate the location of the breach and cut it off from our core!”
“Yes sir!”
The officers work furiously. The spear’s drain cuts out a moment later. Luca scoffs. “You think that’ll stop me!?”
She splits off the other side of the spear and thrusts it for the Attlas’ head.
“Nah,” Matt smirks, “Just delaying you long enough to get a leg up!”
With that Matt kicks Luca’s robeast in the chest letting it's boosters erupt. The two mechas are hurled in opposite directions from the burst of propulsive energy.
The Atlas rights itself, just as the other two robeasts swoop in. They trade turns battering the Atlas with strikes, slipping several sparking cuts past it's guard. Matt is unconcerned at the damage chipping away at their armor.
“Has that predictive algorithm finished algorithm finished figuring these guys out?”
“Yes sir!”
“Then let’s start kicking the crap out of them.”
Atlas catches the next spear-thrust by the haft, shocking the pilot. Matt heaves, swinging the robeast into it's companion. He then ejects one of the Atlas’ arm blades to sink through one robeast and out the back of the other. Both beasts explode, flinging out pods.
Letting out a battle-cry, Luca takes her spear in both hands and swings for the Atlas' head. But with the attack clearly telegraphed by the Atlas’ display, Matt easily dodges the swing. He dodges the next one, and the one after that.
“How!?” Luca exclaims.
“With a bit of math.” Matt says, dodging another swing before, snatching hold of Luca’s spear. He twists the weapon, wrenching it free of the robeast’s grip.
The Atlas levels its arm-blade at the robeast’s chest.
“With logic and odds, I can predict any move you’re gonna make. You’re done.”
The shoulders of the robeast slump. Matt sighs.
“Don’t feel too bad. We’re really just trying to help-”
Luca’s robeast suddenly burst forward, letting the Atlas’ blade sink into its side.
“And what if I just take the hit!?”
The blade crackles in the robeast’s side, narrowly missing the core. She is still able to lock the Atlas into a powerful embrace, holding its arms down.
“Your systems are compromised!” Matt says.
“Doesn’t matter.” She shoots back.
The robeast’s chest begins to glow, gathering energy for a blast. Matt can’t help but grin.
“This girl...has got spunk! You remind me just a little bit of my sister when she’s being stubborn. So while I’m not gonna hold back...I will feel a little bad about this!”
He swings the Atlas’ head down to smash into the robeast’s. The blow jars Luca in her cockpit, and the embrace loosens. The Altas throws both arms up, breaking the grip entirely, then takes the stolen spear in a two handed grip and swings.
The blow cracks the robeast’s already breached armor, flinging it backward with bleeding quintessence leaking out in its wake. He raises a gauntlet to fire a finishing blast, one that Luca doesn’t seem capable of dodging.
Before he can let loose, something slams into the back of the Atlas, sending it spinning forward.
“What th-
A battered Paladin Crusher hangs in space, lights quite a bit dimmer than before.
“S...so strong.” Ublok says.
“And fast.” Mutava adds.
Matt swallows as a worried clamor rises on the Atla’s bridge.
The World Bane approaches at a leisurely pace.
“Oh, I do hope I didn’t break that toy already.” Commander Ru’vak rumbles. “I was just beginning to have some fun. But look, here comes another…”
Matt narrows his eyes, twirling his claimed spear.
“Take your best shot, old-timer. This thing isn’t held together by hopes and dreams like the galra’s finest over here.”
“Hey!” Skriel objects.
“And I’d say the odds are on our side. I should know. I’m pretty good at math.”
“Very well, youngster! Show me you best! Make my blood boil with the glory of battle!” Ru’vak says with glee, driving the World Bane forward, shield-first.
The Atlas swings the spear, but it scrapes harmlessly against the shield. The World Bane replies by swinging its hammer in an overhead arc. Matt barely dodges out of the way. As the Atlas pulls back, the World Bane twists, swinging its bladed shield. Matt managed to block with the haft of the spear, rotating blade of the shield sending out sparks and shoving the Atlas backwards.
The World Bane drives forward again, swinging the hammer once more. But this time as the Atlas starts to pull back a jet of energy erupts from the back of the hammer, accelerating its arc to a blinding speed. It smashes down against Atlas's head, cracking the armor.
The bridge is shaken from the blow. Still Matt drives the Atlas into motion, barely dodging another swing of the bladed shield.
“Please tell me we’ve got a read on that thing!” Matt yells.
“Yes sir, I believe we do!”
“Then throw it up.”
Immediately a predictive outline of the World Bane’s future attacks appears.
“Okay…”
The Atlas dodges another rocket-hammer swing, then blocks a shield blow. The World Bane pulls back. The Atlas makes an attack for its head, causing the World Band to raise its shield, but it's a feint, instead jamming the spear low under the shield’s guard.
The spear’s blade rakes against the World Bane’s armor, shoving it back slightly.
“Impressive.” Ru’vak says.
Matt grins, moving forward, already dodging a blow that hasn’t even been swung yet. A fist buries itself in the Atlas’ face. The mechas sails back, Matt shocked.
“Zepta Fo.” Ru’vak says. The World Bane’s fist is outstretched, shield having retracted.
He drives forward, sinking a knee in the Atlas’ gut. Then takes the hammer in both hands, and swings it down onto the Atlas’ back.
“He’s switched tactics, adjusting!”
The Atlas readies itself itself for another attack, predictive outline appearing again. But rather than lead with a fist as it would suggest, The World Bane goes low, swings and let’s go of its hammer,
“Reyna Sin.” Ru’vak says as the rocket drives the hammer forward to smash into the Atlas’ chest. The Atlas is flung backwards, clipping a Coalition ship. The hammer rockets back into the World Bane’s waiting hand.
“Do you think a commander as experienced as I know only one style of fighting?”
He swings the hammer into an underhanded grip while pulling the shield back out.
“Vintas mor. Still like your odds, youngster?”
“Liking them less…”
***
The five lions of Voltron hang in space, battle raging around them. The paladins are as limp as their lions, not one of them conscious. A nearby explosion pelts the Black Lion with debris, shaking it.
Keith begins to stir. His eyes flicker open and he winces with pain. With an effort he manages to sit up.
“...is everyone alright?”
There is a pause.
“I don’t think I've ever been less alright in my whole life.” Lance says, “But I am alive.”
Keith cracks a pained smile at that. “Allura, Hunk, Pidge?”
“N-not dead yet.” Allura stammers.
Hunk lets out a groan. “...did you have to wake me up?”
“Pidge here...for the good that is.”
Keith tries the throttles of his lion. No response.
“Can anyone move their lions?”
He’s met with a chorus of refusals. Keith sighs, but nods as if expecting this.
“Level with us...this fight is over isn’t it?” Lance asks.
Keith hesitates before replying.
“It does look bad…”
The other paladins get sullen looks.
“...but I’m not giving up yet. We can’t give up yet. If we do...well then there really is no chance. Our friends are still fighting. We’ve just got to hope they’ll last long enough for us to get our lions back online.”
“So we can get curb-stomped by Darktron again?”
“So we can find a way to win.”
None of the other paladins say anything but they do straighten in their seats and grip their throttles a little tighter.
“Alright, anyone got any ideas?”
Everyone is silent for a moment.
“If...if that armored form is so powerful, why don’t they always use that right from the beginning?” Hunk asks.
“Pride?” Keith suggests. “Zarkon wanted to beat us on skill alone?”
“Zarkon is proud but he’s not stupid.” Allura points out, “He wouldn’t put his entire plan at risk simply to satisfy his desire for an even battle.”
“Then...maybe there’s a limit to it?” Lance says cautiously.
“That...might actually make sense.” Pidge says with realization. “Think about it. Voltron, our Voltron can only use so much energy at a time. Look at us right now. It took every drop on quintessence we had just to survive that blast and we only just barely did that.”
“If there is a limit...then what do we do? Just wait for it to run out?” Keith asks.
“All we really can do. That and hope they don’t kill us in the meantime.”
“That...may be too much to hope for.” Hunk says, “Look.”
Darktron rises up from the planet’s atmosphere. It heads towards the lions, in no particular rush. For the first time, Keith looks defeated.
Darktron draws its sword.
“I’ll make it quick. I believe you’ve earned that much.” Zarkon says.
Darktron raises its blade.
Keith frantically tugs on his throttles. No response.
“And just who said I was done with you!?” Lotor yells from within Sincline.
His mecha tears across the starfield, brandishing the remaining sword in both hands.
Darktron doesn’t even turn too look, casually swinging its blade to the side, deflecting Sincline’s strike. He swings again, Darktron deflects once more, then punches Sincline hard enough to send him crashing into the side of a Coalition cruiser. Another slash of energy from Darktron’s blade and the cruiser explodes around him. Keith winces at the loss of life.
Panting, Lotor, drives Sincline after Darktron again. It's a futile gesture, each strike easily blocked.
“He’s going to die…” Allura realizes.
“We’ll have to hope that Darktron uses up too much energy to keep up the armor.”
“He won’t last that long.”
As if to prove the point, Dark kicks Sincline into an asteroid, shattering it.
“He...probably won't.” Keith admits.
“If he had some kind of edge…”
“What about all that teleporting he did to rough us up back when we fought?” Lance asks.
“No, that’s far too dangerous. It compromised the space-time barrier last time.”
“Actually…” Pidge says, fingers flying across a keyboard. “That was more about the way he did it, than what he did.”
“You think…”
“If I’ve got this right then...”
She keeps typing for a few more moments, then sends a file.
Inside the Sincline cockpit, a mathematical equation appears on the side of his screen.
“Lotor!” Pidge says. “If you control your energy output, I think you could safely slide back and forth to the unlimited quintessence field.”
His eyes widen at the mention of the field. His facial muscles twitch with horror.
“It might be the only way to-”
“No!” He snarls, dismissing the equation to drive his mecha after Darktron again. “I’ll never step foot in that place again! Never!”
He unleashes a series of powerful blows, one after the other aimed at Darktron’s head. The swings are batted away as if they’d come from a child.
“Really, I’m not sure I can believe you’re really me from this reality.” The Lotor inside Darktron mocks. He knocks aside Sincline’s blade and swings Darktron’s sword at the other mecha’s chest. The blade carves a deep gash in Sincline’s armor. Undeterred, Sincline drives forward to swing again.
“I consider myself a smart man. So how can you be so stupid as to join the side of this war doomed to fail? What possessed you to make such an idiotic choice?”
“At least I made a choice! Instead of bending to Zarkon’s will yet again!”
The response catches the Paladin Lotor off-guard enough that Sincline nearly lands a blow on Darktron’s head. Paladin Lotor blocks the thrust by the narrowest of margins. Honerva then blasts Sincline in the chest, hurling him backwards. His ragged breaths can be heard over the comm.
Allura watches with a pained expression, as Lotor drives Sincline into motion one more time. Her knuckles are white on the throttles.
“We can’t just sit here!”
“This is Keith, do we have anyone available to assist?” Keith says over the comm.
“A bit tied up at the moment…” Matt says with a strained voice.
“We are much the same, I’m afraid!” Skriel reports.
“On our way!” Coran reports, “We’re almost done mopping up this backline!”
“They won’t get here in time…” Allura says, almost to herself. “...if Lotor falls here, we really do lose.”
Her expression hardens. She draws in a breath. She begins to glow with a light blue hue. Her hands crackle as energy drains from her into her lion. A flicker of light races across her console.
Sincline, cracked armor, one sword remaining charges at Darktron again.
“We’re about to lose this form.” Honerva reports.
“Then let’s take care of one last thing before we do…” Zarkon says.
Darktron raises it's sword, the blade burning with violet flame. Still, Sincline charges, sword held before him.
“Come on...come on…” Zarkron says with anticipation as the other mecha grows closer. Darktron swings blade fall down at Sincline one last time.
The Blue Lion’s sonar cannon fires. Assaulted by the vibration of energy, Darktron's swing is thrown off ever so slightly. It misses Sincline, blade throwing an arc of energy that destroys several galra ships in the distance. Sincline uses the opening to thrust for Darktron’s face. Zarkon throws the mecha into motion, twisting it to avoid the blade. A grazing blow slides against Darktron’s cheek.
Furious, Zarktron drives Darktron forward and Sincline is flung backwards by a punch to the chest. Whirling on the Blue Lion, Zarkon shouts:
“Raimon! Spear her!”
Allura tries to move her lion, but what little energy it’d regained had been spent by the cannon.
Raimon slams his bayard into place and the harpoon gun appears on Darktron’s shoulder. He moves to fire, but something stops him.
He stares at the Blue Lion, as if really seeing it for the first time. An image of Allura appears in his mind. He shakes his head, as if trying to dismiss the thought.
My father...King Alfor would always fight to the bitter end to stop men like Zarkon!
He shudders at the memory of the voice, putting a hand to the side of his helmet. A series of flashes: Altean burning. Zarkon standing over Alfor. Allura’s body in space.
You belong to Zarkon! A voice screams in his head.
He fires but at the last minute shifts the aim. The harpoon goes well off course, missing The Blue Lion entirely.
“You missed!?” Zarkon says, incredulous. “Why you useless little-”
“Zarkon!” Honverva suddenly says.
He turns, a fraction of a moment too late to see Sincline swing. It's blade tears a horizontal line across Darktron’s body.
The outer armor shatters, breaking into shards of violet light before disappearing. Darktron’s smaller unarmored form beneath is blown backwards.
Everyone, the paladins, the dark paladins, even Lotor who struck the blow are completely taken aback by what just happened.
Then a manic smile crossed Sincline Lotor’s lips.
He starts swinging.
The Dark Paladins are still too stunned to block Sincline’s first swing. The blades flashes, scoring a violet scar across Darktron’s chestpiece. Darktron’s sword rises just barely in time to block the second swing. Sincline follows the swing up with a punch to Darktron’s face, sending the other mecha reeling.
The Paladins for Voltron watch with astonishment.
“He...he might actually do it.” Allura says, eyes glued to Sincline’s assault.
“I’m not so sure…” Keith replies, expression uncertain.
Darktron shrugs off a kick from Sincline and drives it's blade forward, arcing for the other mecha’s head. Sincline blocks, but is still driven backwards. Darktron tries to press its advantages but Sincline wedges one arm under the blade into Darktron’s gut and lets loose with an energy blast from it's forearm.
Darktron is rocked backwards and Sincline manages to land a glancing blow on Darktron’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong!?” Lotor tauts from within Sincline. “Nothing to say now!? You were so confident earlier, what happened? Not so scary once I tore that armor off you are you!?”
Taking his sword in both hands, he hammers his blade down against Darktron’s shield, driving the other mecha back with each blow.
In spite of this, Zarkon’s face is unpaniced.
“Raimon,” he says, “I trust you...momentary lapse was just that?”
The other dark paladin hesitates before replying.
“Raimon.” Zarkon says more forcefully. “Who is your master?”
“You, Zarkon.” He replies immediately
“Hm. When I tell you to use the harpoon you damn-well better hit the target this time.”
“...yes...my lord.”
“Now…”
Sincline’s assault on Darktron’s shield has not lessened. In fact it's only increased, attacks growing in speed and ferocity. His unhinged laughter can be heard over the comms. Each blow drives the shield and Darktron back.
And so he’s somewhat caught off-guard when Darktron drops the shield entirely. The mecha twists to the side, Sincline’s blade narrowly missing it's head. Darktron drives a fist into Sincline’s chest as it goes past. Sincline reeling, Darktron moves in, thrusts it's sword for Sincline’s head. He deflects and moves to retreat back and gain some breathing room.
“Raimon!”
The harpoon gun appears on Darktron’s shoulder and fires. It's harpoon sticks into Sincline’s chest and reels him in. He throws a haphazard swing as he’s drawn close but Darktron’s own blade knocks it aside. The two mechas smash together, spinning through space.
“I think you’ve miscalculated Zarkron!” Sincline Lotor spits. “From this distance, I can’t miss!”
With that declaration energy begins to build in Sincline’s chest.
“I have made…”
Darktron’s green arm reaches out to the side as Honerva slams her bayard into place.
“...no miscalculation.”
A dagger with a blade as dark as space itself appears in Darktron’s hand. It's driven point-first into Sincline’s gut.
“You’ll have to do more than that to bring down my…”
The energy gathering around Sincline’s chest fades. A new glow appears. Where the dagger stabs into the mecha’s armor, violet quintessence bleeds out, all sucked up by the blade.
Alarms pop up all over the screens in Sincline’s cockpit. Lotor’s eyes widen with panic.
“What did you think we based the robeasts spears on?” Honerva states.
Sincline struggles to break free of the fatal embrace, driving a fist over and over into Darktron’s face. It fails to disengage the two. Each blow from Sincline lands a bit weaker than the last one.
The Paladins watch the life bleed away for Sincline.
It is then that the White Lion rockets towards the scene.
“Paladins!” Coran says. “We’re here to assist!”
“Coran! The White Lion!”
“Yes Princess! It worked! Now let’s see what we can do about those drained lions!”
“No wait, do not endanger yourselves!”
“With respect Princess, it's time for us to do our part in this fight.”
She hesitates. “...very well.”
“Now then...initiate energy transfer!”
The White Lion opens its mouth and five tendrils of white energy shoot out to embrace the Lions of Voltron.
“Hold tight, Paladins. This might take a tick.”
They continue to watch the battle before them.
Darktron’s jets fire, pushing both mechas through space. Lotor watches Sincline’s energy-levels dwindle. They speed towards an asteroid behind Sincline. Making one last struggle, Sincline manages to pull his sword between the two of them and slice the tether holding them together. Then he kicks Darktron back, finally breaking the dagger’s vampiric connection.
Sincline hits the asteroid in a crouch, surface cracking underfoot. A quick consultation of energy-levels shows Lotor just how truly bad a shape he is in. Darktron hovers just above.
“One last chance.” He says, gritting his teeth, brandishing his mecha’s sword.
Letting out a battle-cry, Lotor drives Sincline into motion, kicking off the asteroid to swing his sword with all the power he has left. The blade is a blur, almost too fast to be seen.
Darktron is faster.
It catches Sincline by the sword-arm mid-swing.
Darktron smashes Sincline back down into the asteroid, shattering its surface. Sincline tries to swing a punch with it's free-arm, but Darktron slams a foot down on that arm as well.
“It seems the Zarkon of this reality never quite managed your discipline properly. Allow me to rectify his mistake.”
Darktron drives the blade down through Sincline’s shoulder. Zarktron slams his bayard into place.
The Sword erupts into violet flames. The join shatters into molten bits, arm breaking free of the body.
Lotor screams in pain as if he’d just lost his own arm. Still, he struggles to break free, Sincline writhing under Darktron’s foot.
Darktron raises its other foot and slams it down into Sincline’s head.
“You…”
The foot slams down again, driving Sincline deeper into the asteroid.
“...are…”
Again. Paladin Lotor winces. Honerva’s face is like a stone.
“...NOTHING!”
At the third hit, Sincline no longer struggles.
Darktron raises its sword.
“If you see your father wherever you’re going, tell him I’m going to take good care of this universe he left behind.”
“Go to hell.” Lotor spits out, barely conscious.
“I think you’ll be getting there first.”
Darktron lets the sword drop.
A blast of blue energy slams into Darktron hurling it off the asteroid. It takes only a moment for the Dark Paladins to right Darktron and turn to see who deprived them of the kill.
Voltron, reformed, hovers across from then, Castle of Lions just behind.
Zarkon sneers. “Is everyone in this reality really so keen on being the first one to die!? Fine. Can we actually finish what we started this time?”
“Sounds good to me.” Keith replies, eyes narrowing.
Both mechas prepare to fly at each other.
“Lord Zarkon!” Luca’s voice suddenly breaks out over the comm.
“What is it!?” Zarkon demands.
“The Array is ready!”
For a moment, all is still.
The paladins of both Voltrons stare at each other, then at the distant Array, beginning to crackle with energy.
Voltron and Darktron booster wings both materialize and erupt with fiery energy as they race towards the Array.
***
Admiral Sanda crawls from the wreckage of her broken fighter, atop an enemy galra cruiser. Her magnetic boots fasten her to the surface of the galra cruiser. In her hands is a Garrison-issue Las-gun. She’s making for the command tower. Long before she can make it a hatch opens and a galra sentinel climbs out. Sanda puts a hole in the first one’s head. It's replaced by another a moment later, gun blasting. She swears and takes cover behind a groove in the cruiser’s armor.
More sentries climb out. A squad of five of them approach, blasting at her cover, keeping her pinned down.
“Dammit.” She sighs. “Always knew I was gonna die in space. Couldn’t have been on a beach, could it? This is what I get for not taking my early retirement package.”
The only reply comes in the form of more energy-blasts raining against her cover. Sanda sighs again. She checks her gun and gets ready to pop back out from cover. The sentries grow closer, stepping past another entry hatch. It opens behind them.
At the same time as Sand leaps out from behind cover, the new figure pounces from the hatch. She blasts a sentinel in the chest. The figure decapitates one from behind. She shoots another in the head. The figure cuts down the final two with a pair of swift delicate cuts.
Sanda lands in a crouch, panting. She studies the figure.
The figure is a galra, clad in traditional military armor. But he holds a mamoran blade.
“You one of our alien spies?” Sand sniffs.
“I am Pavok, a Blade of Marmora. And you, are fortunate to have landed on this ship. We only managed to get agents on a few of them in advance of this attack.”
Sanda scoffs. “I’ll count my lucky stars. Seems to be plenty of them around here.” She gestures to the cluster around them.
“So...what now?”
“I can help you secure a fighter from which to escape...”
“Or?”
“Or, I suppose you could join me in attempting to take the bridge.”
“How’s our odds?”
“Poor. We will likely perish.”
Sanda considered. “Well, I’m already a day away from retirement.”
“Ma’am?”
“Might as well push my luck a little further, eh?”
The Blade smiles. “Very well.”
***
The rings of the Array crackle with energy, filtered through the robeasts and their altean pilots. The altean’s screams are unrelenting over the comms.
Voltron and Darktron rocket towards those rings, past the storm of warring ships around them as two blurs of light. They clash every few moments, blades meeting as they each try to throw the other off course. Neither give an inch.
“Why must you make this so difficult!?” Zarkon demands. “Don’t you get tired of being beaten over and over!?”
“We’re just stubborn like that! Never learn our lesson!” Keith retorts.
They clash again, waves of energy from their blades, blasting apart any fighters unfortunate enough to be nearby.
“For all the good it’ll do you! I am going to remake this universe in my own image!”
“No, you won’t! Because we’re stopping you right here! Allura!”
The harpoon gun appears on Voltron’s shoulder. Darktron is unable to dodge from the close range and is speared. Voltron then stops suddenly, jerking the other mecha back before swinging it into the side of an enemy galra vessel. Votlron lets loose with hand-bladers obliterating the ship around Darktron.
Voltron bursts back into motion, leaving Darktron behind in the debris.
Growling, Zarktron drives Darktron into motion after them.
“Sendak!”
Darktron’s cannon fires, aimed straight for Voltron’s back. Voltron manages to dodge to the side, but is still grazed by the blast, throwing it into an erratic tumble and clipping the side of an asteroid. Darktron uses the opportunity to speed up and backhand Voltron through the center of the asteroid. Darktron takes the lead.
Keith drives Voltron back into maximum speed. But Darktron closes in on the Array.
“Hunk are we in range of those rings?”
“Yeah?”
“Turn ‘em to scrap!”
Hunk’s cannon appears and fires.
“No!” Zarkon refutes, pulling up to summon the greater shield and reflect the blast back at Voltron. Voltron doesn’t slow or dodge, instead taking the energy along the blade of its sword. Voltron swings, but rather than block, Zarkon allows the hit to cut into Darktron’s shoulder-armor. The Dark Paladins feel the pain of Voltron’s blade bringing through their armor. But by taking this hit Darktron is able to gain an opening to summon and stab its dagger into Voltron’s side.
Immediately Darktron begins to drain Voltron of its quintessence.
Pidge dismisses the shield and clamps down on Darktron’s green arm, trying to pry it loose. But Voltron’s fading strength does not allow it to overcome Darktron’s own growing power.
“That is game, little ones.” Zarkron says, triumphantly.
Pidge doesn’t give up on trying to pry the other arm away. The other Paladins throw all their strength into disentangling the other mecha.
“I’ve run the calculations.” Honerva says with a sigh. “You’re out of option.”
Straining, Pidge cracks a pained smile. “I think you forgot to account for one irregular variable.”
“Such as?”
Pidge’s bayard port opens. “Us!”
She releases Darktron’s arm and slams her bayard into place. Voltron’s dagger appears in its hand, stabbing into Darktron’s side.
The two mechas hang there in the space in front of the array, draining and recharging on each other in an unending loop.
“Think you said something about that being game!?” Keith taunts.
Zarkon doesn’t reply at first, straining to pry away from the Voltron. It is just as futile as it was for Voltorn before.
But something catches his eye. He grins with malice.
“...and it is.”
Luca’s robeast slams into the side of Voltron, tearing it off Darktron. Voltron knocks the robeats aside, but a new one behind slices Voltron’s back, throwing it into the strike of yet a third robeast.
“We have them my Lords!” Luca declares as all three unleash blasts on Voltron.
“...excellent.”
Zarkron lets out a satisfied sigh, then turns to the Array, unimpeded.
***
From across the starfield, inside the battered and broken Sincline, Lotor rouses. He spits glowing purple blood from his mouth and sits up. Even that simple action causes him to grimace.
He hits a few keys on his console and the viewport magnifies, showing Darktron and Voltron’s struggle. And he sees Voltron knocked back and forth by the robeasts. Watches as Darktron flies up to the Array and stretches out a hand towards the innermost rings. Energy crackles, ready to drain into Darktron unlimited power.
He tries to force Sincline to rise. The mecha lets out a shudder of grinding metal and manages to get halfway up from rising before falling back down to the asteroid.
Lotor lies back in his seat, looking totally and completely drained.
“So that’s it then…”
He closes his eyes in apparent acceptance.
“...Zarkon wins...”
His brow twitches. He grits his teeth.
Then suddenly, he sits back up, fingers flying across his console. He brings up Pidge’s calculations from earlier. He keys in the algorithm but stops before typing in the last number.
He hesitates, then looks back across the starfield at Darktron about to receive the payload of the rings.
Then drawing in a shuddering breath and wincing in anticipation of pain, Lotor keys in the final digit.
Sincline vanishes in a flash of light.
***
The crackling energy throughout the rings swell.
“Yes…” Zarkon says with glee. “...the field is opening.”
The energy traces down one ring after the other, finally it comes to the last one. A breach in the space above the ring opens, blinding light bleeding out. This flash of pure energy can be seen throughout the entire star cluster, dwarfing even that of the stars themselves.
“Finally! Give it all to me! Unlimited-”
Something flies through the breach. Trailing burning energy behind it, Sincline, blazing with quintessence flies down the middle of the ring and swings its one remaining fist into Darktron.
Force of the blow, supercharged with quintessence, flings the other mecha halfway across the star cluster. The collective forces of both sides seem to pause in their relentless battle, universally gaping at the display.
And then, the Array unleashes its payload. It has only one place to go.
Into Sincline. A storm of pure quintessence funnels into the mecha.
“...yes!” He says, laughing madly. “This absolutely agonizing ecstasy!”
The fractures in its armor armor seal up. It gains a new arm, materialized out of raw energy.
“This wonderful euphoric pain! Just as magnificent and terrible as I remember! No...no that’s not right. More concentrated than before! It magnified! Such blissful torment!”
The Paladins of Voltron watch with horrified awe.
“We’ve got to do something!” Lance says.
“Agreed.” Keith says. “We don’t know what he plans to do with that power, so we’ve got to pull him out of there asap!”
Voltron moves towards Sincline. Before they can even get within arms reach a wave of energy releases from Sincline, blasting Voltron backwards.
“Stay back! This power is mine!”
His face is contorted into anger for a moment, but quickly changes back to awe as he stares off at something seen only to him.
“With this power I could do...anything.”
Sincline glows brighter, more quintessence funneling in.
“I could purge the galaxy of Zarkon’s influence. Undo every dark design he ever made. Change worlds for the better. Change every world for the better...”
“Allura can you pull him out of there with the harpoon!?” Keith asks.
She stares at Sincline, glowing ever brighter.
“Allura?”
She closes her eyes and sighs.
“Let me talk to him.”
“But-”
“-Keith. Do you trust me?”
“...of course I do.”
“Then let me talk to him.”
Keith looks like he wants to argue. He studies the other mecha and chews on his lip. Finally he sits back and nods. “...alright.”
“Thank you.” She smiles gratefully, then opens a private comm channel.
“...Lotor.”
“I could fix it all...it's so simple…”
“Lotor.” She says, more forcefully this time.
He breaks from his reverie. “Allura...don’t you see?”
“See what, Lotor?”
“I could do anything. I could even bring them back.”
She hesitates. “You mean...the atleans you…”
“The alteans I betrayed and murdered.” he says mournfully. But his voice quickly regains strength, taking on an almost manic tone. “I could undo it all! I could finally make it right, Allura! Maybe then...it’ll all have been worth it. Maybe then I’ll be able to sleep right. I...I could even rebuild altea itself!”
For a moment she seems almost as taken with the idea as he is.
“I could finally make up for-” His voice cracks. “-for all of my mistakes.”
That breaks Allura from her musing.
“...no, Lotor. That isn’t right.”
“What!? Why?” He demands.
“Because this power is so much greater than you are. Don’t you see that this is what started you on your path to begin with? You’re still trying to gain enough power to fix everything you see wrong with the universe. But that isn’t your place Lotor. It's not up to you to decide who lives and who dies. No matter how powerful you are, you’re not a god. You’re just a man.
“And what’s so wrong with wanting to be more than a man!?” His voice takes on a pleading tone. “What’s wrong with just wanting things to be right? With wanting an end to all the suffering? Suffering that I had a big part in.”
“I know you’re trying to make those mistakes right now. But this isn’t the way. You don’t know what this power will do. To the things you change. To you. Look at what just a fraction of this did to Zarkon.”
“But…” his voice grows weak. “...they trusted me, Allura. They trusted me. If I don’t try to bring them back how will I ever live with myself?”
“By taking responsibility for what you did. Not trying to make it so it didn’t happen.”
His face grows somber.
“I just...just wanted to take care of them. Just wanted to do this one thing, to finally put things right for my people.”
“I know...and part of me wants to tell you to do it. To rebuild everything our people lost. To bring back all those wrongfully killed. But a deeper, more honest part of me, the part that my father taught, knows that it would not turn out like you plan. That power, even if used for good, would corrupt you. Just let it go Lotor.”
His face is a mask of warring emotions. “I...I’m not sure I know how. I’m not sure I even know how to do the right thing.”
“Yes you do. No matter what you’ve done, no matter what I or anyone else has said before, you aren’t Zarkon. You can still let this go.”
“He gives the slightest of nods.
“And Lotor?”
“Yes?”
“One more thing: The altean people aren’t your responsibility. They’re mine.”
He hesitates, then smiles.
“...as usual, you’re right. Alright, Princess. I guess it's time for me to recognize my own responsibility...”
And then he opens the comms to everyone.
“Attention to all alteans listening!”
Allura’s eyes widen.
“My name is Lotor. And I am not that imposter that has been using you these past months. I am the real one. I know you. Vatta, Dramor, Lagmor. Romelle, Sahan, Merv. Venjya, Astras, Leynor...and Luca.”
Luca’s eyes widen.
“...and so many others. I’ve known you your entire lives. I brought you together when you were exiled across the galaxy. I built you a home in a place where Zarkon would never find you. I watched you raise a statue in my image, and I did not stop you. And then I took your own from you bit by bit, in the promise of a new, greater home. I gave you hope in the darkest of times…
He takes in a shuddering breath.
“...and it was all lies.”
The faces of alteans all across the battle grow shocked.
“I tore them away from you to use for experiments. To get more quintessence. I told myself it was in the name of building a better home for alteans. But in truth I was draining innocent alteans of their life force...until they died. I killed dozens of them for the ‘greater good’. I betrayed and murdered those who trusted me the most. I said I cared, but In the end I used you for my own goals.”
He stares down at his hand, reflecting on his own words.
“...and the imposters you serve now are no better! Those dark liars are not here for your salvation! They’re just more opportunists come along to use you, just as I used you! Look at your brothers and sisters stuck in this Array you built for them! Do you not hear their screams? Do you not feel their pain!?”
The screams seem to grow louder. Prince Lotor, inside Darktron racing back towards the Array, looks almost as haunted as his counterpart. Inside her robeast, Luca’s hands weaken on her controls.
“...but there is someone here, someone fighting in this very battle who has never once done anything except for the good of you. Someone who would give her own life and suffer a thousand pains to prevent even a single altean from experiencing what I put them through. It's Princess Allura, of the true Voltron. She’s struggling to help you even now, as you fight her tooth and nail. I will not tell you to fight for her. I won’t tell you to do anything any longer. I just ask that you look inside and see the truth of what I say! You know. You’ve felt it. Decide who you really want to fight for!”
He lets out a sigh and closes the comm.
“You’ve done the right thing, Lotor.” Allura says.
“I...suppose I have.”
Sincline’s glow continues to grow brighter. The alteans in the Array continue to scream.”
“...now, how do I stop this?! It's killing them!”
He tries to push the energy back through the rings of the Array, but it is like trying to stem the tide of the ocean with a hand. It washes over his efforts and drains back into Sincline.
“I can’t seem to stop it!”
“That won't do it!” Pidge says. “The breach is open now. Even if you could stop it from flowing into you, the tear would just grow and grow until it rips reality apart!”
“Do you have a suggestion of how to avoid that then!?”
She runs some calculations.
“...you need to turn it back in on itself. Make the energy work to contain the breach.”
“You mean…”
“You need to make a black hole. It's the only way to keep the breach from growing in size.”
Lotor chuckles. “Then I shall make a black hole.”
With that Sincline throws both of its hands back through the Array, and unleashes the energy it's gathered back directly into the breach. At first the flow starts to spill past, but he redoubles his efforts, and soon an orb begins to grow where the rift opens to the array.
“He’ll need a lot of mass to toss into the black hole.” Hunk points out. “Otherwise it won't be able to sustain itself and will just invert again.”
“Attention all Coalition Forces!” Keith orders. “We need uh...mass. Anything you can get. Asteroids, debris, enemy ships. Shove it all into the orb. We need to turn it into a black hole. This is priority number-one. Now to get those alt…”
Keith’s voice trails off as Luca and the four remaining robeasts approach. Voltron and the robeasts are both still for a tantalizing moment, light from the orb dancing across their armor.
“...what do we need to do to save them?” Luca finally says.
Allura allows herself the slightest of smiles.
“Start pulling them off one by one! But it's going to get harder, and more dangerous as each one is pulled off. The energy draining through will get more and more concentrated. So you’ll have to pull off the last five in sync or the strain will kill them.”
“Understood.”
Luca makes a move past them, but hesitates.
“...you saved me. Even after I betrayed you.”
“I’d do it again.” Allura replies.
Luca ever so slightly nods to herself. She and the other robeast move past Sincline, sparing not a glance for the mecha or it's pilot. They each grab another robeats on the widest ring, and strain to pull them out. The energy crackles around them, trying to keep them within the Array. But after a time, they are able to rip several of their comrades free. A few of the screams die down. They move onto the next ones.
Keith sighs with relief. “That’s one thing out of the way. Now-”
Darktron smashes into Voltron at so fast a speed that it's sent hurling back through space.
“...you ignorant, childish, FOOLS!” Zarkon bellows. “You took what was mine! You think just because you delayed my plans that you’ve stopped me!? You will never stop me! Even if it takes me a thousand years, and I have to bleed dry a thousand realities, I will have what is mine!”
He lets loose another blast upon Voltron. Voltron throws up it's shield blocking the blast, but a second impact drives into Voltron.
The World Bane hovers behind, hammer outstretched.
“Go on my lord, do what you have to.”
“Try to keep those children occupied.” Zarkon says, as Darktron plunges it's dagger into the nearest robeast. The energy begins to bleed into Darktron. “I’ve some energy to recover.”
The energy drains not just from the robeast’s core, but from the young altean boy in the cockpit as well. He starts to scream. Inside the red arm, Prince Lotor stares at the scene, disturbed. He glances at the alteans still suffering inside the Array, then over to Sincline. His gaze falls.
“...I’m sorry.” He says quietly.
He is not the only one who watches. Raimon does as well. And his hands grow tighter on his controls.
***
Sanda and Pavok crouch in the corridor leading into the bridge. They trade shots with the ship’s bridge personnel. The blasted remains of the door lie on the floor in front of them. The clanking of metal boots sounds behind as a team of sentinels approaches their rear.
Pavok passes Sanda a grenade which she promptly tosses behind her. There’s an explosion followed by sentinel parts rattling across the floor.
Keith’s voice comes over the comm. “Attention all Coalition Forces! We need uh...mass. Anything you can get. Asteroids, debris, enemy ships. Shove it all into the orb. We need to turn it into a Black Hole. This is priority number-one.”
Sanda shares a look with Pavok. “Did he just say they’re trying to make a Black Hole?”
“He did.” Pavok confirms, throwing his blade into the chest of a bridge officer, before shooting another.
Sanda shakes her head. “You know I still remember a time when we didn’t even know for sure that aliens even existed?”
“Life takes you strange places.” The Blade says, dashing into the bridge.
Sanda gives him cover-fire as he makes for the blade he threw. He wrenches it from the chest of the officer and swings it in a wide arc, dispatching the remaining officers in a single sweep of his blade.
Sanda steps inside, keeping her gun on the hallway she just exited. She eyes the remains of the door.
“Wish we hadn’t had to blow that thing. We won’t be able to hold this location for long.”
As if in agreement, the sound of more metal boots rings out from somewhere further down the corridor.
“Then we’ll have to make our time here count.”
Pavok goes to the controls. On the viewport at the front of the bridge, a display of the battle is shown. Darktron struggles with the robeasts, while behind, the glowing orb grows larger. Countless cruisers from both sides still blast away at each other.
“We might be able to get one shot off and destroy or cripple another ship. That’s about the best we can hope for.” Pavok says.
Sanda considers. Then, a smile grows on her face.
“...can you put us on a collision course?”
Pavok gives a quizzical tilt of his head.
“That ship over there looks mighty close to that big orb, there. They said they needed mass. What’s say we give them two cruisers worth of it?”
Pavok smiles. “I’m starting to like you, human.”
“Then I must be doing something wrong.” She replies flatly, though a tinkle of a smile still enters her eyes.
Pavok keys in a series of commands into the control, then throws a throttle forward. The ship lurches with the sudden forward momentum. It makes for a nearby sister-cruiser, hovering not far from the orb. Sanda then shoots the console, rendering it unusable.
Pavok nods in approval. “Now, we really ought to get off this ship.”
***
The commander of the enemy galra ship realizes what the approaching ship is doing far too late. The hijacked cruiser smashes into the other, driving both towards the orb. Sanda and Pavok watch it from a galra fighter, racing away from the scene.
The two ships, upon contact with the orb, rupture, armor melting to slag. Then their internal frames begin to warp, drawing in towards the orb. Finally, they break apart into shards. Shards that are swallowed by the orb.
The orb then dims, not satisfied by just the solid material it consumed. It must feat upon the light itself too. It grows darker, light around it starting to distort. Yet the bright scar of the breach remains where Sincline still blasts into it.
Sanda whistles.
“Hot damn. They really are making a black hole.”
The change seems to go unnoticed by Darktron and the battling robeasts.
“Should we provide aid?” Pavok suggests.
“I think...we should stick to more conventional fighting. We’ve tempted fate enough for one day. Let’s let the giant robots fight the giant robots.”
***
The World Bane brings it's hammer down on Voltron a second time, smashing it to fall towards one of the nearby planets. Voltron pulls itself up before plummeting into the atmosphere, but the World Band smashes it's hammer again, trying to drive Voltron down further. Voltorn resists the blow with its shield, struggling to hold its ground.
“We don’t have time for this!” Keith exclaims.
“Huhuh, really? Because I do.” Ru’vak remarks. A blast erupts from it's single eye, taking Voltron off-guard. Voltron, struck in the face, falls back with it's guard slipping open. The World Bane raises it's hammer to swing once more, but before it can attack further the White Lion swoops in to let loose a mouth blast. The World Ban blocks with it's shield, energy washing over the dark metal. Before it can mount a counter-attack the Atlas and Paladin Crusher both smash into its back.
“I’m surprised. I thought after the thrashing I gave you two, you’d have the good sense to stay down.”
The two mechas are indeed battered, armor cracking or even ripped off in some places. But still they struggle.
“You’ll-” Skriel lets out a hacking cough, “H-have to do more than that to keep up down!”
“Y-yeah we’re stubborn like that!” Matt adds.
They do their best to restrain the larger mecha while the White Lion sprays it with energy-blasts.
“We’ve got this, go on!”
“Thanks guys!” Keith replies
Voltron rockets back towards where Darktron is attacking the robeasts.
The World Bane tosses the Paladin Crusher off it's arm, then swings the Atlas in front of the White Lion’s blast, forcing it to take the blow. Then it launches forward and swings it's bladed shield for the Lion’s neck. White Lion manages to block with its jaw-blade. Barely. It is still flung back, tumbling in orbit over the planet.
The Paladin Crusher is the first to recover. It throws itself at the World Bane. It grapples the other mecha to try to keep it from using its powerful melee weapons. The Paladin Crusher opens it's maw to fire it's mouth-blaster while the World Bane fires it's eye-blaster at the same time. The two beams of destructive energy meet, equalizing for a moment in a torrent of glowing light. But the World Bane’s soon overcomes that of the Paladin Crusher. The blast smashes into the Crusher face, tossing it backwards. Meanwhile the Atlas tries to thrust an armblade into the Bane’s exposed back.
“Vinas Perth.” Ru’vak utters as his mecha swings a roundhouse kick into the Atlas sending it spinning back. “Ancient galra martial arts form.”
Finally, the White Lion makes another dash at the enemy mecha, this time swinging an energy-wreathed claw. The World Band simply tilts it's hammer and drives the back of the haft into the White Lion’s underbelly.
“Dalas stuk, modern galra military staff-fighting.”
Alteans go tumbling inside the White Lion as it is thrown backwards again.
“So undisciplined.” Ru’vak sighs.
“Things-” Matt coughs, “Looking pretty bad, huh?”
“Sure seems that way, oho.” Skriel says weakly.
“Well then,” Coran says, oddly still chipper. “What say we use that secret weapon we’ve been saving.”
“You wanna use that eh?” Matt muses.
“If you must.” Skriel scoffs. “Though I resent having to team up with a bunch of humans and alteans in such a...uncomfortably close manner.”
“No time for that now, it's time to get snug! Coran?”
“Right away! Initiating combination!”
Coran slams both hands down on the controls. The White Lion begins to split apart. Meanwhile Matt activates something on his own fixture, and the Atlas’s armor opens up in an accommodating manner. Thirdly, the Paladin Crusher splits back to four individual pieces. The White Lion wraps itself over the Atlas’ head and shoulders. The four warlord ships then each attach themselves to one of Atlas’ limbs, making them longer and thicker. Finally, everything seals together and the armor takes on a golden lustor.
“Presenting for the first time ever: Leon Guardian!”
The new mecha rips a glowing lance into existence.
“...well now, huhuhu!” Ru’vak says, sounding excited. “Finally, and interesting development!”
He bears his hammer in both hands. “Let us dispense with the tricks and tools and simply pit strength against strength!”
“Fine by us!” Matt declares.
The two mecah change at each other, Leon Guardian with his Lance, World Bane with it's hammer. But right before the two meet, The World Bane suddenly reactivates it's shield, deflecting the lance, opening the Guardian up for a sidelong blow with the hammer.
“Vintas sen, pit-fighting, naive ones!” He bellows in victory as the rocket-powered hammer swings for the Leon Guardian’s head. But the guardian, already in motion, twists to spin a backfist into the World Bane’s face. The World Bane hammer soars over the Guardian’s head, thrown off-course by the blow. Ru’vak is stunned.
“Altean fisticuffs, my good man!” Coran declares.
Ru’vak tries to swing an elbow into the other mecha’s side but it's blocked and countered by a knee to the abdomen by the Guardian.
“Garrison combat training!” Matt yells out.
As a last ditch effort, the World Bane’s eye glows, preparing to fire.
“And this!...well I guess you’d just call it galran drunken brawling technique!” Skriel cries as the World Bane is grabbed by the neck and the Leon Guardian smashes it's head into the other mecha’s.
The armor on the World Bane’s head cracks, single eye bleeding energy.
“Th-that…” Ru’vak stammers. “...was really quite impressive.”
Coran, Matt and Skriel grin. “Glad you thought so!” they say in unison. “Now…”
The Leon Guardian back it's lance once more, glowing with a golden light.
“Starlight-Lance Attack!”
It drives the lance straight through the World-Bane’s chest. It busts out the other end, the World Bane’s core impaled on it's tip. The Guardian flicks the core off to spin out and explode in the planet’s atmosphere, while the World Bane goes limp behind.
“You sure were tough...but you were fighting the combined power of humans, alteans and galra today.” Matt says.
“Ohoho and most importantly, the great Skriel!”
Coran chuckles. “Yes, one cannot forget that.”
“Well played…” Ru’vak says, smiling. “...very well played.”
***
Raimon watches Darktron finish draining a robeast. He is greeted with memories of a burning altea, screams of the pain mirroring that of the altean they drain. But the image vanishes, replaced by an image of Zarkon’s glowing eyes.
You belong to Zarkon. Honverva’s voice says in his mind.
Darktron casts the sapped robeast aside, and launches at the next one. They take evasive action, pulling away from the advancing mecha and firing blasts of energy. Darktron blocks the blasts on it's shield.
“They think they can run? Alteans. Raimon, reel one in.”
Raimon immediately summons the harpoon gun and takes aim.
Voltron dashes in front of them.
“No! You’ve done enough to them!” Allura cries. “You will hurt no more of my people today!
My people...
Raimon is confronted by a series of images. A youthful Allura. Her mother. Alfor trying to stop Zarkon. Alfor failing. Altea burning. Everything burning. Zarkon laughing.
She fought to the end...too much like her father…
An image of Allura dead, in the void of space.
Honerva with a hand over his face.
You belong to Zarkon.
A pulse of pain in the form of violet lighting.
You belong to Zarkon.
More pain.
You belong to Zarkon. You belong to Zarkon. You belong to Zarkon!
Zarkon! Zarkon! Zarkon!
The voice screams at him.
ZARKON!
Then, silence.
...if you’re Alfor, then I know there must be some part of you still fighting him!
His body stiffens.
“Raimon!” Shouts Zarkon, the real one, not a memory. “What are you waiting for? Spear them now!”
Raimon stares out the viewport at Voltron. He reaches out towards the blue leg as if feeling something from there. Then, he looks up at the sword held in Voltron’s grip. He remembers when he held that blade. His eyes clear, as if from a fog. His hand tightens into a fist.
“Raimon!” Zarkon yells again.
“...Alfor.”
“...what did you say?” Zarkon asks, voice as cold as the vacuum of space.
“My name...is King Alfor.” His voice gains strength, “And I do not serve you, Zarkon!”
All is silent for an eternal, chilling second. Allura's face goes from disbelief to tearful amazement.
For the barest moment Zarkon seems lost for words. He shakes himself.
“I don't have time for this.” He shoves Darktron into motion, aiming for the next robeast. Alfor throws his throttles in the opposite direction, resisting Zarkon. But the other Dark Paladins join in to overwhelm Alfor’s resistance. Voltron moves forward.
“You’ll have to get through us!” Keith declares.
“Will I?”
Darktron turns, cannon appearing, but rather than aiming at Voltron, it takes aim at Sincline, still forming the now-dark orb. Keith curses under his breath throwing Voltron into motion. It barely gets the shield up in time to take the brunt of the blast meant for Sincline. Voltorn is still sent hurling blackward by the force of the beam.
Darkon launches itself at the next robeast, sinking the dagger in.
“That’s it…” Zarkon says. “...just a little more.”
Luca swings at Darktron’s back. Lotor blocks with the sword.
“I can’t let you do that, my lord.” She says the title with disdain.
Prince Lotor winces. She drives forward, thrusting for Darktron’s chest. Lotor’s hesitance, along with Alfor’s sudden jerk of motion lets her land a glancing blow across Darktron’s side. It forces Darktron to release the robeast, but by that point the mecha has been largely drained.
Luca swings again. The blow is deflected by Lotor, but at the last moment she splits her spear and plunges the additional blade into Darktron’s shoulder.
She smiles in a self-satisfied way, waiting for the energy drain to begin. It does, but the energy does not flow into Luca’s robeast.
“Did you really think we would design weapons that could be used against us?” Honerva says.
Luca’s energy begins to bleed into Darktron, from her very own blade. Then Honerva plans the dagger in, draining the mecha even faster. She howls in pain, as her lifeforce begins to be extracted.
“Stop this!” Alfor demands.
“Never!” Zarkon snarls.
Prince Lotor looks sick.
“...is this what you want, Lotor?”
The Prince looks struck to have been addressed.
“Is this to be your legacy? The man who never raised a hand?”
“Shut up you old fool!” Zarkron barks. “That boy will never step out of line, not for this or any other reason. Do you know why? Because unlike you he understand that I am the most powerful-”
Lotor swings his sword into the dagger, breaking the connection. Luca stares in shock.
“...enough.” Lotor says, eyes hardening. “We’ve done enough harm. To this reality and to the last.”
Zarkon says nothing, fury burning so hot it seems to radiate off him. Alfor smiles widely.
Voltron races towards them once more.
Zarkon tries to push Darktron into motion again, but both Prince Lotor and Alfor resist him this time.
“...is this truly how you feel, son?” Honerva askes in a quiet voice.
“Yes. Do what you must.” Lotor says, sounding both exhausted and relieved.
“I will kill you for this.” Zarkon says, matter-of-factly.
“No you won’t.” Honerva decides. “Sendak, it's time.
And then she and Sendak both hold back Darktron. All four limbs of Darktron splay out all in different directions, crippling the mecha’s movement.
“What are you doing!?” Zarkon demands.
“Choosing my son.”
“Sendak…”
“Is mine. Always has been. Or did you forget who gave him that arm?”
Zarkon’s hands tremble with unmitigated fury.
“Traitors! Every single one of you!”
“I’ve been called worse.” Honerva says.
“It's over, Father.” Lotor says. “We ought to split up and go our separate way. Perhaps if we’re lucky they won’t find us.”
“Coward! I’m to be ruler of the universe! You think I would settle for hiding in the shadows!?”
“You won’t be anything when we’re done with you!” Keith says, approaching in Voltron. He shakes his head at the display. “Even your own Paladins turned on you. Reap what you sow.”
Lance summons the sword. “Wanna take care of ‘em?”
“Yeah.” Keith says, narrowing his eyes.
Voltron moves in to swing down for Darktron’s head.
Time seems to slow for Zarkon. Everything he’s ever done, the expansion of the Galra Empire, commanding Voltron, descending into the Quantum Abyss, ripping apart his own reality to gain further power. He sees all of it blowing away in a pitiful gust of wind.
“NO!” He bellows, voice reverberating throughout Darktron. Dark tendrils of violet energy crackle across the mechas. The tendrils wrap around the limbs of the other Dark Paladins, searing into them.
“Wha-what is happening!?” Lotor asks.
“His...connection to our Voltron…” Honerva says, voice strained.“...too strong...he’s subverting our own connections....” Her voice descends into a cry of pain.
A moment before Voltron’s blade can strike Darktron, the tendrils force the Dark Paladins into motion. Five bayards slam into their slots.
A flash of blinding violet energy engulfs the scene. Voltron swings.
The Armored Darktron catches the blade in its hand.
Zarkon cackles madly. Tendrils tie the other Dark Paladins to their throttles. Voltron strains to pull its sword free of Darktron’s grasp. It is a futile effort.
“Did you traitors really think you could turn Voltron against me!? And you children, thought you could match a fraction of my strength!? I am Emperor Zarkon! And all bows before me!” He cries, voice growing in it's mania. “A-and now that you...you took my chance at victory, I’m going to take everything from you! I will tear all of you apart! Slowly, painfully until you beg for death!”
Darktron punches Voltron so hard it sends a shockwave rippling through space that sends the robeasts flying in every direction. Voltron rockets backwards, but Darktron launches forward and snatches hold of the mecha again, dragging it's momentum back to a jerking halt.
“How shall I do it!? Should I rip you apart limb by limb and crush you slowly one at a time? Or maybe…” He turns towards Sincline, “...I’ll just make you watch your reality die in front of you!”
“No!” Keith yells, trying for all his might to drive Darktron backwards. But a blow from Darktron rattles Voltron so hard it nearly knocks all of the Paladins unconscious. Zarkon then drives Darktron into motion and they both start rocketing towards Sincline.
“Are you ready to feel that blissfully sweet pain of the quintessence field before you watch it rip apart everything you’ve ever loved!?” Zarkon cackles to himself.
They race forward in a blur, ready to smash into the mecha that is the only thing hiding back the raging tides of the unlimited quintessence field.
A golden blur smashes into the side of them, knocking Darktron off-course and throwing Voltron free. Zarkon turns to see the Leon Guardian, lance outstretched.
“Hope we’re not interrupting.” Matt says.
“Is there no end to you miserable whelps!?” Zarkon rips Darktron’s sword into existence and clashes with the Leon Guardian.
Meanwhile, Voltron shakes off it's earlier damage and makes as if to move into the fray.
“Wait!” Pidge says, drawing them to a halt. “If we just keep throwing ourselves at that think we’re just going to get trashed again.”
“You got a better suggestion?” Keith asks. “Because I don’t think we’re gonna get lucky enough to wait out that armor a second time.”
“I do, Keith. Because we now know how they get the armor: it's about power. Zarkon couldn’t form the armor again until he’d drained enough quintessence from Sincline and the robeasts.”
“But how are we supposed to get that kind of power? The White Lion is a little occupied at the moment.”
“...we’ll do it.”
Luca, her two remaining robeast lieutenants, and a small handful of robeasts recovered from the Array approach.
“We’ll give you everything we have left.”
“We can’t let you-” Allura starts to say.
“-Princess. This battle does not leave us with much choice.”
She hesitates, but sighs and nods, “...I understand. Do as you will, brave ones.”
Luca nods to her compatriots and they thrust their spears into Voltron’s armor. Blue energy pulses from their own mechas down their spears into Voltron.
Meanwhile, Darktron continued to clash with the Leon Guardian in brilliant displays of gold and violet light.
“Another fine machine of war!” Zarkon declares, knocking aside a lance thrust. He movies in for a decapitating swung, but the Guardian narrowly dodges.
“But do you know the problem with it!?”
He swings his sword in an overhead arc, forcing Leon Guardian to block. He swings, once, twice, three times. The golden lance cracks. The Guardian fients for a counter with the weapon, but then swings a high kick for Darktron’s face. Zarkon bats the blow aside and brings the sword down one more time.
“It's not VOLTRON!”
The lance shatters, and the resulting blast of energy flings the Leon Guardian backwards across the starfield.
“Almost there…” Luca says, energy continuing to drain into Voltron. On robeasts falls back, spent.
Darktron turns once more towards Voltron. A pair of robeasts break off and try to slow him. They are batted away like insects. Two more fall limp, energy spent into Voltron. Only Luca remains. Darktron surges forward.
“Do me a favor, if you all truly wish to save my people…” Luca says. “...win.”
Her robeast goes limp, energy spent. All five of the paladins bayard slots open.
Darktron swings.
The Five Paladins of Voltron slam their bayards into place. A blinding blue light shines out in the cluster. And Darktron’s blade meets it's twin.
Voltron it it's own Armored Form, locks swords with the Armored Darktron. And while the two great mechas only paused for the barest fraction of a millisecond, it seemed an eternity for those watching. An instant, that could last forever.
Keith smirks.
“Too late, Zarkon. You’re about to experience something you never have in your entire life: A fair fight.”
The instant ends.
Voltron and Darktron seemed to disappear for a moment. They reappear again off to the side, blades clashing in destructive waves of energy. Vanishing and appearing again up above with another clash of swords. So quick their moment, nearly instantaneous to the onlookers. Clash, vanish. Clash, vanish. Waves of destruction, rippling out through the fabric of the reality itself. The universe watches with bated breath. The battle between the two Voltrons, a singularity of war.
Matt is the first forced out of the trance, when he thinks to move the Leon Guardian out of the way of one of the destructive waves of light. And with that the universe seems to remember it's still at war with itself.
The cluster, lit up once again with the hailstorm of energy-blasts and rains of ion beams. Throughout it all, Voltron and Darktron fight.
***
Darktron smashes it's blade against Voltron’s shield, sending the other mecha to crash down into a small planet, rupturing it's surface. Lava spews out from the cracks Voltron’s collision left. In a fraction of an instance, Voltron launches itself back up in orbit, pummeling Darktron with its reply: Three strikes in such quick succession that they may as well happen at once.
Darktron rockets back to smash into the sister-planet of the one it tossed Voltron into. Voltron follows at a blinding rate. A moment after Darktron hits the surface Voltron crashes into it.
It grabs the other mecha, dragging it across the planet’s face, ripping up a massive canyon in the ground. Zarkron lets out a mighty bellow and pushes his boosters into overdrive, forcing both mechas back up. They cruise back out into space, still entangled.
“You need to think bigger children!” Zarkon cackles, “Much bigger!”
He drives Voltron backwards, towards the nearby sun. The Paladins try to resist, but their strength is equal.
“He’s got gravity on his side!” Pidge notes.
Indeed they’re close enough that the sun’s own gravity begins to draw them towards it. They fall deeper into the star’s clutches, entering it's corona, burning hydrogen surrounding them.
Warnings go off on all screens, Paladins beginning to feel the inconceivable heat even through Voltron’s armor.
“What’s wrong Zarkon, giving up on winning and just trying to kill us both!?” Keith taunts.
“No, just betting you die first!” Zarkon barks in reply.
The Paladins throw all their power into their throttles, but they can only slow the inevitable. Armor of both mechas glow red in the heat as they sink deeper.
“There!” Pidge indicates a swelling in the star’s surface. “A coronal mass ejection!”
The Paladins shift gears, moving their efforts away from resisting Darktron’s push and into diverting their path. Unprepared for the sudden shift in motion, Zarkon is not able to stop them from the sudden change in direction. A burst of pure plasma blasts both mechas far out of the sun’s reach. They tumble, power of the ejection finally disentangling them.
Voltron is the first to recover, shooting towards it's enemy.
“Try this on for size!” Lance yells, swinging Voltron’s sword with all his might.
The slash catches Zarkron off-guard and sends the mecha soaring back. Voltron follows, making for another slash.
But nanoseconds before the blow would have landed, Zarkron summons the shoulder-cannon and fires. Voltron takes the blast in full and is forced back by the wave of pure energy. It rockets back, clipping a moon, tearing a sizable chunk off it's surface. Finally Voltron smashes down to the planet the moon orbits, leaving a massive crater.
Darktron plunges down, sword poised to impale Voltron and pin it down to the surface. Allura activates the harpoon gun and fires. Darktron straits to the side, narrowly missing the harpoon.
“You missed!” He says with glee, the sword pulled back to land home.
“Did I!?” Allura replies.
Zarkron, glances behind him, too late. The moon, speared by Voltron, smashes into Darktron’s back. Voltron barely manages to jet out of the way, as Darktron is crushed between the planet and its moon. Shards of stone the size of cities fly out as the moon is pulverized against its mother planet. A cloud of dust is blown into the atmosphere. Where the moon struck, an ocean of lava bubbles up where the planet’s crust was so thoroughly sundered.
Darktron lays in that molten sea, still for a moment. It begins to stir.
Voltron doesn’t give it a chance. It smashes into Darktron, full force.
Both are buried deep into the planet’s mantle, but Voltron isn’t done, blasting it's booster wings to drive them further. They cut through impossibly hot liquid metal, tearing through the core itself. They pass back through the mandle, to smash out the other side of the planet. The two mechas rocket back out into orbit, dripping magma.
There both pause for a moment. All the Paladins are panting with the exertion of the previous task. Zarkron’s breath comes labored over the comm.
“Not...bad. But not...good enough.”
Darktron shakes itself, spraying droplets of magma into space.
“This bout...has cost us both much of what we gained.”
“H-he’s..right.” Pidge pants out in confirmation. “Running low...on power...can’t maintain this armor...too much longer.”
“So, instead of simply waiting each other out, why don’t we finish this in a more...dramatic location?”
With that, Darktron rockets off towards the growing Black Hole. Voltron follows.
***
The Leon Guardian shoves another asteroid into the dark maw of the Black Hole. The asteroid quickly breaks up and turns to dust. The light-distorting midnight orb is developing a blazing accretion disk where matter moving too fast to get sucked within the Black Hole collects.
“How much more does this thing need?”
“J-just...a...bit!” Sincline Lotor says, voice strained.
“That was the last of the larger asteroids.” Coran points out.
“Hmm…” Matt ponders. “Think we could get enough thrust to move a moon? No, forget that. It would take us too long to speed it up fast enough to break one out of orbit.”
“Enemy ships?”
“They’ve all pulled back from the breach by now. They aren’t in full retreat yet, but they might as well be.”
“I’ve got an idea.” Skriel says, the smile on his face clear through his voice.
He points.
“Oooh, I like that idea.”
The broken World Bane still hovers in orbit of a nearby planet.
“Ohoho, Ru’vak! I sure hope you installed escape pods in that thing!”
“Wait what are you…” Ru’vak’s voice pauses over the comm. “...oh stars.”
“This is for all that cleaning duty you made me do back in basic training!”
And with that the Leon Guardian grabs the World Bane and hurls it at the Black Hole. A handful of small pods jettison out before the World Bane reaches the point of no return. It crumbles in on itself, before fracturing into smaller and smaller pieces. It begins to be ripped into atoms, from front to back, as the spaghettification effect does it's dark work. Soon there is nothing, at least nothing that can be perceived by the onlookers, as even the reflected is swallowed by the Black Hole.
“That...should be enough for n-now!” Lotor says, still blasting with Sincline. The breach is still just barely visible, as a dim scar where what little of it's light and energy can still escape the Black Hole’s appetite. “I can hold it by myself now. Get those last alteans out of there before this thing gets too big!”
“What about you?”
“This mecha is still a part of the breach. I need to hold it until the very end.”
“Oh…”
“Get them out of there.” Lotor repeats, more forcefully this time.
“...alright. Hate to say it but let’s split up, gang.”
“It was a pleasure fighting together with you all.” Coran says.
“Until the next time we need to sully our hands by joining with our lessers!” Skriel agrees.
The Leon Guardian splits back into the Atlas, the Paladin Crusher and the White Lion. One by one they start pulling robeast out of the Array. With each one they pull out the crackling energy of the Array tries harder to keep the robeasts in its grasp. Finally they get to the final ring and the last five robeast.
Coran in the White Lion turns back to the robeasts they just pulled free.
“Are any of you in any kind of shape to help us?” Coran asks.
After a pause, a pair of them raise shaky arms.
“Good enough. We’ve got to pull your brothers and sisters out at the same time, or they won’t survive the strain. Matt?”
“I’ll count us down.”
The Atlas, Paladin Crusher, White Lion and two robeasts, each grab one of the remaining robeasts from the Array.
“Three...two...one...pull!”
They pull back in opposite directions, crackling energy screaming in protest. Then, with a pop all five are released. The remaining energy, unfiltered, streams down into Sincline.
“G-g-good…” Lotor says in a shuddering voice. “N-now get them out of h-here…”
“You got it chief…” Matt says as they all pull back out of range of the Black Hole.
***
Voltron chases after Darktron, right up to the glowing accretion disk of the Black Hole. There Darktron pulls to a sudden stop, spinning around to face Voltron. It's blade is held out, in a two-handed grip. Voltron skids to a stop a span away. Drawing its own sword and shield. The two stare each other down, as if trying to read the other.
They move at the same time. Twin blurs, swinging for each other. They clash in a storm of blades and energy. Bit by bit Voltron focing Darktron back.
“We’re doing it!” Lance cries out triumphantly.
“No...he’s baiting us.” Keith. “Drawing us closer to the Black Hole. Trying to get us to make a mistake.”
As if in answer, Darktron pulls back further, and takes off, shooting down across the top of the Black Hole.
“The gravity is incredible. If we’re not careful we’ll get sucked in!” Pidge reports.
“That means we’re pulling back?” Lance asks.
“...no. Let’s finish this.”
Voltron and Darktron become twin trails of energy. To onlookers it looks almost as though the Black Hole is forming additional rings. One blue, one violet. The trails disappear just in time for new ones to tear into existence around it. Blinding flashes burst up over the Black Hole, wherever Voltron and Darktron clash. They go faster.
Hunk fires the cannon, in an effort to drive Darktron into the Black Hole. he dodges, light of the amazing blast quickly eaten up by the Black Hole. Zarkon tries to hook with it's harpoon, but it's deflected by the sword. They clash again, the force throwing them in opposite directions. They burst back into motion again, lest being dragged in by the gravity.
Time seems to slow for them, yet becomes impossibly fast for the onlookers. Voltron and Darktron race around the Black hole in opposite directions, gaining speed with each rotation.
“We’re...almost...out of energy!” Pidge says, forced back against her seat in spite of Voltron’s inertial dampeners.
“Then...this...is it….everything into this last...swing!”
They make one last rotation, both mechas driven faster than the speed of light by their metaphysical properties. Voltron sword begins to charge with a blinding blue light. Darktron’s shines it's equal in violet.
The Five Paladins of Voltron let out a battle cry in union. Zarkon roars in reply.
The swords meet.
Everything goes white.
Keith blinks, disoriented. He looks down to find that he no longer sits inside his cockpit in Voltron. He stands in a sea of stars, cosmic clouds swirling. Those stars seem impossibly close, both small, yet near enough to touch. They rise above and below him, with a thin strip of darkness separating up from down. He seems to stand on nothing at all. His body has an unnatural glowing hue.
“...It has been a very long time since I’ve seen this place.”
Keith whirls to find Zarkon standing beside him. The Emperor makes no move in reply. He doesn’t even look at Keith, instead staring out at the ethereal realm around them. He glows, same as Keith.
“...where are we?” Keith asks, cautiously.
“A metaphysical plane of existence. It seems our battle knocked us into the realm reserved for Voltron and it's lions. I remember when Alfor first showed me this place.”
Keith says nothing. Zarkon goes on.
“He insisted we all train here. Said it would strengthen our bond both with our lions and as a team. Said that once we master our skills here, we’d be unstoppable as a team inside of Voltron and out. I sometimes miss that naive optimism that I had to tortue out of him. He was right about one thing. This realm is useful.”
Without warning Zarkon swings a backfist for Keith’s face.
Anticipating the move, Keith dodges. He does not dodge the kick that follows it. Keith is blasted backwards to tumble across the floor of nothingness. Zarkon leaps into the air, foot poised to crush Keith’s skull on landing. Keith scrambles out of the way, barely in time for Zarkon’s foot to slam down. He leaps to his feet, drawing his bayard into existence. Zarkron summons his own.
“This realm is honest, boy. Here your power is at its most pure. No giant machines to aid in the fighting. Here, we are men, with strength equal to our own will!”
Zarkon swings his blade for Keith’s neck, Keith blocks, force of the blow still throwing him backwards. He slides back, nearly falling.
“I’ll admit, you might have had the slightest chance in Voltron. But here? I’ll crush you the same as before. But this time I’ll kill you, just like that former Paladin of Black.”
Keith’s eyes flash with anger and he launches into a series of attacks against Zarkon. The Emperor turns away every single strike, then slams a fist into Keith’s side, tossing him across their celestial arena.
“Without your Voltron or your lion or you friends to help you, you're nothing! You’re alone!” Zarkon bellows, charging after Keith.
Keith meets his charge and their blades lock together. For a moment they struggle against each other. But Zarkon soon drives Keith backwards, step by step. He forces his weight down on Keith, dropping him to one knee. Zarkon grins with satisfaction.
Keith looks up and smiles back.
“But that’s what you never understood, Zarkon. It’s not about what you can do alone. Voltron is about what you can do together. It's about trusting the people around you enough for them to be your arms and legs. And you’re wrong about one other thing…” He closes his eyes and begins to focus for a moment.
A blast of energy hits Zarkon the back, causing him to stumble. Keith uses the opportunity to force Zarkon off-balance, and swings, nearly taking his head off. Zarkon leaps back, and whirls looking for the source of the surprise attack.
Lance stands behind, rifle held in a confident grip. Grin on his face.
“...I'm not alone.” Keith finally says.
�� “Man, Keith, do I always gotta be the one to pull your butt out of the fire?”
Lance starts peppering Zarkon with shots, while Keith advances on him. The Emperor is forced to shift his bayard into it's shield mode to block Lance’s shots, while dodging and batting away Keith’s attacks with his freehand. Keith scores a cut under Zarkon’s shoulder.
“If I can be here, that means the other Paladins can too!” Keith says, “We’ve got a connection, all of us, through Voltron!”
Zarkon kicks Keith backwards, then shifts his bayard into a cannon to fire at Lance. He howls in pain as green electricity surges through him. Pidge has planted her bayard behind his knee.
“Hope that stings.” She says.
He spins, trying to backhand her, but Keith barrels into Zarkton, shoving him into a stumble. Lance lands another shot on Zarkon’s shoulder, causing him to twist and fall to one knee.
The three paladins advance on him. Zarkon shifts his bayard into it's bladed whip form and cracks it at them. He grazes Lance, misses Pidge, and Keith blocks with his blade. He cracks it again, tangling it around Keith’s sword.
“You think a couple extra bodies will save you!? I’m Zarkon! Three children are nothing to me!” He jerks on the whip, pulling Keith to his knees.
A blast slams into Zarkon’s back throwing him to the floor of nothingness. Hunk hefts his cannon. “Count again.”
Zarkon leaps to his feet, shifting his bayard into a cannon. He blasts Hunk, forcing him to shift into shield. The blast still knocks him off his feet. Then Zarkon shifts back to whip and flings it at Pidge, who’d been aiming her own bayard at him. Lance steps in front, knocking the whip aside with a stroke of his sword. Pdige smiles, firing her bayard’s tethered blade at Zarkon. Zarkon shifts back to sword to block and leaps at them.
Keith and Lance meet his charge, swinging their blades against Zarkon’s. They clash in a series of quick precise blows.
“You can call us children, or weak, or useless. But the fact is, we’re a team, Zarkon. And that makes us strong. Because we’ve got each other.”
Keith and Lance lock Zarkon’s blade with their own and together manage to force him back a step.
Keith narrows his eyes. “Who do you have Zarkon?”
Zarkon bellows with rage and throws a knee into Lance’s gut, then grabs hold of Keith to throw him into Hunk, who was preparing to fire another blast. Both go down. Zarkon raises his blade to bring down on Lance.
Allura’s energy whip wraps around the blade, pulling it back before it can fall. He snarls and tries to yank her towards him, but she shifts the bayard into a spear and charges him.
“Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Allura. They’re my arms and legs. And I’m the head. I’ve got them and they’ve got me.” Keith explains, launching himself at Zarkon again. “Who’s got you, Zarkon?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Zarkon growls, forming his bayard into an oversized gauntlet. “I need no one!”
He smashes the gauntlets down, sending a shockwave that knocks the paladins off their feet. He then throws himself at Keith.
Keith is back on his feet just in time to block a swing of Zarkon’s sword. The two struggle against each other once more.
“Unlike me, no one’s coming to help you, Zarkon. You’ve got no one. You did, but you drove them all away!”
“Shut up!” Zarkon throws a punch, but Keith twists, and the effect is negligible.
“You turned on every person who ever cared about and trusted you. Because you thought you didn’t need them. You used them, then cast them aside. Because you thought you were stronger alone.”
“I am stronger alone! Stronger than all of you!”
Zarkon lets out a roar and by force of will shoves Keith back. He raises his blade to deliver a killing blow.
“...no, Zarkon. You aren’t.”
Lance slips to the side, slicing Zarkon’s arm. Zarkon’s attack goes wild, missing Keith. He tries to whirl on Lance, but Pidge’s tethered blade wraps around his other arm and pulls him off balance. Hunk leaps forward, swinging his hammer for Zarkon’s head. Zarkon managed to divert the blow to his shoulder, one leg going out under him. Allura knocks out the other leg with her spear. Zarkon, on his knees, faces Lance, Pidge, Hunk and Allura lunging for him. In an explosive burst of willpower, he manages to swing his sword in a powerful wide arc, that forces all four of them backwards. But their efforts provided all the opening Keith needs.
He slips under the swing, and thrusts forward with his bayard. He buries the blade in Zarkon’s chest.
Zarkon lets out a surprised gasp.
“There’s one other person I haven’t mentioned yet. Someone who was always there for me,” Keith says, twisting the blade. “The man you killed. His name was Shiro. And this bayard belonged to him!”
With that Keith rips the bayard free. Zarkon screams.
Everything goes white again.
Darktron’s blade shatters. Voltron’s sword carries through, cutting through the armor, to the mecha below, and further.
Darktron’s armor shatters, and the mecha itself breaks, splintering into five lions, all shooting in different directions from the explosiveness of the separation. Black flies backwards, towards the Black hole, with a terrible rent gut that bleeds violet quintessence.
“I...lost!?” Zarkon chokes on the word, violet blood flying from his mouth. Zarkon clutches his chest, the pain of the invisible wound searing him. “N-not possible! I-I-I c...can’t...l…”The words die on his lips.
The Black Hole seems to surge, growing ever so slightly larger. The Black Lion descends towards it's dark embrace.
“N-NO!” Zarkon yells in defiance, forcing his lion to fight against the pull. He only slows the inevitable. “I do not die here! It doesn’t end here for Emperor Zarkon!”
With a surge of all the strength he has left, Zarkon summons the wings of his lion.
Before he can activate them, Alfor’s lion smashes into his, driving them both downward towards the void below.
“NO! Alfor you fool! You’ll kill us both!”
“I know.” Alfor replies, striking a weak smile.
Allura, watching the two descend cries out.
“Father!”
Voltron begins to move forward but shudders, lurching awkwardly.
“It's too much!” Keith says. “If we get any closer we won't be able to get out!”
Alfor gazes over at Voltron, then closes his eyes and his body begins to take on a blue glow.
“No!” Allura yells, summoning the harpoon gun. “I have to-”
She blinks. When her eyes open she is standing in a field of juniberry flowers. On altea. She looks around, amazed. Alfor stands across from her, smiling down at the flowers.
“F-father...what is this?”
“Just a vision, I’m afraid. Altea as I remember it.” He studies the flowers for a moment before looking up at her.
“But you aren’t as I remember…you’ve grown. As beautiful as I remember but...stronger.”
She smiles, but it is pained.
“Father please, let me help you. I’ve only just gotten you back. I don’t…” her voice cracks. “I don’t know if I can lose you one more time.”
“I know it's cruel. But at the same time, I am unbelievably grateful to have seen the woman you’ve grown into. I only wish your mother could see you…”
“Please!” She begs. “It doesn’t have to end like this. We could still-”
“Allura.” He says softly. “Don’t risk yourself and Voltron to try and save me. I had my time in the universe. Now I just have one thing left to you: Make sure Zarkon doesn’t hurt anyone ever again.”
He grins.
“You on the other hand, have quite a lot to do.”
She stares at her feet. “The alteans...I don’t know if I can lead them without you. I’ve been so lost. I don’t know if I can be as good a ruler as you were.”
“Then don’t.”
She raises her eyes, surprised.
“Be better. I made countless mistakes. Learn from them and be better. I know you’ll be a great queen.”
She hesitates, but then straightens her back and nods firmly. Her eyes begin to well up.
He smiles, reaching up to touch her face. She smiles back, well and truly this time. Then she grabs him in an embrace. The two of them stay like that for an eternal moment. Finally, they separate and Alfor stands back, getting one last look at his daughter.
“Well, it's time I finally joined your mother.”
She swallows hard, but nods. “I love you, papa.”
“And I love you, my little juniberry…”
The vision fades, and Allura is once again in her lion. She stares down at the quickly vanishing lions of her father and Zarkon. Tears stream down her face.
Voltron lets out a tremor. The two lions disappear.
“Allura? Keith says, voice strained. “Either take the shot or…”
She shoots one last look at where her father’s lion used to be and dismisses the harpoon gun
“...let’s go.”
Keith nods, slowly, understanding. Then, all five paladins throw forward their throttles, and Voltron jets away from the Black Hole.
Below, Zarkon screams in protest.
“Alfor listen to me! You’re throwing everything away! We could start over! You’ll be my right hand this time! You can be with your daughter! I-”
“-Zarkon.” Alfor cuts him off..
Something in his voice silences the Emperor.
“We’ve both lived long enough.”
Those simple words take what little strength Zarkon has left away from him. He slumps back back, and lets out a sigh that sounds almost relieved. His lion continues to bleed quintessence.
“...I should have known it would be you to finally kill me.”
“Would you have it any other way?”
Zarkon considers.
“No...old friend. No I wouldn’t.”
Silence overtakes the two.
Zarkon surprises Alfor by breaking it.
“Do you suppose...out there in the multiverse, there’s a reality where it didn’t come to all this? Where the two of us never crossed swords, and instead built a stronger universe together?”
Alfor smiles weakly. “You know I do.”
And Zarkon smiles too, without a trace of malice or deceit.
“So then, in the end, I even failed in that regard. Despite everything I still couldn’t kill that optimism of yours after all.”
Alfor laughs. “I guess not. I just...forgot it for a time.”
The two lions tremble, cracking under the tremendous force exerted upon them.
Zarkon closes his eyes. “And so it ends, Alfor.”
Alfor closes his eyes as well. “Stardust to stardust...old friend…”
And then the Black and Blue lions are torn apart, turned to dust before finally being sucked away by the singularity of the Black Hole.
***
Lotor blasts the breach, the dim scar now barely visible, the energy feeding back into him, barely a trickle. Still he blasts it, feeding all the energy he can into it. As this happens, he watches a static-filled image of Voltron’s struggle with Darktron. Finally, there is the blinding flash of light, followed by Darktron’s destruction. And still he watches as the Dark Black and Blue lions disappear into darkness.
He smiles.
“So they did it after all….”
The Black Hole surges, widening. The scar of the breach, overwhelmed by the darkness, finally disappears, overcome. The rings of the Array are pulled off one by one, then finally ripped apart, swallowed by hungry shadows.
He lets out a relieved sight.
Sincline drops its arms, energy spent. It starts to descend deeper into the Black Hole. it's armor begins to tremble. Lotor makes no move to stop this. He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, as if about to rest.
“-Lotor!” A static-filled voice crackles over the radio.
He sits up, looking annoyed. He brings up the display. A grainy image of a Coalition fighter cruising through the Black Hole’s accretion disk. A feed of Acxa’s face pops up next to it.
“Lotor, you need to get out of there!”
He smiles slightly, but shakes his head.
“My work here is done. The breach has been turned in on itself. Zarkon is dead. The alteans know the truth. The universe is safe. This...this is how it ends for me.”
“You idiot!”
He's slightly taken aback by the reply.
“You really think I’m just gonna let you die like that? After everything we’ve been through!?”
“It's...better this way. Besides, Sincline is almost completely spent. I’m not sure if I could get out if I wanted to.”
“So you’re just going to call it quits!? Give up? That’s how the great Lotor dies?”
“The universe doesn’t need me anymore. Maybe it never did. This way at least, I can pay for my sins.”
“Then pay for them by living! Dying is the easy way out!”
He winces at that. “...maybe it is. If so...well, I guess I’m being selfish one last time. I won’t have to feel guilty about it for very long.”
Acxa is silent for a moment. “...I have someone else here with me. If I can’t convince you...maybe she can.”
Lotor has a confused look, when suddenly there is a flash of light inside his cockpit.
Haggar stands in front of him.
“Hello son.”
He scowls.
“Come here to try and twist me to your schemes one final time?”
“...no.”
He raises a skeptical brow. She sighs.
“I know I've been a poor parent to you. I can’t help but think that many of your mistakes would not have been made if I’d been a better mother to you. If I’d shielded you from the brunt of Zarkon’s cruelty.”
Lotor hesitates but shakes his head. “No. My mistakes are my own.”
After a moment she nods.
“So...why are you here?”
“To give you a choice, for once. You’ve always seen me as a force to twist you and bind you to my will. But here I’ll simply give you the options and whatever you choose I will respect.”
“Go on.”
“I can save you. Pull you out of here, and we’ll fly away in Acxa’s ship. Ask me and I’ll do it.”
“To what end?”
“To whatever end you wish. I’m done with plots and plans. I just want to preserve you from this fate.”
“And if I refuse?”
She lets out a sigh. “Then though it will pain me beyond belief, I will respect your wish. I owe you that much.”
“And what will you do after I perish?”
She shakes her head. “I plan to stand here with you. I’m not going to live in a world without my son. I’ve already lost everything else that ever mattered to me.”
He stares at her. She stares back. Sincline’s armor trembles again.
He finally closes his eyes. Haggar nods, taking this as a sign of his decision.
“...alright.”
She straightens. He looks up at her.
“Please save me...mother.”
Her eyes widen. Then she cracks a wide smile. She leans down and hugs him. And though hesitant and stiffly, eventually he hugs her back. They disappear in a flash.
Moments later, Sincline is swallowed by the Black Hole, all traces of it gone forever.
***
The Paladins of Voltron watch the Black Hole give one final surge before finally stabilizing, feeding now on the streams of plasma given off by the nearby stars. It hangs there, a distorted black spot on the universe, surrounded by blinding light.
“All enemy forces have thrown up surrender codes!” Matt reports with glee.
Keith sits back and smiles. “It's over...we won.”
There is a cheer, not just from the other Paladins, but the whole of the Coalition. From humans, galra, alteans and countless other species.
Keith lets out no cheer himself, content to sit there with a tired smile on his face. Eventually he shakes himself and sits up.
“Alright everyone! There’s just a few things left to take care of…”
Stay tuned for the finale...
#voltron#voltron legendary defender#vld#rewrite#fix it fic#keith#lance#pidge#hunk#allura#kallura#plance#lotor#zarkon#alfor#haggar#honerva#sendak#mecha#final battle#this is it boys#i went a bit overboard#just one more to go
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compound regret {Nikki Sixx}
Summary: You’re always the one cleaning up after Motley Crue, that was your job. You didn’t expect an apology, or anything really, but some reassurance that they liked having you around, that they didn’t just think of you as some hard ass or buzzkill would be nice once in a while. Except when that reassurance comes around, Nikki doesn’t exactly remember giving it. In fact, he’s worried he’s told you something far more incriminating.
A/N: 2701 words. @yourqueeniac sent me a message about Douglas!Nikki and honestly the writing demon reached through the screen and possessed me I guess. this is not the direction i thought it would go.
“Fuck,” Nikki wakes up in the middle of the afternoon on couch seat at back of the tour bus, his stomach lurching as they’re speeding down the highway. He doesn’t remember how he got there, just knows that he needs to get to the bathroom before everything he drank last night ends up on the floor of the bus. You’re almost knocked flying where you’ve come to offer a bottle of water in his mad dash for the bathroom, while Vince and Tommy are already laughing, and Mick takes the now vacated space, opting for a nap in the sunlight.
“Good morning!” You sing, loud and purposefully off key to the obviously hung over musician, and though he tries to tell you to shut it, he can’t get the words out before he starts retching into the toilet. You seem... far more cheerful than usual, well, compared to other mornings where one of the band members wakes up puking and drenched in sweat and regret.
By the time he staggers back out, looking marginally more human and alive, you’re thankfully drawing close to the next destination, and he’s just glad he’d managed to sleep through most of the travelling, because what little he has left already feels like hell.
“How do you feel?” You ask sweetly, sitting at the table beside Doc, who’s reading the paper and pointedly not looking at Nikki. The bassist is confused for a moment, frowning at where you’re smiling so brightly up at him, obviously pleased, though the reason as to why is a complete mystery to him.
“Like I never want to drink again,” Nikki grumbles, taking a seat beside you, reaching for the half empty bottle of whiskey on the other side of the table anyways, ignoring the water you offer him.
“You smell like a dumpster, which is surprising since you didn’t even throw up on yourself last night, how do you do it?” You smirk, your nose wrinkling a little, but you seem amused by this more than anything else. Doc huffs out a laugh but doesn’t look up.
“How the fuck should I know?” Nikki unscrews the lid of the bottle and flicks it at Doc, who dodges out of the way easily. He takes a long sip. “The fuck even happened last night?”
“So you don’t remember drinking that rocket-fuel vodka shit and declaring yourself King of Hell?” You give him the biggest shit-eating grin as he grimaces and takes another swig of whiskey. “I’m pretty sure you’d already gone hard on the zombie dust so I don’t blame you.”
“Fuck,” Nikki grumbled again, averting his gaze. That sounds very believably like something he’d do, though he must have drunk a lot more than usual to have him knocked out for so long, and for him to have received such a metaphorical kick to the balls the moment he woke up. And that still didn’t go about explaining your cheery mood, you, Doc’s long suffering assistant who often had the unpleasant job of wrangling the rowdy stragglers of the band into bed when they found themselves, on the off chance, sleeping by themselves.
So he’s pretty sure you’re the reason he’d ended safely back on the bus, but by the sounds of it, he’d made you work for it- so why weren’t you hating his guts like usual after a night like that?
“You’d make a terrible King.” Mick interjects from the back of the bus in all his deadpan seriousness, though when you chance a look back at him, he’s got one eye cracked open, smiling ever so slightly.
“Fuck you,” Nikki snaps back, holding his head in his hands.
“’be a great King of the Jackasses, maybe,” Doc adds, and turns the page of the paper. Nikki doesn’t even have it in him to reply.
It’s five, around the time they get to the next tour stop and they’ve checked into the hotel for the night, that that a sinking suspicion creeps it’s way into Nikki’s heart.
He’d said something.
He must have. The secret he’d been keeping essentially since the first moment on tour, when he’d begun to spend time in close proximity to you, the stupid little crush that had been festering away in his heart since you and he had joked about while carrying a pantless, passed out Tommy to bed after the very first gig. Last night, Drunk Nikki must have said something.
On paper, it sounds like it would be a good thing, except that Nikki was well aware that he would be profoundly disappointing in a romantic capacity, despite what his heart wants. He knows his self control is garbage, and that he’d end up screwing up somehow, in any number of various ways, and god he loves the way you’re smiling right now, but he can’t help but fear it’s from false hope.
“You okay? Everything sorted and ready for tonight?” It’s like a routine, everyone gets their hotel rooms set up before heading to the venue for the night, and you, like clockwork, would always go around to every room and make sure each of the boys was sorted.
“Did I say something to you last night?” Nikki asks, sitting at the edge of his bed, frowning with a surprising intensity. To your eye at least, he’d managed to mostly recover from the morning, and you stepped into the room.
“You said a lot of things last night,” it came out amused, but did nothing to quell the nervousness in Nikki’s chest.
“Like what?”
A long pause follows and you step into the room, letting the door shut gently behind you. He’s looking at his hands, can’t bring himself to actually turn his gaze upon you, but when you finally speak, your voice is surprisingly soft.
“You really don’t remember, do you?” And as you say it, he can feel the fear rising in him, finally looking up to where you’re regarding him with a look of concern. “I was trying to convince you to put your pants back on,” already a bad way to start a story potentially about feelings, Nikki considers, and you continue, “and I apologised for being a hardass and a buzzkill-”
“You’re not.” Nikki’s response is automatic, and his heart lifts as your expression automatically brightens.
“Yeah, that’s what you said then.” There’s a silence that follows, and your regarding him with an almost fond sadness, lips parted like there’s something else you want to say, but you seem to think better of it, just giving him a small smile. “You did insist I stay with you, which I did; I didn’t realise you were a clingy sleeper.” You half laugh, and Nikki feels himself turn red, averting his gaze once more.
“Why the bus? I had a room-”
“You lost your room keys, and honestly it was just easier.” You shrugged. After a beat, you took a deep breath, smiling brightly at him. “So you ready for tonight?”
The show goes great, goes incredibly, screaming and cheering from the fans, lights blinding overhead, a mind almost whited-out with pre-show blow, and his body’s on autopilot as he plays to the adoring crowd. But there you are, side of stage, cheering and beaming and all he can think about.
Something about your conversation earlier had been playing in his mind, you’d been telling the truth, but part of him knows it’s not the whole truth, and something tells him that it’s part of the truth that you’re keeping hidden that’s making you smile so bright, that’s responsible for the new, relaxed set of your shoulders.
The surprise, however, comes when you’re at the after party; he knew it was your night off but you usually spent it catching up on sleep. But here you were, chatting with some groupie, a drink in hand, looking like you’re actually enjoying yourself.
Nikki tries not to bother you, to let you enjoy yourself without the thought of your work looming in the background. He manages for about an hour, maybe a little less, but eventually he spots you heading for the door and he’s moving without thinking; if you’re leaving, he needs to say something, even if he’s not sure what.
“Are you- you okay?” He’s surprised when the words stumble out of his mouth, and you seem surprised to see him there at all.
“Yeah- I- do you need anything?” Brow furrowing, you step towards him where he’s still holding your wrist. It’s immediate, despite the buzz you’ve got going on, your mind immediately snaps into work mode, worrying about him even when you don’t need to. It endeared you to him without you even realising.
“Sorry,” he frowned for a moment, trying to get his words together in his mind, and your expression was already softening, “about last night and everything; I don’t know what happened.”
“You’re a rockstar, you don’t need to apologise, it’s part of the job,” you try to alleviate his stress, hand coming to rest on his chest, though the contact surprises him.
“That’s fucked- that’s fucked up. Like I know we do fucked up shit, but to not expect an apology? Fucked.” He finds himself rambling, and he sees on your face that he’s just drunk, spouting the first thing that comes to his mind, “What else did I say to you last night?” His thoughts then come to an abrupt halt as he watches you for an answer.
“Doesn’t matter, Nikki-” you try, but he’s frowning now. You just seem... tired.
“Yes it does, okay, I’m worried that I told you I love you or some shit and I don’t wanna fill you with false hope or any garbage like that!” The words spill out too fast for him to stop them. “I was out of my fucking mind, I just-”
“You told me you were grateful to have me around.” You scowled, wrenching your hand from his grip. “That’s all.”
He watches you go, weaving through the groupies who had spilled out into the hall, and something about it has his heart sinking. He tries, god he tries to enjoy the after party, but his drunk mind is traitorous and decides to now discover the concept of guilt, and drown him in it.
When he knock on you door, you ask who it is, and immediately tell him to fuck off once you find out who it is.
“It’s an emergency.” He tries, and he hears your loud, begrudging sigh, and then footsteps, and then the sound of the door unlocking.
“What?” You sigh; you’re wearing pyjamas, specifically an oversized Motley Crue shirt and little silk shorts. “It’s my night off, Nikki, what’s the emergency?” You raise an eyebrow at where he’s giving you a surprised look over. He’s got half a bottle of whiskey in his hand. “Go to bed,” your voice is gentle but you go to shut the door anyhow.
“You’re good to me; better than anyone like me fuckin’ deserves,” he starts, and already your breath is caught in your throat. It’s moments like this, affirmations that the rockstar you’d come to adore actually spared you more than a passing thought, might actually like having you around, instead of the just thinking of you as the nuisance that tried to make him sober up and put on pants, that made you feel a little warmer inside, as stupid as that may sound from the outside.
The thing is, it’s not that you’re blind to the bassist’s exploits, quite the opposite in fact, but there was a small part of you that had developed feelings for him, for the almost admirable way he tries to prove himself to be hardcore, to the softer, goofier side you only saw brief glimpses of when he didn’t try so hard to be the person everyone thought he was.
You were under no illusions regarding who he was, you wouldn’t trust him as far as you could throw him; you’d spent too much time with him to think differently, but your heart had been traitorous from the outset.
In all honesty, you knew why he’d said what he’d said earlier, about false hope, both of you too self aware to expect this to go well for more than a day or so before something terrible happened. And you knew he knew this too.
But he’s here, in your doorway.
“I’m paid to clean up your messes, Sixx,” you try, but you step back into the room, gesturing for him to come inside.
“You and everyone else on tour,” Nikki rolls his eyes, “none of them care half as much as you.” He paused, closing the door behind himself and leaning against it, watching as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You didn’t have to stay with me last night, anyone else would have just told me to fuck off, handcuff me so I couldn’t get away,” and he’s got you there.
“I am too good to you,” you’re still trying to keep up your annoyed front, but it’s crumbling quickly, “shouldn’t you be at the after party?”
“Thought I’d cut out the middle man, come to you instead of getting you to pick me up from some gutter in a few hours.” He’s smiling a little at that, taking a swig from his bottle. Part of you wants to argue that it’s your night off, but you both know his assumption is fairly spot on. You can’t help but laugh a little, shooting him a look that is both somehow exasperated and grateful.
His answering smile has relief at the edges, and he steps forwards, putting the bottle on the counter of the kitchenette, and walking around to flop down on the empty side of the bed, looking up at the ceiling.
“Why’d you really come here?”
He looks at you, frowning slightly, hesitating like he doesn’t want to admit the reason, perhaps breaking his tough-guy with no real feelings facade.
“Felt bad seeing you leave like that.” It’s far more honest than you were expecting, which must show on your face because he’s smirking. “I don’t feel bad about a lot of shit so you must be a special case,” and oh, okay there’s a fluttering in your chest and he’s grimacing like he regrets admitting that much.
“I suppose you’d probably collapse if you started feeling regret for everything you should,” you half laugh, and he makes a noise of indignance. But then you’re laying on your side beside him, propped up on your elbow, grinning at him. “Hey, can I -?” You’re gently holding his chin, just enough that his gaze meets yours.
“Should I regret this?” He asks, a scoff in his words, but your grin just widens in response.
“Should I?” You tease in response, and he can’t keep up the annoyed act, his expression turning to a cheeky smile as he props himself up, out of your grip and into your space. He’s so close to you, you can see the smudge of eyeliner still around his eyes, black streaks across his cheeks where he hadn’t managed to wipe all of his makeup away, and you can’t help but smile softly at the sight; it’s surprisingly humanising. And he likes watching the way you smile.
“Probably.” He snickers, but that’s when your gaze meets his, surprised and bright in equal measures, but he leans in. He tastes like whiskey, and something else a little heady that you can’t quite place, perhaps a fruity cocktail, maybe the remains of some pills or tabs he’d had once the show had ended; he tasted like something you knew you should regret, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
“We all like having you around,” he grins sharply, pulling back, “but me especially.”
“You’re such a suck up,” you rolled your eyes, laying back against the bed and huffing out a laugh, as if trying to come to terms with everything that was happening. And then he’s shifting to hover above you, still smiling, though it’s fond this time.
“Is it working?”
The way you pull him in to kiss him again is answer enough.
#nikki sixx#nikki sixx imagine#nikki sixx x reader#motley crue#motley crue imagine#the dirt#the dirt imagine#douglas booth#the angry lizard writes
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archives, atin’la. [ba’shira & mierrio]
atin’la: mandalorian for tough
evidently, ziost was not the first time mierrio and ba'shira met in dire circumstances. and clearly, would not be the last.
shorter chapter, originally intended to be a fun jab at ba’shira and mierrio’s past exploits together before ziost; instead became an insight into her and torian’s relationship. oops-
-
"Sith!"
Everything is moving too quickly for anyone to acknowledge what's going on outside their own two feet hitting the ground in rapid succession. There's nothing else to acknowledge other than their own two feet hitting the ground as they run for their literal lives.
For this alone, Ba'shira has already decided she is never visiting Makeb again, for a Sith's grand plan for repairing the mess their infighting (Ba'shira now knew why Mandalorians didn't really interact with Sith -- and would keep in mind to keep her distance next time one came knocking) had caused or otherwise. Considering the planet was about to blow it's top while they were still on it, there might not even be a Makeb to visit later down the line. Getting out of the drill shaft, where it's dark, dingy and falling apart on top of them is her first priority over everything else. Finishing the mission be damned, Katha, Cytharat and Marr would have to deal with failure if it meant she could see the light of another day.
Both Mandalorians are taking up the rear of their small party, that being them and the Sith Lord and her husband. How they'd gotten stuck together, she wasn't entirely sure. Why Marr had requested Nox's assistance with the technically Imperial world was understandable. Why the man (was he man under all that armor? She knew her and Torian's beskar'gam was extensive but at least they still knew they were human underneath it all) had hired her, was another mystery entirely. Great Hunt Champion or not, there was about a thousand reasons why she wasn't qualified to deal with a planet that was dying from extensive mining of some mineral or the other, and another thousand for why she deserved way more than just hazard pay for this job.
Hell, there weren't enough credits for this bantha dung of a mission.
Ba'shira is throwing a look over her shoulder every few moments to see whether or not the surviving Regulators had followed them through the shaft. Yes, she'd left them wounded and Nox had shocked them to oblivion and back but you never knew at the best of times. Humans, Zabraks, Rattataki, you name it, they tended to be way more resilient than expected.
Hearing the yelling in front of her, Ba'shira pauses for a moment to assess the situation, and she can see where the high, rock ceiling is coming apart before them, making the path to safety more and more perilous as the moments pass. There will be dings and dents in her beskar for days after this, and while it's an excuse to spend more time with Torian, she's afraid the metal won't continue to hold up under all the abuse it's taking. Or there won't be a her underneath it all to spend time with.
Riveting her gaze towards the nearly hysterical pirate in front of them, Nox had paused, turning to look at her husband with a confused and worried look in her eyes as she tries to make out what he says to her. Gaze darting around before falling on the issue in question, Ba'shira curses in Mando'a (means the translations have finally been sticking, exactly when she doesn't need them) and quickly realizes why Andronikos had yelled for her. A boulder is growing loose from the ceiling.
Nox has paused in exactly the right place to get crushed.
Nox herself looks up too late to do much about it, and her amber yellow eyes widen in fear before holding her hands up as if to protect herself. Sith were odd, but even she was sure that the woman couldn't keep the inevitable from happening. Essentially, Nox has paused for much too long, and Ba'shira groans and does the only thing she knows is right, even though it's sure to get her killed if she hesitates for even a moment. A running start as the boulder begins to fall, she activates her jetpack in a split second and blasts forward. Knocking the wind out of the Sith Lord and out of the way of the rock of death, dust gathers around them as the boulder falls, the shadow of the boulder growing larger and larger on the ground as the seconds pass. Nox has been pushed out of the way, and she's gearing up to blast her own way out. But, it's as if time speeds up, and she can barely getting a finger to the button before she sees the boulder out of the corner of her eyes.
The last thing Ba'shira sees is the woman skidding to the ground with a look of panic and confusion on her dirtied, pale face, and the yell of her name in Torian's voice over the rumbling of the groundquake as she tries her best to get up and run.
She can see the flash of tan as Torian runs for her, and all she can yell is a solemn, "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika."
Well, that would be a nice ending to her. A nice obituary for the underworld if she even ended up that popular. Least her last words wouldn't be obscenities. Torian would live on knowing he taught her something in Mando'a, as unteachable and insufferable as she was.
And in death, Sith couldn't bother her to go to unstable planets and fight their wars anymore.
-
Except, it seemed this Sith wanted to continue tormenting her for a bit longer. Ba'shira can barely believe it herself, as she holds her breath, waiting for her body to black out. But she's still sore, and the beskar is heavy against her body.
Cracking open one eye, and then the other, she's in shock as she finds that the boulder is levitating just above her. She's not dead, at least not yet. The rumbling is still deafening around her, and the rock is just barely tapping the toe of her boot. A moment later, it lowers by just a millimeter again. She panics, thinking she's only cheated death for a few moments. She can't move, her whole foot is almost being crushed, she can't say anything in fear it'll bring her end about faster. All before it's being thrown to the side and she can see the extended cave again. A loud crash sounds and she instinctively rolls onto her side to block the worst of it hitting her front.
She's alive.
Ba'shira Cadera has finally crossed that off her bucket list -- cheating death. Mako would not believe it if they made it back in one piece. The Mandalorian woman is nearly hyperventilating at this point before she really registers that she's still breathing, that she's has all her limbs, that she's still alive.
She's in-between crying and laughing -- both out of being grateful for her saving grace (whatever it was) or chuckling at death's inability to finish the job. It's already bubbling up and out of her throat as she chucks her helmet off, and it clatters to the ground beside her while she sits up, hunched over. Running a hand through her sweaty hair, she blinks a couple times to get the dust out and tries to register her surroundings again. Torian comes back into view as she begins to remember she's not alone, and the Sith Lord and her husband looked genuinely relieved as the three of them come over to her.
That was new. Nox didn't seem to care for her safety as much as she did the pirate's, but if she had been the one to yank the boulder off her as the only force sensitive in the vincinty, she guessed she owed her life to the Sith now.
Fuck.
Her first concern is very much Torian (after she's come to this conclusion), he's taken off his own helmet and throws it down to hold his forehead against hers as they both throw their arms around the other. For a moment, he's the only thing going on in the world, no matter how hot they both are underneath their layers of armor or how close to death both of the came in the last few hours. It's as if she can't touch enough of him, trying to remind him that she's here and she's alive and that she's okay, "Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur, Torian. I'm okay, cyar'ika."
There may be a chuckle she didn't catch, because he helps her up and a relieved smile crosses his face. If she can joke, she can breathe, "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum" He responds softly. Considering their current company, he doesn't make to kiss her, but instead is happy enough to squeeze her hand in his. She squeezes back before grabbing her helmet and holding it under an arm. It's dented beyond belief, and even being adopted into a clan, she's not sure where in hell to acquire more of the metal.
"Looks like whatever's going down now, we aren't leaving for a while." The gruff voice of the pirate snaps her back to reality as both of their allies approach them. They're still stuck down here, and by the defeated look on the Sith Lord's pale face in the dim blue light of the staticky communicator, they've lost com connection as well. It made enough sense during the quake, but if they're truly stuck down here, Ba'shira has a few ideas that would get out of there faster.
Rockets, mostly. But she could be persuaded otherwise. Missiles were always an option.
"Thank you though, for that. Y'know, risking you're life like that for her." Is his follow-up sentence. This is the first time they've spoken seriously since they met two weeks ago, and Ba'shira can see the relief written all over his face even if he attempts to hide it beneath the bravado and quick draw action he shows off to them. The Sith nods absentmindedly, her attentions clearly not with them right then, "You didn't have to nearly sacrifice yourself for her, but you did."
"'Course. Wasn't going to just let her die like that. I knew if I could, I should. And I did." She responds, "Know no one wants to go home without their wife. Wasn't going to let that happen to you. Are we really stuck here though?"
"The shaft has been cut off entirely. It'd take hours to blast through it, but if I could just--" the Sith looks to where they'd come from, and where the entrance had been before looking down at her hands. The woman is unnecessarily pale, and she clearly has a headache of some sort by the way she keeps blinking and rubbing her temples. Her husband cuts her off rather quickly.
"Sith, you're not pulling a stunt like that again. Corsha took a lot out of you, and you're not making your recovery any smoother by chucking rocks triple the size of you." He says sternly. Ba'shira considers making the note that the maybe 5"3 woman was going to be smaller than everything they come across, but holds her tongue. Now she's curious about this Corsha person, and wonders if someone had tried to kill her. If she's being honest, it wouldn't be surprising with her personality and reputation.
"Thankful for our lives, really. But if it's too much for you to even attempt that, Torian and I still have some firepower left over." She responds instead, considering that boulder could've made her a Mandalorian pancake had the Sith not overexerted herself and not feeling as bad about it now, "Might take a bit, especially with those monsters we encountered earlier depleting most of any weapons we have."
"Niar hasn't responded to our calls yet either. Figure she'll get a crew down here soon, but Cytharat was the only force user capable of something like that. It'll take ages for anyone to get through there with anything short of a firing crew." He says, confirming her worst suspicions, "We just gotta sit tight for a while until we can get in contact with anyone at this point."
"They wouldn't leave a Sith Lord to die down here. Me, maybe, Marr probably couldn't give less of a kriffing shit about me, but he wouldn't let her go. I say two hours, maybe three tops before we're home free." She says nonchalantly. Marr wouldn't let Nox die, maybe her enemies on the Council (if she had any, and maybe this Corsha person while they were at it) would, but she prays that by association she gets out of this as well. Ba'shira has debts she hasn't paid yet, and Mako, Gault, and Blizz would be hunted down by the Cartel if she didn't pay those back. Even through death, the Hutts always got their money back.
The Sith slumps against her husband only a few moments later, clearly out of it and exhausted. Ba'shira (and her two companions) originally assume she's really gone and kicked the bucket, but later she learns the woman had given birth only a few months earlier (Corsha was her first biological child and it had been a trying pregnancy for her, according to Andronikos. Ba'shira had also finally learned their names properly during this conversation) and had forced herself back onto the battlefield. Currently suffering from Force Exhaustion, no wonder she'd passed out, running a fever and breathing hard. Kolto couldn't exactly be administered in this situation except for minor scratches and injuries here and there, but their minimal supplies of water and rations are dealt out accordingly to deal with everyone's waning battle highs. They manage to do some damage, but other than trying to keep Mierrio and everyone cool, there isn't much else to do but wait as advised. Ba'shira can't even get in contact with the Mantis, and time ticks by on her chrono
Six hours. They spend six hours under all the rubble until they manage to loosen the rubble enough to blast their way out with the minimal assistance of another ground team with shovels (she wonders if she can convince the semi-conscious Mierrio to advocate for better recovery teams, they wouldn't have spent nearly as long in the tunnel if they had more than measly shovels). It goes about business as usual, though the Revels would be out of the operation for a day or two for the woman to recover her strength. Ba'shira's nearly sad to see her go, before also remembering that the woman was partially the reason she was here and the reason she had to cheat death to begin with.
As soon as they're back on solid ground, making to return to their lodgings for the evening, Ba'shira and Torian find themselves alone overlooking the mesas of Makeb, sun setting over the ridges as the cool wind blows by.
It'd be a pretty day, was she not still thinking about the incident from earlier that had been brushed off so easily by Niar and her team. Yet again, why Ba'shira didn't prefer working with Imperials. They never ceased to be frustratingly reclusive and apathetic at the worst of times. Sure Ba'shira had enough apathy to go around the whole crew twice, but still. She'd be way more concerned about her team's safety, especially considering she was on their payroll.
There's no ceremony, not anything preceding before they seem to both have the same idea at once. Taking each other in their arms once out of sight of any other Imperials, and kissing the other hard, as if they haven't seen each other in ages. If she's being honest, between being shot at, and being choked out by a Sith Lord, this has to be one of her worst near death experiences. Ba'shira had never been gung ho about saving other people, her own hide meant more to her than anyone elses', but she'd kick ass for her cyare's life. She hated being in tight spaces anyways, and that split second that she thought she was going to die there in a musty tunnel with two people she couldn't care less about and her Torian looking as if he wanted to save her himself set a panic in her. It wasn't just her anymore either, aside from her crew that she treated like family, Torian was the one man who honestly respected her not for how she looked, but how she fought and her personality.
And she had almost lost him.
Returning to their quarters that night, Ba'shira and Torian spend their time cleaning off their beskar and repairing what they can before the sun rises again. The new paint job she'd only gotten weeks before their mission to Makeb had come off in streaks and she cursed every time she found a grey area where the coloring had come off. The deep maroon and tangerine orange had been such a nice choice beforehand, but she'd been cheap just this once and had chosen a lower quality paintjob. The damage could've been worse, and she's glad there are only a few places she needs to get an armorsmith to bang back into place. The helmet, she'd have to go without until they were done with this planet, but Torian reassures her that he won't wear his if she doesn't wear hers.
Maybe it was time for a new color. Pink hadn't gone too well with the orange, but a coral color could go nicely with it. Orange, for a 'lust for life' and pink, for respecting someone. All things her cyare had told her, and sleeping against him that night, she's halfway in between regretting saving the wife and mother of two because of the distress she'd put him in, but at the same time glad because it meant she was upholding her code. There was no honor in leaving the woman to die if there was something she could do about it. While she was sure that even if she wasn't Mandalorian that he'd still care for her, she's happy she was able to find a medium between being one and being herself.
"Hey, Torian?" She whispers, late at night and laying on her side. He's still awake, if not blearily. His cyan blue eyes take a moment to focus on her, but when they do it's as if her body temperature has gone up a few degrees. Only one of the many reasons she married him, she would swim in his eyes for hours if she could.
"Somethin' wrong?" He asks, just as quiet. Ba'shira smiles, she wonders if she looks just as young as him, or whether he can tell what she's about to say.
"No, nothing's wrong, cyar'ika." She answers after a pause, "I love you."
He doesn't seem surprised though, the corners of his lips pulling upwards with a soft smile. He gently pulls her closer, and presses a kiss to her forehead, before leaning his forehead against her's. Even without their helmets, it's a natural reaction to both of them now, "I love you too, 'Shira."
"Bet you're glad you taught me all that Mando'a now, huh?"
"Haven't started cursing in it yet. See that as a good thing." He answers, a smirk on his face as she rolls her eyes, "Remember you wanting to get me out of my armor first."
"Details, details..."
-
It isn't until nearly eleven years later that she meets the infamous Corsha Revel that had given her mother so much trouble the year after her birth. Given, she's missing her father and younger brother (she was not the youngest anymore, and Ba'shira was curious why Mierrio hadn't stopped with her if Force Exhaustion was so prevalent with her), but the girl is a fiesty thing. Her fiery personality reminds her immediately of the pirate and the Sith, and it's hard not to take her under her wing until Andronikos returns. Essentially, she handles the girl's shooting skills until her father takes over.
Gar taldin ni jaonyc. It was a phrase that Torian often reflected on that he thought was a good summary of his life. At first, he hadn't told her what exactly it meant, until he had after they'd allied with Tormen for good. "Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be", apparently. Until she'd met Corsha and Ronin, and really registered the people that they were, from the people who had raised them, she didn't fully understand the meaning behind the phrase. Later, she did.
Mandalorians valued family, legacies, maybe more than even the Sith did. Ba'shira had never been the type to want children, before Zakuul had attacked, her life plan was to get rich and then die rich. Kids be damned. Torian had never aired a concern to her that they were getting too old to have them, but she was coming up on her thirty first birthday, she's beginning to realize Clan Cadera is going to die with the last Mandalorians with the name.
Ba'shira's mothers had died long before they could've taught her anything useful about motherhood. Now, she was curious. Could her body even handle carrying a child to full-term after all the abuse she'd put it through over the years? Considering her own adoption in Mandalore's clan, she figured there wasn't anything against adopted children carrying on a Clan name.
Did she, Ba'shira Cadera, even want kids?
After Darvannis, seeing so many Mandalorians all in one place again, she thinks about it again. The Orchid had been no place to bring a child into the galaxy, with all the sharp edges and the Jawa with the sharp edges. Odessen in wartime wasn't really either, but the Revel children had quickly adapted to their new surroundings. They were also ranging in ages from thirteen to ten though.
A dark haired or blonde little boy or girl, running about an causing a ruckus alongside their parents. Or a Twi'lek, or a Zabrak, or a Chiss, or hell even a Pureblood if she's getting really crazy. Any kid of her's, biological or otherwise, would be loved.
Another day, she thinks, getting to her feet and readjusting her helmet, another day to think about these things. Can't catch a bounty if I can't see over my own two feet.
Another day won, for Clan Cadera.
#swtor#star wars the old republic#star wars#ba'shira cadera#mierrio revel#mierrio revel-kallig#mierrio kallig#darth nox#torian cadera#female bounty hunter#female bounty hunter/torian cadera#torian cadera fanfiction#swtor fanfiction#fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#andronikos revel
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Mission Gone Right
AN: I got a lot of feels over Spies Are Forever, so I wrote what I think would’ve happened if the mission hadn’t gone wrong. So, yeah here it is.
Owen couldn't fool Curt. How stupid did he think he was? Seriously, was a hat and a fake mustache the best he could do? And Russian really wasn't his best accent. But as soon as he saw his friend walk in with his very own dumb henchman, he knew he had to play along. It was like a game to them; they would always play the part of a villain while the other was caught only to reveal their true identity and bust out.
So he cracked jokes and one liners and flashed a smile here and there, even when Olog nearly crushed his balls. He wasn't going to lie, he did get a little nervous when he saw the metal bat so close to his crotch. He was relieved when it knocked against his chair and hit Olag between the legs instead of him, and he shook his head in mock sympathy.
Curt had never seen Owen so into a character ever since he had been strapped to a spinning wheel and the Englishman had been posing as an "evil magician" who was "practicing his aim" by throwing knives at him when he refused to answer his questions. Owen was seriously lucky that he was a good shot or else Curt would've killed him. Evil magician, Russian interrogator, Owen sure had a thing for cliché disguises. He bent down close to his face, and he could feel his hot breath on his shoulder. It smelled minty. Of course it did. He always had mints or gum on him, and he was thankful that he had chosen the former because he really didn't want to hear him smacking in his ear. Instead he heard him ask, "Where do you get off?" Oh he should know better than to use such wording...
He rattled off various places where the two of them had hooked up and felt him back up in shock. Curt liked this. He liked that he still had a sense of power even when tied to a chair. His smug smile was quickly replaced by a look of fear when he saw Owen pull out a long white feather and ran it over his neck. Damnit he was pulling out the big guns and if Curt kept up with his tough guy act who knows how long his friend will torture him for, so he easily gave in. But he still swiped the feather from his ears to his jaw, but finally backed off.
Finally Owen said the line that always indicates it's him before he tears off his disguise: "Personal history does have its benefits, Mega."
Curt rolled his eyes to the ceiling and watched as he shot both of Olag's kneecaps, sending him crumbling to the floor. In a swift motion, he rips off his mustache and hat, shaking out his hair. "Owen Carvour you limey bastard, I knew it was you all along. That accent sure could use some work though."
"Oh sod off, it fooled 20 Russian security officers and our dear friend Olag over here," he said with a smirk. After knocking him out and running and gunning their way through the building, Curt answered the call from his boss. Only to have Owen grab his wrist so that he could talk to her instead. He swore she liked him better, and he wasn't even part of their agency, but he couldn't blame her. He was very charming, even after letting a poor excuse of a bad guy "rough him up a bit."
And since the rocket shoes were a no go and the watch was boring, it was time to blow up the building. They were heading down the stairs and Curt just finished his healthy on the job snack and tossed the banana peel on the ground. At Owen's incredulous look, he explained, "What? The whole place is gonna be garbage in a few minutes anyway, who gives a shit?"
"Uh, I do because you just knocked off that safety rail, and that is a very bad place for a banana peel. They are slippery you know, it's not just in cartoons."
"Well do you see a trash can anywhere?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact I do." Curt didn't like that look in his eye, and punched him in the arm when he grabbed the peel and tossed it on his head. Owen laughed and turned around, and no sooner than he did he started mocking him behind his back, pretending to hold a teacup with his pinky up and silently repeating what he said, shifting his jaw to the right to match his crooked smile. Owen sensed something was up but when he looked back at Curt he seemed to be doing nothing.
"Y'know, I think you were exaggerating when you said that accent fooled 20 security guards. You sure you didn't mean two?" he teased with a smirk, jabbing him with his elbow. He shot him a glare, "No you twit, I know how to bloody count." Curt held his hands up defensively, "Hey all I'm saying is it needs a little work." They then reached the bottom of the stairs, setting the timer.
"Atta boy, three it is." He knew they were pushing their luck by setting the timer so low, leaving no room for error. Lucky for them they don't often have those, and he has to admit it's an exhilarating game they share. They both live for the thrill of the rush, the adrenaline coursing through their veins. They were about to leave when suddenly they were surrounded.
They froze like deer in the headlights, standing back to back, their hands in the air. Well, they've been in worse situations... The ground beneath their feet began to shake and their captors fell to the ground, but they were able to keep their footing. They needed to get out of there immediately or else they were gonna blow.
"That's our cue, love," Owen shouted and grabbed him by the wrist. They ran up the stairs and rounded the sharp turn, where Owen almost lost his footing. Curt grabbed his arm and pulled him close before continuing their daring escape. "Told you that would've been a bad place for a banana peel!"
Curt huffed out an irritated breath, "Yeah yeah, can we just get out of here and do the I told you so's outside when we're not about to die?"
"Sure thing love, I'll get right on that. Say, how much time do you suppose we have left to get out with our bodies intact?"
"I'd say about a minute and 15 seconds."
"Christ! Cutting it a bit close, aren't we Mega?"
"Which is why it'll feel even better when we make it out!"
"You better be right about this!"
"Relax, I'm always right."
"Oh get off your high horse, clearly that interrogation did nothing to humble you."
Curt found the exit and kicked down the door. They ran as fast as they could through the parking lot and turned around just in time to see the building explode. They let out triumphant cries, jumping into the air and high five-ing each other. They hugged one another in a tight embrace, relishing in the flames and shrapnel. Curt let out a sigh of relief, "That was close."
"I'll say." Owen turned to look at him and locked their gaze, reaching out to grip his shoulders tightly. "But there will be no beating this record. We barely made it out with time to spare, and I for one am quite pleased with this time. I mean three minutes, that's quick."
"Under three minutes," Curt corrected him.
"That's barely the length of a song," Owen mused.
"Cynthia's going to be very pleased I'll say and- oh no."
"What do you mean oh no?"
"The blueprints, I must've dropped them!"
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" Owen yelled in shock and anger. "We just nearly died and you're telling me that they're now destroyed because of your butterfingers?"
Curt tried his best to keep a straight face, but the upturned corners of his mouth gave him away and he couldn't help but to start laughing. He was doubled over as Owen placed his hands on his hips, chewing the inside of his cheek to keep his own smile under wraps. He wagged a finger at him, "You're luck I didn't punch you in the face."
"Oh no, you'll leave that to our dear friend Olag, won't you?"
"Don't be so sore about it, it was all in good fun. And you held your own very well I would say, it's always best to have practice. Besides, I made sure to grab the least competent person I could find."
Curt narrowed his eyes, studying his friend. "How did you know he was the least competent?"
"Because I saw him follow seven men through a push door and when he reached it he still tried to pull," Owen said with a laugh, and his partner couldn't help but join.
"No wonder you were the better interrogator. Even if your accent was bad."
"You're still hung up about that fucking accent?Next time I'll be sure to use my Cockney one instead since you're so critical."
"Hey, I'm sure anything else would be better than "real-rerearelreareally nice"," he said doing his best impression of his terrible accent, and even Owen had to chuckle. "In this business you need to be on your A game." He flashed him a grin and winked.
Owen scoffed, "Says the secret agent who caved to a little tickling." He smirked as Curt's face fell, "I only did because you were wasting time and Cynthia wants these blueprints ASAP." He started walking to where his car was but Owen just walked with him, even stepping in front of him and walking backwards so he could face him. He hoped the smug bastard would trip.
"You sure that's the only reason Mega?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Curt looked away, trying to hide his blush. Only when he looked down, he saw what Owen had in his hand and a nervous smile found its way onto his face and he held a hand up defensively. "Because personal history does have it's benefits." He reached out and Curt tried to duck away, but was a second too slow. He immediately burst into high pitched giggles, trying to swat his hand away.
"Now what was it you said earlier? That you're "deathly ticklish behind your neck and ears"? Because that's what I seem to remember. I wonder what good ol' Cynthia would say when she finds out the great Curt Mega surrendered to a feather."
He finally managed to wiggle free of his grasp and panted, "She will never find out, because I'll kill you if you tell her. I'd never hear the end of it! She'd kick my ass and fire me before I could even defend myself against your lies. 'Cause for some reason she believes just about anything you say."
"Not a lie because that's how it happened. And good to know about Cynthia. Totally not going to use that to my advantage. Say, you wouldn't mind if I left this with her would you?" he questioned, twirling the feather between his fingers.
Curt rolled his eyes, "As long as it's not in your hands I'm fine. And I was serious when I said she wanted these ASAP, because the longer you keep me the longer I'll get chewed out for how long I took," he emphasized.
"Don't worry, I'll use my new found knowledge to protect you from her lecture. I'm sure as soon as I say that you had to wait on me she won't be mad."
It turns out Owen was right. As always. And the next day when he was called into her office, he wondered why she seemed so... he wouldn't necessarily say happy but, amused. It wasn't until he tried to leave and he felt something light and fluffy brush over his neck did it all make sense. He whipped around to see a smiling Cynthia holding the white feather. She tilted her head to the side, feigning innocence. "Was there something else?" He knew from the teasing look in her eyes that she was never going to let him live this down. He was going to kill Owen.
#wish this was how it happened#curt mega#agent curt mega#owen carvour#saf#saf fic#spies are forever#spies are forever fic#saf tickle fic#spies are forever tickle fic#ticklish!curt#can't believe that's actually canon#we've been blessed
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Young Justice Outsiders finale
Ok, guys. Here’s the finale wrap up for Young Justice Outsiders! Massive spoilers under the cut, so read at your own risk.
Episode 24: Into the Breach
Ok, so this picks up just before M’gann’s teams infiltrate the Orphanage from Ep 23 Terminus. The Outsiders, minus Static (who’s been with Black Lightning), and Geo-Force, who was with M’gann’s team, infiltrate Building 16, a props department with no surveillance. Vic’s powers come in hand to get rid of the illusion and find the Apokoliptan tech, leading Granny to show up after putting the Outsiders in the X-Pit’s Ghost Dimension.
Gar and Granny fight, and since when can Gar turn into a Ma’ale’fak? We haven’t seen one of those since M’comm tried to fight M’gann back early on in the season. I know he can turn into things from other planets, like that weird bird thing from Rann, but this was new. I really enjoyed the fight, even yelling “GAR GET YOUR ASS UP!” several times.
Vic, while all this was going on and they were being tortured, worked his technomagic on Overlord and kicked it’s ass, breaking Granny’s hold on the Ghost Dimension and causing them to win the fight. After he and Beetle destroyed the tech he’d found earlier, he boom tubed to the Orphanage and found Violet and Granny, whose two selves (Granny Goodness and her “avatar” Gretchen Goode) fused back together. He blasted the control goggles off of Halo’s head, and y’all this is where it got good!
MY GIRL WENT SUPER SAIYAN! All of her auras, lookin’ like motherfucking Rainbow Brite before laying a hurt on Granny’s candy ass. She cleansed the Anti-Life Equation, freeing her friends before she, Vic, Superman, and Captain Atom blew up the device on the Orphanage. The reunion with Brion was sweet and I’m glad they’re together again, even though I know something bad is about to happen later on.
Connor and M’gann, however, aren’t so kosher. He’s still dealing with her hiding the Anti-Light from him, and who knows how they’re going to end up. I know a lot of people hate SuperMartian as a ship, but we already lost Spitfire and BluePulse isn’t going to happen, so can we please leave at least one ship intact?
Vic officially joined the Outsiders too! Cyborg is now officially born!
Episode 25: Overwhelmed
Ho, boy. Let’s start with the easy and get to the emotional stuff, because that’s where the meat of the episode is.
Connor and Forager go to Geranium City, a city created and inhabited by Genomorphs, the same ones that were under Cadmus’ control back in the early days. Forager’s trying to find his place on Earth since Mantis was arrested at the end of the last episode for helping Granny Goodness, and he’s torn between returning to his home world or staying on Earth. He and Connor have work to do regarding both of them coming to the light, so to speak.
Metron returned long enough to basically kidnap Vic and Violet, and unfortunately little Lian since she was in Violet’s arms at the time. Turns out, since they’re both “children” of MotherBox and FatherBox technology, they’re technically Metron’s grandchildren, which is something I never thought I’d hear. He warns them that they may be the key to stopping Darkseid’s plans if they don’t die in the process.
Gregor Markov is back. He’s with Brion and Tara in Beverly Hills, meeting his siblings in secret. The first time all of them have been together in years. Tara, however, has other plans and tells Deathstroke Gregor’s out of the country, allowing them to put their plan into action in Markovia, allowing their uncle, Baron Bedlam, to stage a coup and take over the country. It’s going to be interesting to see how they pull this off.
And now the emotional stuff. Artemis. After coming home and seeing Will had made dinner and set up candles and shit, the two talk before kissing. She breaks the kiss and apologizes, running off to her room and grabbing the picture of her and Wally and apologizing to it. She called Zatanna and meets with her, M’gann, and Rocket under the willow tree they met Dr. Fate under early on in the season. Zatanna casts some magic (or so we think) and Artemis goes into Limbo, seeing Wally.
She’s only got until sunrise, so she imagines their house, they’re engaged, she’s pregnant, and then ends up with a nameless baby. She knows it’s fake, because the tv in the mindscape has Zatanna saying she’s going to cast a spell to “raise the sun”, and then it turns to an episode of “Hello, Megan!” which should have been a clue as to what the hell was going on.
Wally tells her its time to wake up, step through the door and find someone to love again, saying she deserved a chance. “I already had my chance” fucking hurt. She walks through the door (all that’s left of the house after everything faded from around them) and comes back under the willow, and she walks off with the girls.
Rocket questions what happened, and Zatanna admits she cast a spell, but it was all M’gann’s doing. She created a mindscape in Artemis’ head that let her get the closure she needed to be able to move on after two years. The day Artemis finds out that her best friends did that to her, I can very easily see it blowing up in M’gann and Zatanna’s faces and Artemis either threatening her friends or just outright cutting them out of her life.
Violet got home with Lian who was sound asleep, and she tells Will it was “an average night” before going to lay Lian down. Artemis arrived a minute later, her and Will talking about the kiss and what happened, but they both agree it was wrong and felt wrong the moment it happened. They’re still in-laws, after all.
Side note: Can you please bring Wally back already? The Goode Goggles hallucination for Garfield in ep 12, Dick’s fever dream in ep 23, and now a fake limbo by M’gann in ep 25, I am tired of being teased about my boy. Bring him back or stop fucking with our emotions, you bastards. Seriously!
Episode 26: Nevermore
Other than sharing its name with my favorite Teen Titans episode, let’s dive into the big finish!
Three teams lead the charge into Markovia to deal with Baron Bedlam. Tara, Garfield, Victor, and Brion are one squad, M’gann leading El Dorado, Blue Beetle, Traci 13, Static, Wonder Girl, and a couple of others are a second, and Connor, Artemis, Dick, Forager, and Violet are the last. Connor’s squad faces off with Bedlam who takes off running, Count Vertigo coming in to keep the squad down.
Bedlam runs right into Gar’s team, and he’s confronted by his niece and nephew. Brion knocks him out of the window after Bedlam backhands Tara, and the two fight in the courtyard where it gets publicly broadcast. The fight goes either way, but Brion finally manages to get the upper hand on his uncle. Despite everyone telling him not to, Brion executes his uncle on international television! We find out later it’s the Ambassador using a low-level psychic ability to influence Brion’s actions, but the damage is done. Brion is now king of Markovia, estranged from his sister and broken up with Violet who is horrified at his actions. We see later the Ambassador is now a member of the Light, controlling Brion for a puppet government, along with Dr. Jace back in the picture looking happy to have her “Son” back. I honestly fear that Brion is going to be a season 4 antagonist.
I’m so glad to see that Tara’s not going to end up betraying everyone to Deathstroke and we’re not getting Judas Contract again. IT’s about time to do something new with her character, and where she is now is a good place to give her a new direction.
Nice to see Luthor getting what he deserves. Connor outing himself as a clone created by Luthor was a nice touch, and it’s good that Troia might be getting the big chair.
I’m glad SuperMartian is going to stay together. At least two of my ships continue to sail. I was so worried they were going to split for good at the end of Ep 24, and I’m happy to see them going to last.
Dick outing everything they did to the Team and the League was a nice way to end it. Everyone coming back together, and Black Lightning getting the League chair was great. Dude has had a shit run the entire season and it’s good to see him get a win.
A FUCKING LEGION OF SUPERHEROES RING IN THE END SHOT?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!? Are we getting the Legion in season 4?! That would be so crash!! We almost got Slobo! And Lobo showing up and squashing his clone made from his severed finger was goddamn hilarious.
Overall, this was a great season. There were some slow parts, a few things that could have been expanded on and shortened, but all in all I loved it from the word go. I’m glad we got to see a handful of “one-off” characters in Spoiler, Arrowette, and Orphan, and I hope to see them get more screentime in Season 4. Loved all the new characters, Cyborg was great, Halo was my all time favorite, loved Forager, and up until the end of Ep 26, I enjoyed Brion.
Hats off the all of the voice actors this season, man. Stephanie Lemlin did so good as Artemis still struggling with Wally’s disappearance, and every time she talks about him, you feel the weight and emotion behind each word. Zehra Fazal, if you guys follow my twitter, you know how I feel about this woman. She voiced like a dozen characters, and she did such a damn good job in each scene she was in, and you felt the weight she was carrying trying to discover who and what she was. Zeno Robinson had some big shoes to fill as Cyborg, but MY GOD did the due kill it! From either of the spectrum, Zeno quickly rose up in the ranks of my favorite VA’s.
I’m sad to see the season end, but let’s look forward to Season 4!!
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Endgame is a movie about payoffs
An incomplete list of all the great ‘payoffs’ in this movie.
Hulk’s character arc/story is resolved offscreen and Hulk as a character is killed off. Shh no tears, only Banner now.
Loki’s death was meaningless
Thor’s character arc/story wasn’t even regressed, it was reset
Tony and Nebula’s relationship went nowhere
Vision’s body was shoved in a closet for five years I guess
Doctor Strange’s 14 million futures and 1 solution relied on a fucking rat
The main six avengers never got to be on screen fighting together
Natasha was killed off and her death is barely mentioned
Red Skull’s presence was revealed to simply be the writers going wOuLdN’t iT Be CoOl rather than having any deeper meaning or reason for it. Boy would it have made sense for the Avengers to maybe talk to the Stonekeeper since they know next to fuck all about the infinity stones. Or maybe resolve the whole ‘Steve and Red Skull’ thing, because it’s not like that was formative conflict for Steve Rogers.
Loki’s death was seriously fucking meaningless
Rocket sort of just existed. What did he do? Nothing. Who did he interact with? Barely anyone.
Gamora’s character arc/story is reset to a blank slate because she is a new person.
Drax’s whole reason for living was revenge and to strike back at Thanos. Never see Drax in Endgame except as part of the exhaustively long checklist of ‘HEY LOOK X PERSON IS HERE’
Clint going on a murderspree doesn’t matter at all except to give a reason why he isn’t in the first part of the movie. It has no bearing on the events and no one ever speaks to Clint about it. He doesn’t even act any differently from the mostly serious and broody Clint of the previous films. There isn’t even any tension about him coming back, Nat just says ‘Hi Clint come back’ and he’s like ‘k’.
Peter Quill, who I don’t even like, has only a single scene in the movie where his entire growth as a character and relationship with Gamora is reduced to stupid physical humor and a joke.
Carol Danvers was pointless. She exists to save Tony and Nebula, which Thor could’ve done with bifrost and to blow up Sanctuary, which could’ve been done far more interestingly. And yet the movie tried to weave her in pretty well by making her part of Natasha’s galactic avengers and then...did nothing with that idea. Was it too hard to consider maybe she shows up with whats left of NovaCorps or some Kree battleships?
Thanos proves that he was jobbing hard in Infinity War. What’s that, Thanos without any infinity stones could easily beat Tony in Mk85, Thor with both his weapons and Steve Rogers? I guess the entire fight on Titan was him just pissing around. It steals all the weight and strength that Infinity War gave the Avengers by showing that Thanos could’ve squashed any of them at any time and was never actually in danger.
‘Stark. You’re not the only one cursed with knowledge.’ What does that mean? Why does Thanos seem to respect him? Fucking who knows, since we see that in the past Thanos only vaguely knew about the Avengers and thought they were dumb nerds. I guess he read about Tony underneath a Snapple lid.
Back to Natasha’s death - she dies and the movie decides it needs to focus on fucking Bruce of all people, when she and Steve had become very close friends over the past seven years, and from the implications Steve was the only one that actually kept in contact with her post-Snap when the Avengers all retired or fucked off. Fucking Bruce.
Hey while we’re here, let’s keep up with Steve and his relationships. How about the fact he and Bucky never reunite on screen? How about the fact that all we have gotten between Steve and Bucky since Steve got his best friend back was what, three lines total between Infinity War and Endgame?
Or how about Steve and Sam! You know, Sam the therapist that helped break Steve out of his shell. Sam the loyal friend who stood by Steve through thick and thin. Sam, who kind of was Steve’s first ‘real’ friend in the modern day. Sam, who only shows up at the end so old Steve who abandoned his friends can chuck him a shield. No reunion. No real meaningful moment. Just hey I’m old take my shield.
Or Steve and Wanda! Did you guys forget that the secret Avengers adopted her? How they were kind of like a family for that time after Civil War, with Steve the Dad and Natasha the Mom and Wanda their adopted weird magical girl? You know, how they took Wanda under their wing and started teaching her and treating her like a real person?
Guess they did forget!
What about Valkyrie too, by the way. Valkyrie who spent a thousand years as a cynical drunk and then Thor helped her out of her self-loathing funk in Ragnarok. And then she I guess just said ‘sucks to be you’ and didn’t even try to help him? Or how about that Thor just kind of chucks her the throne like a party favor. Not even like he recognized she earned it or anything, Thor just said ‘hey, fuck my responsibilities I want to go be a failure in space, so take my job lmao’. Nice. I hate Ragnarok with a passion, but for fuck’s sake.
Nidavellir. Establishes that Eitri is the last of the dwarven forgemasters left, and still has all his knowledge and skill. And that he forged the Gauntlet. And the plans for the Gauntlet are still there. Clearly, that means Tony should just whip together a nanite gauntlet in his basement overnight.
Carol Danvers and Nick Fury. You know, how Captain Marvel set them up as good friends, and then she allegedly shows up wanting to know where he is. Oops. That didn’t make the cut. Or her seeing Fury again after so many years. Double oops. Shit, this is even from the stinger of the last movie these yucks wrote, and they couldn’t even do it. Again - like Gagnarok and others, Cpt. Marvel is not even a movie I liked but COME ON NOW.
The intelligence/wisdom of the infinity stones. The space stone ‘judged’ Red Skull and cast him out. The soul stone has a ‘certain wisdom’. Ultron was made from the intelligence that lurked in the mind stone. Vision was linked to all the other stones and could sense almost a distress from each other stone as Thanos claimed them. NVM, stones destroyed lmao.
Infinity War went out of it’s way to make visually striking and different battle sequences and pulled out all the stops to really showcase powers. We got to see smart and interesting uses of all the stones during the battle on titan. Thanos actually had a wizard duel with Strange, showing that he is so much more than just a brute brawler. He blended caster and bruiser seemlessly. The color palatte was bright and arid, full of reds and oranges and blues and greens, well lit and extremely well choreographed. Tony showcases the amazing functionality of his Mk50 experimental armor. The battle at Avengers compound is dark, a color palette of grey, dark grey, light grey, and brown-grey. The choreography of the fight consisted of ‘surround Thanos and hit him with sticks’. We saw none of the MK85 suit. You know. The LAST suit Tony Stark would ever make. We saw none of Stormbreaker or Mjolnir’s power in Thor’s hands, only the most basic ‘fwoosh lightning’ from when Steve holds it. Where was Thor and his flying, his glowing eyes, Mjolnir-as-a-character that was present in all his fights in the past? Where was Steve’s mixed martial arts and his really acrobatic and distinct fighting style? Where was Tony constantly pulling new weapons and tricks out of his suit? The final fight of the Infinity Saga with the big three, and it’s as inspiring as a mid-aughties superhero duel. Just kind of slamming together and grunting. (I guess all the good fight choreographers were stolen by Alita)
‘I can do this all day’. The iconic line of Steve Rogers in the MCU, a touchstone for his character that is emblematic of his entire life and his drive, that says in six syllables the sum total meaning of what it is to be Captain America.
Is played
As
A
Joke.
Pepper Potts, whose character and relationship with Tony Stark to date can be summed up succinctly as ‘Tony no’ while he shouts ‘TONY YES’ now totally agrees with Tony and is all gung-ho about him deciding to risk his life, his daughter’s life, their lives, and the fucking universe to go a-time-travelling. What.
Steven Strange, whose movie was about him struggling to become a sorcerer and let go of his past and his preconceptions as well as the Ancient One seeing potential in him despite his roughness is shown to all be a charade. She actually knew all along he was going to be an OG badass and is so enamored with him that she’s willing to hand away the infinity stone she and her order have protected for millennia at the simple mention of his name.
Acausal time travel. Instead of enriching the previous movies by seamlessly blending into them for the time heist, Endgame goes out of it’s way to say ‘HAHA YEAH NO, THIS IS A BRANCHING TIMELINE’ so when you watch Dark World, Avengers, etc, there’s no intrigue of like ‘oh man, such and such is going on just around the corner’ because they so thoroughly bungled time travel and everything we saw in Endgame breaks the timelines. I can’t believe JK Rowling did a better job creating consistent and coherent time travel that carried narrative weight and tension in a children’s book.
Undoing the snap. All the speculation and theory about how, why, when, what, and it turns out all you have to do is just snap to bring everyone back and then act like the intervening five years of social decay and collapse never happened.
Theodore Ross is very specifically shown in Infinity War to be the Secretary of State. Hm. A character who’s always been an antagonist, always against the avengers...in a high ranking government position...right before 50% of the population is dusted...right, yeah, nothing. Not the President after the snap.
The snap itself. Smash cut to 5 years later, show some quick flybys and pay a bit of lip service to ‘oh yeah things are bad’ but that’s it. Don’t investigate it. Don’t show us how bad things are. Don’t explore it. In fact, everything seems pretty ok. People are still playing Fortnite five years later and cheerfully dabbing and taking selfies, so it’s all good right? Not like half of all life vanished instantly over night and the world is supposed to be falling apart. Nah.
Tony Stark’s death. Did he die to bring back the universe? Did he die to save his friends? Did he die to save his daughter or his family? Nope, he killed himself to kill the already beaten Thanos and his final words were all about himself. bUt ThE cAlLbAcK
Thanos. Killed off. Replaced by a cartoon villain version of himself. The Thanos that is the main antagonist that the Avengers beat? Not the Thanos who we got to know and who starred as the center of Infinity War.
Nebula. Best character in the film. Has no conclusion. No catharsis or reaction to Thanos’ death.
Groot. Split second shot of him and Rocket. No reunion.
Groot, again, and the rest of the Guardians. No chance to see Rocket’s reaction to the realization his entire family is gone or the effect it has on him. What was that scene in Infinity War? “Me? I got a lot to lose. I got a lot.” No relevance.
Stormbreaker. Major plotpoint of Infinity War. OP axe forged by Thor nearly sacrificing his life to a star. Yeets through a blast from a full-stone gauntlet. Is just a beatstick in Endgame, does nothing.
Infinity stones, again. Infinity War made them front and center, showing their many uses and delving deeper into the lore of them. Endgame makes them paperweights that can only snap.
I could go on and on and on. This is just off the top of my head, right now. Payoffs? I guess if you count the writers violently elbowing you in the ribs and shouting HEY ITS THAT SCENE FROM THAT OTHER MOVIE like you’re a drooling idiot as a ‘payoff’ it’s ripe with them, but actual meaningful payoff for a decade of characters and storytelling? Hah. No.
Edit: I will continue to update this as I think of/recall more examples
#marvel#mcu#avengers: endgame#endgame#HOW IRONIC FEIGE#endgame was shit#captain america#tony stark#bruce banner#natasha romanoff#thor#clint barton#avengers
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Marvel Movies from Worst to Best
Thor: The Dark World: Pure garbage. I honestly can’t remember anything about except how pissed I was that i wasted money on two tickets. Just an absolute waste of time.
Iron Man 2: This one seemed rushed, as if they had churn out a sequel as quickly as possible. Some inadvertent hilarity with Poor Mickey Rourke’s accent and costuming.
Captain Marvel : Terrible. Just the epitome of paint-by-the numbers-Marvel factory junk. Destroyed Nick Fury’s characterization. A poor story in which Carol’s secret is already revealed the audience before she knows it leaves the film devoid of suspense. Carol herself is just incredibly dull. Her character makes no sense and her lack of connection to the other members of her group leave the betrayal she discovers at their hands limp and unemotional. Finally, at this point the anti-SJW crowd is being blatantly used to market films starring minorities and women and to encourage those who support films starring marginalized groups by tickets in groves to fight sexism and racism. The film industry knows that we think that we’re doing politics through buying movie tickets. And all we do is further enrich a bunch of wealthy white men.
Ant-Man and Wasp: Every singe moment of possible pain or suspense is wrecked by the worst imitation Whedonesque humor. The only saving grace is how nice everyone is.
Ant-Man: Luis is the only reason to rewatch this. It wastes every scrap of the inventiveness inherent in the premise.
Avengers: Age of Ultron: Honestly, not the worst film in the world but the plot and characterization of Tony Stark and the bland jaw droppingly bad romance between Bruce and Natasha is hard to recover from and the lack of consequences for Wanda beyond the death of her brother is a head scratcher. I did like Ultron though. He was appropriately creepy villain, and I got his motivation: Peace can only be achieved if humans are gone.
Thor: Meh. I think I rewatched this once. Thor’s wig is bad, the story is basic, and Natalie Portman is embarrassed to be there. Also, the Loki cult was born here, and I never got the appeal.
Doctor Strange: Who cares? I just got nothing out of this. It’s not a bad movie at all and has lovely visuals but I have no interest in a sequel.
The Incredible Hulk: This movie was...fine? It was fine, It was decent. It was like a cafeteria pizza. Okay.
Spider-Man: Homecoming: Great casting can’t defeat the fact that this is the third go-round on this character in a decade. Despite this, the fact that destroyed the soul of the character by taking away his guilt over the death of his uncle, making the franchise a non-starter for me. Spider-Man isn’t Spider-Man without his pain. He also isn’t Spider-Man in a high-tech robot suit.
Guardians of the Galaxy: I saw that the film was quality, but almost nothing made me laugh. I thought Gamora was such a boring warrior chick stereotype and Peter was just an unbearable man child. Drax made me alternately laugh with his literalness and wince at his sexism. The only characters I liked completely were Rocket and Groot. Rocket is a tragic figure. This is the only Bradley Cooper movie I could sit through.
Iron Man 3 2013: I liked this one surprisingly well. The plot twists were great and we got to see who Tony is without the suit, and he is more than a philanthropist billionaire. I liked that Pepper got to fight and save Tony for once. The banter with Rhodey was also good.
Captain America: The First Avenger: The end drags a bit, and the villain is disposable, but this is the Steve Rogers that I originally fell in love with. The first half creates a character that is indelible and moving as Christopher Reeve’ Superman.
Iron Man 2008: Some of this hasn’t aged well but I guess Tony was supposed to be a repulsive scumbag, but RDJ knocked the character out of the park. Tony’s losses, his suffering, his betrayals, shaped him into a better man.
Avengers: Infinity War: The film is solid, emotional, and the end packs a wallop. The only problem is that it is incomplete.
Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2: I didn’t bother seeing this in the theater since I was underwhelmed by the first one, but when I did see it, I was surprised by how moved I was by the story of fathers and sons and sisterhood, and surviving abuse. They managed to take some pretty shallow characters, like Yondu, and create people whose lives and feelings I cared about. I got to know Gamora and Nebula, a seed that really comes to fruition in Endgame. In this film Gamora began to be a character for me beyond “reluctant love interest” and I came to understand the source of Peter’s childishness. The sexism and racism in the film are still jarring, and those aspects won’t age well.
Captain America: Civil War: Woo. Where do I start with this one. I actually thought they did a great job of expressing Tony and Steve’s philosophical differences although I know that these people are too smart to ever let it come to blows. There were real emotional stakes and consequences here to Rhodey’s health, Bucky’s freedom, and Tony and Steve’s friendship.The originl of Black Panther was entertaining and perfectly integrated into the film. The break up at the end felt genuinely heart breaking. It also had one of the best fights (Steve and Bucky vs. Tony) since the elevator fight in CATWS.
Marvel's The Avengers: Joss had a hell of a challenge in making this, the first real superhero team up, and he did an amazing job. He had to have costumed (no in all black leather) heroes on the screen and have the audience take this seriously. He had to make Loki scary enough to warrant the assembly of super heroes. He had to quickly get the audience up to speed on the characters. The end battle goes long as these movies tend to, but all of the action told a story, was exciting to watch, and illuminated character. Yes, Cap’s characterization is a little wonky, but this is the first version of Black Widow that felt three dimensional and the best, most accurate Bruce I have ever seen.
Black Panther: Great sets, costumes, characters and a unique story put this one high on the list, but the politics are wonky (they made the CIA the good guys WTF and portrayed Erik’s desire for revolution as sheer psychotic violence). In addition, the political mobilization around the film was disturbing to me. It scares me that black people think we’re doing politics by buying movie tickets that will just make a lot of rich white men even richer.The film also suffers from having an uninteresting protagonist. I’m also concerned about the fact that it eliminates two out of three of BPs major antagonists (Klaue and Killmonger) and makes an ally out of the third.
Avengers Endgame: I’m putting this third but honestly, I enjoyed every part of this movie from beginning to end. The Stony shippers, the Stucky people’s complaints, the time travel arguments? All of that shit perplexes me. I honestly thought the entire film made sense emotionally. The deaths made sense. Those who were brought back made sense. I don’t watch these films for scientific accuracy or to have my slash itch scratched. It was straight up fan service. I left the theater was a scratch in my throat from all my joyful shouting.
Thor: Ragnarok: Just spectacular. I found the first two Thor movies forgettable and didn’t bother watching this one in the theaters. Waititi took certain aspects of the character teased them out more fully and let Chris be Chris. The visuals are gorgeous. I laughed. I cried.
Captain America: The Winter Soldier: Yeah, this is still the best Marvel Movie, probably because it feels least like a Marvel movie. It’s a tight spy thriller from start to finish. The last James Bond movie attempted a similar plot about government surveillance, and frankly crashes and burns. The plot, characterization, dialogue, and action in CAWTS in addition to being utterly fantastic, all work together to show how Steve is and is not getting along in the present. It shows me who Steve really is always will be the guy who fights for what’s right no matter what. This film brings Steve into the 21st century and he’s the same guy but somehow more so, and his old fashioned morality turns out to be exactly what we need. Finally: elevator fight.
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Panic! At the Killing Game
Starting off with a bang, I see.
PEW PEW PEW
also, holy shit K1-b0 that escalated quickly
Have we, uh, just not noticed the fact that K1-b0 flying around the school like the most violent firefly in existence?
“Look! It’s the DRV3 budget!!!”
NO SERIOUSLY WHAT PROPORTION OF THE BUDGET WENT TO THIS I NEED TO KNOW -
How powerful are his lasers and why did it take you this long to use them?! I thought you weren’t stronger than a senior citizen!!!
SCI-FI GENRE HIMIKO, YOU’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS BEFORE.
Has he fired anywhere near you guys or is he at least firing everywhere besides that general area?
They were doing this out in the grassy area near the gazebo, right? So he can see them and is avoiding them? Maybe?? .... I hope?!
DO YOU HAVE BAZOOKAS IN THOSE ARMS TOO OR SOMETHING HOW POWERFUL IS THAT DAMN LASER ARM OF YOURS
I can’t decide whether Kokichi would be excited or terrified if he was here to see this.
here he comes, here comes speedracer
Red eyes take warning!!! Though, erm, I feel like K1-b0 might win the fight between you two if it came down to it - just saying. 8′D Unless you’re willing to fight to protect again....?
Some artist had the time of their life rendering K1-b0. Also has Shuichi always been this tall??? Or is - wait, Maki is only 5′4? K1-b0 is 5′3?! WHY IS EVERYONE LEFT ASIDE FROM TSUMUGI AND SHUICHI SO SMALL
I MEAN. OKAY. But could you give us a bit of a heads-up first?! We’re still flesh-and-blood people who could easily get hurt from th - wait why are you aiming that laser at me -
WAIT SERIOUSLY IT WAS ALL IN THERE?! JUST LAYING AROUND?! JUST FUCKING... THERE?!
I cannot believe Miu didn’t try to sneak some mods in while she was doing maintenance and upgrading the other parts of you. Though now that I think about it, maybe... she did do the upgrades? And K1-b0 knew about them, but just never used them before this before his antenna or ahoge or w/e got knocked off? look at me blatantly ignoring him saying he got this from his lab lmao
Oh??? Really??? Did you??? I COULDN’T TELL.
MY GOD IT WAS OUR FAULT ALL ALONG. THE RAMPANT ROBOPHOBIA. WE FINALLY PUSHED HIM OVER THE EDGE.
Oh holy fuck, okay, there it is.
“Is this because I took so long to do your FTEs? Because I never got your underwear in time? Because I’ll be more than happy to finish it now! Hell, give me your underwear right now and just skip the formalities entirely!”
“You did Korekiyo’s FTEs before mine, Shuichi! You completed his before mine!”
Are the concepts of ‘no murder’ and ‘explosions’ not mutually exclusive, K1-b0?!
“AND IN THIS FRIENDSHIP SPEECH LACED WITH ENOUGH MENTIONS OF ‘HOPE’ TO QUALIFY IT FOR THE DANGANRONPA ENDGAME, I WILL -”
“So therefore, mass suicide. You’re welcome.”
Honestly, how many people have attempted to kill everyone now in their own way? Kirumi may have killed to escape, but she pushed forward and attempted to cause a riot which was actively trying to get them all killed in her place. Kokichi and Gonta had their trial in 4 and now, fresh off of Maki killing everyone in his effort to take Kokichi down, we’ve got K1-b0. 5/16 people took direct actions to take the entire class out! 5/16! And I mean, that’s outside of the mastermind, so could very well be 6/16!
THIS ENTIRE CLASS NEEDS - WELL, NEEDED - SERIOUS THERAPY
“Yup. Bye.”
- pew -
Ooh, and it looks like the usual arguments aren’t working - like the classic ‘the classmates died so we need to live for their sake’ line.
OKAY K1-B0 CAN YOU DEFINE DESPAIR FOR ME OR IS THIS SOME KIND OF KOMAEDA 2.0 AWAKENING RIGHT NOW
the game tried to pretend Rantaro Kokichi was the Komaeda expy but it was me, K1-b0, the whole time!
“Also I got a new hairdo, but that of course is an entirely different subject. Btw do you like it? I know it was hard to see when I was shooting indiscriminately earlier.”
CAN SOMEONE FIGURE OUT WHERE THAT PIECE OF HAIR WENT ASAP
AGAIN CAN YOU PLEASE DEFINE WHAT ‘DESPAIR’ MEANS TO YOU?!
Anyway Shuichi still has Kaito’s wind in his sails because he is not willing to back down on this. Are you watching, Kaito? 8′)
LMAO YOU, UH, REALLY ARE GETTING HEAVILY INSPIRED BY KAITO, HUH.
Not that we’re going to name anyone in particu -
Shuichi.
Simulation??? Still survivors on earth??? Watching simulated personalities interact with each other as a trial run for the real thing???
.... I know the setting is practically solidified as sci-fi sorry Himiko but man there’s a part of me that wishes I could extrapolate the supernatural theme from Chapter 3 to the overall mystery of the game and apply it to a theory here. 8′D sorry that’s my own taste shining through
“IF YOU CAN USE THE ‘D’ WORD AS A WEAPON, I CAN USE THE ‘H’ WORD AS MINE!”
So that’s what we’re going to do this chapter? That’s good at least - I don’t think we can afford to let our numbers dwindle any more at this point. 8′D
OH HE’S THINKING ABOUT IT
Well, K1-b0 was one of the people who respected Shuichi’s title the most during most of the game outside of Kaede, Kokichi and Kaito. It does make sense for this argument to work better than the other ones.
Yeah, we’d have a difficult time progressing if you didn’t let us -
.... uh. What.
WHELP. HE’S HERE.
ARE WE ABOUT TO HAVE A FUCKING THROWDOWN RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW -
well shit he’s not exactly wrong
DAMN K1-B0, DAMN!!!
Do the others just not notice that huge chunk of hair missing??? I mean I guess no one commented on Shuichi’s lack-of-hat hair so maybe it’s not as noticeable in the game as it is to me outside of it. >>
“I AM LITERALLY GOING TO EXACT MY REVENGE ON EVERY PERSON WHO HAS EVEN LOOKED AT ME IN A MILDLY ROBOPHOBIC WAY!”
This is so brazen that I couldn’t bring myself to delete the cap but I FEEL VIOLATED ALL THE SAME
K1-b0 are you seriously going to go 1 v 5 against them?! .... I say that despite the fact that he was literally blowing up the school five minutes ago with giant-ass lasers and rocket-boosted flight. Hm. What are those on the exisals, machine guns? I guess depending on how sturdy the rest of his body is (CONSIDERING HIS HAIR GOT KNOCKED OFF BY FLYING DEBRIS) he might be okay. ... Or maybe he’ll just have to not get hit. Yeah, he’ll probably rely on agility then, huh.
There, at least now Sweetcheeks is showing extra concern for K1-b0. 8′D
K1-B0 YOU BETTER NOT FUCKING DIE WE LITERALLY HAVE ONLY 5 PEOPLE LEFT AND A TRIAL STILL TO GO
nice marvel reference
NGL I really like the pictures and the 3D rendering of K1-b0. Some anime-style games can have some issues translating the art style to 3d rendering but they really did a good job.
...............
thank god komaeda never had a gun.
........ Oh wait he totally did in that final dead room, didn’t he?
...............
thank god komaeda never had a giant laser gun
PEW! PEW PEW PEW!
SO HOW EXACTLY ARE WE GOING TO INVESTIGATE WITH K1-B0 LITERALLY DESTROYING THE EVIDENCE AROUND US -
Oh okay we’re just not going to. GG everyone!
#Kiibo#Keebo#Shuchi Saihara#Ryou plays drv3#Tsumugi Shirogane#Himiko Yumeno#Maki Harukawa#spoilers#drv3 spoilers
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Dudeblade Doesn’t Know Yang Xiao Long
https://rwdestuffs.tumblr.com/post/177851454657/throughout-volumes-1-to-3-yang-has-had-a-problem
For someone who says they’re a Yang fan, you sure do miss a lot of info about her.
Firstly: Anon, seriously. Punctuation. Did you skip that class or something? Did punctuation kill a family member or something?- Why do you hate punctuation so much? You only used it once, and it was a single period. At this point, I’m just imagining you going up to the literal embodiment of punctuation and going “Hello my name is annonymus you killed my father prepare to die”
Dudeblade, Asks have limited character counts. Has it not occurred to you that in order to say all this they need to cut the punctuation? Same reason why I cut punctuation on Twitter: it just piles up. The lack of punctuation doesn’t even make them incoherent because I can understand them perfectly well (more on THAT later...). This is just you trying to dismiss someone based on petty reasoning...Which doesn’t really work when we both know you praise Sokumotanaka despite having similar issues with punctuation AND spelling.
However don’t think my anger is limited to YOU only. I’m pissed at that anon as well? Why? Because aside from one argument that was wrong, every single argument they just made is actually their own. I know this because those are, word for word, MY arguments. From my rebuttal to your “Yang done dirty” post. Hey Anon, how about you make your own arguments or at least reword mine so you don’t wholesale rip me off.
Second, no. Yang has not had a problem of overly relying on her semblance, or ‘emblane’ as you put it, she always used it strategically. I watched the Yellow trailer again just to look for when she abused it, and it was only in the final stretch of the fight, when she was going 1v1 with Junior. But I also looked back, and saw that you were right. She was firing at the Nevermore from the ground, but when it came in close, she adapted. She jumped into it’s beak, and started firing into it.
A. the full part is ‘hers emblance” which shows he just put a space in the wrong area. You even left out the “c’ just to mock someone who disagrees with you.
B. Yeah wanna know WHY she used her Semblance? because she got angry. Remember this, it will BITE Dudeblade in the ass later.
C. Also, You should ALSO know that Yang was using kicks in the Yellow Trailer as well, Remember THIS as well.
And D. Yes because leaping into the jaws of a giant bird is such a smart idea. Not like if the bird’s jaw strength was slightly better should have gotten EATEN. Congrats Yang, you gave your sister Survivor’s Guilt.
Repeatedly.
So, my bad. She didn’t strategically do that
Huh. Wonder if he would have admitted that if he knew the Anon was just parroting what I said.
every other time, I was right. Take the fight against Mercury. She wasn’t abusing her semblance then.
And oh, hey! A shot of Yang, dodging Mercury’s attack, and not deliberately taking a hit to fuel her semblance. It’s almost as if Yang never had a problem abusing her semblance in the first place!- Shocker!
Thing is:
https://youtu.be/moxtu3AuA4s?t=14m8s
Here’s the fight.
Yang begins with a punch. A punch. Against a kick based fighter. She didn’t back away to make sure she wouldn’t get hit, she tried attacking despite the fact it was more likely Mercury would hit her before she could.
She goes onto try and fire bullets at Mercury which I’ll admit was a smart move considering close range was not a good idea with Mercury. He closes the distance and jump kicks her, she blocks then tries to attack which gets her kicked in the jaw.
She then rushes back at the guy who just showed to be able to maneuver around her in close range and proceeds to try and pummel him, which ends as you expect with Mercury deflecting all of her attacks. She then STILL tries to attack him where she misses and has to block (which would logically still cost her Aura).
They then go onto trade blows where Yang dodges twice and blocks once. Mercury falls back and Yang uses her long range attack for the last time to drive him back, he falls off the arena but blasts his way back up.
Mercury proceeds to go on the offensive where Yang dodges/deflects two attacks, blocks about six and gets hit in the stomach once HARD, where he follows up with a Dust attack. He then proceeds to circle around, blasting away without seeming trying to hit Yang while the dust rounds circle in the air obviously. Yang does NOTHING for most of this (mind you, she STILL has a long range attack) and just tries to get in close after two bullets fire in her direction. She doesn’t think to use her lunging attack we’ve seen her use against Junior and Adam despite the fact that if she did Mercury would have fired off less bullets and instead tries to fight him close quarters AGAIN, getting slammed into the ground and the Dust rounds all hit her in a dogpile fashion.
We all know the rest.
Thing is, Yang gets hit and blocks attacks more than dodging and deflecting them while constantly rushing in at Mercury who she should KNOW by now has the advantage as her best showings were from when she was using her long range attacks. She in fact only fired off about eight shots at long range. And yet she focuses more on getting into Mercury’s melee range than staying out of it despite him kicking her ass or nullifying her attacks each time she does. And then there was Mercury’s final attack which she does NOTHING to stop despite the obvious Dust rounds flying in the air.
The only conclusion we can gather is that Yang did this because she relied on her Semblance for one last push instead of treating as a last resort because THAT is the only logic that works here.
And really?- She just stood around and let Junior’s men come to her?
Didn’t seem that way to me. One of my favorite parts was when she rushed the DJ, and beat him down. Which completely contradicts your claim that she waited for them to come to her by about……… 100%.
Ironic given that this is the only original argument that anon made. However, take a look at the footage again. Look how many times she blocks attacks from Junior’s men instead of simply moving backward or ducking. Again, Aura is still be used to protect her gauntlets from damage so it’s still feeding her Semblance. And looking at the footage as a whole, she doesn’t do much actual dodging aside from big movements made to go after opponents (like her big leap towards the crowd of goons or the rocket jump at the twins) and instead focuses on blocking and just getting hit.
She’s still prioritizing her Semblance over survival.
Oh and considering one of your arguments towards Yang’s flaws is that she doesn’t use kicks, good job showing that she does in fact use kicks in her fighting style (for fuck’s sake, she finishes off the blue twin with a kick!).
Another favorite part of mine is when she was seen blocking Melanie Malechite’s attacks when she was confronted by the twins. Which contradicts any claim that she deliberately takes hits in the Yellow Trailer by……… another 100%.
Actually that just shows you don’t know how Aura works, where it is shown to protect clothing. AKA her gauntlets? Blocking still feeds into her Semblance. The only evasive maneuvers that do not are dodging and deflecting AKA the two she uses the LEAST of.
Details like that are deliberately ignored to fuel a criticism of Yang that isn’t there to begin with.
... Dudeblade, if I went through my blog to showcase the number of times you ignored details to fuel a criticism that wasn’t there to begin with, I’d make a LEGENDARILY long post. But I don’t need to since I can just point to the video YOU provided and showcase that you are giving a criticism that isn’t ther eto begin with.
Your hypocrisy negates your smugness.
Go join that Yang Haters group on deviantart. I’ll even give you a hint and tell you that I just gave the group’s name first two words to you. Go join that haven of people who despise Yang if you’re going to victim blame so much.
Gee Dudeblade, why don’t you follow him? They also ignore facts about RWBY and bullshit all over it.
Hell:
You have similar tastes in hate art.
Yang’s fighting style has only changed in the sense that she now incorporates kicks into her attacks, something that would be a valid criticism.
Nope, not true. The Yellow Trailer contradicts you.
But wanna know what the ACTUAL difference is?
Yang doesn’t let her opponent’s get an attack as often and she’s more willing to just sweep them off their feet or attack their legs to put them down rather than just pummeling them. AKA she’s trying to end the fight faster instead of dragging it out.
But it wasn’t a criticism given. Instead, Tai calls the manifestation of Yang’s soul a temper tantrum, and decides that despite him being her teacher, this subject never came up.
Because as your own evidence shows, Yang DOES use kicks. She’s been using kicks since the Yellow Trailer.
Despite the fact that the only time that Yang ever abused her semblance was when she and the rest of her team were fighting Roman in the mech. That is literally the only time we see Yang abusing her semblance in the show.
Aside from Junior...
And Neo...
And Neon and Flynt...
And Mercury...
And Adam...
And the fact that Taiyang gave more than one criticism like her anger needs to be controlled and she needs to think while she fights which we see in the volume 5 Episode 4 fight where, upon being shot at, she takes a moment to survey the area and prioritize the shooter...
Every other time, she was never seen abusing it. She used it to power through Flynt’s attack in the doubles round, and……… That’s about it.
Despite the fact that she should have been fighting with Weiss the entire time and was getting her ass handed to her by Neon.
There wasn’t any other time in the tournament that she could have abused it as far as we were shown, so Tai’s comments are a case of them telling us the information, rather than showing us the information.
Neon, Mercury, Neo, Junior, Adam. All examples of fights were she would have benefitted from dodging, deflecting and long range attacks rather than blocking and just getting hit. That is the showing.. You just, in your own words, “deliberately ignored details to fuel a criticism that isn’t there to begin with.”
I mean, Tai was her teacher. If this comment never came up, then this wouldn’t be Yang’s fault for not knowing this, it would be Tai’s fault for not teaching it to her. There are no such things as bad students, only bad teachers.
Bull fucking shit. As a former student, I can safely say that is bullshit.
I use to go to school with a bunch of idiots who, despite being a grade above me, was in the same class as me and thought their time was better spent trying to piss me off than actually paying attention. Hell, I thought I spent my time better dicking around than studying or remembering my homework. There are bad students Dudeblade, I’ve met them and I WAS one.
Neo’s fighting style is literally Yang’s antithesis. It’s there to use her opponent’s power against her, and Mercury never used Yang’s anger against her. It was Emerald. Yeah, Yang has an anger problem, but that is what would give her agency. Not Tai being a crap teacher and never teaching Yang to not be so over-reliant on her semblance. Yang was in a tight corridor. You really expect someone to try shooting explosive shots in a closed space?- What world do you live in, where you do that?
The one where Yang tries that exact same thing in the show. Oops.
Also, she could have, I dunno, SWITCH OPPONENTS WITH SOMEONE ELSE?! The doors were not locked as we see in the Volume when the White Fang Lieutennant opened the door and flung Weiss through it. Hell, that same opponent would have made a better match for Yang so if she just tried to go get help from her friends, she could have switched opponents with Weis sand they both could have won.
And once more: Passing Yang’s flaws off to Taiyang does nothing but rob Yang of her agency. Because nothing is ever her fault thus she faces no challenges and thus she can never truly control her own path.No no, everyone else must take responsibility for Yang’s actions and change Yang’s life for her.
And retreat?- Why would she retreat?- If she had retreated, then you would be bitching about how she chickened out like a coward.
Hell no. I don’t call Ruby a coward for trying to run away from Roman in the same damn episode: that was a logical tactical retreat. Yang was being a stubborn dumbass. This coming from a stubborn dumbass.
Or maybe you’d rather she not do her job, and run away?- Who do you think she is?- Batman?- She’s not going to run away like a little bitch!
No, I expect her to fucking THINK her actions through because each time she gets into a fight she gambles not only her life but the lives of everyone around her WHICH SHE KNOWS FROM EXPIERENCE (Summer Rose.)
Was she reckless in that fight?- yes. Was it a result of her semblance?- no.
Was it the result of not only her focusing on her Semblance too much in her fighting style but also her own anger which is known to trigger her Semblance? - YES
In fact, once Yang figured out the fighting style she was up against, she changed tactics. She just changed too late, and got KOd by Neo, and bailed out by her deadbeat mother.
Yeah, changed from “Attack” to “Attack Attack Attack”
Yang’s problem had been predictability, a lack of kicks, and anger. It was NEVER abusing her semblance.
The first of which is due to an overreliance on her Semblance, the second never existed and the third is a PART of her Semblance issue.
Also-That means that everything Taiyang said to Yang in V4 E9 was right since you JUST listed off the things he mentioned minus the non exsistant kicking one.
Congrats Dudeblade, you’ve shot yourself.
And seriously anon. Learn punctuation. It’ll help people take you seriously.
A. You used dashes above wrong.
And B. Hypocrisy makes people take you less seriously even worse.
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Rockman.EXE Episode 31 Review.
And here is Netto!
Oh, sorry, that’s my Gulpin who I nicknamed Netto.
Here is Hikari Netto!
Well, now I remember why I called him that.
I like how Netto admits that the title is a bad pun. XD
We open the episode with a Star Wars parody for some reason, don’t believe me?
Long ago in a far away parody...
Netto narrates the text since it’s in english, and we then see a flying curry saucer near the Earth and a shot of Netto’s plane arriving at Namaste, a country known for its curry. Apperantly, Namaste takes this title seriously since we see something resembling the hand of the statue of liberty holding a curry dish.
As soon as Netto leaves the airport he is greeted by an indian looking man who tells him that he will partake in an “all you can eat curry buffet”. Netto, being the hungry anime boy protagonist, is delighted by this idea and accepts to go with the perfect stranger, despite Rockman’s suspitions.
We inmediately cut to a fancy hotel where Netto gets ready to eat his first curry meal.
Before watching this episode I had no idea what curry was, all I took from this episode is that it was some kind of sauce.
It just looks like a regular dish with rice and meat sauce with some vegetables on it to me.
Netto begins to chow down the curry like crazy, ignoring Rockman’s warnings.
Soon after we get a montage of all the dishes he has to eat in a single day.
How is a curry ice cream even posible?!
Anyway, the curry sushi seems to hit the spot for Netto as he has another over the top reaction, with the indian guy crying with joy.
What does tasting curry have to do with being in the N-1?
Get ready ladies, because right after this we get a close up of Netto’s belly expanding.
Rockman is not to be blamed if Hikari Netto explodes.
More belly expansion.
What’s strange about this scene is the amount of detail they put into these close ups, it’s suppoused to be funny, but it feels like it has another purpose. Then again, I might have a dirty mind. X(
We leave Netto asking for more as we zoom in to some mountains where we find Madoi and Count Elec hand gliding. They talk about Mahajarama summoning them to Namaste and that Hinouken already there. We still don’t know why, but since they are gliding really high their gliders freeze up and the two of them fall into an abyss.
I’m sure they’re fine.
We then see Netto’s friends on a ship where Yaito tells them that they should surprise Netto at Namaste since it is his last stop, and what better way to get there fast than in a freaking rocket!
Even Yaito seems like she’s having second thoughts. XD
Speaking of bad decisions, we return with a shot of a super stuff Netto. Naturally, he is too full to keep eating, but since Netto loves curry so much he wont quit.
This guy doesn’t see that Netto is too full?
It took this long for his vest to finally open.
We then see the fat Netto on a bed where the indian guy tells him to get ready to meet the best curry restaurant in Namaste with a very familiar name.
Good to know your ears are not stuff too.
After this, we cut to Count Elec and Madoi with some souvenirs for Mahajarama.
I like how the Count gets offended after Mahajarama underappreciates the souvenirs.
Turns out Mahajarama owns a popular curry restaurant that has been in his family for generations, to which Count Elec asks him why he didnt bother paying for airplane tickets for them.
They also ask why he called for the World Three members.
Well that came out perfectly for you, considering you took the wrong plane in the last episode, but now that I think about it, could Mahajarama had something to do with that too?
Mahajarama tells them the harsh truth about them never getting real jobs and that their only hope is to rebuild World Three, and the only way to do that is for them to finally defeat Netto and Rockman.
Since the last time you saw them? Because you still believe last episode was a dream, right?
After Hinouken mentions something about team work, we cut to Netto’s friends who are finally at Namaste. Not knowing where Netto is, Yaito tells them that she will track him with her spy satelite and that they will wait in the air for the results.
She has an automatic lawn mower as part of her security system, a giant tree house that doubles as a secret base, her own private jet, a limo that can drive over water, her own battle submarine, and a freaking rocket! What else is new?
We cut back to the World Three with Mahajarama giving a speech about curry being a combination of different spices and compares it to the perfect team work, as he reveals the other three members rising from the floor with colorful chef hats.
I like their different expressions, Count Elec looks angry, Hinouken is embarrassed, and only Madoi seems cool with it.
They are all gathered in an underground Net Battle arena that doubles as a curry research lab where Mahajarama reveals a giant machine with several arms like a hindu god.
Pfff... Puririkko-chan.
This giant machine scans the brain waves of all the World Three members and has the ability to create a curry dish based on their team work.
Each plate comes with a glass of water, cooked rice, some chopped vegetables and a spoon.
Since they know nothing about team work the taste of the curry is flat out horrible. Mahajarama tells them that if they can master working together the curry will taste better.
Outside of Mahajarama’s restaurant, Netto arrives with Rockman. Their suspitions are confirmed once they see a life zise statue of Mahajarama at the entrance, Rockman warns Netto that it is a trap, but Netto’s stomach proofs to be stronger than his brain since the smell of the curry inside is enough for him to go in.
Geez, Netto, if it wasn’t just the World Three you would’ve put your life in danger just because you couldn’t resist the smell of curry.
Netto quickly remembers he walked into a trap as soon as he hears Mahajarama’s voice, who captures him inside a ball that transports Netto to the underground floor.
After commercials, Netto arrives at the underground arena where he is greeted by the World Three operators challenging him to a Net Battle, Netto agrees and sends Rockman into a cyberworld that looks a giant curry stew.
Just like their operators, Fireman and Elecman can’t wait to fight Rockman and interrupt Magicman’s witty dialogue attemp.
Rockman points out that they are cowards and the two Navis rush over to attack him, with Coloredman joining in by thowing his ball along with some vegetables he picks up accidentaly hitting Fireman and Elecman who fall in the apperantly boiling curry water.
Mahajarama nags them and the machine scans them again revealing another curry dish that they dont even bother to taste.
Netto sends in the Shot gun to Rockman, but the four Navis finally work together to block the attack and make a combo. Rockman dodges the attack but a new curry dish is created.
Normally when lightning strikes, it means something bad.
The World Three curry is getting better as they score another combo attack, which is just them passing Coloredman’s ball to eachother like in a soccer game, and they knock Rockman into a giant bread cooker that rises from the water.
Rockman is being cooked inside, and it looks like Yaito’s spy satelite can also capture images from the cyberworld because Netto’s friends inmediately receive the footage of Rockman’s face! They figure that Netto and Rockman are in trouble and they hurry to where the footage came from.
Netto points out that the World Three strategy is dirty, but Mahajarama just complements himself by saying that the dirtyness adds that extra flavor to his curry.
Okay, now the machine has cooked meat too?!
Yaito’s rocket arrives and drops two drilling cars with arms that bust through the ceilling to where Netto and the World Three are, because what can’t you buy when you’re rich?!. After casually greeting him, Netto’s friends plug in their Navis to break the container where Rockman is.
The World Three Navis proceed to attack them, but Rockman’s friends protect him with a cuadriple barrier. After seeing how in synch they are we eachother, Mahajarama scans the group’s brain waves and a new curry dish appears, literally blowing the World Three away.
Netto and the others explain to him that their team work is better because they’ve been friends for a long time, and that the best curry is the one that is left out after a day.
Rockman activates a new style change, the Elec Team Style aka Elec Brother Style.
Somehow Netto knows the Elec Brother’s ability since he asks Tohru to lend him Iceman’s power by using an “extension chip” from who knows where, because I have never heard of that until now.
The extension chip downloads Iceman’s data into Rockman which might be the anime’s version of a Navi chip, this grants Rockman the power to send his electricity to the WWW Navis and freezing them.
For some other unexplained reason, Piririkko-chan...Pff, blows up after this and Netto and friends manage to escape on Yaito’s rocket just in time, where Netto then tells them that he might not eat curry again in a long time after his experience in Namaste.
Mahajarama survived the explosion where he is found by Beet, he says that he have finally realized that he’s indian curry is superior to the japanese curry and that he will proceed with his plan of expanding his restaurant world wide.
However, the other World Three operators overhear him and are not happy with the fact that he used them in order to confirm his theory, leading to them beating him up off camera.
Netto finally returns home, where his useless mom had no idea he was coming back that day nor did she even consider picking him up at the airport. Netto asks her what’s for dinner and falls over after she tells him that its curry. And the episode ends with Rockman laughing at Netto’s bad luck and telling the viewers that their trip around the world is officially over.
She sure seems trilled to see her only son back home! XC
My thoughts?
This episode wasn’t just for comedic purposes, it also lets us know what the former WWW members are up too after the whole Pharohman incident. Any other criminal would just go find another job, because its not like the police know who they are and the Net agents have proved to be useless in arresting people. No, these guys want to keep creating chaos and get revenge on Rockman, Mahajarama already has a different goal, why can’t the others do the same? Just give up already, you’re never gonna beat Rockman!
“Namaste” is an Indian greeting, and in the anime it is the name of a country that seems to be based on India, though it is never mentioned again after this episode.
We also learn what curry is, curry is a dish that was created in India and is a sauce made by combining spices and herbs. Curry is a popular dish in other asian countries who adopted it and created their own curry recipies based on reginal preferences. For example, did you notice how the curry plate created from Netto and his friends teamwork was yellow rice? That is because thats a japanese styled curry. Rice curry is a popular dish in Japan, so in any anime series you will always find atleast one episode where the main characters are eating rice curry.
The Elec Team style is actually named the Elec Brother style, I guess it is because Rockman and Netto are suppoused to be brothers in the game. This style is activated when using Navi chips often, since there are no Navi chips in the anime they decided to let Rockman gain another Navis ability with the help of some “magical” extension chip that appears out of nowhere, seriously, I have no idea where Netto got that thing or knew it was compatible with the new style.
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Ember 2 (final)
The Crackling Embers
By: @cutegirlmayra (Thanks for the commission! Here’s something sweet! 😉 )
Ember was rotated backwards on a steel stretcher, strapped with leather, she laughed and figured she could tear easily through them.
Except… she couldn’t move.
The electric steel receptor would zap her even on slightest movement, but that didn’t stop her from wiggling her tail when the door slid open and she saw Shadow.
“Shad-! AHHHHEEEEEOOOO…ouch.” The electricity immediately turned on, shocking her into a stillness again as her tail flopped down over her.
“Hello.” She smiled sweetly to him. “You gonna bust me outta here?”
“…We need you for something.” Shadow stopped in front of her, folding his arms.
“Ohh~ A mission?”
“For G.U.N.”
“Pass.”
She frowned.
“…For Sonic… and his friends.” He glared a warning, showing his need for her to reconsider.
“Ehmm… we’re buddies, but… favors?” she was only stalling now, playing around.
She hadn’t seen Shadow in a while, so she was hoping-
“…For me?” he looked agitated.
“Sure, anything for family!”
He nodded to a camera and she was rotated back into a straight position as he untied the straps.
“This is serious… Sonic team requested backup.”
“Little Hedgehog got his foot struck in a drain?” she teased, smirking.
“… Eggman has taken over 20 percent of the world… And Sonic couldn’t stop him.”
He seemed to grimace at that fact before helping her down.
“Thanks.” She took his hands and hopped off the steel, “One sec.” she lifted a sharp claw…
She shred through the steel with a few quick and precise swipes.
Sparks flickered everywhere and she cockily placed her claws up to her mouth, blowing on them.
“Alright, continue.” She grinned, looking over her shoulder to him.
“But I warn you… I will never work for G.U.N…”
“Hmph, then work for me.”
He looked annoyed, and she wagged her tail.
“There’s never a ‘good side’ to you, is there?”
She followed him through the sliding door of G.U.N’s base, looking around and pretending to be amazed at the technology, but mostly there for Shadow.
“As family, it’s almost like my job to try and find that good side to ya, bro.”
“…Bro?” he seemed confused, turning around. “You were created as my prototype, a companion to me and have restored more memories of Maria than I can count. I owe you that much… but no. We are not ‘family’.” He glared, holding a hand up to her as she went to take it, but winced back when he said such a cruel thing.
She puckered her lips and side-commented over her shoulder, “Grumpy quills…”
They continued to walk and she didn’t take his hand, seeing as he was only gesturing, but she didn’t quite understand the socialisms…
She was still living alone… sometimes running into Sonic and his friends, but not much.
“Who’s Eggman?” she asked, walking into an elevator with him.
Shadow turned around and clicked a button, which fascinated her when it turned bright from the touch.
“He’s Gerald’s evil grandson.”
Her finger went to spike into the next buttons, hoping to see them light up, but her shock at hearing that made her miss and stab the side through instead. “WHAT?!”
Shadow saw the fizzing of the area as she struggled to try and pull her finger out, sighing in disappointment at her childish ways and rubbing the bridge between his eyes with his fingers…
They arrived at an upper level, and Ember looked very confused, finally seeming to take some things seriously.
Her eyebrows furrowed and she followed Shadow out of the elevator, “You mean… Gerald had other family we didn’t know about?” She made a face, showing some sorrow. “Shouldn’t we try and reform him? I mean,… he’s kin!” she ran after him, but Shadow pivoted and continued his cruel stare at her.
“Reform Eggman?” He scoffed, “He’s bent on taking over the world. He’ll robotize every living thing till there’s nothing left to conquer. Then he’ll build a ridiculous theme park!” he swiped a hand out, making Ember step back and look down in greater sadness. “He’s insane… and once again, we have no kin… we’re experiments. Remember your place.” He went to continue walking, but a voice from above suddenly spoke out, making him look around.
“My, my… you’re so cruel to her, Shadow… I’m glad I’m used to it.”
“Show yourself, Rouge!” he almost demanded, making her pout as she was sitting on a beam in the shadows.
Her wings flexed out, making a sound that spooked Ember as she dove down and landed quite gracefully.
“Remember me?” she batted her eyes and then winked to Ember, who swiped a claw at her and growled.
Her ears drew back, not liking this bat girl…
As Rouge flew up again and circled Shadow, she grew even more tense, shaking as she raced to grab Shadow’s back quill. It was instinctive, she just didn’t like other people around Shadow… especially those she didn’t know really well.
She poked her head over Shadow’s shoulder and stuck her tongue slightly out at Rouge.
Rouge smiled back to her before landing by the control panel, revealing monitors as she typed in certain things.
“Eggman has conquered a continent, but he’s not done there. According to Tails, he’s spreading out. We’ve let sleeping eggs lie for too long… it’s about time we stop underestimating Eggman’s potentials.” Rouge turned to them again after typing, “My guess is you’re taking the rocket?”
“Yes.” Shadow turned and grabbed the back of Ember’s red cloak, pulling her back to follow him.
“Whhaa-a-a!” she was startled, tip-toeing back before pouting and turning around. “Yeah, yeah… I’m coming, I’m coming…”
“G.U.N only protect certain areas… we’ll have to infiltrate his base and take him down at the core of his invasion…” Shadow grabbed a large rocket, then gripped her hand.
This made her look down and smile, thinking he was going to help her into the rocket.
But… his grip was really… really strong.
“You should brace yourself…” he mentioned.
“Wait,… What do you meeeeeeAAAANNNNNN!!!” she was shot into the air as he held her hand while the rocket shot up and arched through the skies, a direct route to the continent.
Her gums flapped everywhere, making a silly expression as they finally began to move swiftly through the open skies towards their destination.
“This is gonna take time to get used too!” she screamed through the disturbance in the air, but Shadow kept his eyes fixated on the direction of the rocket.
She frowned again, arching her eyebrows back. “Shadow…”
Her purpose… if he didn’t need her, what was it? She hated the fact that she was just a companion. A prototype… the second favorite…
She looked down at the ground, gripping her arm and starting to feel some pain from dangling behind him.
She looked back at him.
No pain? Or was he masking it under that cold exterior?
She wanted to believe there was kindness in him… and she was sure there was! But…
Will he ever show it to her?
She squinted her eyes shut, biting her jaw down. ‘We’re family! Yet… he says we’re not!’
Once again, she went to inquire, “Shadow!”
His eyes shifted frighteningly fast down to look at her, but his head never moved.
She gulped, “Uh… shouldn’t we be serving Eggman? If he’s Gerald’s grandson…”
“What part of ‘evil’ and ‘taking over the world’ did you not understand?” he scolded.
She looked away.
Suddenly, Shadow’s face shifted, and he looked back at the rocket…
“Hhhmm…” he seemed to disagree with his tone and spoke out again. “I understand that Gerald means a lot to you… perhaps how Maria meant to me…”
She looked back up at him, hearing his voice turn a little more empathic.
“…But Eggman’s not like Gerald. He’s eccentric. Maniacal. There is some good in him but only when the odds are against his favor… then he helps us to defeat a foe that challenges himself.” He glared forward. “He’s selfish and has no care for nature. Life or not, he’ll stomp on anything just to seize power over it…”
“…Sounds unforgivable.” Her mind raced to the children…
“….Ember.” he looked down to her, less angry now.
“Yes?” innocently, she looked up.
“…Stay close. I…” he looked away, being vunerable for a moment. “…I don’t want to lose you.” He stared off into the smoky distance yonder… there, in the grey and brownish hue of cloud cover, or was it smoke..? There came a few robots with jetpacks on, holding guns as their arms, and a large—oversized and ugly—megabot that’s eyes glowed red through it all.
“…Get ready.” He took on a serious look, pulling out a gun.
Ember, seeing the amount of foes waiting for them in the skies, narrowed her brow and swiped her cloak away, revealing her black emerald imbedded in her chest.
“Bring it on!” she cried out.
He protected the rocket as long as he could, but then released his hold and pulled Ember towards him as it exploded from being fired at.
He didn’t even glance at her, just kept shooting, but she used her Chaos attacks to knock out the littler robots flying after them.
“We’re heavily out maneuvered!” she cried out, looking around and noticing they were dodging a lot of their hits. Her chaos moves weren’t necessarily fast enough to get the targets right away, and Shadow’s gun was running out of ammo.
Click, click, click!
Shadow glanced down at his gun.
“Shoot.”
He threw the gun and a robot’s jet spiraled out of control.
“Ember!”
“Right!”
She exposed the spot on her chest and he gripped the outer, slightly protruding part of the emerald.
She closed her eyes.
“CHAOS CONTROL!”
They were teleported before a huge beam of light from the giant robot was able to melt them out of their immortally…
They were flashed back into existence as Ember fell into his arms, exhausted from the dark, prototype power that dwelt within her.
She breathed heavily as Shadow removed his hand and hoisted her up. “Are you alright?” he looped her hand over his shoulders, another hand to help lift her waist up.
“I just… need a moment to breath.” She admitted, but they heard a strange noise…
“What was that?”
Water noises and engines were heard in the distance…
Then, quickly, Metal Sonic and Chaos swerved around the corner of some ruined buildings. A red light flashed and Shadow looked up.
“Darn!” he threw her up into a bridal style hold, and raced on his skate shoes away while the two of them chased them down.
“Find Eggman!” Shadow shouted.
“What!? I won’t leave you!” she gripped his chest fur…
He glared down, “You want to be of use to me?”
Did… Did he know?
“Then stay alive! And get your job done!”
“B-…But what about-!”
What about you?
He threw her into another alley way, flinging her quickly through the air as she flailed a moment and landed in a garbage disposal.
The two raced by her, focusing on Shadow and not noticing the difference.
She shifted around a moment, before coming up with a banana peel on her head, looking upset.
“…Hmph!” she gripped it and threw it down.
“Yuck! Now,…”
She turned around with a glare, bearing her fangs.
“WHERE’S EGGMAN!?”
Pacing around his base, Eggman looked at the blips on his monitors. “Where’d he go…” he gripped his floating chair… “I’ve only conquered this continent… no big deal! Why send him of all things!?” Eggman shoved the chair away as it swiveled in the air and spun rapidly away.
It regained a neutral hover as Orbot and Cubot continued to cower away from it.
“M-may I suggest… we also call in our own backup?” Orbot lifted a finger up, and then placed his hands together. “There are some lovely mercenaries who would be happy to dispose of-“
Eggman’s rage got the better of him. He soared his fist up into the air, and it came crashing down with a terrifying power against the control board.
It dented the area and he lifted his hand, now quivering from the pain and rubbed his other thumb inside the palm of the hurt hand. “Grr… I’d rather deal with this pest myself…”
“Gosh, that looked painful!” Cubot chirped.
“To what? His hand or his ego..?” Orbot muttered, but the two scattered in fear as a wrench was thrown at them.
“You’ll see… I’ll destroy Shadow, and then next-!” he stomped towards them, making a big scene before something rattled above them.
“…What the-?”
Ember smacked a air vent’s entrance down as it slammed against Eggman’s raised head.
“OFFPH!” he fell backwards as she dropped down, landing on his stomach. “IIIEEEE!!!” he arched forward, hovering his arms up as he stared at the unfamiliar face, but Ember didn’t seem to notice him.
She flicked her tail and hit him down, not feeling anything really and looked around.
“Huh? I thought I heard an evil monologue?”
“T-the… The Boss!” Orbot shivered, his hands quaking up by his mouthpiece.
“Boss..? OH!” she looked under herself. “It was so round! I thought it was just a rug or something!” she jumped up and down.
“OFFPH! OFFPH! OOOOO!” Eggman was like a squishy trampoline, every time she jumped up, she stomped both feet down, smiling giddily.
Finally, she jumped off on the third hop and he gripped his stomach, turning away with tears starting up from under his glasses… only on the far edges could you see a trace of them bundled up by his eyes corners.
“That hurt… you little…” he whimpered out while she dusted herself off.
“You know, those air vents really need some dusting.” She then struck an animalistic pose, showing off her claws as she scraped them against each other in long swipes.
Sparks flew off of them and Cubot ‘ooh’d and ‘aw’d as she did so.
She smirked, “So… you’re robotnik’s grandson? You look a little like him, I’ll give you-“ her smile faded, seeing him rise up and shake his head, then turn around to loom over her.
Her perfect memory triggered and before her wasn’t Eggman anymore… it was Gerald.
“And how do you know my grandfather..?”
Her eyes shook, unable to break out of the vivid memory.
She stepped back.
He looked too much like her former master… how could she ever battle him now?
“Who are you?”
He cocked an eyebrow up.
“I… I’m Ember…” she felt her whole body wanting to obey, falling slowly to her knees, catching herself before she did so.
‘Why… Why am I acting this way? My fidelity… is it this strong?’ she twitched violently every few seconds, unable to figure herself out for a moment.
“Ember..? Ah!” His glasses shone a moment across before he put a finger up to his chin.
“Ember Wolf? The immortal prototype. Yes… I remember reading something about that…”
She suddenly looked up, amazed he knew about her.
But how..?
“I… I thought all records were-?”
“Born as one of the first experiments. First to live, however. You’re embedded with a cursed Emerald, one my great Grandfather found and tried to erase from history… It produces a dark energy from time to time… corrupted and unpure, it’s said to completely envelop you in utter chaos…” He looked up, nodding to himself. “Yesss… I think I understand now. It described you as a companion to Shadow. Someone designed to protect, unless Shadow. You’re primary purpose was to-“
He paused, looking down at her and smiling.
“Say… you would be a fine asset to my cause!”
“What cause?” she glared, almost growling out the words as she bent her head down, trying to will her body out of submission. “To rule and ruin the known world!?”
“…What has the known world done for you?”
Her shook and she felt something sink within her heart.
“Join me… Ember~” he spread his arms out, “You’re… family…”
“My what!?”
Now she was able to push herself off the ground, stepping back as Eggman moved forward, snickering…
“Hohoho… Yes, indeed. Ember. For burning passion and everlasting flames that never burn out of loyal love! This is what your name means… I could teach you about yourself… the many things you possess… the many things you can do…”
He lifted his pointer finger up, winking beneath the glasses before moving closer to her.
Shadows of their silhouettes loomed behind Cubot and Orbot as the two watched the scene. Scarily enough, as Eggman grew closer, his shadow turned more diabolical, and Ember’s began to decrease in size…
“We could make this world anew… the way dear old Grandfather Gerald hoped it would be…”
“S-…Stop talking. You don’t even know him!” she struck her foot hard to the metal floor, a vibration came off of it that stopped Eggman’s eager approach. Her tail swished behind her, readying for a counter…
“Oh? Do I?” he leaned back, his smile growing and curving up across his face. “No sick. No afflictions of any kind. A world without sorrow and hunger… an immortal realm of perfection.” He spread his arms out, stating his grandfather’s ideals as though it were poetry.
“You… weren’t you designed to sustain these ideals?” he raised an pronounced eyebrow up, looking back to her. “I mean… you were designed to protect Shadow, and all other experiments. To keep them doing their jobs… After all…” He put his hands behind his back, leaning forward with an all-knowing look and losing his smile. “Shadow was the cure. You were to deliver the package safe and sound…”
“I…” she gulped, unsure if that really was the meaning behind her life. “I’m a delivery girl?”
“Hmm?” He blinked his eyes, surprised by that. He then leaned his head back and let out a mighty laughter, making her flustered and embarrassed as she growled.
“What’s so funny!?”
“Hoho! I meant that figuratively, my dear. This… wonderland that I’m proposing… it’s what you and the doctor always wanted. Even Maria would have been satisfied…” he outstretched a hand to her. “Join me… it’ll be fun.”
She stared at the hand… remembering how Shadow’s hand outstretched to her but she chose not to take it.
She looked away.
“Come… now… be a good little guard dog.” He smirked wider now, his eyebrows coming down slightly as Cubot and Orbot rushed over to her.
“It is rather fun.” Orbot admitted.
“Well, when you stay on his good side.” Cubot countered.
“Ember…”
She froze.
“What would dear old Grandpappy want..?”
Her shoulders fell slightly…
“My Ember…”
She looked up, eyes filled with purpose and determination.
Shadow races through the barren streets, looking to see Chaos and Metal Sonic have disappeared. “Where is she..?” he mutters to himself, whispering it as a quiet plea it seemed to find her. His head shifted back and forth, “She couldn’t have gone far…” worry seemed almost apparent in his voice as though he wasn’t trying to hide it.
“HYAH!”
“What!?”
He spun around, getting taken down by an unknown enemy.
He tossed and fought through the fog…
Gripping their hands, he held the enemy in a lock in front of him. “Show yourself, you coward!” he spoke through gritted teeth.
As the fog cleared, Ember breathed heavily, matching his power…
His eyes widened, “What..? Ember..?”
“WHOHOHOHO!” Eggman’s eggmobile floated down from the smoke above. “HOHOH-ACK! HOFF, HOGH, HAR!” he coughed from the smog and lifted a foot up, standing in his carrier to hack out the dust that entered his lungs, among other unwanted chemicals…
He wiped his mouth and then sneered down to Shadow. “At least one of you is proving useful! Behold! My great grandfather’s experiments do still remember their purposes!!! To serve me!”
“Ember…” he glared at her, but his eyes looked torn between fighting her or not. “What’s going on? What did he bribe you with?”
“No bribe, simply loyalties.” Eggman took out a handkerchief, blowing into it. “Poor little dear…” he faked sobbing, “All she ever wanted to serve her delightful creators. And now that she has one again, she’s putting everything else aside to serve her dear family~”
“Ember, no!” At the word ‘family’, Shadow’s eyes widened in horror. “He’s lying to you!”
“I’m more of a father than you are a brother. After all, tossing her to the side? Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He shook his head, waving his finger as a scold. “You should know better. Well, Ember knows her place now. Best to serve real family than those who refuse to be so!”
“Ember… you’re better than this!” he pushed back against her power, but she stepped forward and challenged it.
“…I…” he looked a little shaken up, something she wasn’t used to seeing. “I don’t want to hurt you…”
“Heeeeh… too late for that. Ember! Dispose of him! He’s not upholding the measure of his creation!” Eggman rose up again, swiping out his hand in a dictator fashion.
“Roger.” Ember cried out and swung Shadow over herself, causing him to crash down.
“Erk!” he sweated profusely against the new outcome… he rolled into a ball to avoid most of the damage, hitting her away by rushing into her gut in a spin-dash, then uncurling away. “Ember, what is this madness?! Your purpose is to be my companion!”
She turned around, smiling. “No…” She swiped a Chaos attack back at him, but he dodged the air slash…
Still looking torn, his eyes shook as he narrowed his stare at her, unable to bear a glare…
“I was designed to keep you in check. Just in case you failed your purpose and went on the unbeaten path.” She rose her head up.
“And looks like you did…”
“Destroy him!”
“Is this about G.U.N?!”
He dodged another attack as she raced up to swipe her deadly claws at him.
Jumping from building to building, the two began a chase, which Eggman followed willingly, enjoying the spectacle.
“Ember! Don’t do this..!” he cried back, “Chaos Spears!” he swiped his arm and yellow spears of energy mass were created, hovering for a second in the air, remaining still until shooting forth after her.
She raced between them, jumping from left to right, before crossing her arms and then slashing them out to cut the beam in half.
His eyes twitched again, her power was much like his.
Since he was startled and in the air, Ember used this chance to leap up, slamming him down.
“WHOHOHOHO!” Eggman stuck up his nose and showed his mouth creating an ‘o’ as he laughed. “Splendid! She’s proving more useful then you ever were, Shadow!”
As they crashed through old, half-burnt buildings, they finally hit a floor that wasn’t just loose debris, but sturdy enough that it could catch their fall.
She held him down by his neck as he looked up to her, reaching for his power limiters…
“Ember…” He wearily spoke out, straining against her hold. “You leave me no choice… I… I didn’t want to lose you… but …” he began slipping one off, “I can’t lose the world… Maria… I promised to give the world she loved a chance… she… she loved it so much…” he was about to get it off before a dainty and gentle hand was placed over his own.
“What?” he looked up, amazed.
Ember smiled lovingly down to him.
“No need…” she stated.
“Brother.”
“Ember..?”
His eyes shook in awe, but she slowly leaned up and off of him.
“I know how to stop Eggman. I gained his trust long enough to at least secure that.”
She winked, flicking her tail.
“Honestly, did you really think I’d get so butt hurt over one little toss?”
She rotated her shoulder, feeling it a bit hurt from the fall and then extended her hand to him, leaning down.
“Let’s defeat him… Together, Shadow.”
He stared for some time, leaning up and then smiling down as he closed his eyes and put his limiters back on.
“I should have known… a double-agent.”
He then looked up with a much kinder expression.
“See? I know my purpose.”
He lifts his hand.
“And what’s that?”
His smile is contagious, and she smiles bigger as well.
“Taking care of my little brother.”
“…Excuse me?”
He looks unamused by that phrase.
“Alright, alright.” She giggles, “Being your helping hand…”
He smiles again, taking her hand with as he’s hoisted up from his spot.
“Then let’s take him down… Sister.”
She squees in delight, crunching her body up tightly and lifting a leg up, glad he finally said it!
“It’s about time!” she exclaimed.
As they came out, they both targeted Eggman’s eggmoblie, holding one another’s hand and remaining close in their leap skyward.
“H-huh!?!?!?” He rears back, moving out of their way. “What’s this!?”
She looks over to see him smiling again, ‘I’m so glad…’ she thinks to herself.
‘He seemed so shaken up when he thought he had to stop me… I’m glad I know my true purpose.’
She then turned back to Eggman, a look of fierce conviction on her face.
‘…To never break his heart…’
After a huge explosion and Shadow and Ember taking down some of Eggman’s forces… Eggman flies home on a half-broken Eggmobile, smoky from hits and his head all crisped up from their Chaos attacks.
He falls onto the floor and starts bashing his huge fists into it. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair! Everything was looking up so well…” Eggman sprayed chibi-tears, whining about his mishap of trusting Ember.
“Sir… if I may…” Orbot hovers over, typing some things into the monitor as Eggman throws his tantrum, kicking and crying, before looking over to the screen.
“Hmm?”
Cubot wipes his tear with a handerchief, “Here, blow.” He instructs lovingly as Eggman turns back, broken down and defeated, and blows his nose into it.
“Yuck! This blows!” Cubot didn’t like the snot on his hand and ended up making a pun as the handerchief stuck to him. He waved his robotic hand frantically around in disgust, “Ahh..ahhh!!!” flying around in despaired distraught before Orbot showed the mercenary group he mentioned beforehand.
“There. Now these are some of our finest allies! You should hire them.” Orbot scanned the screen closer in on the face of their leader…
“Oddly enough, he’s never known defeat. Sound promising, boss?” Orbot turned to look back at him as the screen kept closing in on the main leader…
Eggman sees them,…
Then the leader.
He smirks with a shine in his glasses…
“They’re perfect. Hehehe…hohoho…WHAHAHAHA!”
End.
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a not-so-brief history of buckynat (post-widow hunt)
So a lot has happened with our favorite spy couple in the last few years, so I thought it might be helpful for some shippers who haven’t completely kept up to make a list of everything they’ve been through in that time. So without further ado, here’s a quick guide that no one asked for, starting with:
Black Widow Hunt
This was the unfortunate end of their relationship, not by choice. A fellow ex-Soviet spy, Leo Novokov, grew jealous of Bucky’s success and angry that he never looked for the other agents, so he set out to ruin his life by stealing his girl... pretty literally. He kidnapped and brainwashed Natasha into thinking she was a double agent, sending Bucky and co. on a wild goose chase trying to get her back. They eventually do -- but Natasha’s lost all her memories of Bucky, and he makes the difficult decision not to force her to undergo experimental methods to have her memories regained. (This decision sometimes draws criticism because on the one hand, that isn’t his choice to make -- however, he did not want the doctors to mess with her head on his account, and so here we are.)
The Electric Ghost
After their separation, Bucky kind of goes off the deep end. Really, he basically quit working for SHIELD and he’s going into bars and beating the crap out of everyone. He’s trying to make peace with his past when Nick Fury comes to him with a mission and pretty much tricks him into helping SHIELD again. From there he ends up fighting Tesla Tarasova, the Electric Ghost, who is using a type of Cosmic Cube she calls the Tarasova Tesseract to try and change her past. She ends up taking Bucky with her, and even tempts him with the ability to stop Leo Novokov, but he convinces her she’s wrong (”You can’t fix the past, Tesla. You can only search for the strength to change the future.”), and he takes just one moment with the Cube for himself -- and goes back to kiss Natasha one last time.
The Tightly Tangled Web & Last Days
This is quite the reunion. Bucky’s mission is a gang -- Natasha’s mission is a case. They end up on the same train, at the same time, fighting the same bad guys, but Natasha only knows Bucky as the Winter Soldier (Black Widow #8). After this, Bucky keeps an eye on her from afar, and ends up getting her out of a couple sticky situations. Their final interaction in this run involves Bucky promising that he will always be there for her. It’s probably around this time she begins to suspect that he isn’t just the Winter Soldier to her -- although nothing is certain. (It’s worth noting that by this point, Bucky has become the Man on the Wall -- an agent whose purpose is to protect the planet from threats -- a job which he inherited from Nick Fury.)
No More Secrets
Another Black Widow story, this time Bucky is the one who gets kidnapped -- after he’s caught by Natasha’s childhood rival, Recluse, watching out for her. He spends the entire run acting as a guardian angel, but inevitably Natasha has to save his ass from Recluse who enjoys taunting him by telling Natasha about his feelings for her and beating him over the head with a rifle. It turns out that Nick Fury sent him to collect Natasha, however, and after their trip gets a little rocky (a guy’s head explodes and a tiny murder child tries to hijack their spaceship), Bucky and Nat save each other -- first, Natasha empties her oxygen tank into Bucky’s so he’ll have enough air to get to the ship, and then Bucky revives her with CPR. They share a kiss, and it’s implied that Natasha now at least knows about their past together. She has a job to finish, however, so they part ways on their return to Earth.
Civil War II & Thunderbolts
Here’s where timelines get a little weird. Somewhere in here, Bucky hears the prophecy that Steve Rogers is going to be killed by Miles Morales, so being the rational person he is he attempts to capture Miles so that this can’t happen. Except at this time, he’s a fugitive from SHIELD for hiding Kobik. He ends up captured and in a jail cell, where he is confronted by Steve Rogers himself, who tries to get him to give Kobik’s location. The Thunderbolts rescue him, and it’s made clear he doesn’t trust Steve with this information. This is when Steve -- who is actually the Hydra version (who will be referred to as Stevil from now on) -- decides he has to kill Bucky. (EDIT: At some point after the rescue, Bucky and Nat’s adventure on the Moon occurs. This can be confusing due to the inconsistent symbol on his arm.) Zemo, who is Stevil’s best buddy, and his Masters of Evil attack the Thunderbolts’ hideout and nearly beat Bucky to death. Kobik saves him by sending him back in time and trying to get him to join HYDRA -- this is when he learns the truth about Stevil, though he refuses to believe it (this is apparently a trend with him -- stay tuned). Upon refusing to join HYDRA, Kobik has massively destructive temper tantrum and is shattered and Bucky is carried away to be strapped to yet another rocket and, supposedly, blown to smithereens. In Thunderbolts #5 features a flashback to Bucky and Natasha’s Red Room days (seen above), and there’s another reference to Nat later on as well -- but I promise that’s not the only reason all of this is relevant, because right around the time Bucky is believed dead, Stevil makes his allegiances public, and thus begins....
Secret Empire
The part we all hate and no one wants to talk about but an unfortunate amount of SHIT occurred in. Let’s start from the beginning -- Bucky is, to the world, a dead man. Super dead. Murdered good. This has seriously fucked Nat up. At some point, she enters a casual relationship with Clint Barton -- who... quite obviously takes it more seriously than she does. But they both acknowledge the fact that Natasha has not been the same since Bucky died.
So you can read that however you want (although, I personally don’t think very highly of Clint for getting involved with her while she’s grieving another man). Basically, Natasha wants to kill Stevil, Clint thinks she’s wrong, so she decks him and goes on the run. From there, she starts the new Red Room (which is all kinds of ridiculous since her previous run was all about ending the new Dark Room, but I digress) with a team that includes Miles Morales. Remember that prophecy? Well, he’s pretty convinced its true, but Natasha tries to save him from the fate of becoming a murderer -- and takes Stevil’s shield to the neck/jaw. It seemingly kills her and the rest of us spend the next several issues wondering whether or not she’s going to come back. But in the meantime, someone else comes back --
Bucky, back from the dead he never was because his old pal Namor fished him out of the ocean because apparently Zemo is really bad at tying people to rockets. Bucky has been hiding out this whole time -- surprise! -- and he’s hatched a plan for stopping Stevil that involves, and I truly cannot make this shit up folks, 1) giving Stevil the last missing piece of the Cosmic Cube, 2) shrinking to ant-size and shooting into the Cube which is embedded in Stevil’s Hydra armor, 3) becoming a Mufasa-like entity inside the Cube and pulling the real Steve and Kobik out, and 4) watching the two Steve’s go at it. Once Stevil is defeated, Kobik fixes pretty much nothing. Everyone, including Natasha, is still dead.
Rather than attending her funeral, Bucky goes on a mission to Madripoor -- where he watches the funeral live on TV before following a lead in a super mysterious case. He then watches the assassination of a general who had come to power in the US along with HYDRA, looks up to the window the shot came from, and immediately monologues:
Which leads us right into --
Tales of Suspense
Bucky teams up with Clint in an effort to discover who this mystery assassin is. In the time between Secret Empire's epilogue and the beginning of this story, Bucky has switched his point of view. He now believes Natasha is dead and someone is impersonating her. Clint thinks she is still alive. While chasing her down, they run into each other, and an uneasy alliance is formed.
The two work together following clues and leads. There are a couple pretty close calls, including a battle which leaves Yelena Belova dead in a subway and someone who looks an awful lot like Natasha speeding away on the back of a truck. Their clues lead them to the home of a Red Room operative, whose murder Bucky has been framed for. Finally, while following the lead of the Red Room, they run into Natasha herself, apparently alive.
Natasha traps them in a bunker where she takes Bucky's arm and Clint's bow and seemingly blows them up. It turns out that she wanted those things as proof she had killed them to gain the Red Room's trust -- but how did she survive Secret Empire? She didn't. This Natasha is a clone, engineered by the Red Room and given her consciousness by a psychic agent. The bear mutant Ursa Major, who you may remember from the Gulag, convinces the psychic to give Natasha all of her memories so that she may take the Red Room down from within.
Bucky and Clint escape from the bunker and track her down. A battle ensues. Clint is distraught by Natasha's violence. He and Bucky help her win the battle, but as they leave the building she goes back in just in time for it to explode. An officer finds a note for each of them on a tree nearby. Natasha tells Clint that though she cares deeply for him, he can't follow her where she is going and urges him to learn not to care for people who only ever hurt him. Bucky suggests that his note is the same, when in reality Natasha has asked for his help in a secret mission.
Clint and Bucky go their separate ways. Meanwhile, Logan has left Natasha a present in Madripoor: the Space Stone.
Natasha will return in Infinity Countdown: Black Widow in June 2018. She is also expected to appear with Bucky in Ta-Nehisi Coates's upcoming Captain America series beginning in July 2018.
#buckynat#this is really more for myself than anything but it might be useful for other people too#so there you go#reference
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The Only One — Part 1
Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia
Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou
Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou
Other Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Canon and Post-canon Timeline, Aftermath of Trauma, Nightmares, Bed-Sharing, Jealousy, Self-Hatred, Descriptions of Violence, (This Story Is Not Quite As Miserable As It Seems)
The original prompt was simply for jealous Bakugou. It got... significantly out of hand.
(Read on Ao3 here) (Next Chapter)
— — — —
At first, the attention is just that: attention. Bakugou likes the admiration, because he deserves it. That shitty-haired idiot is smarter than the rest of the class for seeing that.
That shark-toothed redhead was an open book. His joy, his admiration, his excitement were all scrawled over his face like a toddler took a crayon to it. Bright red, probably, the kind that strained the eyes. He knew the natural order of things, unlike others. He saw Bakugou’s strength for what it was and paid him the respect that he was rightfully owed. In return, Bakugou deigned him acknowledgement.
His strength is built beyond his quirk.
He demands the attention the world will not freely allow him.
He can rival Bakugou himself — would have been number one had he not taken the stage.
His name is Kirishima.
In a class of Deku and Four-eyes and Sparky and Soy Sauce, Kirishima stands out from the rest. He’s a little stupid, can’t do math for shit. Definitely too loud, and too familiar in the way he touches Bakugou like he’s allowed to. But he reaches to Bakugou and seizes the right for himself, demands his respect the same way he demands look at me, look at me with his shitty fire-engine red hair sticking up in points from his skull.
He doesn’t seem to know that he’s built from a different mold, the kind that Bakugou himself was born from. Likely because he’s a damn idiot. Even if he senses how things are meant to be, he doesn’t seem to follow — and it’s infuriating. Offers Deku too much respect, but doesn’t allow himself enough.
But Bakugou will let that slide, because what really counts is that Kirishima just keeps looking at him . There’s passion in his eyes, and he feels he can get drunk on it. Even when he’s beaten, his quirk coming apart at the seams, unable to hold up beneath Bakugou’s force, he still gazes at him in awe.
“That was a good fight!” Kirishima declares, head wrapped in bandages, his teeth stretching into a shark’s grin. “Next time I’ll give you a real run for your money, Blasty.”
His fight with Tokoyami is next. It will be a shamefully easy one — their quirks are unbalanced. The thought fills him with little joy, but it’s the bird-brain’s own fault for not having a back up. Relying solely on one’s quirk is just careless.
Kirishima at least has more than just the strength of his skin — that muscle, that resilience was worked for.
Bakugou spares him a glance, saying, “My explosions weren’t doing shit at first. Learn to endure, then we’ll see how long it takes to put your ass on the ground.”
And fucking Sparky jumps in with complaints — “ Already , seriously? You’re such a shitty winner, you know that?” — but Kirishima understands, and he laughs and bumps his knuckles against Bakugou’s shoulder, a deal made.
Kirishima is valuable, so he has to stay on top. Bakugou will kick his ass the entire god damn way if he has to, but he’ll make him use his own feet. He makes some snide comment at the end of the term and Bakugou snaps at the bait — he’ll tutor the idiot until he’s bleeding through the ears. It’s a jaw-grinding task, because Kirishima’s quirk apparently makes his skull impenetrable as well and he literally has to beat him over the head with the material before a snippet of it sticks.
But Bakugou learns. Words don’t just click for him the way they do for Bakugou. He starts to draw charts. To spell out equations step by step by agonizing step, color-codes notes and forms flashcards and drills it into him until there’s no possible fucking way Kirishima can fail.
He doesn’t. Not the first bit, at least. Somehow he crashes and burns during the practical, and Bakugou wants to tear his own hair out watching the pathetic display on the screen.
His guts are too twisted for him to dwell on it, though, the memory of Deku’s voice lacerating his ears.
So he doesn’t think about it until Kirishima approaches him later on, shame and apology in his face, and bends in a half-bow. “I failed,” he declared, “after all the work you put in. I’m sorry.”
Bakugou just gawks at him for a good handful of seconds before cuffing him over the head. It’s a little too hard, because Kirishima jerks up with an “ow!” but it gets his eyes back on him. “You passed the written exam,” he reminds him, impatient, “which is the shit I was tutoring you on. So don’t go apologizing to me when I did my fucking job.”
Somehow Kirishima only looks more abashed, so he huffs and seizes him by the hair to give him a little shake, ignoring his startled yelps and the concerned looks from Sparky and Soy-Sauce. “Next time I’ll fucking beat your ass into the ground, too, if that what it takes.”
Kirishima winces, massaging the roots of his hair where Bakugou had been pulling. “Hang on, he protests, frowning, “you just said I don’t need to study more!”
Bakugou raises his eyebrows. “I know what I fucking said.”
“So then why —” Kirishima’s expression clears. “Oh! Oh man, seriously?”
“I also say what I mean, Shitty-hair.” He taps his foot impatiently.
And to his satisfaction, Kirishima beams. “Great! Man that’ll — that’ll be awesome. I can’t wait, sparring with you is gonna be great.”
Bakugou snorts, even if he is preening inside. He’s the one that put that dopey fucking grin on Kirishima’s face. “Don’t get too fucking eager. You’ll be crying before I’m through with you.”
“I’m counting on it!” This time, Kirishima offers his knuckles. Bakugou rolls his eyes and shoves them away, letting a minute explosion spark against his hand for good measure.
It’ll have to wait for after their training camp. The teachers are gonna be torturing them enough on their own, because UA apparently only hires sadists. Bakugou’s brand of cruelty doesn’t have any room here. He’s learning from the pros.
Except —
Scratch that.
They’ll have to wait for Bakugou to get away from these scum-of-the-earth villains first, which might be a little hard when they’re intent on dragging him into the sewers with them. They pull him into the darkness and bind him down so he doesn’t murder them where they stand.
His hands are encased in metal. If he tries to use his quirk the explosion will be contained and he’ll just blow his own hands apart. He can’t move cause —
— he’s chained to a post for all to see, the crowd gawking in horror as he strains, as he screams —
— but they can’t hear him because there’s slime in his throat, choking him, drowning him, he can’t move or breathe —
— where are the heroes.
It’s not Deku that lets him go, or a hero, or even a faculty member with disdain written on their face.
It’s a villain.
They want him to —
He just blasts Shigaraki in his disgusting face, cracked lips and scabbed neck, he’ll burn it all away so he doesn’t feel quite so sick looking at him. It’s not enough to kill him, only knocks one of those freaky hands away. Things happen too fast after that.
The heroes arrive, and he’s being swallowed up by black tar, thrown into the frigid night. All Might, is being countered, is losing , his childhood hero invincible, undefeatable.
And Bakugou is surrounded. He throws himself into the air and twists, but there are four-five-six (more?) of them, and his heart is beating in his throat. His brain is scrambled, he can’t look fast enough to figure who he needs to kill so he can escape —
There’s a sound like a rocket. A burst of light, and the villains crane their heads to the sky, and Bakugou does too. It’s an amalgam of bodies, a human machine. He sees all their faces but only has eyes for one, for red hair and red eyes and the hand stretched out for him, the voice calling to him:
“Come!”
He leaps.
.
.
.
His room is right beside Kirishima’s. Bakugou thinks of it jealously; he wants the room against the wall, the furthest from the rest. It didn’t make sense to place Kirishima on the outside.
He wants it, because he will have privacy there: no one walking past his door, he’ll the very last they reach out to. The hardest to hear in the night, when he wakes up believing there are fingers on his throat, four delicate brushes easing into a murderous fifth. He would shove his own head under a pillow while he sleeps, but it makes him feel that he’s suffocating again.
There’s a bottle of sleeping pills in his bag, prescribed for the nightmares.
It’s such a childish word. Nightmare. Like he’s a toddler dreaming about monsters coming to eat him. "Night terrors” sounds a little bit better, but it boils down to the same thing: he’s afraid. He’s fucking terrified. And it’s making him weak.
He probably already was, to get captured by villains, to lose to Deku, to bring All Might’s end. What an incredible fuckup he is. If Deku is worthless, what the hell does that make him? Where is he left as a hero if he can’t even protect himself?
His palms are sweaty. His fingers twitch.
He wakes up with the smell of smoke in his nostrils. His sheets are burned through to the mattress, his heart is beating out of his chest. Bakugou doesn’t know if he screams during his nightmares — doesn’t know if he screams out loud at least, his dream self howls . But no one disturbs him. The nights tick by.
A particularly bad one has him up at three AM. In the dark, alone, he winds his arms around a pillow and sobs. Then there’s a knock at his door.
Bakugou shoves his mouth into the pillow. For a moment, he’s ready to dismiss it as his panicked imagination, until it sounds again. Knock knock knock. Quiet. A call through his door: “Bakugou?”
He responds with, “ What?” Which is a mistake because Kirishima takes that as permission to enter. By the time he starts sputtering for him to leave, the door is already closed. The only light comes from one outside, the curtains not drawn to shut it out. Bakugou can only just make out the edges of all his furniture, and of Kirishima’s face.
Concern. It’s sickening.
“I brought you a drink,” he says.
Bakugou takes a moment to register that. “What?” He says again, because it doesn’t quite make sense.
Kirishima thinks it’s a different question. “Hot chocolate,” he tells him. “I dunno if you like whipped cream but, like, who doesn’t like whipped cream?” He pads across the room, the floorboards creaking slightly. Gingerly, Kirishima sits on the edge of the bed, and extends a mug to him.
He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t make Bakugou choose. He just comes in with the decision already made.
"Come!” He had cried.
“Here,” he says now.
Bakugou takes the mug. It’s warm, but not hot against his palms. They’re slicked with sweat, and Kirishima waits to be sure he has a good grip on it before letting go.
He makes his hot chocolate with milk, whipped cream and no marshmallows. It’s sweet and it warms him from the belly out, and in between his gulps he can steady his breaths.
He says, “Go away, Kirishima.” His voice comes out a croak.
And Kirishima does so without a word, gets up and makes his way for the door again. As he steps out, Bakugou blurts, “The hot chocolate is good.” It’s such a meaningless thing to say.
He can hear the smile in Kirishima’s voice. “I’m glad.”
He doesn’t have nightmares every night. Kirishima doesn’t come every time he does. It’s only on the worst nights. Bakugou thinks he probably cries out on those nights, and wonders if he should shove his bed to the opposite wall — but he would still be heard, by less desireable company.
So Bakugou lets it continue. On some nights he wakes up, tangled in his sheets or with his pajamas sweat-soaked and clinging. Within a minute, there will be a knock on his door, Kirishima asking him what he wants to drink.
Once, he starts openly sobbing. It’s disgusting, it’s pathetic, and he will not himself be seen. He doesn’t respond to Kirishima’s question through the door, just shoves his hands over his mouth and prays for him to leave, swears that if that door opens so much as a crack he’ll blow it off its hinges.
He gets a small knock. He hears Kirishima’s door close. When Bakugou gets his breathing under control and tears stop pouring from his eyes, he checks in the hall. There’s just a bottle of water.
His chest wells with something thick and cloying. Gratitude. He’s hopelessly thankful that Kirishima had just let him be.
It’s over a fucking water bottle, but Bakugou grips it tight in his hands and thinks fervently to himself ‘ what would I do without him.’
And then he stops.
And then he knows.
‘This can’t continue.’
So he stops letting Kirishima in at night. Stops responding to his call through the door. Stops taking the drinks left in the hall. He thinks he sees a flash of hurt in Kirishima’s eyes the first morning that he walks out and finds Bakugou left his mug in the hallway to cool.
Bakugou tells himself he doesn’t care.
The Hero License Exam is a fucking joke.
He’s the number-fucking-one in their class. Nobody could take down as many villains as he could. And, shit, he played their asinine game, pretended to be the goody two-shoes so-called hero that would rather lug around deadweight with a sprained ankle than go after a criminal.
But he failed.
So did Icy-Hot but fuck if that was any comfort. Asshole didn’t know what it meant to give it his all, he threw in the towel the first chance he got. Kirishima and Sparky and Roundface and fucking Deku all got their licenses — and didn’t that tell him what he’d been suspecting all along?
He was less than worthless. He was so low that pulled the number one hero down with him.
So while he’s off taking remedial lessons with the two-faced bastard, his class, his competition are all taking leaps and bounds ahead of him. Within days, Tsuyu and Uraraka and Kirishima have their own headlines.
The name Red Riot is emblazoned on websites, the headlines scrolling on TV. Bakugou doesn’t even know what he feels: pride or disgust? Because hell, he told that shitty-haired bastard he was strong. He’d known what Kirishima hadn’t, and here was the proof that Bakugou was right all along.
But Bakugou should be there with him. He’s falling behind.
And now Kirishima is keeping something from him. Even when he demands answers, the asshole keeps his lips sealed shut. Apparently he prefers Deku and his girlfriend and that frog-face, too.
That’s just fine and fucking dandy in Bakugou’s book. He doesn’t need Kirishima. And Kirishima will regret blowing him off when he sees Bakugou rise to the top on his own.
He hates how quickly his fury twists and distorts into concern , the moment Kirishima is gone for a day. Because the rest of his little gang are gone too, and so is Aizawa. Which means whatever secret they’ve been holding, it’s going down now. And Bakugou is here, sitting on the sidelines, waiting with the rest for news.
It turns out to be terrible news.
Kirishima is the last to be discharged from the medical ward. All of them sustained injuries, but his ran deepest, lingered longest.
His skin is fractured. It runs all the way to the root, blood seeping between the fissures. His ribs are cracked. Arms broken, with entire patches of flesh stripped away. Joints so stiff he can barely move. Vision impaired because apparently one of his eyeballs cracked, too.
Bakugou might as well get a fucking Recovery Girl T-shirt from how much damn time he spends in there. Who needs a first aid class when the school nurse is teaching him how to change Kirishima’s bandages, how to help him get dressed without hurting him, how to get him in and out of the showers each day.
“It’s a little less weird if it’s you,” Kirishima tells him the first time he helps him strip down. There’s nothing remotely suggestive about it: Bakugou feels sick seeing his exposed chest, lined with scabs and bruises. “You know, she could be my grandma. I don’t want her helping me shower. So like, since you’re my age, and you’re like my friend — oh, we’re friends, aren’t we? I mean you wouldn’t be doing this if —”
“Stop fucking babbling,” he snaps, “it’s fine.”
Shit, after this he’s gonna pass the rescue portion of the exam with flying fucking colors. They should just give him a nursing degree while they’re at it, he’s qualified for the job.
Once he’s able to get out of bed, Kirishima is in a wheelchair. With steady treatment, he progresses up to crutches, and even is allowed to traverse outside until he grows so fatigued that Bakugou has to lug him back. Ponytail has the notes for all the days he’s missed printed out, complete with recordings of the teacher’s lectures and guides for the homework. Satou sneaks him sweets he’s technically not supposed to be eating. Jirou keeps him entertained with music. And that doesn’t begin to include the bullshit Mina and Sero and Kaminari get up to.
Kirishima’s face lights up whenever he gets a new visitor, and it makes Bakugou’s guts twist. They did not lose fucking sleep wondering where he was. They did not camp out by his bedside when he was near delirious from all the pain meds pumped into him. They did not spoon-feed him because he couldn’t use his fucking hands and they did not carry him to the showers before he could walk again and they did not deserve that disgusting look of gratitude that dawned on his face every time they fucking graced him with their presence.
Bakugou did. So that coil winds tighter and tighter, until he’s almost ready to snap.
Somehow, he manages to hold it in until Kirishima is discharged. It goes from a frothing rage to a simmer, and finally inky and still, sitting deep within him but unmoving.
But Kirishima has moved the fuck on past Bakugou, apparently. He doesn’t know why he even bothered. Should have let Recovery Girl deal with the burden instead, Kirishima would at least spare her the time of day.
Next time he’ll let Kirishima suffer alone.
The nightmares shift. Most of them are about him suffocating in some way, either choking on sludge or his own vomit or with a band of metal strapped over his mouth and nose so that he poisons himself with the carbon dioxide expelled from his lungs. Sometimes it’s of Shigaraki, and of his body crumbling in on itself, paralyzed and in agony.
Tonight it’s a fucked up combination. There’s a foot on his throat, slowly crushing his windpipe. He thinks it’s All For One, but when he strains his eyes up its black eyes framed by blonde hair that stare down, not smiling but snarling, pure hatred on his emaciated face. A foot knocks into his skull. His ears ring. His neck snaps, he feels the vertebrae crunch, but somehow he’s not dead. Or he is, but his mind is still intact, his body is still and unmoving, not a breath in his lungs, but his eyes are open and his brain can still see.
It’s Kirishima on his knees before Shigaraki. His arms have shattered up to the elbows, dribbling blood. He can see jagged bits of flesh and muscle and bone, hardened like diamonds then crushed. There are three fingers on his face. A thumb turns him towards Bakugou so their gazes can meet, so he sees the plea in Kirishima’s eyes.
He sees the moment it shifts into despair as Shigaraki’s pinky comes down, and it’s frozen there as he face splits down the center.
For once he doesn’t wake up thrashing and panting. He’s perfectly still, body chilled to the marrow of his bone. A frigid sweat is layered on his skin.
He knows he will not get any sleep tonight. Bakugou considers getting up to make himself hot chocolate. In the end, it’s too much to even think about, so he sits up and stares at his phone screen until sunrise.
Not even thirty minutes pass before there’s a rapid knock at his door. Bakugou grimaces to himself. If he waits, Kirishima will go away. He doesn’t need his charity.
Another bust of knocking. It sounds frenzied, somehow, and that’s what makes Bakugou puase. A third, and this time it’s accompanied by a gasp, a desperate, “ Bakugou.”
He’s on his feet before he has time to think of it, opens the door without warning. Kirishima stands in the hall, hair messy, blinking thick tears down his face. He’s clutching at his arms, at the red scars that mar them. He repeats, voice breaking, “ Bakugou,” and collapses against him.
What is only meant to hold him up turns into an embrace. Kirishima clings to him, arms around his back, fingers twisting the material of his shirt, face pushed into his neck. He doesn’t sob, but he’s trembling out of control.
Bakugou doesn't know what to do except hold him. Kirishima doesn't ask for anything more.
He doesn't count how many minutes they stand like that — it could be two, it could be ten. The longer they stay, the more aware Bakugou becomes. He doesn’t know where to put his arms. How tight to squeeze. Kirishima is not fragile, but like this he feels breakable.
When Kirishima draws away, he’s pathetically relieved.
“I’m sorry,” Kirishima croaks, dragging the back of his hand over both eyes. “It’s just — nightmare, I’m sorry.”
Something shifts in Bakugou’s chest. Like a rib had been poking his lung, and suddenly it just slid back into place, the pain gone. “You get nightmares?”
A pinching of the expression, a nod. “They’ve gotten worse since…” He reaches up to cradle his own arms again, crossed protectively over his chest. It’s a mockery of his defensive stance, now folded in on himself with an echo of terror. A laugh breaks from his mouth. “Fuck. God, this is pathetic, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so scared for myself, I’m such a. Coward .” Kirishima bites off the word like it makes his teeth hurt.
Bakugou scowls. “What is that even supposed to mean?” He takes Kirishima’s hand, expecting him to jump when they touch. Instead Kirishima seizes it and holds tight, following him close as they pad towards the bathroom.
“Heroes are supposed to protect people. How am I supposed to do that if I’m afraid of getting hurt?” His eyes are downcast. Bakugou has to pull his hand free as he takes a washcloth and wets it.
He cups Kirishima’s face, wiping the damp cloth under his eyes, cleaning the tear-tracks away. “Kirishima,” he says, voice hard, “What I heard was that after getting the shit kicked out of you back there, you just threw yourself in front of the villain again. You’re telling me you were scared when you did that?”
Bakugou stopped, hand still on Kirishima’s jaw, pulling the rag away from his skin. Though miserable, Kirishima wasn’t able to turn his head away. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I was terrified.”
“And you jumped in anyway. You’re such a fucking idiot.”
Kirishima flinched and hunched in on himself. Bakugou growled, “No! That’s what I’m talking about, hair-for-brains! You’re usually so fucking good at reading between the lines but I guess I have to spell it out for you!”
He leaned in until their noses nearly touched. Kirishima’s eyes widened. “Jumping into danger even when you’re scared is the fucking definition of bravery. Got it? Is your illiterate ass understanding the sounds coming from my mouth cause I’ll say it again!”
He drops the rag. Takes Kirishima’s face with both hands and shoves their foreheads together, gaze boring into his. “You are a hero, Red Riot. Fucking deal with it.”
Bakugou releases him, spinning away with a huff. There’s warmth staining across his face.
Kirishima doesn’t follow immediately. He lingers in the bathroom, cleaning himself up properly. When he comes back through the door, Bakugou is rearranging the pillows on his bed. “Go get your pillows,” he says, glancing up over his shoulder.
Kirishima blinks at him. “...Why?”
“Because I don’t have enough pillows for two people.” He crosses his arms.
It’s visible when it clicks in Kirishima’s brain. His face lights up, and he all but prances out of the room. There are two pillows tucked under his arms when he returns, and he tosses them down onto the bed beside Bakugou.
The mattress dips under his weight. He turns onto his side, facing Bakugou. Their eyes meet, and then Kirishima reaches for him, waits. Bakugou doesn’t resist as Kirishima tucks himself against his side, one arm draped over his chest.
Their sleep is dreamless.
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