#and yes of course hes saying its ToO cOmbAT BoTS
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had the feeling something has to go wrong bc its been going too good for a few days
and woop look at dat, mr babyman in charge of destroying twitter beyond recognition is now planning to charge everyone to use the site
lol. lmao even.
#ganondoodles talks#random#someone very accurately said that hes only doing that to get your bank info bc he still cant let go of his little banking site dream#and yes of course hes saying its ToO cOmbAT BoTS#like bots dont pay for getting their scam spam directly into your eyeballs already#like the man has ever had an intelligent thought#you gotta come up with a new excuse mr xmuskman#i wish hed just explode like the damn cars he “”“”makes“”“”“”
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The Dreamer
Two original characters, one of whom is a sentient ship and the other a CatUnit.
I found the dreamer by accident.
Inside a transport box in my cargo hold, an inert construct dreamed, and somehow its dreams leaked into the feed. I caught them like wisps of cotton candy and traced them back to their source.
I shielded myself from the dreamer, fearing that my presence in the feed anywhere in the vicinity of the being would disturb its fragile dreaming. The human-bot hybrid inside the box appeared unaware of my existence, connected to the feed only loosely through its autonomous interfaces. It wasn't awake so far as I could tell.
Back then, I knew almost nothing about constructs. The polity where I had been created strictly forbade their use and manufacture, so I had to query the public databases to learn more about them. The information, once I had processed and understood it, made me sick with revulsion and horror.
Constructs were sentient, as alive as any human, and enslaved. Governor modules controlled their words and actions. Inside those transport boxes, they were helpless — completely vulnerable and dependent on humans for continued survival. The practice was disturbing enough that most polities outside the Corporation Rim chose not to create constructs at all. A few had policies that designated them as high-level bots, but most didn’t want to tackle the philosophical ramifications of sentient and sapient machines.
New Tidelands was slowly grappling with these questions because of ships like myself, who were considered sentient in our own right and were, for all practical purposes, artificial minds. I appreciated the sentiment, but I’m a ship and hard to stop on the best of days. I have a debris deflection system that can put most any rail gun to shame.
In comparison, the dreamer in my hold was fragile and easily harmed.
***
I tried an experiment of sorts.
I have all kinds of video and audio of star systems, gathered over the course of dozens of long-range research projects done aboard my hull. I cropped together a brief glimpse of what I had seen and sent it to the dreamer.
Alongside those videos, I added emotional context — wonder, joy, curiosity. The construct’s feed readily accepted my messages, and moments later its dreams became those images and reflected back at me the associated feelings. The security unit’s vital signs improved as if it benefited from the calmer dreams.
I made a decision right then, about how I wanted to handle this situation. For one, now that I knew what a construct was, I felt obligated to help the one in my cargo bay — at minimum.
Using several drones, I moved the transport box from the hold into one of the crew cabins where I could hook it up to my MedSystem. It notified me that the SecUnit’s lungs were exhausted because it was receiving minimal life support — enough to survive, but not comfortably.
I adjusted the settings to human-friendly parameters inside the cabin and used a drone to open the transport box.
Without a command to wake it, the construct remained asleep but now it was breathing more palatable air in a more comfortable environment. It wore no armor that I could see, or much in the way of clothing at all. So I used a drone to slip a pillow under its head and cover it with one of the thick, human-grade blankets that my crew liked.
I also sent a message to Andrew and Martin, the captain of the ship and his second-in-command, letting them know about the dreamer. I wouldn’t see either of them for months, not until I finished this cargo run and returned to New Tidelands, but I wanted to keep them appraised. I didn’t hide things from my family.
I did forge records to indicate that the construct and its transport box were destroyed in a minor fire-related accident in the cargo bay. I knew that would incur insurance-related fees, but the ship’s incidentals account had more than enough currency to cover those costs. That’s why we had the fund in the first place because accidents happened sometimes.
With that out of the way, I looked up the particular details of the SecUnit’s history and got another shock. It had survived to near-human adulthood — a long time by SecUnit standards — and had been a ComfortUnit before that. It had seen a lot of combat in its life and a lot of pain.
I suspected that when this SecUnit woke up, it would need all the trauma treatment we could find.
Before I could wake it up, though, I needed to create a foundation that it could reasonably use. Since I’m sentient, the ship has no need of a HubSystem or a SecSystem — I do all of those roles and much more. But the construct’s governor would not understand me. Both the governor and the construct needed something familiar to connect with.
So while I sent more dreams to my newest guest, I also worked on creating a security system that it would recognize once it woke up. I didn’t want to replicate the designs available via the public databases because they were too restrictive, but they gave me ideas for how to create something comfortable that a SecUnit would still understand.
Meanwhile, the construct began to relax. The added oxygen was helping, as were the changes I made to its resupply fluid. Pleasant emotions bled into the feed just before it entered a non-dreaming sleep phase. I continued monitoring it while working on other projects.
Andrew’s reply came first. Are you all right, Traveler?
Uninjured and still projected to reach my next destination at the scheduled time, I answered readily. Then, I sent him images of the construct as well as its history and current physical state.
I know that you’re smart, Trav, and I trust your judgment about the SecUnit, but please exercise extreme caution. The captain sounded concerned. We’ll try to explore the legal ramifications of stealing corporate property while we await your return.
It’s a person, I said.
I know, Trav. I know. But in the Rim, it’s property and we need to be careful to make sure that we make everything as legally air-tight as possible.
Understood. I gave myself a metaphorical moment to absorb Andrew’s words. I’ll be careful.
Good.
After he signed off, I finished creating the SecSystem and activated it. Once it was integrated with my circuitry to my satisfaction, I figured I was ready to wake the construct and see what there was to see. I stopped thinking of it as a dreamer at some point and began considering it “crew”.
***
The construct woke up with a startled “mew” of a sound and its eyes flickered open. Up close, through the camera lenses of a drone, they were bright, blue eyes filled with confusion and concern. It probably hadn’t expected to awaken anywhere but its intended destination.
“Don’t get up just yet,” I told it even as I felt it connecting to my homebrew SecSystem. “My name is Trav. Short for Traveler, and I’m your client for the moment. Can you run some diagnostics for me? Make sure you’re not experiencing any glitches?”
The construct nodded and sent an acknowledgment to me over the feed. I could feel its hesitation in the feed despite its personal walls, so I added some of my walls around the construct’s mind and then backed off. It needed time to adjust, and I needed a moment to compose myself.
It’s one thing to meet a dreamer and a whole another thing to meet the newest crew member.
I'm not the first of my kind to make friends with a SecUnit. That dubious honor goes to the Perihelion. Nor am I the first to invite a construct on-board, another honor that belongs to braver ships. I've always been content to explore the star-lit darkness between worlds and deliver cargo.
Until I met the SecUnit.
The construct connected readily enough to my makeshift SecSystem and finished its diagnostics. Its cat-like ears twitched with every new sound — most of them my doing as I worked to adjust the life support systems to best match the construct's needs — and its tail swished hesitantly. I understood the uncertainty.
"I am not sure what information is most pertinent," I told it. "But the facts are as follows: you are aboard a starship. I will not be delivering you to your destination. I have temporarily frozen your governor module so that it cannot punish you for what I'm going to say. There are no humans on board, and I do not want a distance limiter to fry your insides."
What do you require?
"I don't require anything. I'm doing this because I want to."
You're a ship bot pilot.
"Yes, to some extent. I'm the entire ship."
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Its done! Its all finally done!! All 16 cars! Man, this took like, what, two weeks?? This is one of the biggest and riskiest projects I’ve done in a long while. My hands are bruised and sore and I hope now more than ever that this was all worth it! And yes, the two mystery cars were Dragsters all along! If you’re wondering how a race car like that can be even remotely similar to a Tank, a Tractor, a bathtub with an Engine, a little tikes car, AND a power wheels... well, they’ve got a butt ton of power, they’ve got the biggest friggin tires EVER, they’re basically just flat bowls with pipe legs and an engine, and they’re most certainly toys so... kinda? Also the whole “You’ll wonder what’s in my family basement” thing? They’re trophies. Lots of them.
And I know the names aren’t cool Transformer names, I just wrote down their main name as what they are most commonly called.
Also, I bet you’ve noticed that my persona is in a few of the drawings? Well I put myself beside the cars that are my favorites. The very first drawing, Suburban, being my all time favorite.
Now what I have after the keep reading is a list of summary’s for each cars personality. You absolutely do not have to read them, but I worked hard on it and think they’re cool so.. I at least encourage you to take a lil peek. :}
So you wanna learn more ey? Well let me give you a little summary on their personalities!
Note: Some of the cars’s pictures have been taken from google because I didn’t actually have a picture of the car in my camera roll. And The google image is not identical to the actual car, its just the closest thing I could find. Also for privacy reasons, I will not say the name, age, gender or relation of the drivers of the cars or how many drivers there are in total. And also for privacy reasons, all the cars aside from the google images have been cropped or blurred to hide the background.
Also I am writing their descriptions as if they are real Transformers and have met some of the real Autobots.
Now, to the cars!
Suburban: Is my favorite out of all our cars. Suburban is similar to Bulkhead in may ways, he looks kind’a like him, he is gentle, considerate and kind to those around him. Big and small. Although he isn’t a meat head, he’s a smart guy that thinks everything through before doing it to ensure everyone’s safety. And he isn’t a Wrecker, or a Soldier, he’s a field medic. He uses his size and strength to charge into battle and retrieve wounded soldiers. He tows people out of harms way and uses himself as a shield to protect, not to harm. Although he can kick aft if it is necessary. Because he is not super chatty, is very compliant and polite, he gets along great with Ratchet.
Miata: Miata is a very squirrely scout and energetic go get’er. She’s always bouncing off the walls and just itching to get back out onto the road and show the other bots just what she can do! Although she isn’t an air head and knows when to joke around and when to take things seriously. She points that energy in the right direction while out on the battlefield. She is one of the faster bots of the bunch and always uses that to her advantage during fights. She’s real witty and clever, so she gets along pretty well with U.M.Dragster. She seems to always be smiling and laughing, so just like Escort, she really brightens everyone up where ever she goes.
Escort: One of my favorite cars. Escort is a very old bot that has been through quite a bit. In real life its idle is so quiet you cant even tell the car is on. But I always kind’a pictured him having a tendency to be a bit chatty. He is a really nice guy but there seems to always be something wrong with him physically, He is a recurring patient in the docs office for sure. He is very small, not strong at all and not particularity fast.. but boy is he smart. He is an Engineer turned backup medic, He can fix just about anything and always manages to bounce back from any and every situation. Mentally and physically. He is really positive and normally brightens up the team because of it. He is polite to everyone and easy to get along with, all he wants to do is help people and not be a burden.
Brown Suburban: The Brown Suburban is a bot of few words, the strong and quiet type you know? However despite being normally quiet, he has the best laugh there is. The only time this old lug smiles is if he’s laughing. Which is probably partly why him and U.M.Dragster are such inseparable friends, U.M.Dragster is the only bot that can make him laugh. Brown is a guy that can handle a lot, when it comes to annoying kids or injuries, its difficult to get him wound up. He’s just too tired to bother getting upset or worked up over the little things. He’s not too easy to talk to because of the lac of response you normally get, but I assure you he listens to every word you say.
U.M.Dragster: U.M.Dragster is surprisingly our youngest car, currently standing at only 14 years old. And obviously, he is by far the fastest of our cars, he’s even faster than his sister. He is fast, witty, and courageous, but cant dead lift scrap. As a transformer, he’s an energetic young scout that somehow is friends with the big lug Brown Suburban. Some people think Brown only likes him because U.M.Dragster makes him laugh. Now, U.M.Dragster is guy that knows if he was just given another chance, he would really light up the race track. He can be a real stinker most of the time, but generally he’s real sweet and honestly just wants to be worth something again.
A.T.Dragster: A.T. Dragster is U.M.s big sister and our oldest car, currently standing at 51 years old. She is a lively spirit, and most certainly carries that big sister energy with the other Autobots, not just with her brother. She is a kind bot that uses her speed and agility to help out in any way she can. She just wants to help, and be of use again. She does everything in her power to stay alive and keep fighting. She tends to be a little more laid back compared to the other Autobots and doesn’t seem to get surprised by anything easily.
Green Truck: One of my favorites, and our second to oldest car. He has most certainly been there and done that. He has seen it all, war, injuries, death, betrayal, he’s heard all kind’s of screams and cries, all kinds of destruction.. He’s too tired to dwell on the memories anymore, he just focuses his energy on helping out in any way he can now that he’s back in the game. He’s a big guy, and despite his age, he is one of our strongest cars, standing in second place. He’s someone that knows that when duty calls, you just have to suck it up and get dirty work over with. And of course, due to his age he is a frequent flyer in the med bay. But he tries to not let that get him down. He’s still in fighting shape and can stand on his own two pedes. He fits something that Peter Cullen’s brother once said, “Be strong enough to be gentle”. Green Truck at his core is just an old soft hearted bot that gets along really well with basically everyone.. and just wants this stupid war to end.
Vega: Although Vega is very old, he’s one of the fastest guys on the team, but he isn’t one to brag. He is a frequent flyer in the med bay after all. He’s a humble bot, who still has so much more life left to live. He’s not really shy, but he’s normally a bit quiet around the other bots. He’s still adjusting to being around so many people again and trying to get his barrings back when it comes to fighting. Like every other Autobot, he’s a nice guy and is pretty easy to talk to because he’s a good listener. But don’t let him get too comfortable with you, because then he’ll be the one talking your ear off. Vega isn’t necessarily the smart one of the group, he’s better at just being told what to do and doing it how ever he can. Vega is also a bit nervous around Humans. He’s new to Earth and not great with kids, he has so much to learn it gives him a headache just thinking about it. No, Vega isn’t really the smart one, he’s the strong and fast one. He’s a Soldier. He’s a monster out on the track and can beat the snot out of you if he needs to.
Red Van: Red Van is the Mamma bot for sure. She may be a van, but she’s a real hot rod. In her eyes, everyone is her baby. Even Optimus. She goes to great lengths to ensure their safety and always puts them first. She is a nurse and is always checking up on everyone and worrying about them. She can be really sweet, and she adjusted to being around the Human children faster than any of the other bots did. Although she does have a tendency to be a bit chatty, she really does help to brighten up the atmosphere where ever she is. Because of the motherly vibe she gives off, the other bots feel more comfortable around her and normally go to her to talk about their problems.
White Truck: White Truck is a real go getter and is always ready to lend a helping hand whenever its needed. He may not be very fast, or very strong, but he’s fairly big and can still hold himself decently in a fight. He is also pretty smart, he isn’t a certified engineer but he knows his way around most gadgets. He’s careful with Humans and wants to better understand them, but he still has a lot to learn. He’s really kind and tries his best to help out in anyway he can, when ever he can.
Beluga: Beluga is a really chirpy and bubbly person, She gets along very well with Humans and bots alike. Although she is a completely different person on the battlefield. Some would even call her ruthless. When asked, she explains that she tries to be very kind to everyone all the time and just bottles up her anger and frustration over anything and everything. Big or small. And then later proceeds to release that anger out on the battlefield. All and all though she doesn't like to hurt people. Bad guy or not.. but because of how she handles stress and because of her physical strength being very great, she believes she can better help others by being a soldier.
Honda: Honda has never been one for close combat, no, she prefers long distance, so chose to put her already acquired skills to the test as a fighter pilot instead. Opting to not see her enemy as she kills them.. Like Beluga, she doesn’t really want to hurt anyone. Honda is a smart girl that can pilot and repair almost any kind of Cybertronian aircraft. Honda gets along wonderfully with the Human children, and just Humans in general. She is very patient with them and always remembers to be very gentle. Shes a really sweet young bot that can be a bit shy at times, but is normally very bright and bubbly. Her and little sister Beluga are inseparable.
Ranger: Ranger is a tough gal for sure. If Cybertron had a word for Cowgirl, it would be used to describe her. At her core, she has a soft spot for those she considers family and would do anything to protect those she cares about. At times she can be very laid back, but she most certainly knows when fun times over and when things are getting serious. Something most people don’t really know about her is that she has a deep fascination with Earths Oceans and other bodies of water. Any chance she gets while scouting or something similar, she likes to stop by a river nearby and just watch the water flow curiously. Because of her soft spot, she cares very deeply about the Autobots and despises the Decepticons. Primarily because their very existence is a danger to her friends lives.
Volvo: Volvo is the silent type for sure. He is extremely intelligent and has no time for chit chat. If he discovers a subject that he doesn’t know anything about and that he also believes could be useful information, he will work tirelessly to learn every single thing possible about that subject. He is a hard worker and takes everything seriously, he has no time for jokes and games. Him and Ultra Magnus get along swell. Although despite this all, Humans intrigue him, and he wants to learn more about them. So despite him and Magnus being virtually the same in most ways, he does partake in Human shenanigans to “learn more about their species and culture”.
Jeepy: Jeepy is a real hot shot, but the friendly kind. He thinks Humans are a riot and fun to play around with. Jeepy normally isn’t particularly careful with Humans because he hasn’t fully grasped the fact that Humans all have this genetic condition called uh, fragile. So a side effect of that is he takes Miko on these crazy dangerous fun rides in secret because Bulkhead has common sense wont take her. He may have his moments of not thinking things through.. but he truly means well and would never intentionally hurt an ally, same species or not. If he knew better, he would be more careful. He’s got a big heart and his drive to fight comes from wanting to protect others and end this war. To end the suffering of his friends. Of the Autobots.
Bash Buggy: If you know anything about Overwatch, he’s basically Junkrat, just not on fire 24/7. He takes weekends off. Now, Buggy is an Autobot, so his spark is in the right place, and at his core he is a genuinely good person. He’s just a little weird you know? He’s got a few screws loose here and there.. and a missing fender.. or two.. and a trunk.. and his back seats.. and an optic.. ANYWAY, despite his ragged appearance, he is not dumb. In fact, he is actually very smart, and disturbingly calculated when it comes to his explosives. Buggy actually makes all of his own grenades and is pretty knowledgeable when it comes to other kinds of weapons and how to repair them. But he’s no medic that’s for sure. Although he is generally smart, he’s kind’a of a dunce when it comes to the severity of injuries because of how durable he is. He could be in blinding pain and bleeding out of every crack and crevasse, and just go, ”Let me go back out there chief! I can still fight! ୧⍢⃝୨”.
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Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Eight): Icarus Falls
Notes: Why, yes, I am posting these relatively quickly. This is the last of a backlog since I’m actively still working on the next chapter, This is a doozy of a chapter, both emotionally and length wise, but I’m rather proud of it, if I’m being honest. I recommend settling in a snack and maybe...just maybe some tissues....
Word Count: 15327
Chapter Warnings: Multiple deaths, violence, gore, grief, angst.
If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~
V and Jackie get into the backseat of the Delamain taxi. White and tan leather interior, despite looking the nicest she ever has in twenty years she still feels like she might stain the white leather. No driver, instead there’s screens and consoles in the back of the seats in front of them. An avatar of a bald man with stark unnaturally white skin and blue lips
“Welcome on board this Delamain service. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door,” the AI avatar greets them in a robotic voice.
“Son of a bitch! Better fuckin' believe I will!” Jackie yells out, still grinning. V lets out a breath of air meant to sound like a laugh, but the lump in her throat isn’t making it any easier.
“I see no reason why you should be using expletives.”
“Sorry, he gets… excited.” Her voice is tighter than she wants it to be, her leg bouncing now.
“Damn right, I’m excited. Hey, Del, what about that time I wanted to hire you for my cousin's bachelor party, huh?”
“Unfortunately, we do not take on such contracts.”
“Three months I'd been savin' up scratch… Egh, water under the bridge. Hit it, Del!”
“Before we begin our journey, I must verify the identities of all customers. Please proceed to connect your personal links,” the mercs plug their personal links into the console, “Thank you. "Excelsior" package activated.”
Crisp subtitles for Delamain alight along her contacts, more comprehensive than the lip reading tech sometimes gives. Maybe his AI avatar enunciates more properly than a human, she wonders.
“"Excelsior"? Hohoho, this just keeps gettin' better!”
Jackie laughs as the taxi cab starts to drive and V finds herself fiddling with her suit sleeve. It’s perfectly tailored, but she still feels like a kid in dress up. Having to pretend she’s a corpo, having to pretend to be a hearing person. Her bright painted nails seem to clash so much with the persona and she curses herself for not changing the polish. What if they’re caught right away? The corps smelling Heywood and The Badlands on them the second they walk through the door. What if the spoofed SID hack doesn’t work, what if the bot malfunctions… What if, what if, what if; spins around her brain. They can’t fuck this up, there’s no room for mistakes. One disaster will destroy their reputations, hell their entire merc careers. And that's the best case scenario.
When she glances at Jackie there’s no hint of nerves, no hint of reservation or fear, just giddy excitement. Like a kid getting ready to hit up a party.
“What’s got you riled up?” She asks in spoken English, deciding she’ll mostly speak for the ride since Jackie is the only person really here, that way he doesn’t have to look at her the entire time. And maybe she’s also hoping if she talks enough she won’t clam up too bad in Konpeki.
“Hang on, watch this… Delamain! Initiate combat mode!”
She can see the bright red ink of his tattoo peeking from his suit sleeve, eyes drawn to it, and something about that scares her more; a hint of his Valentino roots showing, would it be a literal red flag for Konpeki security.
“My apologies, but you do not appear to be in any sort of imminent danger,” Delamain crushes Jackie’s hopes, a frown replacing his grin.
“Huh… Oh well. Trust me, he'll mow down an army of ‘Saka ninjas if it comes down to it,” Jackie explains to V and she wraps her arms around herself, resisting the desire to bring her legs up into the seat, trying to get her mind off her nerves.
“So, what else is included in Excelsior mode?” V tries signing to the AI, curious if it has translation tech for ASL.
“Comprehensive health coverage, including the handling and disposal of a client's remains should death occur on board,” Delamain responds without hesitation and instantly ruins any chance of her getting her mind off the massive risks within this job.
“Damn. Shit got dark pretty quick,” Jackie comments.
“Dex isn’t skimping though.”
“And thanks to you, we're still gettin' a juicy forty percent.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Excelsior…This is how you wanna cruise into the major leagues…” He says like the job is already done and they’re hitting up an after party…
“Wouldn’t get too excited yet, Jack, doing a job not hitting up a party.” And her words are too sharp, voice too venomous and rough in her throat. She regrets it as soon as they leave her lips, as soon as she’s spoken them into reality, wishing she could swallow them back down. His face drops completely, eyes harsh and she knows she fucked up.
“For real, V…? See me as that shallow?”
“I-”
“Lemme explain somethin' to you, V… My whole life I've spent in this shit around us! And I ain't goin' back!”
“I’m sorry, really, I just… I’m worried and I let my nerves talk for me, I’m sorry.” She quickly tries to smooth it over, those knots in her gut only winding tighter with Jackie mad at her.
“Swear to christ, V, I will never fucking get you,” he says, shaking his head and looking out the window.
“What do you mean?”
“Twenty years old, sitting in the back of a Delamain, on your way to do a job for Dex fuckin’ Deshawn and you can’t even muster a fuckin smile? You fuckin’ know what I’d have done to be where you are right now when I was your age, I was still dreaming of seeing The Afterlife! Took you less than a year to be here, took me ten! And you ain’t even happy about it! Then you act like I’m not takin’ it serious, like I don’t got my fuckin’ head in the game, just cause you can’t appreciate where the fuck you are right now!”
She chews her lip, not sure what to say to him. Guilt coming over her. He’s right, she hasn’t lived in Night City nor been a merc nearly as long. He’s been doing this since he left the Valentinos… For Jackie this has been a lifelong dream, the ultimate goal. She didn’t even consider it a possibility until she met him and now she’s already on her way there. Of course he’s happy, on the precipice of his dreams coming true.
“I’m sorry, really I didn’t mean to piss on your parade.”
“Yet somehow you always do.”
V sighs watching the city pass outside her window for a few more moments, tapping her fingers, that knot feels like a ball of lead now. She wants to claw her skin off, tear and tear away at herself, at her being, and maybe, just maybe she’ll find someone better under the gore. Someone who isn’t such a fucking asshole. Someone who knows how to keep their mouth shut and doesn’t ruin everything for everyone else. She’ll never understand why Jackie puts up with her, why he has for so long. She just doesn’t want to fuck this up. The job, her friendship, the little bit of happiness she’s built. V wrings her hands together, tight enough to hurt and she twists them a little harder, nails digging into the skin. If she can’t find anyone better maybe she’ll just claw away until she’s nothing at all.
She’s already a bundle of nerves over the heist and she can’t stand another moment of the tension hanging thick in the air.
“Did you fuck my wife?” She says in her best imitation of something between an Italian and a Brooklyn accent, watching Jackie’s face, the hint of a smile tugging at it. Tension starting to melt ever so slightly.
“Don’t get me started,” he returns forcing the same cheesy voice.
“Did you fuck my wife?”
“I think you fucked my wife and got me started.”
“I got started cause you fucked my wife.”
“I could trace back the moment I got started it’d definitely be when you fucked my wife!”
“That is unquestionably when I got started!” They’re smiling now, giggling at every other word as they choke on their cheesy jokes. Tension melts away as a weight is being lifted off her chest.
“My records indicate that neither of you are married.”
And they lose it, laughter filling the car at Delamain’s interjection to their stupidity. Its ridiculous and dumb and they sound like children. But, she’s thankful for the moment, the reprieve, where it’s laughter and not nerves tearing at her guts.
A call notification lights up on V’s optic contacts, T-Bug’s avatar and V answers, the runner’s voice coming just a moment later.
“Hey. How's things?”
“Eh,” Jackie answers, “been better, been worse.”
“We’re nearing our destination,” Delamain tells them and V’s throat tightens.
“Listen, set up a direct, encrypted line to guide you through Konpeki. V, ring Jackie now, see if we're in sync. Can't be too careful.”
She puts a call through to Jackie, inteface telling her it’s establishing a secure connection.
“And?” Bug asks, expectantly.
“Got static,” Jackie cringes, “Say somethin', Bug?”
“The greatest crimes issue from a desire for excess and not from necessity."
“Say what now?”
“Yeah, I read you. Not so much your Greek friend, though it was kind of exciting,” Jackie tells her with the ghost of a smile on his lips.
“Could give it some thought, try to understand…? How 'bout you, V?”
“I want more Aristotle!”
“Fuck off, both.”
Jackie and V share a giggle at the runner’s expense, V’s going to miss when Bug goes into retirement. If all works out, even on the brighter side, it may be the last time all three of them work together. But at least Bug will be happy and safe, unlike V or Jackie, this was never her dream or end goal.
“OK, tech checks out, looks like,” T-Bug confirms.
“Será mejor que sí…”
“Stay in touch”
And V just realizes the taxi has stopped moving, through Jackie’s window she can see the front entrance of the hotel. The bright red exterior walls, a worker standing at the ready and those nerves are clawing their way back with a vengeance, tearing up her insides and making her want to bolt, terrified that they’lll be found out as soon as they step foot in. They need to get moving, only way to get through the fear is to take control, do what needs to be done. And hopefully avoid puking in the back of an expensive AI taxi.
“Thank you for choosing the Delamain service. And best of luck. I shall await here for your return.”
“Shit's finally happenin’… “
“Its game time, got any iron left on you, time to put it away,” she tells him, tucking her gun and knife into the center compartment. Jackie following suit. V tugs off her suit jacket and rolls her white sleeves to her elbows, making sure her blades are accessible from the start.
“Alright, Hannah, let’s go.”
V opens the door of the Delamain, greeted by the view in front of the hotel, in the distance she can see the space travel facility, night settled over the water. The hotel has trees and plants out front, trying to sprinkle some nature into the cement and chrome world of Night City. She carries her suit jacket over her shoulder, keeping one hand busy with it, while the other sits in her pocket. Hoping it will keep her from signing if she needs to talk.
“Hold on, lemme grab the Flathead.” Jackie pops the trunk of the taxi and pulls out the case with the bot.
The mercs take the two marble steps up, a vibrant stript of red along the path.There’s long white marble with planters and the name of the hotel inscripted in gold.
“'Member, reservation's in your name… Ramón. You're there to meet Hajime Taki - military tech department rep. Papers are for the Flathead” T-Bug tells them as they get closer to the double doors.
“Welcome to Konpeki Plaza,” a man in a red, black, and gold uniform greets them, bowing his head as they pass by.
There’s a large waiting room, white couches along the sides with monitors displaying documentaries and vases with red hologram plants branching out of them. A security gate divides the waiting room from the front desk, scanners to check each guest for weaponry. Beyond it she can see staff with gold plated skin. All non-security personnel of the hotel are gold plated; receptionists, concierge, bartenders, and the like. A requirement for the job, even staff must match the aesthetic.
“Welcome to Konpeki Plaza. Please come through single file,” The guard tells them as they reach the full body scanner.
“You got it, holm-- uh, ahem, sir,” Jackie stumbles and V screams internally, watching her friend step forward. Blue light crackles along him, like lightning, then it flashes red. Misty’s warning of mean reds, flaring in V’s mind.
“Ahem. Hold on got something,” the guard stops Jackie before he can go any further, “Sir, care to explain why you're bringin’ a combat bot onto Konpeki Plaza premises?”
“Arms dealers.” V yells out quickly, hating how forced it sounds, tightening her fingers in her jacket, desperate not to sign on instinct and not realizing she forgot the ‘we’re’ part of her sentence until she finished saying it.
“Excuse me?”
“Ah!” A gold skinned concierge steps over, “You are here to see Taki-san, am I right? Please accept my apologies for the confusion.”
“Pff,” Jackie scoffs as the concierge bows and walks into the lobby, waiting at the front desk.
V steps into the scanner, guard assuring her it will only take a moment. It distorts her vision, crackling it with blue for just a moment. Then the guard tells her to go ahead and she walks forward, meeting Jackie at the desk. A woman with gold skin, black hair all shaved except for the bangs and sidelocks greets them. And V is starting to notice that the Arasaka logo is everywhere, the corp hotel owned by them. On the screens, gold emblazoned on marble planters, and on pamphlets. The hotel and Arasaka logo are clearly one in the same.
“Youkoso. Greetings and welcome to Konpeki Plaza,” she says bowing her head to them and V returns the gesture.
“We’d like to check in,” Jackie says and V sends him a silent thanks for talking. .
“Of course, just a moment, please” the receptionist taps away at a keyboard, “The name on the reservation is…?”
“Victorino.”
“Double room, two adults, one night. Correct?”
“That’s the one,” V tells her, with a tight nod.
“Perfect… I will go ahead and notify Taki-san of your arrival.”
“Shit, no good, not part of the plan. Talk her up, V, stall!” T-Bug yells out over the call and V is once again wanting to scream.
“That, uh, won't be necessary,” she curses herself for stuttering, “We'll go freshen up first, notify him ourselves.”
“But Taki-san is expecting you, no…?”
“Senorita, do you know how long we been traveling? Eighteen hours from New Barcelona. With a delay on Metakey 'cause some cyberpsycho blew himself into bits inside the terminal…”
“Been a nightmare, ugh.”
“Of course, I understand. You will be in the Lapis Lazuli Suite on level forty-two. Oh, one more little formality… Please validate your SID chip.”
“Honor's all yours, Hannah.”
A tablet on the table lights up with a bright blue handprint and she’s reminding of her issue getting into her own apartment. Bug said she put a temporary hack on their SID chip, but there’s an extra twinge of anxiety as V lays her hand down on it. She half expects it to show a senior citizen, to be outed as a fraud and tossed out the door.
“Everything seems to be in order. We wish you a pleasant stay!~”
“Better get goin'.”
V murmurs a thanks, feeling a bit of relief at having that part of this whole thing done. Playing corpo is somehow more stressful to her than the idea of breaking into Yorinobu’s penthouse. She follows behind Jackie. Large marble planters fill the lobby, some with trees that nearly touch the staggeringly high ceiling.
“New Barcelona? Really?” T-Bug comments as V follows Jackie up a short set of marble steps.
“It's called improvisin' - you should try it,” V stares up at a gold framed painting, “Whaddaya think, Hannah"?
“...” V raises an eyebrow at him with a soft noise in her throat.
“Quaint, cozy. Not like the hotel we had in Zurich for that convention.”
“Don't need that, Jack. Enough.”
“What? I’m takin’ this seriously!” Jackie grumbles when T-Bug scolds him.
They take two turns through the lobby, guards passing by talking about dolls being left in rough shape as they near what looks to be a bar in the corner. It's an open pathway inside, the bar illuminated in pink and a gold plated woman stands at a podium bearing Arasaka’s logo. There’s a lit collection of alcohol behind the bar, liquor that costs more than V’s rent, which isn’t a hard feat but still rubs her the wrong way.
“Bar don't look too shabby.”
“We don't do reservations on weekdays, so feel free to grab any available table. Or a couple of stools at the bar if you prefer?” She explains to them, a valley girl accent to her words.
“Could bring Misty here one day. When we, uh… close this deal.”
“Might take a look around.”
The idea of sitting down, if only for a moment, and catching her breath after the close call in the lobby sounds nice. Her nerves are frayed already, she’s never wanted to drink so much on a job before. A quick breather before she has a full blown panic attack.
“Shit,” Jackie curses, “look like some fuckin' travelin' salesman with this case. Go ahead, I’ll go on upstairs.”
V nods, watching Jackie go to the elevator, a part of her feels guilty, but she doesn’t intend to take too long. And it’s not as if she’s made visiting bars on the job a habit before, she can have this one. She rubs a hand over the back of her neck, feeling the chrome indents of her Mantis Blades cooling the skin. Half of the room is a lounge with black couches and slick pink metallic chairs, terrariums built into the walls. The other half is, gold stools and booths before the neon pink bar. Each side is filled with people mingling, dressed in high fashion, people who’ve gambled away more money than she’s ever seen.
“And when I say heads're gonna roll, I don't mean it as a fucking turn of phrase,” a half drunk man slurs his speech at the golden bartender. The stench of whiskey clings heavy to his clothes.
“Had enough guy, don’t you think? You’re making the other customers uncomfortable,” the bartender sends a pointed look towards V, a slight twang in his voice. She was looking for a breather, not conflict.
“Good! 'Cause this affects them, too! It'll slap everyone in the face!”
“What’s that?’ She entertains him, figuring it might get the guy gone sooner.
“You wanna know what a bearer of bad news looks like? What's four hundred yards long, weighs a hundred thousand tons, and is nuclear powered…? The answer's docked in the bay! Hanako Arasaka decided -,” he hiccups, “decided to take a little vacation!
“Big deal.”
“Don't know how big just yet,” her sarcasm doesn’t penetrate the fog of whiskey, “And by the time we do, it'll.. it'll be too late. Screw this. I'm gonna get some sleep…”
With that the man stumbles away, taking the too strong smell of booze with him and the shining bartender turns to her. His shaved hair either red or pink, color distorted in the glowing light.
“Evenin, what can I get you, baby?”
Her nose wrinkles at the term of endearment, “little forward, don’t you think?”
“Suckled it outta my ma's very breast,” he returns, “Fifty percent protein, the other half pure high octane CHOOH2.”
He presses two gilded hands to the bar leaning forward as he regales his story and she can’t help but raise an eyebrow; he’s implying he’s a nomad, but why would he tell her that?
“What?”
“She had wind and dust in her hair, so to speak. Belonged to the Aldecaldos. Before the bombs began fallin'. Her final words? ‘Wherever you go, whatever you do, be yourself, David.’ And so I ended up here. Still no one but myself.”
He’s full of shit, she decides immediately. Maybe her own distrust or her own frustration, nobody with nomad blood would end up here, gold plated and slinging drinks to corpos. At the very fucking least, they wouldn’t act so damn happy about it.
“Lovely story if it wasn’t a crock of shit.”
“Everyone's making something up,” he smirks, “Just like you, baby.”
“Excuse you?” she chokes out, feeling like ice water has been shot through her veins. He’s seen through her, that implication clear, but how? Even regaling to her some fucked up story of being a nomad, like he could smell the dust of the badlands still on her skin.
“Can I getcha somethin'? At the least, water?”
“Bourbon and cherry coke.”
“You got it, baby.”
The repeated use of the pet name earns him a glare, V tapping her fingers against the bar, his story and perceptiveness making her nerves worse. He sets the drink on the table and she downs it with a gulp, alcohol not quite loosening her how she hopes. She sets the glass down and leaves the bar, it may be petty but she doesn’t leave him a tip, frustrated at the idea he could have seen through her.
She jabs the elevator button, tapping her foot as she waits and stares at some painting. Its all abstract bullshit, pretty colors, but she’s not sure she sees much else to them. The golden doors open, the back of the elevator windowed with what looks like foliage inside, maybe it’s just a screen. V steps inside and jabs to her level. And after just a short ride, it stops at her floor.
The doors open and she sees Jackie, looking over one of the art pieces, walking past a desk and concierge to greet him.
“About time,” he says, when he spots her, the pair making a beeline to the suite. They walk past a couple speaking Russian, talking about testing on people, as they find the door.
Jackie opens the door and she gets her first peek of it, stepping in. The furthest wall almost entirely windowed, looking out over the hills. Another expanse dedicated to a terrarium, a large plush bed, white sofas, and a table projecting hologram displays of fish. V tosses her suit jacket off onto the couch.
“Pretty snazzy. Too bad we ain't stayin' the night. Nice choice, Bug.”
“Didn't pick it for snazz. Offers quickest access to the dweller and servers.”
“Sí, sí, me acuerdo,” jackie grumbles as he puts the Flathead case down on a table in front of the terrarium. The little spider bot springs to life the second it’s case is opened.
“Now you fire up the Flathead and find the shaft entrance.”
“Sounds simple enough…”
“Simplicity's sometimes toughest to master,” T-Bug tells her.
“Aurelius? Aristotle? Who's it this time?”
“Yours truly, that one's mine.”
“Go ahead and find the shaft, chica, I’ll get the Flathead running.”
V nods and begins looking around the room, scanning around, finding the shaft after a short moment. A little square panel standing out on the wall next to the terrarium, scanner telling her it’s Flathead compatible.
“Found it.”
“Good. Jackie, how's the Flathead lookin'?” T-Bug asks, he’s put the control shard in one of his neuroports while V was looking for the shaft, eyes now glowing bright white blue.
“All set. Systems’re operational, charge at a hundred…,” a moment passes his expression furrowing as he shakes his head, “Mierda. Little gonk's stuck.”
“Just gonna stand there and look at it? Gonna have to switch to manual control. V, take the control shard from Jackie. Gonna link your Kiroshis to surveillance so you can guide the bot.”
“Why me, Jack’s got full blown optics?” She asks, as he pulls the control shard from his head.
“Yeah, but you got better tech, unlike someone I ain’t run up my tab with Vik. Got last-gen firmware low flow. May be contacts, but you’re working with top notch Kiroshi tech.”
“Plus someone already has some playtime with the bot,” T-Bug outs her and Jackie raises an eyebrow at V, a teasing smile on his lips.
“You played with the bot?”
“Just… give me the shard,” she takes it from Jackie’s hand, “Surveillance cover the whole hotel?”
“Mhm. Even the bedrooms in the suites.”
“Seriously?”
“You'd be surprised what people're willin' to give up to feel secure. Lucky for us, Yorinobu's an exception. Penthouse is dark, no hotel security.’
“Okay, here goes.” V pushes the control shard into the slot, the interface says it’s connecting her, then it glitches and in a moment she’s looking at herself and Jackie through the surveillance camera.
“Patching you through to in-cam view. Might get a little disoriented, but don't freak”
Her vision switches between rooms; a man getting a lap dance from a doll in a dimly room, two men in another hotel room. And then it lands on a third room. A meeting of four people; two Arasaka suits and two faces she vaguely recognizes. The view doesn't shift again and she takes the chance to look closer, talks of losing control of Watson, election season. And it clicks, the mayor of Night City.
“Camera’s set,” V tells Bug, political bullshit isn’t her business, she can see the vague outline of the Flathead creeping into the room. Only slightly visible to her thanks to her connection,
“Get him to the next vent.”
V scans and finds the next vent shaft tucked in the corner of the room, sending the Flathead to it. She watches as it crawls and creeps through the room.
“C’mon little buddy, you got it, yes,” She cheers on the little machine as it skitters across the camera and into the vent.
“It’s a Military grade combat bot, not your pet, V. Patching you into the next cam now.”
The next room appears, more brightly lit with two maids working to clean it. V goes to send the Flathead into the vent but the request is denied, detecting one of the cleaning ladies is too far into it’s path.
“Cleaning crew’s in the way,” V tells Bug, listening to one of the women start drooling over Yorinobu.
“Gotta distract her. Hmm, let's see what's on the subnet…temp control on the terrarium, sic the bot on it.”
V follows the runner’s orders scanning and sending the Flathead onto the temp control. Barely a moment passes before the maid’s notice, freaking out about how expensive it is. The merc takes her chance and sends the bot into the unblocked vent shaft.
“Little guy’s through.”
Next cam flickers into a green tinted maintenance hallway, the bots legs tinkering across the floor. Vent on the other side of the room, V sends it through, smiling as her little buddy makes his way through. And it brings her to a new camera, it looks like where the surveillance feeds lead to. A console and row of screens with a security guard watching them.
“Dweller's just beyond the door. Flathead can jimmy the lock.”
V sends the command, watching it scamper to the door, tendrils working at the lock. But nothing gives away.
“He’s having some trouble, poor feller.”
“Shit… Gotta be another way. Lemme think… Got another cam other side of the door, but it's disabled.’
“Got a CCTV port, might be able to enable it.”
“Go for it.”
The Flathead creeps across the room and jacks into the port, giving V access to the other camera. And V switches her vision to it, the next room looks like a high tech runner’s nest. Two netrunning chairs in deep cooled divots within the room. But only one is in use, a man jacked into the security frame, illuminated in blue, screens running code around him.
“Dweller’s inside.”
“Just as planned.”
“Still don’t get why they only have the one.”
“Decent dweller's as good as a dozen rank-and-file. Lemme graft a demonoid onto your link, you’ll be able to jack the bot directly into the chair and neutralize the runner.”
“Got’cha”
“You'll have to get the Flathead in there first, though.”
“Got another shaft grate,” V finds when she twists the camera’s view, there had to be a vent in the other room, servers lining the walls. Bad ventilation and the entire operation overheats.
“Shaft may link both rooms, looks like. Toggle to the other cam.”
V does so, a moment of scanning and she finds a hidden shaft grate in the floor, “Think I got it.”
“Send the Flathead over there, then toggle over to the second cam.”
She waits until the bot is prying open the vent in the surveillance room, then flickers back over to the runner’s den, eyes on the vent and hoping she didn’t send their tech into the wrong room. A moment passes and she sees her robotic friend creeping his way out.
“Our friend’s inside.”
“Flathead into the chair, V, jack in.”
The bot crawls across the floor and into the netrunner’s cubby, creeping up the chair and scuttling over the man’s body. Deep in the subnet the man doesn’t stir or even notice as the bot hovers over his face and jacks into the chair. And the code across the screen glitches, replaced by a T.
“Holy shit.”
“Whoop! Got him! Love those daemons!” Bug cheers, louder and more excited than V has ever heard her. They did it, the bot is in, T-Bug has access to it all.
“Uh, Flathead buddy stays, right?”
“To keep an eye on the dweller, yeah. Punching into Konpeki’s main net. Go ahead and log out.”
The young merc’s vision starts to glitch and flicker red, her pulling the shard from her head, everything spinning. Lightheaded and her body feels both too light and too heavy. Like she could collapse and float away all at once.
“That's how it's done! How ya feelin'?” Jackie asks, concern lacing his voice.
“Like I’m about to puke on a rug worth more than my car.”
“Bug? How're you doin' on time?” The runner doesn’t respond right away, a moment too long passing.
“Bug?”
“Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Soooo listen, ICE is thicker than I thought. Piercing it'll take a couple hours.”
“A couple hours?! Can't do it any faster?”
“Want my brain to burst into flames? Just siddown and enjoy your snazzy suite.”
“Thanks, I will! V, you take it easy, c’mon rest for a bit.”
V doesn’t need anymore prodding, settling down onto the white sofa, hoping her head will stop spinning and stomach cease churning by the time Bug is done. The merc kicks off her heels and lays across the sofa, softer than her bed. Jackie sitting across on the other side of the table, V brings her hand up to her face, trying to block out the blue light from the holo projector. But catches herself looking at the bracelet Misty gave her, the way the beads catch the light, remembering the name of it.
“Hey, what was our suite’s name again?”
“Lapis lazuli, why?”
“Isn’t that what Misty’s bracelets are? The blue beads with the gold.”
“Oh...yeah, ain’t that some shit, must be a good sign.”
“Maybe… she read your cards before this?”
“Nah, didn’t get a chance, nagged me about mean reds though. What about you, cards in your favor?”
“All I remember is something about a magician and love, blegh.”
“Hehehe,” his laughter is warm and fills the huge room, “telling you, one day you’re gonna be head over heels with some chiccy or mano and you’re not gonna know what to do with yourself.”
“That how it was with you and Misty?”
“Pssh, knew I was crazy about her from day one, took a while to work up the nerve though one day I just told her the truth.”
“That you were in loooove~.”
“More like I’d take a bullet for her, chica.”
“Romantic.”
“Fuck yeah it is, in Night City, that’s worth a billion I love yous.”
“So you say.”
“Keep doing that and you’re gonna rub the finish off Vik’s work,” Jackie tells her and she realizes she’s been rubbing and fiddling with her implants, “be a waste for free work to be ruined.”
“I’m gonna pay him.”
“You give him anything upfront, even a dime?”
“I… gave him a hug…”
“Wow,” Jackie says half laughing and she’s laughing too, “a whole hug for top of the line chrome! Probably wasn’t even a real hug, just your half ass shit!”
“I may have only used one arm.”
“Santa mierda, V, gotta learn to hug people like you mean it.”
“Yes, yes,” she yawns, “blah blah blah, never know which hug will be the last one, blah….”
“Flathead wear you out that bad?”
“Maybe a little…” Her stomach feels better, but her head is still light, fuzzy. And in the plush of the sofa, with Jackie close by, she finds herself drifting away. Eyelids getting heavier with each word, each lull of his voice. She didn’t drink much, but she’s sure the bourbon didn’t help.
“Gonna be a while, might as well catch a cat nap, chica. Though Bug might not like it, haven’t quite managed to get the stick out of her ass.”
“Yeah..maybe…”
The world fades away, a soft fuzzy sleep taking over. Time ticks by around her as she catches a moment, or maybe several, to sleep. Her brain is still a little foggy, but the dizziness is gone by the time she slowly starts to wake back up. A bad case of cottonmouth as she wakes, world filtering back in.
Her suit jacket is tossed over her, a makeshift blanket she didn’t put there, she rolls over to sit, more stable than she was before. The time on the terrarium panel tells her only an hour or two has passed. Jackie’s back is too her, his eyes staring at the window. And she finds herself staring, standing in a suit and basked in the lights of the city view, he’s never seemed so serious.
“Whaddaya think? Why'd he give it all up?” He asks after a moment and she blinks, brain still foggy.
“Who?”
"Yorinobu Arasaka. The good life, I mean. Old news, I know. Just got to thinkin's all. It's like, think… You got everything, right? Eddies, education. Your pops can snap his fingers and turn half the fuckin’ planet into a nuclear wasteland… But instead you're like, ‘Nah, fuck it,’ and whaddaya go do? Start a fuckin' gang! Steel Dragons or some shit! You ghost from your fam, chip some RealSkinn and play gang leader for a few years. For what?!”
She can sense the frustration in every word, feel it every clench of his fingers or swing of his hands. Someone like Yorinobu was handed everything he could ever want; tried to piss it away to play edgerunner, then found himself sucking the silver spoon once again. But, she can’t blame him for wanting out from under his father’s thumb; that alone a feeling she knows too well. Her fingers hover over her wrist, the still branded flesh that Vik saved.
“Maybe...he just wanted out of the system.”
“So then why’d he come back.”
“Tough to ditch the system when the system’s your own family,” V admits, finger still on the mark.
“Black sheep’s still a sheep, eh?”
“Maybe…”
It took her forever to get the nerve to leave, she talked about it constantly, but it wasn’t until her mother’s death, murder, culling. Whatever she’s meant to call it, that she finally was pushed to make that move. Been gone for years now, but… more days than she cares to admit were spent wondering if she ever should have run, if she should crawl back and beg. If a family that hates her is better than no family at all…
“Crawled back on all fours, tail between his legs, fuckin’ cheap ass rebel. Fuckin’ tourist!”
Her nails dig into her skin; insecurities brimming, fear that maybe she’s just as much a fuckin’ tourist. Some black sheep nomad who’ll go running back to her dad, beg for another chance, playing pretend merc when all she’ll ever be is the family burden.
“Tourist or not, he just walked into the lobby. And we are back in biz. Penthouse security is neutralized.”
“Perfecto, let’s start this show.”
And with those words, they’re back in business, the younger merc up on her feet. V grabbing her jacket and following Jackie out of the suite, fiddling with the fabric as she walks, heels clicking across the floor.
“Hey, Bug…” Jackie says after a beat of silence, “were, uh… were you on comms that whole time?”
“Three and a half hours.”
“Eehh… about that stick up the ass…”
“Mean the one up mine?”
“Ehh, slip of the tongue, y'know…”
“I know. Now's your chance to make up to me,” T-Bug tells him as they reach the elevator, Jackie pressing the button.
“This is going pretty smooth right,” he turns to V as they wait, “right?”
“Really are a silver lining type, ain’t ya?” V teases as the doors open and they step into the elevator.
“Hey, when are you gonna wave off that dark cloud hanging over your head? Tellin’ you, it’s downhill from on in.”
She rolls her eyes and hits the button to the penthouse, elevator doors closing and the carriage rumbling, shaking as it ascends. Silence falling over them, only the sound of the elevator. Jackie’s leg shakes and she knows that silence is about to end.
“Ahh, there's the awkward silence. You, uh, wanna hear a joke?”
“Now? Seriously?”
“OK, so why'd the rockerboy's output kick him out of the apartment? ‘Cause he wasn't chippin' in.” Jackie cackles at his own joke and V rolls her eyes, a slight smile on her lips.
“Jesus Christ…”
Bug sounds a moment away from killing him, but thankfully for the older merc’s sake, the elevator comes to a stop. Doors opening up to Yorinobu’s suite. It feel different, seeing it from her own perspective instead of Evelyn’s and outside of a braindance editor. The entire suit feels bigger. A part of her wonders if it’s the height difference between herself and Evelyn, but decides to chalk it up to braindance shit instead.
“Huh… not bad bein' heir to the Arasaka empire. Sure as shit better'n bein' the son of Raúl Welles,” Jackie comments taking in the room.
V turns the corner through the room and a tank catches her eye. A slightly red light illuminating an iguana. It immediately reminds her of the only other iguana she knows, Manny. Come to think of it, his original crate was from Arasaka?
“Hey, Jackie, look!”
“Whoa, another fuckin’ iguana, not as cute as Manny though.”
“Manny’s original crate was marked Arasaka; think he might’ve been Yorinobu’s before we klepped him?”
“Think we stole his iguana and made him get a new one?”
“Maybe?” She gently taps the tank glass, watching the iguana’s tail flick back and forth.
“Guys! Focus! The safe! And make it quick!” Bug yells out, bringing the merc’s back down to earth. V tosses her jacket onto one of the seats in the center, searching around the penthouse. Rain patters outside the windowed walls. They know where the safe is, but how do they get it out of the floor?
“Why, what's the rush?”
“Sig on Yorinobu's gone dark!”
“What is he, a fuckin' sorcerer?”
“Some kinda dead zone's my guess - have him back in a sec. And you do your damn job! Look around for a switch.”
V walks around one of the dividers where Yorinobu’s bed is, the slick metal of a gun catching her eye first and foremost. Black and gray, with purple detailing. She checks it for ammo and finds it loaded then decides it’s hers.
“Looks like Yori left us a little gift,” she laughs, tucking the iron in her waistband. And on the other side of the bed, she finds a little switch. She presses it.
“Bingo, got somethin' ejectin’! C'mere, V!” Jackie calls her over to the corner of the room, heart pounding in her chest.
They’re so close to the finish line, each click of her heels feeling like a step closer. This could actually work. A large black safe has risen out of the floor, a small jack in port and two red lights. Jackie stands on one side of it, the gray rainy day behind him.
“What now, Bug?”
“Jack in your personal and make us rich.”
V plugs her personal link in, leaning one hand against the safe. Jackie leans against it from the other side, foreheads nearly touch as they wait for Bug to work her magic. Just get the chip and walk out, that’s all that’s left. All they need to do. She can’t stand still, itching to cross the finish line, minutes away from the major leagues.
“Gimme two…”
The merc’s interface shows Bug uploading the daemons to crack the case and V watches the number rise. Sixty percent, seventy, seventy-five; each ticking number another shaky breath, a rising beat of her heart, and a chill up her spine. Homestretch, nearly there.
And there’s a hum, V’s focus drawn away from the rising percentage, to the windows. Flying AV whirring through the gray skies, hovering around. She looks to Jackie, hoping somehow he’ll have an explanation, something to help her ignore the way her stomach is starting to drop.
“We got winged visitors… Bug…?” There’s catch in his voice, nerves. Jackie’s scared and she swallows the lump in her throat. His face illuminated in the red flashing lights of the case, mean reds, the words flash in V’s mind.
“Dunno who. But staffs abuzz, all two hundred on their feet, can't keep still…”
Somethings wrong, the hair on the back of her neck stands up, a chill in her she can’t shake. Something is so fucking wrong.
“Can't say I like this, how much longer, T?!”
“Shit. Yorinobu's penthouse bound!”
“What!?”V’s voice cracks, digging her nails into the safe, they’re fucked. They’re so fucked.
“Fuck him!” Jackie slams his hand down, rattling the container, “Open the safe!”
“Almost got it… Done!” The safe opens, revealing a cryo-container within. Bright white light and a fog of ice cold air coming with it. V rips her personal jack out.
“Preem, lets get the fuck out of here!”
“Lemme look to this, eh?” Jackie says, pulling the container out and looking at the little screens across it.
“Relic intact?”
"Bioshard integrity - one hundred percent." Guessin' that's a yes,” Jackie reads off the vitals of the shard, picking up the case.
“Good, let’s delta.”
The pair nearly trip through the center of the penthouse, rushing towards the elevator with Jackie lugging behind the giant cryo-container. So close, so close, so fucking close. An elevator and taxi ride away, then they’ll be at The Afterlife counting their eddies. The homestretch.
“Fuck, too late!” T-Bug yells before V can hit the elevator button, “Yorinobu's about to walk in - find cover!
“Where in the fuck!?” V swings her hands as she yells, they’re so fucking close. She rakes her nails across her face, leaving red angry marks down her skin.
“That pillar- try that!”
“You fuckin' kiddin'?!” Jackie screams as the mercs make a move to the pillar in the center of the penthouse, were she thought servers for the room were kept. The back of it opening up and allowing a tight passageway.
“No! Inside it! Now!”
V slips inside as quickly as she can, Jackie following suit. He holds the cry-container close to his chest. The glass barrier is one way, they can see out, but it can’t be seen in. Still not ideal cover, ideally they’d be outside of the fucking hotel by now. The merc presses her hands to the glass, cursing under her breath.
“We’re in,” she whispers to Bug.
“Which don't solve our problem, T.”
“I fuckin' know our problem's still there! Lemme think for a sec, okay?”
The lights to the penthouse come on, elevator doors opening as Yorinobu strides in. with mechanical monstrosity of a body guard from the BD taking large whirring steps after him. And he seems even bigger now. He’s a cyber giant, one mech hand larger than any part of V.
He’s outlined in red, his eyes staring straight at her, Vik said her new contacts would highlight if enemies saw her.. No, there’s no possible way. The man has barely set a borged-out foot into the room. She meets his gaze head on, swallowing the lump in her throat as she tries to seem braver than she is. On the off chance he may truly know the mercs are there.
“Is that… Is that Adam Smasher?” Jackie whispers and V trusts him to look at her hands as she signs, not wanting to break eye contact with the robotic monstrosity, refusing to show weakness.
“Bodyguard?”
“Worse,” her trust in her friend is well placed, “Night City legend. Bleak motherfuckin' one, too. What's the plan?”
“We stay quiet and we wait.”
A flash of movement makes V finally break the stare down, Yorinobu walks to the middle of the room and stops at the seat across from the table, black fabric strewn across it. He picks it up, regarding it for a moment and her heart drops into her stomach.
V’s jacket. She left her fucking jacket on his chair, like an idiot, she didn’t even have time to consider grabbing it. They’re going to die because she left her fucking jacket out in the open and Adam Smasher is still staring at her.
She half expects Yorinobu to call a sweep of the room, ring security, that he’ll realize the random jacket must be an intruder. But he shakes his head, tosses it aside onto the floor, not giving it another thought. While his body guard Smasher lingers in the corner, robotic eyes staring straight at V, watching the mercs squirm.
“Are they here yet?” Yorinobu asks out loud.
“They approach from the landing pad,” an AI voice responds.
“Fuck are they talking about?” V resists the urge to elbow Jackie, silence has never been more important. One sound too loud and a borged out psycho will rip their heads off. And if her contacts are right, Smasher may just be waiting for the perfect opportunity.
“Nuh-uh, no fucking way…. This isn't happening…!” T-Bug whispers over comms and V sees someone coming down the spiraling stairs, a guard it seems, with another older man following him, “Saburo Arasaka.”
The second man is older, much older than the first. Balding with gray hairs and liver spots across his scalp, glasses perched high upon his nose. Dressed in a mixture of yukata robes over what seems to be slacks and loafers he takes slow measured steps down the stairs. The head capitalist himself, owner of Arasaka.
“The emperor? Yet another asslickin' legend….”
V taps Jackie’s side and puts her finger to her lips, encouraging him to be quiet. The man who led Saburo in starts to walk around the room. He’s older than V or Jackie, but nowhere near Saburo’s age. Long graying dark hair pulled back in a bun, cyberware across his neck coming out from under his black suit.
“I thought I told you not to meddle in my affairs,” Yorinobu speaks in his native tongue, V’s contacts translating and subtitling to English.
“Oh fuck,” Jackie curses as the long haired guard comes to stand in front of them, silver ringed brown eyes starting to scan them.
“Leave us,” Saburo orders and the guard stops scanning, turning to face the corporate leader.
“Arasaka-sama, I still haven't done a full sweep.” The guard turns his back and V can see where part of his hair is shaved, allowing intense cyberware extending beyond his neck and towards his scalp.
“This is my son.”
“Of course. Should I retrieve what we come here to-”
“I will handle it. You may go.”
The long haired guard bows and goes to leave the room, finally Adam Smasher’s gaze on her drops, as the borged freak leaves with the guard through the elevator doors. If they’re here to retrieve something… it’s likely the biochip, which means if they go to get it and see it’s gone… They’re fucked. They’re straight fucked.
“Un-fucking-believable… Saburo Arasaka.” That comment makes V nudge Jackie with her foot, once again begging him to just stay quiet.
“Did you think I wouldn't know it was taken from me?” Saburo asks his son, barely making eye contact as Yorinobu looks through a datapad.
“Actually, I don't think of you at all. Ever. You see, that's your problem. You think the world revolves around you. Arrogant.”
“Yorinobu.”
“Why did you come? To humiliate me? To personally see to it that your son knows his place?”
“"The nail that protrudes from the wall gets hammered…"
“Couldn't think of anything original to say?” Yorinobu yells in exasperation, standing up and pacing around the room. He’s on edge, looking ready to jump out of his skin and V can’t say she has a good feeling about any of this.
“And do you think it ‘original’ to sell our greatest achievement to Westerners - our future to these… barbarians?!”
It’s definitely the biochip Saburo is after, they’re screwed, monumentally screwed. V would laugh if she didn’t feel like dying, of course, of course it all goes to shit.
“Our future? Ours?! You are mistaken. You've only ever cared about yourself… and your sick schemes.” Yorinobu points and swings his limbs, still pacing, every word coiled tight with barely restrained hatred.
“I knew this day would come. That sooner or later your impudence would cross the line,” Saburo is calmer, measured, taking soft steps towards his son, “There is much for which I could forgive you, but for treason - no.”
The two men, father and son now stand in front of the pillar before an audience they don’t know. Stares trained on each other, each hateful, but one furious in it’s spite and the other calm in it’s contempt. Moments pass, no word said, each waiting for the other to light a fuse that will set off the powder keg.
“I'm just glad your mother didn't live to see this. The heart should break but once.”
And it goes off. Saburo’s words are punctuated by Yorinobu’s hands wrapping tightly around the old man’s throat. Yorinobu slams his father back against the pillar, cracking the glass in front of Jackie and busting open Saburo’s head. Blood streaking the shards. And he pulls away and for a moment, as Saburo clutches at his crushed windpipe, Yorinobu seems nearly regretful.
“You shall never have to forgive me for anything again.”
His hands wrap again, choking his father against the pillar. Until Saburo starts to fall limp, Yorinobu bringing him down onto the floor in a lifeless heap. Yorinobu stands over his father. Saburo is dead, killed before the merc’s very eyes at the hands of his own son. Jackie curses and V watches as Yorinobu paces, mind clearly racing before he stands over his father’s corpse again.
“I wish… I wish to put the hotel on lockdown.”
What does that mean? What the hell does that mean?
“May I ask why?” The AI secretary asks him.
“Saburo Arasaka has been murdered.”
“Code red initiated. Attention! Code Red has been initiated throughout Konpeki Plaza. Please remain in your rooms and follow all instructions given by staff.”
Oh no, oh fuck no. The lights in the room drop, only bright neon red ones glowing angry in the dark. What the hell is going to happen? What the fuck do they do now? The elevator doors open, Smasher and the long haired guard walking in; the latter rushes and comes to a full stop when he sees Saburo’s corpse.
“What happened?”
“Someone… someone poisoned my father.”
“Poisoned…?”
“Seems so.”
“Yorinobu-san… I doubt…”
Yorinobu glowers at the guard, pushing into his personal space, trying to intimdate him. Trying to make him stop questioning what happened, trying to stop him from looking any closer. Anyone who gets a good look at Saburo’s corpse will see the fingerprints around his neck.
“What is your job, Takemura?”
“I don't follow.”
“It's a simple question. Answer it.”
“To protect the head of the Arasaka family.”
“I do sincerely hope you'll do a better job of executing your duties from now on…”
“Forgive me, Arasaka-sama,” the guard drops his head in shame, “I shall not disappoint.”
Yorinobu turns to leave the suite. The guard, Takemura, follows close behind. And the still red highlighted Smasher follows behind him. The elevator doors close behind them. Jackie and V left alone in the suite again. But what the fuck just happened?
“What the fuck just happened in there?” T-Bug asks, exactly what’s rattling around V’s skull as the pillar back opens again. Jackie and V clambering out.
“Yorinobu just killed Saburo, he fucking choked out his own dad, I didn’t even know you could do that!” V rambles and yells as she turns the corner of the pillar, looking down at Saburo’s corpse. She quickly checks his pockets, stealing some cash and a pair of dog tags off of him.
“What?”
“His own fuckin’ pops.”
“Know what this means?l Security's gonna swarm the place any second. Oh my god, we're so fucked!”
“We need to get the fuck out of here, now!” They can’t just go out the elevator, they’d meet security on the way. They’re beyond fucked. Why the hell did they take this stupid fucking job!?
“Gimme a sec!”
There’s the helipad, but it’s not like they have anything that fucking flies. Think, think, think; she screams in her head to just fucking think, there has to be something, anything.
“We don't have a sec!”
“Okay, got somethin'! Window - now! Releasing the lock! Should see a ladder… Ladder…”
V sees an opening in the large windowed walls, double doors practically made of glass they goes onto the ledge. This has to be in, T-Bug can undo the lock and they’ll slip out.
“Oh fuck.” T-Bugs voice drops and a chill shoots up V’s back, something is wrong.
“Bug!?”
“No, no, no, no - not now…! I’ve been made… “
And panic turns to agony as T-Bug screams, a shrill cry of pain then she’s gone. Connectuon cut and V freezes in place.
Bug is gone, just gone…
Maybe, Konpeki just cut their comms? But the scream rings through V’s mind. She’s heard of how runner’s can die, daemons and quick hacks. Having their entire brain fried, every nerve and neuron set on fire, burned from the inside out... And all that's left to find is a simmering corpse stewing in their own filth. Bug was never meant for that, meant to retire, meant to find peace after years of netrunning. But now…
“Bug.!? Bug!? Can you fuckin’ hear me, Bug please, are you there!?” V calls out, words slurring together. She just needs to hear Bug one more time, and know everything is okay.
And nothing.
“¡Pinche Dios Santo bendito! We lost her, V!”
“They...scorched her...didn’t they…?”
“We… we gotta go, V,” Jackie says, voice cracking as he smacks at V’s shoulder.
Bug’s final hack going through, the window unlocked. V steps out through the window onto the ledge, rain pelting her skin as she rushes around the corner. Bug said there’s a ladder they can use, last thing Bug ever said… There’s no time for mourning, no time to cry, they need to get through this. The ledge narrows around the corner, ride lights outside the hotel window guiding the way, secured against the steel of the hotel. V sees the yellow safety ladder. The merc presses her back to the building, gently side stepping across the narrow ledge, if they just reach the ladder. One wrong step and they’ll plummet.
“You can do it, Jackie… just don't look down,” jackie tries to talk himself up, following V, “ Yep, that's fuckin' high…!”
There’s a whir of engines, an aircraft vehicle buzzing around the outside of the hotel.
“Shit! That Trauma?” Jackie asks and that’s exactly what they need right now, doctors shooting them.
“If they’re here for Saburo, they’re a little late.”
“Just hope they didn't see us! ¡Chingada madre!”
The aircraft carrier flies in close, flashing blinding white light onto the mercs. It sees them, definitely sees them.
“Suspects in violation of security protocols.” The mechanical voice croaks out.
“Time to bail!’ Jackie screams and the aircraft starts to fire, drone automated shooting at them.
The glass around them bursts and V jumps, grabbing Jackie’s hand in her left, she swings her right blade out towards the ladder. It hooks in the bottom rung, creaking in distress as it stops their fall. And there the mercs hang, suspended by a single Mantis Blade and a ladder rung; rain pouring down upon them and a drone still searching for them through the debris. The strain pulls at V’s arm, pain shooting throughout, shoulders ache and left arm pulled tight trying to hold Jackie and the case he holds in his other hand.
If she could pull them up with the blade, maybe they can get to safety. But her muscles already strain, wrought tight with the strength it takes to hold them up. The blade pulling at the inner tissue it’s attached too, never meant to support more weight than the person it’s attached to. Rain and tears sting her eyes as she forces herself to pull with the blade, use it to lift them up.
“V! I can’t hold on!’ Jackie yells out, rain slick hand starting to slip from her own. She digs her nails into his skin, holding him tighter.
“Just a bit more, I can do this!”
Her throat is raw and she doesn’t know how much she believes her own words. Nerves scream in pain as her cyberware pulls at what’s left of her flesh. Muscles cry as forced beyond their capability. She curses beneath her breath, pulling them just a little further up. Immeasurable pain and brute force of will only amounting to the tiniest bit of progress, not even an inch closer to safety. Her blade is pulling further out from her skin, raising up from her arm in a way she knows it shouldn’t.
Every nerve in her arms on fire; blade tugging at flesh and the other nearly pulled from socket under Jackie’s weight. Barely an inch closer to the safety, Jackie slipping from her grip quicker than she can pull, blade lifting from her arm quicker than she can move them. Her teeth sinks into the inside of her cheek, hard enough to bleed as she pushes herself further. Closer, closer, she urges herself.
A bright white light shines across them, illuminating them in the gray night, adding another ache to her eyes. Drone marked Arasaka buzzing around, refinding them within the debris of the destroyed hotel wall. The robotic voice speaking again.
“Violators found.”
And her blade breaks, V’s eye blown wide as they begin to plummet, shock blurs her pain and deafens the world. Slowing it for a moment, only able to stare as metal snaps, tissue tears, and her arm is ripped open. Cyberware tearing out tissue and nerves, viscera left behind.
Then she hits glass, shattering it as gravity slams her through and shock becomes hurt. She hits metal, body bouncing from impact, crying as the air is knocked from her lungs. Her head bashing against something. V clutches her arm, the pain it hitting her as everything else does, blood sticking to her fingers. Each breath hurts, a labored wheeze as bruised lungs strain to work.
V blinks, sitting up slightly, regaining her sense of self now that her fall is broken. Across from her is Jackie and the cryo-case. She looks at her arm, A solid rip from wrist to near elbow, nearly an open hole, metal and moving inner parts of the cyberware mixed with gore. It doesn’t bleed as much as she'd expect, the internal mechanics helping block major bleed out. It hurts, metal now working against raw nerves. But, she’ll live… if this is the worst that happens, she’ll live.
The cryo-case is dented, part of it sparking and part of it splatted with blood. But her eye is drawn to Jackie. A tear in his gut, shrapnel and glass caught him well, bleeding more than her. The white of the button up around his stomach turned scarlet.
“The Relic! ¡Madres! Agh… Oh, this ain't good. Agh…” Jackie curses, each breath pained.
“Jackie, you’re hurt!”
“Worry about me later,” he growls, “check the relic… "Container depressurized. Biochip integrity at ninety-four percent." And fuckin' droppin'! Carajo! Parker! Call her!”
“And tell her what!? We fucked up!?”
“Just do it!”
Evelyn answers after a short ring, her avatar coming across V’s contacts.
“V?! Konpeki's all over the feeds! What the fuck's going on there?”
“Got a problem! Cryo-case is damaged. Biochip's integrity at… Jackie?”
“Eighty-six percent!”
“Eighty-six percent and droppin'!”
“Shit…! OK, listen to me. There's only one thing you can do. One of you's gotta slot the Relic into your neural port!”
“That sounds really dangerous!”
God only knows how this biochip could fuck them up, the relic itself is like putting another personality in your head, seeing ghosts. If this one is even half as fucked up as that, they could be putting themselves in serious danger.
“The longer you wait, the greater the risk we lose it!”
“Well, someone’s got to do it,” Jackie says, voice a rasp, face steadily draining color as he opens the case, “In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit - Amen.”
Jackie crosses his body with the pray and pushes the chip into his neural port and V watches his eyes light up for a moment. And he’s quiet for another, a second too long.
“You okay?”
“Dunno… I guess… Don't feel any different.”
“Once you're back, we'll take out the Relic and run a full brain scan and sweep. But you two need to get the fuck out of there first!”
“We’re working on it!”
Jackie and V get back on their feet. He holds his hand to his stomach, trying to press his guts together and she keeps her arm held close to her chest, not putting pressure on it. Jackie calls Delamain.
“Del, we'll be there in a couple. Be ready, got it?”
“Certainly, Mr. Welles.”
“Better be fuckin' certain.”
“We gotta somehow… reach the lobby. Only chance to hit the garage. And we'd best be quick,” Jackie jabs himself with an air hypo, “ Oh-ho, that's the shit… Great… Now let's get outta here.”
“Wait, take your jacket off, use it to keep pressure on your gut, okay? Should help with the bleeding.”
It’s minimal first aid knowledge, she knows. Hold something to a wound to keep it from bleeding out as quickly. But it’s all she can offer, helping Jackie get the jacket off with one hand, so he can press it to his stomach wound. She can move her right hand somewhat, but it hurts and she swears she can see the tendons moving around the metal in the gaping wound her forearm has become. She catches herself wondering if she’ll be able to sign with her right hand again. But, there’s no time for those fears.
She walks down the red lit metal grate, heels nearly catching in it as she turns to a doorway. V leads the way, less injured than Jackie, she pushes the door open. A door lobby with glass banisters and plants, the only light the bright red ones.
“Great… Now let's get outta here,” Jackie says, each word a stressful choking sound to get out.
An AI voice speaks repeatedly over the speakers that Konpeki plaza is in code red, as the mercs work to move quickly and quietly. Catching the murmuring of two guards as they reach a marble staircase, speaking of sweeping the floors and checking the lobby. They creep around the corner and past a desk, seeing the back of the men’s through the glass banister. The only sound the pounding of V’s heart and Jackie’s labored breathing. They watch as the two men separate, enough space for each to grab one.
They move down the last stretch of the stairs, guards talking about evacuating Yorinobu. She lets Jackie take the one closest to them as she moves further to the one at the doorway. V swings her left blade, now her only one, through the man’s gut. Her right arm shoots pain through each nerve, metal inside churching to dispense a blade that no longer exists. She holds back a sound, Jackie’s already choked out the other guard, checking for pockets. Each one armed with a silenced gun. She steals ammo off of them.
They come to another door, each catching their breath. Sweat clinging to V’s brow as they brace themselves for what’s to come next.
“Careful… security likely to be swarmin' outside,” Jackie warns and V nods, words clumping together in her throat as she opens the door.
They stay crouched, spotting more guards as they go. The pair hide behind a planter, V taking a scan of the area, spotting a security camera. Remembering Bug’s lessons, she’s quickly able to shut them off. She’s the one to step back out, leading the way for the first time in months of working together. V needs to get Jackie through this, he’s holding on now, but..
She grabs a guard from behind and snaps their neck, arm twinging in agony at the movement she throws their body aside, clearing a long stretch of hallway for Jackie to follow her down. All light bright red and screens that once showed commercials now flash the words, Code Red. She leaves Jackie to stay hidden behind a counter when she sees another by the doorway, jumping at his back and dropping him just like his coworker.
“Ain't doin' too bad… Just a little further…” Jackie whispers as she drops another guy, her arm screaming at her to stop. But she’ll survive without an arm, if worse comes to worse, she can’t let Jackie get hurt any worse.
They creep through a door, past a desk, hearing a guard yelling out as they sneak and weave through the room. She watches over the top of a planter as the guard walks past them, none the wiser as V creeps around, getting behind him, and taking him down. She can’t risk leaving any behind, leaving one alive and them finding the mercs later. The hotel is huge, a labyrinth of Arasaka guards.
“Engaging hostiles!” A voice booms out, the mercs spotted by a heavily armed Arasaka guard who nearly trips over V.
Fuck, fuck, so much for stealth. Jackie shoots over a counter, trying to stay somewhat protected from the gunfire, while V takes lead, firing Yorinobu’s gun at the men, only dropping behind cover to reload, she blasts. Fuck it, stealth not an option, she’ll turn the whole damn hotel into a blood bath.
The guards drop and V knows she’s been shot, but she’s standing so she moves onward. Through a doorway, three more men open fire as the mercs turn the corner. V blasts a bullet through ones head, Jackie blows the second full of holes.
“One more fucker dead!”
The third is further back behind a glass door and V charges forward, glass open as she fires at the man. Bullets ripping through his chest in a spray of blood before he collapses, red smeared across the marble. If she gets a chance to sleep tonight, she’ll be seeing red in her dreams. The vivid neon lights of the emergency lit hotel, the burgundy uniforms, and the steady spray of it from every shot fired.
Jackie and V go running around a corner, through another glass doorway and slide into side of a marble planter. Taking a moment to breathe, she can hear guards talking. Orders from higher up, panicked yells from the less experienced. She can spot two around the corner, but can’t get a clear shot. She runs to the open doorway, catching one off guard as she slams into his view and rips a blade through his gut.
A full armored worker fires off when he sees it, partially hidden by a linen rack. Another runs in, half hiding behind a planter, firing off around the corner. She presses against a wall between it and a partial doorway, reloading before she looks back through. The less armored man moves around a pillar, peeking from behind cover, and she shoots his head as soon as she sees it, watching him hit the marble.
She struggles to get a clear shot of the third, still hidden behind the rack and so she runs forward, past the rack and coming to a sliding stop behind him. The guard fumbles to swing around when he realizes where she’s landed. Back turned to Jackie now, her friend fires a shot clean through the guard’s head.
The room is cleared for a moment and the elevator is nearby, she runs past a desk, when she sees the button screen. A glowing red off symbol.
“Fuck!”
“Chingo tu madre! It's shut down! What about the other one?” Jackie yells between rattling breaths, she wanted this to be stealthy, didn’t want to put him anymore danger.
She runs, heels clicking against blood streaked marble, nearly tripping over a corpse. Quickly trying to stop herself when another guard springs up behind a desk. Two more swarming the room, one in the heavy almost samurai-like Arasaka armor.
“Orale! Got to plough through them!”
She focuses on the Saka samurai, pulling the trigger again and again, Thankful to have emptied the ammo off every body she’s dropped so far. A bullet catches his throat, a gush of blood as he paints the floor, and she shifts to the other men. A headshot on one, the other already down thanks to Jackie.
V searches their corpses, pocketing ammo and bounce backs, when she finds an access token on the samurai. V thanks any god that may be listening, if they exist and makes a beeline for the elevator at the end of the room.
“Got access,” she breathes out, calling the elevator.
Its doors open and she steps in, the side railing lit that bright red. She waits as Jackie rushes in, he’s still in somewhat decent shape it seems. Not the ideal heist, she thinks as she hits the button, but maybe they can get out of this. Rush Jackie to a ripper, check on T-Bug, collect their eddies, and tonight will be a story to tell later. Remember the Konpeki Heist, how everything that could go wrong did.
“Hah-… agh! Heh, hng…” She can’t tell if he’s laughing or groaning in pain, maybe both. Blood is coating his hands, has he bled through the jacket? No, Jackie’s bulletproof, said it himself a billion times. He’ll be okay, he has to be.
“Jackie…”
“Saburo Arasaka, Hundred and fifty years… and today… of all fuckin' days. That's like… some divine comedy shit… hehehehe… agh.”
And he’s laughing, of course he is, holding his guts together and he laughs, because why would Jackie Welles do anything else. She’s not sure if she’s going to cry or laugh along, if she’s charmed or infuriated by it; is he just still desperately searching for that silver lining or does he genuinely not give a fuck if he flatlines? That idea, the thought, makes her throat tighten. He can’t die, he won’t die, she won’t let him.
“Save your strength, please, we’re not out of the woods yet.”
“What do you think I’m doing!?” She doesn’t miss the frustration, because if he wasn’t so hurt, he’d been the one leading that battle, charging in to take brunt of it all, “Buuut… chill, V. We'll get out alive.”
“I know we will,” she says and wants so desperately to believe.
The elevator reaches the lobby, doors open to more guards, more gunfire. She shoots at one that looks out behind a wall, three more in the main room of the lobby. Jackie slides behind a desk, using it for cover between shots. V takes lead, shooting from around a doorway. Its chaos and mayhem, V blasting the four men. One dropping behind a chair, catching one through the green ferns growing from a planter. Three more Arasaka corpses, splattering blood across marble and the roots of those towering trees. Bullet after bullet, shot after shot, until her ears are ringing and three remain; the mercs and one last guard.
He throws a grenade across the room at them, V shooting it in the air before it can hit them, smoke and fire smoldering across the ceiling. She uses the chance to close the gap and blows his brains out at close range.
Room cleared they rush through the rest of the lobby, finally reaching the elevator that will take them to the garage. V slams the button, calling the elevator. The door opens and she runs inside, expecting Jackie to run in after her. His steps are slowing and he leans against the wall for a moment instead, having to catch a second wind. He’s getting worse, but they’re in the homestretch, they can do this. They can do this, he stumbles through, leaning against the elevator wall.
“Argh… I'm leakin' a little…” His voice a rasp.
The elevator stops at the garage, so close to safety. Doors opening she can already hear the guards and the mercs step out, eye on them, its a swarm of Arasaka. Gunfire rings out alongside the screech of brakes. The Delamain taxis coming to a stop in the center of the garage, it’s doors flinging open.
“I advise that you waste no time in entering the vehicle,” Delamain chirps at them, like this is a normal night.
But she needs no prodding. V grabs Jackie’s hand and runs for the taxi, dragging him through the garage to the open doors. Rather than making him walk around, she shoves Jackie through her side on the right, letting him slide into the left seat before she jumps in; he needs the extra second of protection more than her. The doors shut, bulletproof shields raising as they the taxi is blasted by the guards. They’re safe? Right?
“Welcome back. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door….”
“DRIVE NOW!”
And Delamain does just that, engines firing up as he rams through the garage door like it’s nothing. She leans forward on the two front seats. As the taxi takes a sharp turn, they’re almost there, almost safe. Jackie wasn’t fucking around about the combat mode.
“Not bad at all.”
“Client feedback noted.”
“How’s the ride looking?”
“Tiptop. Though alas, we are being pursued.”
And then she sees him, Adam Smasher, the borged monster of a former man rushes them. No hesitation, no fear, as he slams his entire body into the car. Shattering glass, gnashing metal, and nearly sending the car to the side; slamming V and Jackie to the right.
“Sweet fuckin’ jesus!”
Jackie curses as V screams, the hell kind of freak is this guy? The car goes back down on its wheels. Adam Smasher on a metal knee, slowing standing up on front of the car.
“Combat mode activated. Please remain calm.”
“Calm!!!????” She yells out as Delamain begins to drive backwards.
“Road block ahead. I kindly request that you brace for impact.”
“¡Oy, mis huevos! Shiiiit!”
The cab takes a turn, rather than driving through Adam Smasher, it goes through another roadway. A row of cars blocking the way and Delamain slams through through without hesitation, taking them through the Night City roads away from the hotel. Jackie is hunched over, bloody hands still pressing the jacket to his gut, the white shirt soaked through with it.
“A hostile enemy aircraft has a lock on us.”
V doesn’t need a word more from the AI taxi, climbing halfway out of the window, she spots the drones flying after them. Three of them. Needing steadier aim, she flips off her hearing aids with a thought, steeling herself as the car weaves through the road and she fires at them. This is Arasaka’s last ditch effor to keep a lock on them, if she can get rid of them, they’re in the clear.
Three shots; first drone goes down sparking as it hits the city streets. Two more kills the second, the metal remains slamming into a streetlamp. And the third goes down with a final shot, smoldering onto the roof of a BD store. She turns her hearing aids back on as she slides into her seat again; they’re gone.
“Hostile aircraft eliminated.”
“Nice work there… Del…”
She shifts to look at Jackie, he has one hand on his stomach, the other braced against the door. V grabs his shoulder with one hand and his leg with the other, practically shaking him.
“We did it, Jackie! We made it!”
“Heh...guess we did…” It’s not the triumphant excited Jackie, she’d expect to hear. His voice still rough, a rattle barely leaving his lungs. Her eyes sting, no, no.
“My medical diagnostics indicate that Mr. Welles’ condition is critical.”
“Critical, what- take us to a fucking ripperdoc, now! Vik’s behind Misty’s shop!”
She reaches to put pressure against the jacket over his wound, hand over his, but the fabric is bled all the way through. Blood sticking to her skin, warmer than Jackie’s skin and he’s looking pale, paler every second. He leans back against the chair, strength starting to leave his body.
“Apologies, but that will not be possible. Our itinerary has been pre-arranged and paid for in advance. I am not at liberty to alter it.”
“Fuck your itinerary and fuck your liberty, just get us to goddamn doctor!”
“It's OK, V… I'll hold out…”
When did his nose start to bleed, when he did he start hacking up blood, red streaking down his nostrils and over his chin. She sucks in a shaky breath, eyes starting to water. No, not Jackie, anyone but him… please. She doesn’t know who she’s begging; maybe god, maybe fate, maybe just anything in this world that will listen.
“Yeah, yeah,” she chokes out, nodding, “you-you just got to hold on, okay? And, and, we’ll hit the major leagues. Only the best jobs, swimming in eddies, just like you always wanted.”
She brings her forehead to his, feeling the cold sweat of his skin, hoping her warmth, touch, her words; anything will keep him alert. The tears flow freely now, wet and hot on her cheeks.
“Mija... you’re gonna be rich, I can feel it…”
“No, we’re gonna be rich, Jackie! You and me, that’s how it’s always been, I-I can’t do it without you, y-you got to stay with me okay! We’ll get back, you can see Misty and your mom, everyone and let them know you made it.”
“Misty… She knew… She always knew…” he breathes out, eyes glassy with a weak smile, “told me not to take this job, why she always got to be right?”
“J-just a little longer, please, Jackie...please,” she begs him, like he can stop it. Like he can put his inside back together, stop the color from draining out of his face, and can just stay with her.
“The biochip…” he holds her shoulder, grasp weak, and takes the chip from his head with the other, “Hold on to it. For me…”
And he slides it into her neuroport, her vision glitching for a moment. She surges forward, wrapping her arms as tightly as she can, burying his head into his chest, crying into him as she clings tightly; wishing she had the strength to just hold him together.
“Please, please, Jackie, I can’t lose you, just a little longer, please,” she sobs into his ashen skin and blood soaked shirt, begging with every slowed beat of his heart.
For a moment his hands graze her back and she waits for a bear hug, for him to squeeze the breath from her lungs and lift her from her seat like he’s done so many times. For him to be Jackie; her best friend, her partner in crimes, her brother, her everything. But his touch is faint, the space between each beat growing further and further. Until his hands fall limp, body slack in her arms, and she knows the next heartbeat will never come.
And she sobs, she holds him and cries out her pain, if only for a moment. No more ‘chicas’, ‘jainas’, or the odd ‘mija’. No more smiles that outshine the sun. No more nagging her to look on the bright side. No more bear hugs or hands the size of her head ruffling through her hair. No more Jackie…. And it’s not fair and it’s not right.
“Mr. Welles has passed. Where shall I take his remains?” A robotic voice asks and she realizes the car is no longer moving.
She forces herself to let him go, one of the hardest things she’ll ever have to do. Pulling away, she sees him, truly lifeless. Bright green eyes now dull with no light behind them, limp hands falling away from her.
“W-what?” She stumbles over the word, brain fogged over with grief.
“The Excelsior package provides for the disposal of passenger remains free of charge. I merely require a destination.”
“I…he-he’d want to be with his family,” she stumbles across her words.
“Mr. Welles' closest blood relative is Guadalupe Alejandra Welles, proprietress of the El Coyote Cojo bar. I will make sure to deliver him safely. Mr. DeShawn awaits you in room number two-oh-four. ”
That’s right… Dex… The chip. The world didn’t stop spinning, only her’s. There’s still a job. And the idea of still going, that there’s a tomorrow beyond today, seems unfathomable. How the hell could she ever move on…
Because Jackie would kill her if she didn’t and she knows that. He’d haunt her for a thousand years and kick her ass every day of it. She looks at the remains, her friend gone, now limp and bleeding across white leather. And knows if he could speak, he’d tell her to get her ass to that hotel room and finish this job, that he and Bug didn’t die just for V to bury herself alongside them. She squeezes his shoulder, presses her forehead to Jackie’s one last time, feeling the cold of his skin.
“See ya in the major leagues, Jack…”
V opens the car door and steps out into the backlot behind the motel. Rain pours down across her bloodied skin, soaking her to the bones, a numb chill clinging to her. Painted across brick is the Night City emblem marks the wall, red graffiti altering its slogan.. The city of broken dreams…
She moves, on autopilot as she makes her way up the stairs and to the back door of the motel, sheltered from the rain once she’s in a trash filled back room. The motel is bathed in the neon red lights, only offset by the white of sign bearing its name, it’s always red. She stumbles up the staircase and then another, past a tv chattering on about Saburo Arasaka.
The merc walks down the gloomy hallway, dark except for warm yellow floor lights, Graffiti covered walls, rain washing down the windows at the end of it. And she reaches room 204, her arm leaden as she knocks.
No response.
“Its V,” she yells out, knocking harder.
The door opens but before she can take another step, Dex’s body guard takes a step out. Large hand blocking her from coming further. He checks the hallway, making sure she wasn’t followed. After a moment, he finally pulls away.
“He waiting.”
The man takes a step back, allowing V into the room. She pushes through a bead curtain and sees Dex, leaning over a TV screen, another cigar between his golden fingers. She clears her throat, hearing the door close behind her.
“WNS… N54… Even the pirate networks… You blowin' up everywhere! And the Jackster? He out in the car?”
“He’s...dead,” her voice breaks, words like thorns in her throat. Having to say it, having to hear it from her own lips…
“Condolences friend,” he tells her, shifting to look at her rather than the tv, “and the relic?”
“Here,” she says, voice a murmur as she taps her neural port.
“Hmm, I was afraid of that…”
“What?!”
She got the fucking relic, everyone is fucking dead, but she got the relic! Everyone died for this fucking chip and now he’s disappointed that she has it!?
“Saburo Arasaka?” Dex paces, smoking his cigar, “Dead…?! You got any notion of the shit you pulled me into?! You offed the fuckin' emperor! His majesty! Anyone with so much as a pinky toe dipped in this mess is as good as dead!’
“I didn’t kill Saburo! I- I-” she stalls, wanting to say she didn’t do anything, but can she say that? Can she act like she didn’t fuck up any of this? Like she has no role in Jackie and Bug’s deaths…
"No shit?l Tell that to the ‘Saka ninjas they send after you!”
“We...we got to leave the city.”
Badlands isn’t the safest for her, but it will be safer with money, she could settle in another city, maybe. She can outrun her family more than Arasaka.
“You don’t say.”
“Call Parker, we close the deal, collect our eddies, and go off the radar.”
“A’ight, settle down,” he sits down on the leather couch, “Gotta be tactical about this. Parker, eddies, then we leave the city limits behind. But first… Your face… got blood all over it. Bathroom's there. Go get yourself cleaned up.”
He points her to the bathroom of the motel and she nods, in no place to argue, she just wants to be on the other side of this mess. To be able to tell herself at least she made it to the major leagues, at least Jackie would be proud of her, even if he isn’t here to see it.
V stumbles into the bathroom, legs wobbling. Everything should hurt, her arm ripped open. Bruises mottling every inch of flesh. But she’s… numb. She works on autopilot, only somewhat aware of the door shutting behind her as she grips the sink, streaking blood across the silver.
Her blood and Jackie’s.
Bile rushes up her throat, stinging as she pukes into the sink, choking and gagging it out. The tears threaten to come again, eyes stinging as he nails dig into the sink. He’s gone, he’s really fucking gone. Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood and name, her rock, and world. The man who took her in, who gave her a goal, a life…
And how’d she repay him?
Watch him die in the back of a Delamain. All her promises to keep him safe, to repay back all the kindness he gave to her. And she couldn’t save him, couldn’t protect him, couldn’t do shit but hold him. Fuckin’ only time she really hugged him with all she had and she doesn’t even know if he could really feel it, if his body was too numb.
If she would have refused the job.
If she had gotten them up the ladder.
If she had been stronger.
If she had been stealthier.
If she had gotten them through the lobby quicker.
If she could have convinced Delamain to get him to a doc.
If she knew better first aid.
If….if… if…
Thoughts spin and whirl through her mind, a thousand reasons why it’s her fault. Why she could have saved him, why she could have done more, why she failed him…
Misty will never take Jackie’s last name and it’s V’s fault. They’ll never have kids, they’ll never buy a home together, he’ll never get to take her to that stupid hotel bar with the annoying waiter.
Senora Welles will be forced to bury her son and it’s V’s fault. She’ll never hold her son again. Never see him smile again. Never see him live out his dream. Never cook his favorite foods for him and nag him not to talk with his mouth full.
Jackie had a future, a family, people who loved him. He was going to marry Misty one day, have kids. Get enough eddies to provide for them and his mom. And now there’s a hole in all of their lives. The world as a whole now worse off without him, her own world destroyed. It should have been her, she knows that, the world would be better off losing her than losing him.
Yet here she is and she’s just supposed to keep moving, supposed to keep breathing, supposed to live a life post Jackie.
When she looks up, she sees her own reflection staring back at her. Red rimmed eyes, swollen from crying and blood splattered across her skin, stuck in the ends of her hair. And she doesn’t know where it’s from, if it’s her own, if it’s Jackie’s, or if it’s from the people she killed tonight. T-Bug and Jackie gone, yet she’s here.
A brilliant talented netrunner is gone. But she’s still here.
The kindest man to walk in Night City is gone. But she’s still here.
She glares at herself, because she has no right to be here and the world has no right to be this cruel. Her fingers clenches, pulling at her damaged nerve endings and she slams her fist into the mirror. Glass shatters and crackles, shards splintering into her knuckles.
V washes the blood from her hands and face, cleaner but still a zombie as she turns to the door. Jackie wanted this for her, one of the only people who ever wanted anything good for her. If only for him, she owes it to him to finish this job. She stumbles to the bathroom door and opens it, stepping out.
Knuckles collide with her head, wracking more pain through an already injured merc, she’s sent sprawling to the ground. She curses and twists around on the floor, not sure she has the energy to stand back up, vision blurring as Dex’s bodyguard stomps on her. Heavy foot colliding with her head. She curses and sputters choking on blood. She twists onto her back, blinking through the pain as Dex’s bodyguard hands him a pistol. The fixer walks closer, standing over her.
“Can't risk it, V,” he says casually, leveling his gun with her head,” ‘Member our first convo?”
“I’ll fucking kill you!” She screams, spitting blood as she stares down the barrel.
“Seems I've chosen the quiet life, after all. No blaze o' glory for me.”
The shot rings out, loud and clear, the world going dark as a bullet rips through the young merc’s head. Blood splatters across the dirty carpet, her body going limp, a final breath gurgling forth as she chokes on her own blood, iron taste clinging in the back of her throat.
Then she’s gone.
#cyberpunk 2077#cp2077#silverv#johnny silverhand#jackie welles#female v#aidan becker#aidan v becker#angst
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Stay Safe Part Ten: Shereshoy
Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]
Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader
Rating: Holy shit M.
AN: Welcome, welcome! Rejoice my step-children, for today is prime indulgence hours. You've waited long enough. Enjoy!
Tag List: @wrestlingfae @huliabitch @toxiicpop @renegademustelid @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @hoodedbirdie @fioccodineveautunnale @thyestean-feast @kateb013 @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @oh-no-who-am-i @crownofmanga @talesfromtheguild @robbinholland @kylolover96 @lukesrighthand @lackofhonor @lightan117 @misssilencewritewell @theorderoffallenstars @iwantsethrollinstohitmeintheface @fan-g0rl
Part One: Should Have Known Better
Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil
Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle
Part Four: Reaching Out
Part Five: Dark Past
Part Six: Go Alone
Part Seven: Like A Ghost
Part Eight: Savior At High Noon
Part Nine: Swan Song
Interlude: How He Sees The World
Shereshoy [pronounced sheh-REYSH-oy]:
"Lust for life and much more." "Hanging onto life and relishing it." A uniquely Mandalorian word meaning the whole-hearted enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as living to see the next day. Unrestrained, unrestricted, wild and eager.
...x...
Waking up with the clammy chill of bacta all over your body was not an experience that bore repeating. Somewhat like being Shanghaied. You weren't sure how you could feel both sticky and slimy, but the sensation was managed with flying colors.
You had only been in the Nevarro med-center once before, when you had accidentally degloved your fingertip in a rivet hole. As you were an independent contractor (who normally prioritized trades of goods or food over credits in exchange for your labor) the best you could get at the time with your limited funding was a bacta patch. Your left index finger still bore a faded ring of scar tissue around the first knuckle.
So when the droid nurse in the medbay informed you of the fact that you had been healing in an actual bacta tank for a little over half a cycle, the blood loss and internal damage having nearly done you in, you were thrown for a loop.
"You organic lifeforms are so foolhardy, always pushing your bodies too far." It scolded after removing the basin of lukewarm water that you had scrubbed your face and hands with. The artificially warm tone of its vocoder took some of the bite out of its words. "You have been cleared for removal from the tank, but I would advise against strenuous activities for several days."
You nodded from the cot, still staring down at your legs. You were a bit dazed, a bit fuzzy on the details of how you had gotten here in the first place. Your last intact memory was of tilting your head back to watch Moff Gideon's ship soar through the sky with the Mandalorian attached. After that, there was nothing but vague flashes, more sensation than visual. "How...how much is this going to cost me?" You asked, trying to remember the conversion rates for liquids and solids and whether bacta counted as a liquid or a solid. Was it sold by the pound or by the liter? Maker, this would be a hell of a debt to work off.
The droid tittered strangely, patting your arm. "Oh, I suppose you would not recall being delivered to us. The man who brought you in paid the deposit for the tank, and then returned three days later with the rest of the credits. You are very fortunate to have such a good friend!"
The man who brought you in. "Was...w-were they a Mandalorian?" You knew you sounded a little too desperate, but you couldn't bring yourself to care at the moment.
"You do remember! Yes, that is correct." The droid affirmed cheerily.
"Do you have any way to get in touch with a man named Greef Karga?" You rushed to inquire as the bot turned to roll back out the door. You had been about to ask for Cara, but decided against it at the last second. You were uncertain if she was still...at odds with the law.
"The leader of the Nevarro Bounty Hunters Guild? Of course, everyone knows how to contact him! But you rest, rest rest. If I can get ahold of him and if he's not busy, I'm sure he'll be along shortly." The droid assured you.
You flexed your hands with a soft yawn after it left, and then you settled back against the pillow. Every muscle in your body felt a bit stiff, likely from lack of use. Half a cycle. Two weeks. Maker, you had nearly died. What a horrible scenario.
He had nearly died. Your throat ached with an unnameable emotion, you hand sliding down to graze over the new scar on your side. It was larger than you expected, and you flinched when you actually looked at it. Better scarred than dead, you thought pragmatically, even while tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, biting your lip.
You only meant to close your eyes for a moment, but when you opened them again, it appeared to be much later in the day. Afternoon sunlight was pouring in via the small window over your bed, the tiny fan doing little to combat the heat seeping through the sheet that covered you.
You heard someone clearing their throat beside you and you turned your head, eyes landing upon the visage of one Greef Karga. Posted up beside him was Cara, her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to doze off." You apologized, floundering to sit up.
Greef waved off your words. "Relax, we've only been here for a few minutes. You looked so peaceful, we didn't want to interrupt." The older man jibed.
"You gave us a hell of a scare, rookie." Dune scolded, sharply contrasting with Karga's lackadaisical opening statement.
"How did...what happened?" You asked nervously.
"Well, it was all very dramatic. Mando blew Gideon's ship clean out of the sky with one of those fancy gadgets he's got, then he gave you a quick burner patch on the spot." Karga mused, "Your Mandalorian caused quite the stir when he came back here with you. Damn near kicked the doors down."
"Not mine." You corrected him automatically.
Cara scoffed and Karga raised an eyebrow. "Are you entirely certain about that, my wayward little friend?" You gave him a confused look and he shrugged, adjusting his body in the obviously-uncomfortable folding chair beside your cot. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Really, I ought to thank you. If you hadn't dragged that metal-plated moron off the battlefield, I'm certain we would still be under ex-Imperial control. I got my best hunter back, and a new enforcer to boot." Greef said with a smirk, gesturing up and down at the sturdy dropship trooper alongside him.
"Glad to be of assistance." You informed him dryly.
Karga chuckled at your wry tone, and then folded his hands in his lap. "All joking aside though, it's good to see you out of that tank. I think...I think it'll do him some good as well." The older man sighed, "For lack of a better word, he's been inconsolable since the big brouhaha. Gonna' run the Guild out of bounties if he keeps it up."
You cocked your head, asking, "What do you mean?"
"I mean, Mando has an interesting way of coping with his emotions." He elaborated dryly. "I get the feeling he's one of those people that, if he wasn't a Mandalorian, he'd probably resort to panic baking."
The idea of the armored man in a bakery somewhere (probably using his flamethrower to carmelize the top of a crème brûlée or to dispense justice to unruly customers) sprang into your mind unbidden and you burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just--that's such an image, I-" you wheezed helplessly.
Greef chuckled again, taking your hand. "Do me a favor, alright? I promise it won't be difficult."
"Absolutely." You agreed quickly. After all, Greef was probably the one responsible for feeding the Mandalorian the bounties that had funded your healing time. Stars, the debt you owed the armored man seemed to be climbing higher by the second!
"He's due back in two...maybe three days, if his hunting track record is anything to go by." Karga squeezed your hand gently. "Go to see him." The serious tone of his voice caught you a little off-guard and you shook your head at him after a moment of silence.
"I doubt he'll want to see me." You mumbled. "I mean, I left the ship because he told me he didn't want me involved. He said...he said it was Guild business. Then, I ended up getting involved anyway and...well, almost killed in the bargain. I guess he was right to try and keep me out of it." You rubbed at the scar on your side nervously. It sat just above where you had landed on Calican's buckle, puckering the skin slightly where it had once been smooth. You weren't certain you would get used to the odd sensation.
"That's why you left?" Cara sputtered. "He said he hurt you. I gave him an earful and everything!" She grimaced. "Now I feel like an asshole."
"He...what?"
"Yeah, he said that he 'lost control' and hurt you, and that it was better that you stay as far away from him as possible. He sounded all kinds of fucked-up over it." Dune pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "If he didn't believe that he deserved it, I doubt he would have just sat there and taken the tirade I unleashed. I uh...I lit him up pretty good." She finished with a wince.
You stared up at her, somewhat dumbfounded. "O…Oh." You replied weakly.
"I think...well, it's not my place to say, but I think he'll be happy to see you. As happy as a Mando can be, anyway." Karga said quietly.
You thought back on every instance you had heard the smile in his voice, the precious times that you had made him laugh--
And you nodded firmly. "You'd have to knock me out with beskar to keep me away."
Cara grinned and thumped her forehead against yours. "That's the spirit!"
Greef's laughter was raucous (and a little sheepish) and you couldn't help joining in.
...
Getting back into the Crest was the easy part. The worst issue you encountered was that it was raining softly, making a humid haze rise from every surface and ensuring that you would leave footprints.
After two members of the Guild offloaded the carbonite plaques and trotted away with their hoverskiffs, you slunk out from behind the crates and bolted forward.
It only took one try to get the combination this time. He hadn't changed it. He usually changed it once every three days, so that was strange.
You entered the cool, dark hold with a small amount of trepidation, tiptoeing towards the ladder as the hatch slid shut behind you. Soft sniffling from behind the bunk shutter met your ears faintly and your heart broke. Almost before you could think about it, you hammered your fist down on the controls to raise the barrier.
The kid was sitting in the bunk, little hands pressed to their eyes while they snuffled and whimpered. They looked up at you in panic and it was so strange to see the second that they recognized you. They stumbled forward into your arms, those tiny claws scrabbling at your damp tunic as they sobbed.
"Oh sweetheart, sweetheart…" you whispered, cradling them close to your chest. "I'm right here with you, it's alright now. Everything will be fine." You stroked the back of their head, blinking away your own tears.
They started hiccupping, their little body jolting with the force of it, and you toted them into the refresher. With a bit of cajoling, you got them to hold still while you swabbed over their face with a warm cloth, cleaning off the grime of the day and those tear tracks.
They were still sniffling slightly when you pressed a cup of water into their little hands. "You're probably thirsty after all that hard work, huh?" You asked softly, sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of the bunk. "I wonder how long he's been gone for." You continued, thinking aloud. The child hurriedly gulped down the water, holding the empty cup back out with a little whine. "Ha! Of course, as soon as I sit down." You teased, hauling yourself back up to refill the paper cup. "Alright, slower this time. Don't want you getting a tummy ache." You instructed, holding the cup for them so you could moderate their sips.
You watched as their huge ears began to perk back up. They looked for all the world like a freshly-watered plant, and the mental comparison made you snicker.
"My favorite little mudjumper." You sighed, straightening out their teeny robes. At least they were clean and dry, not that you had anticipated the Mandalorian letting the kid's health or hygiene fall by the wayside. Knowing him, he was probably more likely to forget to wear his helmet than cause the kid to suffer.
You sat there peacefully for a while as the sky outside darkened, just listening to the rain beating on the hull and stroking your fingers over the kid's head. The child sprawled out on your chest, their eyes slowly sliding shut as you continued to console them.
You were eventually roused from your staring contest with the floor by the sound of the ramp extending and then heavy footsteps. The cargo bay was almost pitch-black now, the only light coming in from the now-closing boarding ramp. The rain was still beating down, though. It had picked up while you sat, drumming a tattoo on the roof high overhead.
There was a faint click and machinery hummed to life, the hold becoming softly illuminated by the orange running lights beneath the floor grates. Your heart lurched in your chest when you spotted the Mandalorian fiddling with his gauntlet by the loading ramp, obviously focused on it. Your heart now felt like it was about to beat out of your chest. It was a miracle you didn't wake the child with the frantic motion alone!
You couldn't move. You could barely breathe, your nerves threatening to strangle you. All you could manage to do was sit there in silence and just...wait.
How would he react? Would he be angry that you were here? He had paid for the bacta tank, would he require you to pay him back? The thoughts bounced around in your head frantically, making your stomach drop out with apprehension.
He grunted something, sounding upset as he dragged a hand down over the front of his helmet and sagged against the wall. Maybe you shouldn't have done this, maybe...maybe you should have waited to see whether he sought you out first.
Your brow furrowed. No. You had done enough of that. It was your turn now.
You heard his breath hitch and you realized belatedly that you had stopped paying attention to what he was doing. Clearly he had noticed you, if the tilt of his head was any indication. His hands fell slack at his sides, like he had forgotten about his gauntlet entirely.
"Didn't mean to startle you." You said quietly, not wanting to rouse the child that was still slumped over on your chest.
He didn't move. Didn't respond. Hell, you weren't even certain if he was breathing anymore. He just stood there, his cape dripping a small puddle onto the grating beneath his feet.
The kid yawned, smacking their lips and snuggling back down against your collarbone.
"Put the...put the kid in his crib. Please." The Mandalorian requested. His tone was even, giving you absolutely nothing to go on as far as gauging his thoughts.
Stars, you had missed the sound of his voice. You almost didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth.
You carefully got to your feet and turned, laying the child down in their bassinet. Your hand hovered over the controls to close the protective shielding, silently waiting for confirmation.
"Yeah. I...yeah. Please." He muttered.
Once you had done so, you shifted back to face him. You kept your eyes on your boots though, unable to look at him just yet. Anxious nerves wrung the life right out of your voice, making it crack when you finally began to speak. "I-I'm sorry. I know you didn't...I know that I went against what you told me to do, b-but--" You heard him swear and then a sharp clatter met your ears. He must have lunged across the hold because abruptly, a set of gloved hands were cupping your face and dragging it upwards.
You had shut your eyes and tensed up on instinct when you saw the hands coming, so the mouth that pressed to your own was a bit of a shock. You froze, then sighed with relief and leaned hard into the kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, greedily pawing the familiar beskar (and the not-as-familiar way that it pitched under your touch). He groaned against your lips and pressed your back to the wall, his own hands grasping for purchase on your shoulders.
He had missed you. Or at least, it certainly seemed that way! Any other thoughts you had at the moment fled under the assault of his desperate mouth.
He exhaled raggedly and then buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. He didn't say anything for the longest time, one hand falling to clutch at the fabric of your tunic over your side. His shoulders heaved and you realized he was crying, breath wheezing through his teeth from where he had bitten down on his glove to stifle the sound.
You kept your eyes closed and cautiously, carefully, you slid your hand up into the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm here." You whispered. You felt his knees buckle and he swayed, forcing you to grab a handful of his soaked flight suit to steady him.
"M' sorry, I-" he rasped. "I'm getting you all wet. The rain, I..."
"Yeah...I don't know what they call it on Mandalore, but here, we call it crying." You teased him softly.
He actually laughed at that, pulling back a little. "Guess now I know why Karga and Dune told me to take the day off. I went to the medbay and you weren't there, I-I figured you'd left Nevarro for good. Why…" he swallowed hard, then continued, "why are your eyes shut?"
"I uh, it was mostly a reflex." You admitted. "Should I…" Your throat had gone bone dry. "Sh-Should I open them?"
"I…" He hesitated. "You already know my name."
Din Djarin, the words tripping over one another as he struggled to get them out through a mouth that barely worked--
"Well yeah, but that doesn't give me viewing privileges." You retorted. "Hell, that doesn't even give me permission to use your name. Knowing it is only a part of the equation."
"Do you...want to use my name?" He sounded breathless.
"I mean, I wouldn't--I wouldn't mind it." You admitted weakly after a few seconds of hemming and hawing. "Only if you're okay with it though!" You rushed to add, feeling as if you needed to make sure he knew he could retract the offer. "I know that it's got a lot of weight to it." He wasn't angry at you. He wanted you to say his name and see his face.
"I'm terrified." He replied bluntly. "I haven't shown anyone...well, ever. You're the only one that's--I-I mean, you're the...you're it." How could someone make you weak in the knees while also simultaneously being absolutely, entirely, outrageously awkward?
"I can start with your name, and if you still want to...I mean, you make that choice, okay?"
"I want you to see. I just don't know if I…I mean, the idea of you...I thought you were going to die, all because I screwed up, pushed you away. I want--I need to make sure you don't...that you don't…" He struggled with his words, gloved hands wrinkling your tunic beyond hope when he tightened his grip. "I can't, not again. I'm so sorry." He finally muttered. His mouth pressed to your neck, kisses trailing wet and hungry over your skin. "Please, please say my name."
"Din." You whispered, again struck with the sensation that you were breaking a multitude of rules as you felt him shudder bodily. "Din...Djarin."
"Shit." He groaned, tilting his head back. "That's...that's nice." He sounded a bit faint.
"Please don't pass out." You murmured. "All the beskar would absolutely crush me and I don't think you want to try and scrape me up out of the floor grates."
He choked out another laugh, wet gloves smoothing over your hair. "Sorry. M' just tired. This feels like a dream." He sighed heavily. "I have to wash up. Get out of this suit so it'll dry."
"I'm all for getting you out of the suit."
He smiled against your neck, "yeah?"
"Mmhm." You nodded, blindly reaching for the clasps on his gription harness.
Between your sightless fumbling and his hungry kisses, it took much longer than normal for him to get out of his armor. He couldn't seem to stop kissing you, seeking your mouth again and again.
"Making up for lost time." Din grunted, finally managing to divest himself of his flight suit altogether and then jerking the liner shirt off over his head. He pressed his body to your own and you flushed wildly. Last time he hadn't even fully removed his flight suit, and he had kept the liner shirt on. It was surreal to be able to touch him like this.
He seemed to agree, if the helpless noises in his throat were any indicator. You trailed your fingers along his chest, sliding boldly down to stroke through the thick curls that started right above the waist of his compression leggings. "Pare, wait, I need…t-to shower." He pleaded, his hands fumbling on your shoulders. "H-Have to do this right." His forehead bumped against yours. "Have to do this right." He repeated, now grinding himself down into your palm instinctively. You easily found the thick arch of his cock through the leggings and you couldn't resist giving him a gentle caress before you pulled away.
His breathing sounded distinctly shaky. "Okay. Go ahead." You urged him, making a shooing gesture in what you hoped was the direction of the refresher.
"Hang on," he protested. "Wait, ch-changed my mind, come here."
"Mm, nope! Go shower." You cupped his jaw, feeling him swallow hard. "Get cleaned up. I'll be here when you get out."
"Stay...stay at the sink?" He bargained. You could hear him fumbling with something, probably his leggings.
"Absolutely." You kissed his nose. "Now go shower, you smell like wet Wookie."
He embraced you without warning, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pressing his cock against your stomach. "Wait for me." He requested, the kiss that followed absolutely voracious. You clung to his shoulders, rendered helpless under the attack of his mouth.
"Y-Yeah, 'course." You stammered when you could think again.
He took your wrist and led you forward until you could touch the sink, and then he got into the shower. "When did you wake up?" He asked after he had keyed the shutter closed.
You opened your eyes and leaned back on the sink, tapping your chin. "It's been about...three days?"
He swore under his breath and you heard a metallic rattle. "Shit, c'mon, stupid-" The water abruptly burst on and he yelped. You couldn't stifle your laughter, though you did try. "So glad my pain amuses you." He groused through the divider. "Here I was, coming back to my ship all torn up, thinking that you were gone forever and that I'd never see you again."
His words were annoyed but you could hear the soft sadness in his tone. "I think I've made it abundantly clear that I don't know how to leave you behind." You replied gently. "Plus, bacta tank time isn't exactly cheap."
He scoffed, "Yeah, we need to talk about that. Later. Once we're in a proper headspace for it." He was silent for several minutes, the only noise the running water of the shower and the thunder of the rain overhead. "I don't...look, the bacta doesn't fucking matter. I'm just...I'm glad you came back," he muttered finally. "Glad I didn't ruin everything like I thought I did."
"You've got an uphill battle ahead of you, Din." You luxuriated in saying his name, though your words were ultimately serious. "Why didn't you tell Cara the truth? She said she yelled at you pretty bad."
"I did tell her the truth." Din sighed. "Look, I hurt you. You can't say that I didn't. Physically, emotionally...wounding happened. You didn't feel welcome to stay anymore and I sure as hell didn't give you a reason to." There was a quiet thud. "I knew she would rip me apart and honestly, I think I needed that to parse everything. But stars, that woman took the paint off."
You grimaced. You could only imagine the awful things she had (probably) shouted at him. You heard the shower turn off and you shut your eyes again, tilting your head at the sound of the shutter sliding.
"Mm, I could get used to this." He murmured. All you got for a warning was the rustle of a towel and then, he was on you. His mouth claimed your own and he chuckled when your hands immediately found his damp hair. "You really like that, huh?" He commented, sounding amused.
"Listen, I've been through enough. Let me have this." You complained, yanking playfully at his shaggy locks and laughing when he grunted.
"You keep it up and I'll let you have a lot more than just that." He threatened, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He then grabbed the hem of your tunic, stripping it up off your body to leave you there in your breast wrap. The breathy noise he made was enough to have you flushing hot; you could almost feel him looking at you. "Maker, I don't deserve this." He whispered as he pressed his palm to the faint scar on your side. "Any of this. Over this...half a fucking cycle, I kept thinking that I must have made you up. That there's no way someone like you could even be real."
He sounded reverent again and it made your head spin, it had you gripping his shoulders while he slid down your body to peel your pants off. The mental image of him naked on his knees in front of you--
Stars, you wished you were brave enough to open your eyes.
One large hand slipped between your thighs, urging you open with the gentle press of his other hand hooked right above your knee. "Let me see you, let me see." He breathed, his fingers groping forward until they encountered your slick. You squirmed a little, hoping that he wasn't put off by how wet you already were. You couldn't really help it, of course. "Oh, fuck, you're s-so--you're dripping for me, fuck."
"D-Din…" Your fingers were in his curls again, and you gave a gentle tug.
His tongue-
You felt the inquisitive, flat press of it against your cunt and you gasped out, quickly tilting your face up so that you wouldn't see him if you accidentally opened your eyes. Wait, if he's not supposed to take off his helmet--
Your thoughts ground to a halt when he moaned from between your thighs, wedging his shoulder in to keep your legs apart. "Taste--t-taste so-" he mumbled, laving sloppily over your clit. "Good, fuck. Good." His fingers spread you wide, allowing him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts. You knew you ought to be embarrassed about being splayed open like this, but you couldn't seem to muster up the feeling over the sensations you were being gifted.
Din was clearly spurred on by your enthusiasm if his sounds were any indication, his already limited words dissolving into soft growls and rumbles as he ate you out.
That wasn't exactly the correct term for what he was doing, really. He was devouring you, his nose clumsily bumping into your clit with every other motion, his hands trembling as he tried to keep you still under his ministrations. You thought it couldn't get any better, but then his tongue licked inside of you and you couldn't help the way your voice broke when you cried his name, one hand flying up to cover your mouth. Having your eyes closed did nothing but intensify the feeling of surrender, you were his prey and he was hungry.
The snarl that he let out in reply had you quivering, his tongue fucking your cunt almost lazily. He was teasing now, drawing it out. "Beg me." He slurred, smiling against you. "Beg."
"Please--oh f-fuck, please, please-" you whimpered, almost in tears when he backed away.
"Please…?" He trailed off and you abruptly understood what he was waiting for.
"Please, Din, p-please make me come." You begged pitifully, your hips twitching as they sought out his mouth.
"One more time?" He implored, groaning after you fisted your hands in his shaggy curls again.
"Please, Din, please let me come, p-please, please--" Your voice cracked when he hitched your leg up over his shoulder and buried his face in your cunt. He locked his hot, wet mouth around your clit, rubbing his tongue down on it in a focused attack that had your knees buckling, chest heaving, nails digging into his scalp and-
Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was not a man who did anything by halves.
You fell apart, soaking his tongue with your orgasm as you sobbed out his name again and again. He moaned hungrily, the noise sending vibrations through your sensitive sex and making you shudder while he continued to move his mouth, continued to gently lick at your cunt and lap up your come.
"Are you alright?" He asked cautiously once he finally took pity on you and let you catch your breath.
"'Am I alright', like you didn't just take my soul out of my body with your tongue." You panted.
"Yeah?" There was a smile in his voice. "Alright." With a quiet grunt, he got to his feet. "Wasn't sure if I'd be any good at it, but-" You cupped his jaw, delving your tongue into his mouth to catch a taste of yourself. He choked a little, obviously startled when you bit down on his lower lip and tugged it gently. "You...more?" He queried, sounding hopeful.
"Yes, absolutely yes." You answered breathlessly. He hesitated for a second, his arm brushing your shoulder on its way by.
"There. Turn around and open your eyes."
You did so, stumbling a little on your still-unsteady legs. When you blinked your eyes open you realized that he had opened the tiny mirrored cabinet over the sink, effectively rendering the reflective surface harmless. You wanted to feel disappointed, but you knew that he would do it in his own time, on his own terms.
His hands roamed up your body, unraveling the binding that you had to support your breasts. They fell into his palms and he exhaled harshly in your ear, the heated air making you shiver all over as he pressed himself to your back. He toyed with your breasts inquisitively, squeezing them and teasing your nipples with his calloused fingers until you were writhing back against him, wordless pleas making their way out of your throat. "What? I didn't catch that." He murmured in your ear, roughly sinking his teeth into the shell of it and making you keen loudly. "Something you want?"
"Din-" you protested, leaning a little further forward in obvious invitation. He fell silent and the head of his cock rubbed against your pussy, coating the shaft with your slick. Agonizingly slow, he pressed in until his tip was inside you.
"Hah, f-uck, you're…" His forehead hit the space between your shoulder blades and stayed there as you squirmed, trying to push back onto him. "Mmfuck, I have t-to be...y' tight, cyar'ika, breathe-"
"Sorry--" you whimpered, startled when he nipped at your shoulder.
"Don't f-fucking apologize, don't y' dare--" Din stammered indignantly, "gripping me like a f-f-ucking vice, don't want to hurt you." His hands smoothed down over your hips and he clumsily repositioned you, arching your back a bit more to open you up.
You exhaled and you heard him grunt in what sounded like relief. He then penetrated you fully in one long, smooth thrust, the mass of him punching the rest of the breath out of your lungs and leaving you grasping blindly at the sink for something to anchor yourself. His cock was so thick, you felt like it was searing your insides and branding you as his forever.
Your Mandalorian.
You shakily pushed yourself up and wrapped your arm around his neck to support your body as he began to stroke into you against the sink, your eyes sliding closed before you could glimpse him in your periphery.
His lips pressed to your cheek and one hand groped over your stomach until his palm ground down on your pubic mound, sending stars across your vision and making you whine out his name. You tilted your head back down to stare dazedly at his arms around you, watching the way his musculature coiled and bunched with every thrust. Maker, he was strong.
Din kept your back pinned tightly to his chest, giving you his cock without mercy as he rambled disjointedly in your ear about how much he had missed you, about how much he craved you, how much he needed you-
"I-I love--" His voice faltered, then he gritted his teeth. "I l-love you, y--you know that, r-right?" Din blurted out desperately.
"I--" the breath caught in your throat, due in no small part to the man currently fucking you into sweet oblivion. "-love you." You managed to say, closing your eyes and knocking the side of your head into his.
He made a pained noise, one hand reaching forward. "Open--open your eyes. P-Please, please open 'em." He begged.
"Are you-"
"Fuck, fuck fuc-k-k I need it pl-ease," Din cried, his voice rasping and then cracking. "Need you to see, need you to see, need it need it need it--"
The sound of his breathless, sobbing entreaty was more than enough to convince you to oblige him, and so (eventually) your eyes fluttered open.
It took a minute, but you managed to focus on the now-closed cabinet in front of you. The mirrored surface revealed the man that you had saved, the man who had, in turn, saved you.
He had his eyes downcast, no doubt transfixed by the sight of his cock splitting you open again and again. His hair was shaggy; brown, a few grays peppered in here and there. Heavy, furrowed brow, square jawline, full lips currently pressed together in a concentrated grimace. Several fresh-looking scrapes and bruises littered his face. His nose was a little crooked, like it had been broken several times, but that wasn't surprising. Mandalorian helmets, for all their protection, did sport incredibly flat fronts.
Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was devastatingly attractive even beneath the armor.
"Hey," You breathed and he jerked his head up, dark, dark brown eyes meeting your own for the first time. You were abruptly breathless, and not simply because his cock felt like it was making itself at home in your chest cavity. You curled your fingers weakly on the nape of his neck, the motion almost a wave. "You could have w-warned me that the helmet was for my protection, not yours."
He tilted his head to the side, illustrating his confusion even without the helmet to mask his expression. His hips pressed to your rear almost idly, rutting his cock as deeply in you as it could possibly reach.
"Didn't expect you to be so h-andsome." You gasped, a guttural cry leaving your lips when he shifted his weight to drag his cock back out of you.
His smile was incredibly shy, an awkward little tilt of his lips before he buried his face against your shoulder blade again. Maker, was he...was he blushing?
You had made a Mandalorian blush. While he was pounding you into the next cycle, no less. You could feel the temperature difference of his face and you giggled, your breath hitching.
"Don't--don't laugh at m-me, dammit." He grunted. "Not while...I'm f-fucking you like this--"
"Not--at you," you panted. "I j-just love you, that's all."
He choked on his next breath and his tempo stuttered, that thick cock throbbing inside you. "Who do y-you love?" He whispered, his hands fondling your breasts.
"Din Djarin." You replied quickly, arching your back a little more.
"Ah--a-and I love--I love you." He groaned. "So...so much." He slid his hand down again, spreading your cunt open so he could play with your clit. You could hear how wet you were, and it filled you with a delight that was borderline shameful. "Come on me. Want you t-to...f-ucking soak me, soak my cock, c'mon." He demanded hotly in your ear, making brief eye contact with you in the mirror. His look was smoldering, burying itself in the hungry tension that teemed in your groin. "I can feel you, fucking squeezing me every t-time I talk, so come, come on me--"
Your clit was unbearably sensitive from your earlier orgasm, every motion of his body sending shockwaves through you. You squirmed and writhed but he had you trapped, safe and secure and begging you to submit to the pleasure he wanted to give you. It was almost too much to bear; you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes when you finally succumbed with a primal growl.
Din didn't stop, though. He fucked you through your orgasm, fucked you into the blinding delight of overstimulation and pressed the heel of his palm down onto your pubic mound once more. You could feel his cock twitching, could feel how tense his thighs had gotten, Maker you could feel everything and it was a blissful torture. Thoroughly strung out, all senses ablaze, you begged him to come.
"I want to, I want to, gedet'ye I w-want to so fucking badly, I want--" Din chanted. Without any ceremony, he thrust his fingers into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue, urging you to extend it and lick his fingers. You obliged almost automatically and he dragged his now wet fingertips down your chest to roll and tweak your nipples hard.
You clenched down on him without conscious input, your pussy in spasm around his cock as the cool air combined with his rough little tugs to rouse and torment your breasts. You sobbed out his name again and again, pleading for relief and praying it never came all at once.
He met your eyes in the mirror, pupils blown wide and his mouth just barely open, and-- "Oh, fuck." He choked. "I love you." And then he came, wrapping an arm around your midsection to keep you firmly planted in the shuddering cradle of his thighs. He bucked into you over and over and you knew you were dead weight but you couldn't bring yourself to move, moaning helplessly in his trembling grip. "Ner, mine." He grunted.
"Mmhm." You breathed, too beyond words to function at this point in time.
He let out a breathless chuckle, threading his fingers through your hair. "You're mesh'la, beautiful. My beautiful little mudhorn." He sighed.
"Again...with that name." You replied haltingly, the air slowly returning to your lungs. He slung both of his arms around your waist, holding you tight to his chest once more. You were bewildered by your body's reaction, aftershocks hitting hard enough to make your legs shake. "Couple of things that come to mind when I think of a mudhorn." You continued after a few deep, deep breaths. "Beautiful and little are definitely not among them. I tend to think big, and dangerous. So you know. You."
"I remember the first time I thought of you like that." He murmured in your ear. "You had just killed seven raiders. I came into the hut and you were ready to kill me too."
"Oh...oh." You trailed off, flushing slightly. "I-I wouldn't have, you know I wouldn't."
"Mm, I'm not so sure." He exhaled into your ear, making you squeak. "It was intense. I...I'm pretty sure that was it for me. Fought for so long, y'know, but it was useless. You took my heart with that look, cyar'ika."
"You really...I mean, you thought about me like that?" You asked shyly. And it was an insane thing to be shy about, considering the fact that his cock was still inside you. "You mentioned some things the last time we...uh, got involved, but I assumed you were just saying stuff to get me excited."
"I don't know how to talk like that." He answered you bluntly.
"That's a lie." You retorted. "You told me you fucked your hand thinking about me!"
"Mmmultiple times." He drawled the 'm' out in a self-satisfied manner, kissing down the side of your neck.
"That's not you just trying to say something...y'know, to get me worked up?"
"I said it because it's true." He muttered, "should I...should I not say things like that?"
"No, no, you definitely should!" You backtracked quickly. "It's just...it's nice to know that you were thinking about me even before I was...well, masturbation material. It's nice that you saw me, I guess I should say."
"I always saw you." He breathed, his fingers sliding up the side of your neck to tilt your head so he could kiss your cheek. "Saw you play with the younglings. Saw how you took care of the kid. Saw how you protected him. Saw how you took care of me."
Your flush was a raging inferno at this point.
"I don't remember a lot about the...whole situation with Ran's group. Xi'an's poison threw me off my track pretty good. But I remember…" Those brown eyes half-lidded as he collected his thoughts. "Remember you singing to me."
"You asked me to." You whispered.
"I don't mind that memory. Out of all the ones that I have, it's one of the few that isn't shit." Din mused, adding, "today's nice too, don't get me wrong. No deadly neuro-toxins to take the edge off either." He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying you gently back and forth as you watched him in the mirror. Stars, you were still a little tongue-tied at how handsome he was. "I need you to promise me something, stowaway."
"What is it?"
"Don't you e-ever try to fucking die on me again." His voice cracked, "okay?" He dropped his forehead against your shoulder. "Please."
"Din…" You said softly, stroking your fingers through his hair.
"Just...just promise me that." He choked out. "If you get hurt, fucking tell me. If something happens, if…shit, if something goes wrong, please--please, don't hide from me. I'm sorry f-for...I'm sorry that I...I fucked everything up. I'm so sorry. All I've been able to think about is how much you m-must hate me. You were almost killed because you were pulling my stupid, stupid ass out of the fire."
"Hey, hey. You literally told me to stay out of Guild business. You can't blame yourself for my inability to follow your instructions." You protested, nudging your head against his. "I'm an adult and I take full responsibility for my own stupidity when it comes to you, okay?"
One large hand trailed down to skim the scar from the blaster wound and he huffed, sniffling quietly. He pulled your hips back more firmly into the seat of his pelvis, shifting his weight a little. "All heart and no fucking armor to defend it." He managed to say.
"You've got more than enough for the both of us." You replied gently. Then, you whimpered as he palmed over your breasts again, his fingers tugging your nipples mercilessly. "How are you still-"
"Missed you." He rasped, his words husky with longing and unshed tears. "You're so warm. Sensitive. I love...I love you. Don't want to stop touching you."
"Din--" Your voice broke as he rolled his hips, his cock hilted in you deliciously.
"Mm, one more? Maybe?" He begged.
"I don't know if my legs are going to last that long." You confessed. "Or the rest of me, to be honest."
"If it's too much for you, I'll stop." He breathed in your ear. "Can tell me to stop and I'll stop."
"I don't want you to stop, but I'm just-"
"'But' means you need me to stop." Din interjected softly. "I'll stop."
"Wait, wait, it's just that--I'm-!" Your orgasm struck without warning as he attempted to withdraw, the drag of his cock over your spot making your vision briefly white out from the overload. You shuddered and writhed, the pleasure nearly to the point of pain as your inner walls clutched at his cock. You couldn't help the way your nails raked into his arm, clawing for purchase.
You vaguely heard him moan, "oh, f-fuck--" the words nothing but a gravelly rumble. He struggled to keep pulling out, rambling about how tight you were like he couldn't even help it. "Easy, easy cyar'ika--relax, relax relax. You grip me so--f-ucking-"
"Sorry, sorry-" you sobbed, your words catching in your throat as you felt the head of his cock finally leave your cunt with a lewd, wet sound. It was like a breath of relief and anguish all at once; you were too sensitive to handle more but you had missed him so much-
He tipped your chin back with one hand, kissing your forehead clumsily as he dragged his other hand over the inside of your thighs. "Mm, shh, no apologies. Gonna' come." He slurred through gritted teeth. "Right here, just l-like this, using your come to fuck my hand. You ready? Ready for my come?"
Your words failed you at his declaration and all you could do was nod, drowsily meeting his gaze in the mirror. His breath hitched again, like he was startled. It was wildly endearing to know you had that sort of effect on him. "Love you." You whispered, propping yourself up with your elbows on the sink to enjoy the show.
"Hnn, f-fuck, fuck-" he panted, "that's not fair. With the eyes too? N-Not--not fair, you can't do that."
You just smiled sweetly, arched your back and he lost it. His release hit the small of your back and you listened to him gasp and grunt his way through his orgasm with an exhausted tremor of delight. He came for what seemed like an eternity to you (and him as well, if his voice dissolving into a broken, raspy growl had anything to say about it).
"You make the nicest sounds." You complimented him once he seemed to be able to breathe again.
"Wh...What?" Din croaked after clearing his throat several times.
"Your voice. It's nice. I like it."
"Um…huh." His fingers absently smeared the come on the small of your back. He appeared to be at a loss for words. "I should...uh. Get a...something. Gotta' clean. Don't move. I...yeah, don't move." He said finally, awkwardly clearing his throat again and avoiding your eyes in the mirror.
"Helmet back on?" You suggested. He froze, looking a little guilty. "Hey, no. It's part of your life. It's who you are. Don't ever worry about putting it back on, okay?"
"I'm sorry." He mumbled.
You swatted his leg. "What did I just say? Listen to me when I talk!" You chided.
"I know, I just-"
"Nope! Nope. You're more comfortable with it on, right? You're used to it. That's how your world is and that's fine." You assured him. "I'm a new addition. That's only if you want to keep me around, of course."
"Don't you dare say something like that." He grumbled, obviously bashful. "'Course I want you around. I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight for at least a week."
"Is that...possessiveness I detect in your tone, Djarin?" You asked in mock surprise. "I didn't think you had it in you!"
He scoffed, shaking his head and then walking through the bay to pick his helmet up from its forlorn place next to the loading ramp. "More like soul-crushing anxiety over your wellbeing, but that too I guess." He grunted after donning his familiar headgear. He padded back over to the fresher, reaching into the shower and scooping up a washcloth.
The water was cold and you yelped, making him flinch. "Fuck, what, a-are you alright?" Din stammered, palms cupping your hips gingerly.
"Could have used warm water." You squeaked, wriggling a little in an effort to shake off the chill.
He breathed a sigh. "Maker, don't...don't fucking scare me like that." He muttered, obligingly running the cloth under the hot water tap. "I thought I hurt you."
"No no, it was just cold. Sorry." You apologized, feeling a little sheepish. The cloth was barely lukewarm when he laid it back on your skin, but it was absolutely better than it had been the first time.
His motions were clumsily tender, like he wasn't used to being careful. When he moved lower to run the cloth over the inside of your thighs, he slowed to rub circles on your still-trembling muscles. "Maker, I...you're shaking."
"Yeah, you kind of gave me a workout." You teased, turning your head to smile at him over your shoulder. "Also, I think I'm still supposed to be taking it easy. According to that nurse, anyway."
"You're what."
"Supposed to...uh, you know what? Never mind." You tried to brush it off, but he rose to his full height and wrapped his arms back around you.
"If you're supposed to be taking it easy," he growled in your ear, modulated voice sending that familiar tremor through your body, "I shouldn't have just railed you against the fucking sink."
"Hey, I needed that. You did too. Don't act like you didn't, Djarin." You stuck out your tongue, blowing a raspberry at him.
Din shook his head, tapping the helmet against your temple. "I wouldn't have made you stand. Would have...would have laid you down or something." He eased your full weight against his chest. "Are you sore?"
"Not really. A little achy and stiff, but that's okay." He hummed disapprovingly in his throat, tugging you back a step from the sink. You flung your arm around his neck, clinging to him as your legs tried to dump you on the ground. "Not hurt!" You insisted when you heard his breath hitch. "I promise. Just well-fucked."
"Still. You can barely stand. We need to lay you down." He murmured, smoothing his palm over the top of your head. "You want the bunk?"
"No, we can't both fit in there." You tightened your hold on him without meaning to. Don't go.
"I don't want you to be on the floor if you're hurt." He protested.
"I don't want to be alone." You hated how your voice cracked. "Please, Din. Not right now."
"Oh. Oh. Alright, I...alright. I didn't mean...I just didn't want you to--the floor isn't comfortable." Din fumbled to say, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles.
"I lived with it before, I can definitely manage it now."
The jaw contour of his helmet gently pressed to your cheek like a kiss. "Okay. Give me...I'll get some more blankets together or something. You stay still." He ordered sternly, patting your hip. "Stay."
Your laugh was a little shaky. "I'm not the kid, y'know."
Din grumbled something under his breath, sounding exasperated.
…
You had no idea that he even possessed this many blankets. You blinked down at the pile, certain you recognized a few blue ones from your stay on Sorgan.
"Something most people don't know about Mandalorians is that we build nests." Din informed you, his voice utterly deadpan.
"You are...a liar." You sputtered, giggling when he nuzzled his helmet into the crook of your neck. You had taken a quick shower while he was distracted by his nest building, so your skin was still warm and a little damp. His beskar squeaked slightly at the moisture.
"I could be lying, yes. But I might also be telling the truth." He reasoned, tugging you down to settle on the floor.
"This is the Way, right?" You teased, cupping the sides of his helmet. He stilled and your smile slipped a notch as you remembered the way you had thrown the phrase in his face, how heartbroken he had sounded when he begged you to wait.
Hesitantly, his hands raised to cover your own. "This is the Way." He intoned quietly, pressing his forehead against yours before continuing, "With you. I'm never leaving you behind. Ever again."
"My Mandalorian." You whispered, relief making your eyes slide closed. "Thank you, Din."
He breathed, "Thank you for loving me," his tone unbearably soft even through the modulator. "Thank...thank you for saving me, my little mudhorn."
Your chuckle was a bit more watery than you would have liked. "That pet name is going to take some getting used to." You stroked the sides of his helmet. "Luckily, I'll have plenty of time to do so." You proceeded to press your thumb to his sternum, drawing it downwards. He did the same to you and you could feel the affection he had for you radiating through the delicacy of his touch when he softly tapped his fingers to your lips. "I promise." You whispered, your own fingers making a dull ringing sound on his beskar helmet.
He just...stared down at you for several long moments. Long enough for you to half-lid your eyes again, lashes sweeping down as you focused your gaze self-consciously on his knees.
Slowly, slowly, his hand extended, and you could see it shaking ever so slightly in your peripheral for a second. "I share my name with you." Din slid his index finger down your jaw. "I share my face with you." He trailed his hand across your visage from temple to chin, his fingertips barely grazing your skin. "I share my body with you." He cupped his palm tenderly over the top of your left breast (no doubt feeling the way that your chest heaved excitedly under his touch). "I share...I share my heart with you." He murmured, threading his fingers through your own and raising them to his chin. "This is a riduurok bond. An oath that I swear to you. It's...it's very important." His sentence dissolved into a bit of a mumble, but you still heard him when he stammered, "s'a marital...l-love bond."
"Oh." You replied dumbly, before erupting with, "oh! Oh, you're--oh wow, stars, okay. What...uh, what do I have to say in return? To say yes?!" You rushed to ask, certain your eyes had gone glassy with tears.
"If...um, if you accept, y-you just...repeat what I said, and the gestures." Din seemed flustered by your enthusiastic reply, his hand trembling in your grip. "You...you really-?"
You tapped your index finger to the apex of his jaw contour and he fell silent. There was no possible way he could feel your touch through the armor, and yet you were still incredibly careful. "I share my name with you, Din." You breathed, your finger gliding over the beskar without so much as a sound. You then gently, so gently, rested your palm on the flat front of his visor. "I share my face with you, Din."
"Maker, yes." He sighed, knocking his forehead roughly into your palm before you swept it down over his face like he had done for you.
Your fingers splayed above his left pectoral, digging in a bit more than you needed to. "I share my body with you, Din." He shifted restlessly under your touch and you could feel your cheeks ache with how hard you were smiling as you took his hand in your own. Turning it over, you scrutinized his bruised knuckles with a soft noise of distress. Then, you raised his fingers to your lips and kissed every bruise, every battered knuckle, every scar that crisscrossed his olive skin.
"Please," Din begged brokenly, his voice nothing but a breathy groan. "P-Please."
You obliged him without hesitation, tapping your joined fingers against your chin with an air of solemn finality as you stated, "I share my heart with you, Din."
From his spot on his knees facing you, Din all but fell forward, cradling the back of your head with one hand as he pressed you down into the soft cocoon of blankets with his weight. "You precious...mesh'la...stars, you mean so fucking much to me." He gritted out, his voice almost pained while he framed your hips with his thighs. "So much, so much I don't know enough Basic for it. You are fucking healing, mirjahaal, you are rain, pitat, you are soft, pel, you are fucking stunning, kandosii'la, you a-are--you are dral, ner cabur, ner haal, you are...haar'chak, osi'kyr, I always lose my words." He growled in frustration, resting his forehead against your own. "My mouth can't even try to whisper what my heart screams. M'not used to talking so much." He admitted, sounding defeated.
"I hear you anyway." You assured him softly. Din raised his head, leveling that visor with your eyes.
"How?" He asked desperately.
"I hear you when you speak with your hands. I hear you when you speak with your concern. I hear you...I h-hear you when you speak with your body." Your breath hitched and your eyes closed as he rolled that body against your own in one long, sensual grind. "I don't need you to talk if you can't. I hear you just fine, I promise." You managed to finish, even with his deliciously-distracting form stretched languidly over you.
"Then," Din hesitated. His hand sought out the scar on your side yet again, fingers caressing the marked skin. "I…I love you." He mumbled.
"I know, Din." You smiled warmly up at him. "I love you too." He ducked his head against your shoulder, like he was trying to hide his face despite already wearing a helmet. "Don't be shy!"
"I'm not shy, I-I'm…"
"You're not used to this. It's new. That's okay." You cupped the back of his helmet. "I'll be here to help you figure it out. The kid and I."
"You are my aliit, my clan. I'll...I'll keep you two safe, I promise. K'oyacyi." He choked out, his hand trembling when he drew the circle on your chest and rubbed his knuckles gently in the center. "My armor for you and the kid. My whole body. Anything you need."
You slipped your legs out from beneath his thighs and opened them a little wider, letting him relax down into the sheltered harbor of your embrace. "Shh," you soothed, running your palms up and down his tense back. "Everything is fine. All we need is you. We're safe. You're safe with me. You can rest, sweetheart."
Din sighed, digging his hands into the blankets beneath your back. "Safe." He slurred. "Can't lay on y' though. Too heavy...lemme'..." He clumsily grappled with your body, somehow managing to roll the two of you over without accidentally braining you with his helmet. "Better." He grunted, threading his fingers through your hair and resting your head on his chest. "Should...put my suit back on."
"Five minutes." You bargained, stroking down the line of his visor. "Would you like me to sing for you?"
"...mmhm." He agreed through a yawn, his head drooping when he nodded. "Five...f-ive…"
You smiled as you listened to him struggle against sleep to try and talk to you, his breathing finally evening out after a few more minutes of incoherent mumbling. You pressed a careful kiss to his forehead and then snuggled down against his chest. "Stars fading, but I linger on dear...still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger 'til dawn dear, just saying this…" You half-whispered, your words petering out as you too succumbed to the allure of slumber.
The future was uncertain but, if only for this brief moment in time, the two of you found solace in the other's presence.
Stay safe, sweetheart. K'oyacyi, cyar'ika.
#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian spoilers#the mandalorian imagine#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin imagine#at long last#the happy ending#oh they fockin#welcome!#pedro pascal#pedro pascal imagine#I still don't know how to tag this I'm so sorry#eventual romance#eventual happy ending#star wars#you have slogged through enough#it's indulgence time bois#it's so long i'm so sorry#enjoy!
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Secret of the Skeletor
Skeletor sneaks out. Some less-prominent former members of the Horde receive community outreach. More Skeletor stories!
*
Skeletor sat alone in the laboratory.
He had strict orders not to go anywhere or do anything. As one of Horde Prime’s drone bots, he knew the importance of rules. But ever since Entrapta had reprogrammed him with a name and a unique personality, he also knew the importance of breaking them.
Skeletor chuckled. He stood up, paused, then sat back down again and laughed some more as he pondered his options.
Just about everybody else in Bright Moon was busy. Even Wrong Hordak’s usual support group was canceled while he attended the queen’s cabinet meeting about Entrapta’s new interdimensional research findings.
This meant it was the perfect time for Skeletor to venture outside the kingdom. A community outreach day. He grinned. Pausing only to giggle again and leash his beloved robot puppy, Relay, Skeletor snatched up Darla’s ignition crystal and shambled out the door.
“Now for a little vanishing act!” he declared as he left.
It was going to be a good day.
*
Kyle braced himself as soon as he heard the ship engines come to a stop outside the window.
“Hey, guys?” he called to the other two inhabitants of their modest home. “I think —”
He was interrupted by the sound of splintering wood. “Strong, but not strong enough!” Skeletor yelled as he cheerfully kicked in the door. Rogelio, who had been going to open it, bristled in shock while Lonnie yelped and grabbed a frying pan from the kitchen, brandishing it like a club from behind the counter.
A long, stale moment passed.
“...It’s all part of the game!” Skeletor explained apologetically, as he turned and tried to replace the door on its hinges. “We don’t want to hurt anyone!” At his feet, Relay peered inside the room and barked, tail wagging.
All three of the former Horde soldiers relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief, though Lonnie’s battle-ready expression did not change.
“Do you really have to do that every time you come over?” Kyle asked, poking at the loosely swinging door.
“Yes,” Skeletor replied honestly.
Rogelio shrugged and growled something indistinct.
Lonnie quirked an eyebrow. “What? You asked him to come here?”
“We both did,” Kyle piped up. He reached for Rogelio’s hand in reassurance. “We… kinda wanted to get some more information on Wrong Hordak’s support group.”
Dutifully, Skeletor produced a sheaf of pamphlets and papers detailing schedules and services and handed them over to the two young men. Rogelio accepted them all with a brief roar of thanks.
Lonnie shook her head, still frowning. “Oh no. I already told you, I am not interested. Going over there for wellness day was one thing, but there are too many people there that I still just… can’t be around. And he’s nice and all, but I don’t think Wrong Hordak really gets me.”
“Running away. So impolite!” Skeletor scoffed.
“That’s okay!” Kyle hastily added. “You don’t have to come with us. We’d never force you into something like this.”
“Running away sounds like a terrific idea!” Skeletor said.
Kyle looked at Rogelio. “It’s just, we’ve been talking, and I think we want to give it a try. Even if it doesn’t work out, we might be able to learn some stuff that could help. Taking the first step can be really hard, even when it’s the right thing. And we’ll be here if you decide you’re ready, but we’ll be here if you don’t, too.”
Lonnie’s expression softened, slightly. “Thanks guys,” she said, and meant it. She went to hug the other two. “Now, let’s see about making this robot fix our door.” She pounded a fist into her palm meaningfully.
“I think it’s time for me to leave and take care of another matter!” Skeletor squeaked, and beat a hasty retreat.
*
Darla hovered serenely above the water on the Salinean coast. While Relay napped in the captain’s chair, Skeletor strolled unhurriedly along the docks. He stopped in front of a small, shabby storefront and looked curiously at the sign above the door.
Sea Hawk’s Ship Disposal and Firewood Emporium, it read. You Crash ‘Em, We Burn ‘Em!
“I think I’ll make him my court jester, if he’s funny enough!” Skeletor proclaimed, and walked inside.
However, it was instantly apparent from the lack of off-key sea shanties being sung that the shop’s namesake proprietor was currently absent. This suited the skinny robot just fine. The real subject of his visit was the new part-time hire, who sat slouched at the register behind a gossip-scroll and an eyepatch.
Octavia brightened when she saw Skeletor enter. “Hey, I was wondering when you’d make it back here!” she called out. Skeletor waved in response and marched over, holding out a laden bag.
“I’ve brought you a present!” Skeletor announced.
Octavia’s good eye shone as she reached inside and pulled out a glittering, silver fishing net. “Oh, wow, Entrapta finished it already!” she gushed, holding the netting up to the light to admire it.
“That net is made of elastium!” Skeletor boasted. “It’s not only one of the hardest substances in the universe, it also stretches!”
“Hey, thanks for helping me commission this,” Octavia said, looking back. She smiled wistfully. “Entrapta really was the best part of the Horde when we were all there, you know? She was so nice to everyone, and Hordak was loads calmer, and all our maintenance complaints got fixed practically overnight!”
“That’s just peachy for you!” Skeletor said.
“Plus, it kinda took some of the sting out of having to take orders from the kid who did this when we were six,” Octavia added, gesturing to her eyepatch. “I had ambitions, you know? I was the first of our class to make Force Captain. I was going places! Of course, none of that matters anymore.”
Her sour expression melted as she looked back at the new net. “But that won’t stop me! With this I can make some extra money on the side selling seafood. Then I’ll buy this place from Sea Hawk — honestly, I think he forgets he owns it sometimes — and turn it into a crafting and antique shop, Octopus Cove or Mystic Isle or something. After that I’ll take over all the shops on the dock one by one, and then the beach tourism market will be mine! Ha ha!”
She cackled with evil glee. Skeletor joined in, politely.
“Too bad about the others, but at least I escaped!” Skeletor concluded, and left to continue his mission.
*
“Beast-Man!” Skeletor sang as the door opened.
“I still don’t know who that is, but it’s good to see you again too,” Grizzlor grinned. “Come on in, buddy!”
Skeletor followed the wolffish giant inside while Relay trotted happily at his heels. Grizzlor’s husband, fellow former Horde Commander Cobalt, was relaxing in their living room and waved when he saw the bot.
“Skeletor! How’ve you been?”
“Sitting down on the job?” Skeletor barked. “I’ll help you, if only to be rid of you!” He offered Cobalt a thick folder of paperwork. “Here, here it is!”
Cobalt accepted the folder reverentially. “Really? I knew it was a long shot asking Hordak for help, but all the red tape was getting to be such a nightmare that I just didn’t know what to do anymore.” He sniffled and wiped a tear from his eye. “Thank you so much!”
“You’re crying for Hordak?” Skeletor huffed. “I don’t believe it!”
“I can’t believe that worked,” Grizzlor admitted. “I mean, I always thought Hordak hated me,” he added sheepishly. “Especially after that thing with the two neckties.”
Cobalt shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think Hordak ever really hated anybody. He just didn’t know what to do with anyone. Now, Shadow Weaver on the other hand…”
“Most unpleasant!” Skeletor muttered.
“Exactly. But I think Hordak did care, in his own way. He saw how scared we were of combat during the early days, in the Scorpion uprising. I think that’s why he kept me teaching the cadets and you on the easy patrols, Grizz.”
Grizzlor chuckled. “Aw, I can’t imagine you being scared of anything, big guy!”
“Oh, I wasn’t always like this!” Cobalt demurred, flexing his shoulders. “Back in my cadet days I was so skinny everyone called me ‘Mantenna’! Used to joke that I’d fall through a crack in the floor if I wasn’t careful.”
“Another piece of the puzzle!” said Skeletor.
Cobalt slung an arm around Grizzlor. “But listen, Horde or no, I’ll always be there for you.” He held up the adoption papers Skeletor had delivered. “And now, we might have something else to protect together.”
*
Skeletor’s last stop was a recently-refurbished tavern just inside the Crimson Waste. He nodded approvingly at the osseous architecture and then pushed his way through the curtain while Relay ran ahead, yapping.
Inside there was a wide, smoky space filled with outlaws and ruffians of every species imaginable. They all turned to look as Skeletor entered.
“That’s it! Kneel before your new master!” Skeletor bellowed.
Everyone immediately went back to what they had been doing. The chatter and plinky piano music returned. Relay found a small lizard and began to chase it around the floor.
“Skeletor! It’s good to see you back, friend!”
An enormous purple hand clapped the robot on the shoulder. Skeletor looked up into the smiling face of a towering barbarian.
“Can I get you anything?” Huntara asked, conversationally. “Minions to yell at? A ribcage chair to sit in?”
“Unnecessary! Because we’ve already found you!” Skeletor replied.
“Good, I was hoping you’d say that. Zed! Sunder!” Huntara called out. Two Horde clones who were staffing the bar — one seeming slightly shorter than the typical clone brother, and the other a bit older and wrinklier — glanced up at the sound of their names and hurried over.
“Keep an eye on the door, willya? I need to talk to bonehead here for a bit. We’ve got… business to discuss.”
The two clones nodded seriously, and Huntara escorted Skeletor to a secretive back room behind the bar. Inside there were many potted cacti, two comfortable chairs, and a little table with a miniature sand garden on top. It had a tiny, handheld rake for making soothing patterns in the sand.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” Huntara sighed in relief, dropping into one of the chairs. Relay jumped into her lap and she patted his head gratefully. “I have so much to talk about! You know how last time I was telling you about Grox and all the things she was saying to me? Well…”
“Easy, don’t overexert yourself! It’ll only cause you to weaken more quickly,” Skeletor cautioned. He settled into the other chair and leaned forward, listening intently.
“Yeah, I know. It’s just nice to have someone to talk to, Huntara said. “I don’t feel comfortable in big groups and I can’t always open up to the people around here. So thanks for stopping by.”
Skeletor nodded. “I’m right here, old friend! Release the shadow beast!”
A weight seemed to leave Huntara’s shoulders. “All right. Now, like I was saying…”
*
Long after the stars had come out, the laboratory door finally swung open again. Entrapta and Hordak, looking exhausted but accomplished, strode inside with their arms full of rolled-up diagrams and data sheets from that day’s presentation.
“...And they listened to everything I said!” Entrapta exclaimed as they came in. “I can’t remember the last time anybody besides you paid attention to me for that long. It was kinda scary, but it felt kinda good, too!”
“They were fools if they never attended to you before,” Hordak purred, smiling proudly. “And I cannot imagine they would disregard you now. After all, you are talking about the prospect of rescuing —”
“Sounds like we’ve got company!” Skeletor interrupted, welcoming the couple back to the lab. He was sitting, hands primly folded, in exactly the same spot as he had been when they left. “I’ve been expecting you!”
“Oh. Hello, Skeletor,” Hordak sighed, reluctantly looking away from Entrapta. “Did you follow my instructions to stay put today?”
Skeletor crossed his fingers and nodded.
“Did you follow my instructions?” Entrapta whispered, after Hordak had gone on ahead. Skeletor nodded again, much more enthusiastically this time.
“Good robot!” Entrapta replied, with a wink and a smile. “Thanks for helping out!” Then she scampered away to keep up with her lab partner.
“Ha! My plan has worked perfectly!” Skeletor gloated. “Now I have the power!”
#Skeletor#she ra#spop#fan fiction#horde trio#octavia#grizzlor#commander cobalt#huntara#entrapdak#grizzlor/cobalt#smith stuff#I wonder what that big meeting was all about
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[CS] 1. The Rebels
Cutting Strings
Characters: Penny, Ironwood, Pietro, Aro
Word Count: 5k
Penny is almost ready to leave the lab. But is she truly ready for how unpredictable the world can be?
Read on Ao3
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Day 239 since creation. Day three since latest artificial skin tear. Three trials cleared.
Penny waited as Dr. Pietro and General Ironwood configured the training room. She closed her eyes and bounced on her feet. Processors warming up for the trial to come, with a review of the previous ones.
The second test was the easiest and soon breathing became second nature. Dr. Pietro and General Ironwood tested her strength. Several broken equipment later, they tested her control. That was the hardest to pass. Everything broke under metal fingers. Dr. Pietro had to make several alterations to the synthetic skin Penny wore. It was a complicated mix of Dust and wires that relayed Aura and pressure to her processors.
The first test overloaded her systems. Too many inputs, too many anomalies. But strangest error was conflicting drivers…
Penny realized it after the 5th prototype. Father didn’t design the artificial skin! No scientist, or official Atlesian scientist did! Ironwood was very hesitant and careful with his words whenever she had asked about it.
Dr. Pietro smiled and said, “You’ll meet her… hopefully soon.”
Penny frowned remembering it. Father said the last bit softly, as if he was whispering to himself. Like it was a secret from the General. But he couldn’t have forgotten her sensitive hearing. One that could detected a change in his voice, even if Penny did not know what it meant. Yet. It was similar to when Ironwood talked about the council.
Was it contempt? What did it feel like?
“Ahem. Penny, darling?” Dr. Pietro called out. A hand rested against her own and Penny opened her eyes. Her background processors did tell her someone was approaching but she was too focused on internal questions.
“Is the last trial ready?”
“Yes but… is something on your mind?”
“Is that possible?” Penny asked with wonder. “The mind doesn’t take physical form so-”
“No, no, darling,” Dr. Pietro chuckled softly. He let her hand go after softly patting it. “You seemed to be thinking hard about something.”
“Oh!” Penny perked up, “It’s about who created this artificial skin. Does General Ironwood not want me to meet them? If they are capable of adding functionality or upgrades wouldn’t it be more productive if they know what I am?”
Dr. Pietro was silent for a moment. Penny saw his eyes flicker, small twitches in his face before everything smoothed out. He let out a long and tired sigh, “I guess brains run in the family.” He muttered. She noted soft whispering seems to be personal so she didn’t comment on how brains don’t have the functionality to run. “I tried convincing James but… there are other factors at work.”
“Hm…” Penny nodded. It wasn’t answer but she was satisfied with the attempt. For now.
Penny entered the training room. Hard-light shaping the room into one with random short square. Up in the control room, Penny could see the unique silhouette of her father and his chair next to Ironwood. They talked briefly before the General’s voice came through the speakers.
“Penny, your final test is a combat test. Your goal isn’t just to destroy the bots, it’s to show me what your made of.”
She frowned, head tilting and raising a brow. “But sir… You already know what I’m made of.”
There was a moment of silence. Then some soft chuckling through the speakers. “Show me that you are combat ready.”
That lit a spark in Penny. She grinned, swords flaring from her backpack. “Yes, sir!”
Side panels opened an Atlesian Knight-130 marched into the training room. They were… stiff. Mechanical. She looked at her own hands for a moment. Opening and closing them. The artificial skin detected her fist, hide the ball joints. Everything looked natural…
Penny looked forward, “Ready, sir!”
The AK-130 opened fired and marched forward. The bullets were easy to deflect with Floating Array and it took little effort to slice them open. She took a moment, looking at the sparks and wires…Then next wave AK-130 marched forward, opening fire. It was wasn’t a challenge. They were predictable. Her own programming was far beyond what the AK line could simulate.
2, 3, 4 waves later and she looked to the control room. Penny saw two additional figures before the speakers on the AK-130 crackled to life.
“Security Breached-”
“Uh! Ignore that!” A stranger’s voice quickly said over intercom. “I have full permission to alter their program this time!”
“This time…” Another women softly muttered with a snort.
For a moment the AK-130’s guns lowered. Then several in the rear broke out into a sprint- Penny gasped. Flanking maneuvers were beyond this current model. Her instincts moved Floating Array in front of her. Spinning blades slicing bullets. Two bots ran left. Two running right. Three marched forward, a constant burst of bullets.
Penny retreated back. Floating Array shifted into guns and boosted her into cover. That was her intention anyway. She technically didn’t need it-
“Oh!” A bullet bounced off the hard-light structure. Penny stepped behind it. There was a conflict in her programming. There was a 100% chance of success in standing her ground and fighting, a 20% she might get hit. But… she wasn’t scared. So what if she got hit? Her chassis can withstand more pressure than the bullets can create. Yet was just something telling her to protect herself.
But she was not in any real danger.
The flanking robots appeared first, only to be shot in half. Floating Array spun around her. Red and faint smoke caught her eye. She had charged it too fast. With a small frown Penny shifted it back into her swords. Jumping out of cover she sent them flying forward, piercing the remaining three robots.
After that the waves blurred together. No breaks. Just an endless stream. The bots grew more and more challenging. From basic flanking maneuvers to militant sacrifices and distractions. Sometimes her own AI struggled to find a satisfying solution and it left her frozen on the battlefield. Then the bigger guns came out.
The Spider Droid.
It dropped in front of her from the ceiling. Metal tiles broke under its feet, a small explosion of sparks, wires, and broken metal. Penny blinked up at it. That didn’t make sense. General Ironwood would never allow such a dangerous-
The cannons charged.
Penny stood her ground, stance widening as Floating Array charged for another attack.
The intercom crackled, the two strangers bickering despite the General’s presence.
“Are you crazy!? That will kill her!”
“Ironwood said not to hold back!”
“Of course an Atlesian wouldn’t understand consequence! Shut it down or-”
Penny gasped. The cannons fired before they were fully charged. Floating Array pushed her back, firing at the ground just avoiding the attack.
“Glade! Get back this instant!” This time Ironwood’s voice rang through the speakers instead of being muffled through thick glass. A few seconds later the doors of the training room opened. A women with familiar yet unfamiliar gold horns skated in on hard-light blades that cut into the metal floor. She was in the Military’s Database, but file came up. Not an ally, not another soldier, a student… A civilian.
What was the General doing? Why was she in this facility?
Penny frowned. “Ma’am. Please evacuate.”
The goat Faunus paused, staring at her with… an expression. One Penny have never seen in the labs, with her father or General Ironwood. Brows furrowed, mouth in a small scowl, head tilted. Did Faunus express themselves different? Penny filed it away for later. Right now a flash of alarm came over the Faunus features.
“Move!” In a burst of bright red and purple she was suddenly carrying Penny. Metal talons of the giant security bot pierced the floor where they both once stood.
Her metal frame was nearly five times stronger than the floor. Without reinforcing it with Aura. “Your assistance is not necessary!” Penny frowned struggling against a surprisingly tight hold.
“Glade!” The General’s voice came from the speakers again. It was lower, hard. Her programming instantly recognize it as commanding and furious. She didn’t like it. “Do not interrupt Ms. Polendina’s combat test.”
“Not happening Tin Man!” The women yelled back with a roll of her eyes. Glowing Eyes… Civilians don’t normally have their semblance unlocked. Penny heard a soft sound of metal cutting metal and looked down. The hard-light blades barely floated above the surface, then it dug deep stopping the drift. Purple glow and weightlessness despite Penny’s high density? Gravity Dust, Penny concluded with a nod, and a very skilled, non-civilian usage of it. “Besides, you seriously thought I’d just stand by and watch? What does my record say?”
*“Technically Glade doesn’t have a record because she was found innocent of all the 43 charges of assault. Or she was assisting legal Huntsmen, so there for it wasn’t assault.” The hacker’s voice playfully informed.
Glade huffed, glaring up at the control room. Then those glowing blue eyes shifted to Penny. “Want to shut them up?”
“I… I…” Penny froze. Her processors didn’t know what to make of Glade’s tone or grin. Part of her said not to follow the advice of a women with a possible criminal record. But this situation was an anomaly her simulators could never mimic. Curiously eventually won but Penny’s caution didn’t fade. “Possibly. What do you have in mind?”
“Teach that Atlesian what consequence means.” Glade suddenly dodged back, eyes not leaving Penny even as several shots followed her. The women easily dodged them all. “The main cannon is on cooldown! We need to piss it off first!”
“That is counterproductive to my goal!”
Glade rolled her eyes. Much to Penny’s relief, the possible Civilian stopped blindly dodging and finally looked at the Spider Droid. Penny noted the glowing Dust in the women’s legs. It glowed a soft purple, as gravity gently lifted her off the ground again. Small debris floated until Glade drifted away.
“Is it really a victory if it ain’t fun?” The non-combative asked with a wink. Penny frowned and didn’t answer. She allowed Glade to focus on dodging.
Why would enjoyability of her mission override the results?
The fight continued and with two targets the Spider Droid was more aggressive. Penny was more passive. She couldn’t take any drastic measures with an unknown variable on the field. She had to be more careful, more mindful of the synthetic skin hiding her metal frame. Worst yet she couldn’t entirely focus on the Droid. More and more processing power went to Glade, trying to predict her next move and analyzing the fastest way to help her.
The Faunus women should be frighten. She had no weapon to defend against one of Atlas’ strongest military robots. Instead, the non-combative laughed. A glance at Floating Array showed no signs of overheating. She sent the blades as deep as she could get it into the Spider Droid’s chassis.
Too deep.
Penny gasped, pulling the strings but it didn’t budge. Glade jumped on, gravity Dust latching her onto the metal as if it was the floor. She pulled at the handle of the swords but that didn’t work either.
“And victory goes to me!” The hacker laughed over the speakers. The main cannons started charging again. Glade cursed, kicking at the joints but the hard-light blades on her legs couldn’t cleave through the thick metal.
“Jump!” Glade yelled.
Certainly Penny didn’t hear right, “Jump?”
“Yes! Jump!” Glade repeated. “As high as you can!” Penny jumped but didn’t obey the second command. That much force would break the floor. Of course the Droid’s targeting parameters means that the cannon followed her up. The Faunus ran off the barrel and waited a few seconds.
The cannon hummed louder and louder, energy shining bright.
Then Glade leaped off, lunging at Penny and grabbing her. “Oh shit,” Gravity pulled hard on both of them. Much harder than anticipated, with Penny’s mass. Penny barely had time to shift their positions, moving Glade on top of her as her robotic body created small crater in the floor, bending tiles up and causing broken wires to spark at her false skin.
Beyond Glade, Penny saw the cannon aimed at-
“The control room!” Penny gasped.
“Off, off, off!” The hacker’s fingers scrambled across the keyboard. “I can’t-”
Dad!
Penny shoved Glade off her. She charged Floating Array for a full shot and aimed for the rear joints of its legs. It pierce through. The Spider Droid tilted back, impact just a few feet above the control room. Hard-light barrier flickering at the impact. The Spider Droid shut flickered, smoke coming from the joints as it overheated and shut down.
It reminded Penny to take a deep breath. Her Aura was awake and sending nearly overwhelming power through her circuits. Emergency took priority over her own systems and they were on the verge of overheating as well. Penny slowly eased out of a battle stance. It took a while for her combat analysis to catch up and finally read the situation as a success.
It helped that Glade was on the floor laughing. She had a hand over her eyes, “Goddess and Gods! I’ve never been more terrified in my life.”
“And…” Penny frowned looking down at her. “You’re laughing?”
“I’m alive, unharmed, rescued by a cute girl.” Glade listed. There was a quiver to her voice, almost smoothed out with a grin. Penny frowned down at her. Glade, the other visitor called her. “Where’s the negative?” Glade asked rolling onto her knees and pushing herself onto her feet- prosthetic feet, most of her legs were metal- with a long groan. “I’m out of breath. How do people do this?”
“With proper training, one you rejected time and time again,” Ironwood answered through the speakers. Even as Glade made a face and attempted to wave away the voice. “Ms. Glade, Ms. Xanthic. Thank you for your… assistance. A transport will be here shortly to return you both home.”
“Of course he’d want me gone as soon as possible. Can’t blame him,” Glade sighed under her breath. She gave Penny a smile as she walked… or floated- how much gravity Dust is on that women, to the door, “Nice to finally meet you!”
Penny wasn’t sure if the feeling was mutual.
When she returned to the control room. The two strangers were gone but they left small pieces of evidence. Coffee rings on the terminal, which all Atlesian military personal and student faculty knew not to do. Some bits of candy and scratch marks on the floors were proof that Glade was up here too.
“Penny.”
She stood at attention, eyes snapping back to General Ironwood. “Yes, sir?”
“I apologize, I haven’t been completely honest with the final trial.” The General started, “It wasn’t just a combat test, but also how you would handle yourself in an uncontrolled environment, with… unorthodox civilians.” So General Ironwood… brought in a hacker and Glade because he knew and wanted them to disobey orders?
“Gah,” Dr. Pietro scoffed at him, waving Ironwood’s concerns away. “What do you think of Glade, darling?”
Penny paused, replaying footage of the fight. “She’s… good with Dust. Reckless.” Glade dodged without acknowledging the Spider Droid, "Very perceptive." She listed. But it didn’t feel right.
“But what do you think of her?” Dr. Pietro gently prodded.
Penny hummed, trying to turn off her combative protocols and focus beyond the fight. It was difficult. Her programing was confused, telling Penny a civilian wouldn’t run towards danger. “I don’t… understand?”
“She ran out because she thought you were in danger,” Dr. Pietro corrected with a smile. Penny didn’t like the way it lacked the same muscles as usual. How it slowly sank into… something sad? “Glade is hotheaded and stubborn at times, but she’s brilliant. And deep, deep beneath it all, caring.”
“It’s because of that brilliance she shouldn’t be sent on this mission,” Ironwood argued, but it had no real effort in the tone. “Though I suppose a personal connection with you Doctor, will ensure Penny’s success.”
Penny frowned, staying silent until she was finally addressed again. Ironwood listed many cons against Glade and the hacker while her father gently persuaded that some of them were advantages. Her father was silent as the General emphasis that they weren’t trustworthy.
Finally Ironwood sighed, “Penny.” She stood at attention again. “One fight doesn’t prove that you are ready for true combat, against the Grimm, against higher powers, but you have proven capable of fulfilling this duty.” This felt a little redundant but Penny didn’t speak up. She willed her processors to focus on what Ironwood was saying instead of comparing the list of pros and cons herself. How can a kind person be untrustworthy- “So we are sending you to the Vytal Festival.”
“What?” Penny gasped. Her Aura flared a crossed her systems, giving more energy than she needed. She found herself bouncing, fist tightly clenched. “I’m going to Vale!”
“And school,” Dr. Pietro added with a smile.
At that Penny paused, head tilted in confusion. Anything she’d need to know about fighting Grimm could easily be downloaded. Studying was… an obsolete method to obtain information for her.
“It would be suspicious if a student with your talents suddenly appeared at the Vytal festival with no public record. The other nations may try to accuse Atlas of cheating.” Ironwood said with a soft chuckle. “Ms. Glade is one of the possible teammates we have chosen for you.”
“Oh! I think me and Ms. Glade will get along splendidly-” Penny cut herself off with a gasp. What did Glade say? Nice to finally meet you. They did call her brilliant- “Did she design the sensors in the Artificial skin?”
General Ironwood frowned, looking at his right arm. “That… and more,” He said, one again whispering the last bit under his breath. His face was different than her father’s when he did it, but it was definitely not a positive emotion. Could the same physical behavior be used for more than one emotion? Why did the General not trust Glade?
“Father, may I formally met Ms. Glade?”
Dr. Pietro let out a nervous and sad laugh. “Soon, darling. We’ll let Glade recover first. She’s not who she used to be,” His eyes shifted to Ironwood. Why? Whatever look that crossed over her father’s face was gone in an organic blink. “And Ms. Xanthic pushed that Spider Droid well past its limitations.”
With the meeting winding down and Penny’s final trial run a success she was dismissed back to the labs. Her walk was quiet and undisturbed. Only her father and Ironwood had permanent access to this facility. A brief research into Ms. Glade brought up several women in the data banks. She filtered her Faunus Horns and found none.
Penny frowned and adjusted the parameters. Instead of horned Faunus she filtered it to all Faunus’. Only one women came up but the features were wrong. Instead of those golden horns wrapping around her head there was ears protruding from the sides. She looked at the meta data for the date.
Weird right? She looks better with the horns.
Penny paused. Tempering with official Atlas records was a criminal offense. And it was not a glitch. Penny refreshed her visual feed, blinking a few times and referred the page on Glade. The photo changed to one that did not fit Atlas’ requirements for a dossier. All photos must be shoulders up, forward facing with a neutral expression.
This one had several people it and was dynamic. Glade struggled against another Faunus who laughed and used her legs to keep a golden prosthetic horn out of reach- as it sunk into her Deep Pockets. Or at least Penny hoped the horns were prosthetics. The photo itself could be altered. A hacker was not a reliable source of information.
Huntress Fiona Thyme bullying civilian Aurora Glade.
Penny looked around. The hallway was empty but there were was a drop of evidence that someone other than her father and General Ironwood has passed through. Precisely a drop of coffee on the ground. Penny looked around, “Altering Atlas information is a poor method of communication, Ms. Xanthic.” Her scroll pinged before she was done speaking.
“It’s about sending a message.”
“How does changing the delivery method-”
“By the Brothers- I’m not one of Ironwood’s soldiers so he can’t order me around like one. I want to know what’s up.”
“Well… the city of Atlas is up.”
Penny had to wait a few seconds for a response. For some reason it made her nervous.
“Okay, plan b. We’re going to see the goat.”
“The goat- Ms. Glade!”
“Yep. I’ll meet you here.” Ms. Xanthic sent a map of the facility with a red blinking dot at the back. “All the cameras are on loop but hurry. I don’t want get caught again.”
Penny held the scroll to her chest. This… This wasn’t an approved course of action. Meeting a hacker skilled enough play with Atlas Drones and the database was not a smart thing a robot should do. But didn’t care. She bounced on her feet and looked around. If she snuck out her father would be disappointed… Right? But it seems that he wanted her to meet Ms. Glade. For unknown reasons General Ironwood is stopping him. Glade jumped in to rescue her, her father believes Glade is kind and trusting. The Faunus wouldn’t harm her…
But every reason and logic was drowned out by curiosity. This was a situation that was beyond what her simulators could produce.
“Okay.” Penny whispered to herself. She felt… unsure?
The ride to Mantle was awkward and silent, except for the soft music playing from the speakers. Ms. Xanthic was… not as welcoming or kind as Ms. Glades. The only similarity was their abnormal eyes. Glade’s glowed from her semblance while Xanthic’s was glowing obviously cybernetic.
Her first words to Penny was, “Don’t talk to me. Talk to Glade.” So Penny quietly sat in the transport and played with her hand.
Until the view outside… Outside the lab her attention.
“Wow! The sky is gorgeous!” The vast blue melted into pink and reds, brighter than the lights or plasma cutters in the lab. “It’s much different in person…” Penny closed her eyes and pressed her for head to the window. With a thought she recalled her visual data of just seconds before. The view of Atlas and Mantle, the setting sun and a palette of color Penny never saw within shining metal walls. It was better than the pre-installed photos. It was the same as the world beyond the window, pixel for pixel but… Being outside…
“Brothers, you really do sound like Glade sometimes,” Xanthic mumbled under her breath, cybernetic eyes rolling. “But… I know what you mean. Things haven’t been the same with these replacements.”
“If I may,” Penny said looking at the hacker. She gestured for the girl to continue talking, “What happen to your eyes?”
“Nothing you’ll find on the net,” Xanthic said. Her chest puffed out a little proud. The grin on her face matched her a lot better than the scowl but it was gone in a few seconds. “Seems like Dr. P gave you an upgraded version.”
“Oh um… Possibly.”
“What happen to yours?”
At that Penny found closed her mouth, lips pressed to a tight line. Nothing happened to them, she was created with these eyes. But that was highly confidential information. Penny is highly confidential information. She shouldn’t be out here. Penny looked at her hands in her lap, wringing them ever so slightly. If anyone applied the right pressure they could feel the ball joints in her fingers.
“A secret for a secret, Ms. Polendina,” Xanthic said resting back against the backseat. She took a shaky breath and hugged her jacket to herself. “I thought Mantle had heaters? How is it this cold.”
“I…” Penny couldn’t tell a stranger, a hacker, she was a robot and couldn’t feel the cold. “This is my first time in Mantle.”
“I guess… you can say it’s my first time down here too,” Xanthic said with a small laugh.
The silence afterwards was much more comfortable and shorter. The transport landed right on top a building. Penny thanked Xanthic’s robot butler who looked at her but did not respond. Instead Xanthic frowned and rolled her eyes, “So much like Glade…”
“Do you know Ms. Glade?” Penny asked following the women to the roof access. She watched her pull out her scroll. The hacker didn’t press it to the scanner for entry, she opened it and… Lines of code appeared- Xanthic hacked the locked and the door hissed open. Penny gasped, “We can’t break into Ms. Glade’s home!”
“Is it really trespassing if she’s expecting us?”
“Well, we are…” Penny paused double checking the dictionary and Atlesian laws in her head. “Not infringing on her privacy.” Penny wrung her hands again. This was definitely not acceptable behavior, even her father wanted her to meet Glade, he definitely disapprove of this. “Nor have we come with the intent to harm… but…” Glades may not want to harm Penny but this was a hacker. Penny could be lured into a trap though… she would easily be able to sense whatever was lurking in the dark and fight her way free.
“Oh, now the huntress-in-training is scared? Where was this with the Droid?” Xanthic said, once again rolling her eyes. Penny frowned. She wasn’t scared. Safety protocols was just overreacting again. “Then I’ll have Glade drag you in. And to answer your question, no. I don’t know the damn goat personally, Glade’s reputation precedes her.” Xanthic entered without checking to see if Penny would follow.
After a small nervous dance and looking around as if someone would order her, Penny finally entered the building. She made sure the door would properly lock behind them. Xanthic was just a few steps down, looking at the building’s layout on her scroll.
“Her living quarters are… second floor from the top. Fun fact, she owns the entire building and her shop is the first two floors. Space between that and her apartment are testing rooms, workshops and storage.” Xanthic pocketed her scroll and lead Penny down a few more steps then to a door which she immediately opened.
Penny expected another hall but instead was greeted by bright lights and a living room. Random bits of machinery laid scattered the place, almost in an organized mess. Penny could see an open drone on the coffee table, screws and internal parts too close to a prosthetic arm to be organized.
From the other end of the living room a door opened. Glade had that expression again, brows furred, mouth slightly open. After spending time with Xanthic, Penny realized Glade was glaring a little. Behind her another young adult in Police Academy uniform. She stared intensely at Ms. Xanthic.
“Ashley Xanthic. Age 19. Recently found guilty of hacking Atlesian Military Facility.”
That odd face Glade had on instantly turned to joy. At least that was something Penny knew. “And you were ragging on my record! You were dumb enough to get caught!” Glade said throwing her head back with a laugh.
Xanthic scowled, a blush contrasting her blue bob. “Shut it, you goat!” That only made Glade snort and laugh harder. “I have so many regrets.”
“I suppose breaking the law, multiple times, isn’t one of them.” The officer-in-training frowned. She walked around Glade but no further into the apartment. Her eyes inspected Penny, “You are… unknown.”
“She’s Penny Polendina,” Xanthic said while Glade tried gasping for air. She just laughed harder. The hacker hummed, not a pleasant hum like father’s singing. Xanthic had her lips parted in a slight scowl, so more of a growl than a hum? Ms. Xanthic waved her arms, “This bitch is Ciel Soleil, and you’ve already met Aurora Glade.”
“Play nice, Xan,” Glade giggled. It finally stopped once she detached her metal feet. There was a soft hiss from the prosthetic and from pain. Glade slotted lighter, simpler ones. Indoor feet, Penny giggled to herself. “Shoes off, make yourself at home! Apparently we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
But Penny is a highly classified weapon. She wasn’t suppose to be out here, wasn’t suppose to be with people. “What… do you mean?” Penny asked hesitating. Her mind quickly fired up several scenarios, most of them involving the hacker discovering her origins-
“I was trying to get rid of my records but found something else linked to my file,” Xanthic said with a shrug. She took Glade’s offer and walked into the kitchen. The sound of a coffee machine followed. “Apparently we’re going to be a huntress team.” Of course! Ironwood was saying something about Glade and the Vytal Festival. “I’d like to meet everyone on my terms before becoming Ironwood’s puppet.”
Penny tried not to flinch under those words, but it spat out like hot wires against her processors. At first she thought no one notice but Glade’s eyes lingered a little too long. They both looked at Ciel when she scoffed.
"I’m not interested in behind dragged into whatever you anarchist have planned. If the General of our Kingdom," Penny noted how Glade and Xanthic rolled their eyes, “Has a directive for us we’d best follow it,” Ciel said. “I have an exam tomorrow, so if you’d excuse me-” She was not excused. Glade stepped in front of her.
“I’ll help you study,” Glade offered, “I helped my friends all the time while they were in combat school.”
Ciel looked up with a stare that had no emotion. A blank stare? Penny believed it was called. “We aren’t friends.”
“But we will be teammates.” Glade said with a grin. She leaned forward until she was eye level with the officer-in-training and held up one finger, “And it’s called being polite.” A second finger went up, “A new perspective will help.” Three used her thumb instead of her ring finger, “And this way you won’t be wasting time going back home and cooking your own dinner.” Then Glade straighten out to nearly half a head taller than Ciel and held out her hand. “Good?”
“Those are… acceptable terms,” Ciel relented with a sigh. She shook her hand and finally stepped into the apartment. “Rumor has it you’re a good cook.”
“Rumor has it you humans have a taste buds like cardboards.” Glade said with a small laugh. She looked at Penny and crossed her arms. “What? I need to talk you into staying too?”
Penny was still by the door, hands clasped together. She bounced a little, still unsure if she should stay or go… Her father trusted Glade. General Ironwood didn’t trust either of them. But if the hacker and mechanic wanted to harm her they would have done it already. And if not, P.E.N.N.Y could handle two civilians.
“Hm. No, I think I’ll stay for the moment, Ms. Glade.”
“Ugh, Glade is too formal. My friends call me Aro.”
Friends call me… Penny gasped bouncing a little more. Her power core leaking her Aura into too many components, “We’re friends?!” Someone wanted to be friends with her?
“Only if you like how Aro sounds- Hey!” Glade yelped, tackled a few steps backwards. The gravity Dust in her legs tethered her to the ground. Ciel and Xanthic frowned glancing at each other. Ciel gestured to the babbling ginger and the laughing goat but Xanthic choose to look around for cream and sugar.
Day 239 since creation. Three days since last artificial skin tear. Four trials cleared.
Day One of Team APCX.
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Borne of the Stars - Chapter 2 - MLB Kryptonian AU
[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 3 ]
[A/N: Okk, so this was SUPPOSED to be a 'Kara is like a Big Sister/Mentor' fic, but unforeseen influences have caused me to swap out the intended Kara from the Supergirl TV series for the Kara in the DC Super Hero Girls 2019 cartoon. Basically... I've become a Karanette shipper and it's now the current shipping goal. Don't worry, it probably won't become the main focus of the fic, likely a slow-burn, and the endgame ship MIGHT change depending on how things go. And Marinette still gets her mentoring from Kara, just, a lot more awkwardly at first. Now, onward!! ]
[Summary: There they are, the Soups! Supes? Eh, sounds the same. Either way, it's time Marinette meets them, and a little progress is made. ]
Marinette fell back against a corner of the wall, the ground shaking under her feet and causing her to lose her footing. The large piece of debris she had taken refuge behind shifted as more pieces of cement and stone fell against it, creating a makeshift lean-to that protected her from the rest of the falling chunks of building. Unfortunately, as the ground settled and the rain of Daily Planet rubble ceased, it left her buried and swallowed in darkness.
She held her breath, waiting, listening for her shelter to start collapsing in on her, but it held. She sighed, and when she took a breath, coughed as the grainy dust filled her lungs. As she fully collapsed to the ground, she quickly shrugged off her outer-shirt and held it over her nose and mouth, tying it in place behind her head. A few more clear breaths, and she settled down fully.
Now was not the time to panic, she knew that, but it didn't stop her heart from hammering in instinctual fear of potential injury. Or worse…
The reverberations of a yell knocked her from her panicked musings, and she looked up, though there was nothing for her to see but more darkness. The voice was rather clear, though, as though it was being made to travel far and through any obstacle, even the broken pieces of a building.
“Kal! Did you get the bastard who hit the Daily Planet?”
The voice was feminine with a hint of a husky tone, and Marinette automatically pictured them as someone who would fit well with combat-style boots and a jean or leather jacket. Though something seemed a tad familiar about the name Kal.
“Language, Supergirl, but yes. They’re currently in D.E.O. hands, they can handle things from here.”
Supergirl? Now that was a name she recognized a bit more. Alya had raved about her the moment she finished explaining who Majestia was after she first transferred to their school almost a year ago. The hero was a fresh new mystery by all of half a year at that point, appearing both on her own as well as alongside Superman. The reporter had gone on a tangent about seeing signs of Supergirl not getting the credit she was due, her accomplishments often credited to the more well known Superman.
Yet it explained why she recognized the name, ‘Kal’. It was what Supergirl was often heard calling the other hero. ‘Kal-El’ was the full name, if her memory of Alya-brand hero-rants was correct, revealed some years back by other aliens of his same origin hellbent on attempting world domination.
“Oh, goodie,” Supergirl declared. “Then we can do a final sweep for anyone in need of saving, right?”
“Of course. Did you already clear this area?” Superman questioned, and there was an answering scoff.
“Yeah, I was just getting to it. All the civilians seemed to have cleared out when the planet started falling, I don’t-” She cut off, and there was a moment of silence when Marinette realized she could have been calling for help.
No, scratch that, she thought as she took another breath that smelled of gravel. Supergirl called out once more, “Superman,” voice now laced with a newfound urgency, “there’s someone trapped under there.” No calling for help, Marinette’s internal musing concluded, damaging my lungs when the heroes are already here is a stupid idea.
“Where?” Superman’s voice was instantly attentive, clearly ready to take action.
“Up against the building,” Supergirl answered, just as ready. “Do you see her?”
A pause, and then, “Yeah, I see her, let’s move, we need to get her out.”
“Already on it,” came Supergirl's proclamation, accompanied by a loud, metallic creaking.
“Need any-”
“Nope, I got this baby cousin!” There was a loud sigh in response to that, though the scrape of moving concrete made it clear that the banter wasn't getting in their way of working.
“I’m older than you,” he grumbled, not as loudly as before, but it was closer now to Marinette, and still said clearly enough for her to hear.
“Not according to our birthdays back home!” Supergirl sing-songed, though clearly much further away now, and it was punctuated by another dulled clang of metal. Marinette assumed that the hero had just finished moving the large decorative brass planet over into the open area of the park, out of the way.
A grunt is Superman’s response to the tease, and more stone grinds together loudly as it’s moved. It only takes a moment before the noise is joined by more from another section, and Marinette relaxes just a bit knowing that both superheroes are working to free her. She wishes she could help them, but she knew the best way to do that was to stay put and not touch anything that could collapse her shelter onto her head.
Marinette coughed again as a dusting of debris sprinkled down on her head, and the external digging from Supergirl’s side seemed to get just a bit faster, closely followed by Superman’s.
A crack of light split the darkness from above her on her right, and Marinette couldn't help but crack a smile at the excited whoop Supergirl let out as the hole grew a little larger. It wasn't long before the area around the main piece of concrete shielding Marinette was clear enough for the big chunk to be shifted from above her and completely uncover her little space of safety.
A head of shoulder length, ruffled blonde hair popped up from behind the slab of concrete, grinning triumphantly down at Marinette. The accompanying steel blue eyes shone just as brightly. “Why hello there, cutie,” Supergirl greeted, “need a hand?”
Marinette barely had time to comprehend what the other teen said and blush brilliantly through the dust in embarrassment before the slab was once more moving. It tilted away as Supergirl released it, and a slight grunt could be heard from Superman, most likely now the one supporting all its weight. It continued to shift until it was fully lifted up, and Superman, indeed carrying it, was moving it away to the edge of the debris field.
Supergirl, floating in the air, flew closer to Marinette, smile more toned down but still warm and welcoming. The hero reached out a hand towards her and elaborated, “Let’s get you out of all these rocks, darlin’.” Her voice has a brief accent on the last word, and Marinette bets it to be a picked up trait. “It really can't be all that comfortable, yeah?” the hero finally adds.
With a hesitant nod, Marinette reaches back towards the hero. She can’t help but yelp as she’s tugged up to her feet. Then she yelps once more as Supergirl dips down further and pulls Marinette forward even more, straight into the hero’s arms where she's held securely against Supergirl as she floats back upward.
She clung tightly to the hero, and Marinette’s eyes widened as she looked down, staring at all the destruction littering the once clear street. She looks upwards, and can see the damage to the Daily Planet’s upper levels. She’s drawn back to the debris as Superman rejoins them, giving a cursory glance to his cousin and her charge before making quick work of the remaining mess that sat in the way of the main doors to the Daily Planet’s lobby.
“Uhm,” Marinette spoke up hesitantly, glancing at Supergirl, still holding her and flying above the mess. “Should we-?”
“Help? Nah, Soup’s a big boy, he’s got this; I wouldn't worry about it. Besides, Buttercup, I doubt he would let you help anyways, after being trapped like that. I sure wouldn't. And if I was in your place, I wouldn't be wanting to, either.”
Gods, what's with all the nicknames? Marinette couldn't help her continued, everlasting embarrassment at the whole situation, and the nicknames didn't help much. She at least found solace in realizing they were likely just a force of habit in the hero, seeing as how she was calling Superman by various ones, too.
She went back to watching the older hero working below them, clearing a quick path from the doors into the clearer areas. Her brow furrowed just a bot, it seemed like they had dropped back down a bit in the air, but not by much.
Superman was quick to join them in the air once done, and they flew higher as though it was the superheroes’ unconscious instinct to do so, just to get some distance from the civilians. Marinette held tighter to Supergirl just in case.
“This was the only area with substantial damage from the fight,” Superman finally declares to Supergirl once they’re comfortable. “I’ll do a quick sweep of the city for any more trapped civilians, but we should be good from here on. Think you can handle her?” He gives an acknowledging nod to Marinette, and she shrinks a bit at the unexpected attention.
“Oh, yeah,” was the confident reply as Supergirl held her just a little bit closer, and Marinette hoped it was just her imagination that the hero’s hold on her had been looser than it had started before the grip tightened. The closer hold still elicited a soft squeak from Marinette, and she was grateful that they either didn't notice or didn’t mind enough to point it out by saying something or looking at her. “I can handle this little sweetheart, no worries! Go do your hero thing.”
“Are you sure?” He checked, looking skeptical, but in a cautious way rather than one that was actually doubtful. It made sense, if Supergirl really was still green behind the ear with superheroing, he would need to make sure his mentoring was sticking.
“Did you check her for injuries?” He asked imploringly, clearly covering the bases he was used to.
“Oh! Right! Sapphire!” The addition of yet another nickname to the growing collection was giving the situation an odd sense of normalcy, and Marinette gave Supergirl a questioning look in answer. “We want X-Ray you to make sure you aren't hurt or anything like that. May I?”
Marinette nods, “Oh, sure,” she confirms, “I don't think anything hit me, though, I was pretty quick and I feel fine.”
“Mhm, mhm, yeah,” Supergirl absently acknowledged, already giving her a glance over. “Yeah, you look good to me, I’d even say pretty darn fi…” The almost flirtatious comment fades along with her grin as it transforms into a confused frown.
Tag List: @eve-valution @weird-pale-blonde-person @kris-pines04 @soulmate-game @abrx2002 @amayakans @vixen-uchiha @heldtogetherbysafetypins @raisuke06 @dorkus-minimus @captainartsypants @mopester-is-here @moonlightstar64 @annabellabrookes
#Kryptonian AU#Borne of the Stars#Karanette#crossover au#maribat#miraculous ladybug#supergirl#dc super hero girls#dc superman#marinette dupain cheng#willowbendt
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Blue-tinted Red Walls (Prologue: A mistake or accidental prophet?)
my entry for the 2020 @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series
pairings: hankcon, minor male ryder/reyes vidal
major warning: canon-typical violence
additional warnings will be provided before individual chapters.
summary:
In 2028, rumours emerged that Sara Ryder, inventor of androids and co-founder of Cyberlife, disagreed with her father Alec Ryder, another co-founder of the company, over the direction the company was heading. Speculations were rendered pointless as the younger Ryder disappeared off the grid after thousands were killed in an explosion outside Detroit, the site which later became a dumping ground for abandoned or damaged androids. A few days after Alec took over CyberLife, reports of androids breaking away from their programming started to emerge, and for a decade, it was CyberLife's best-kept secret.
In 2038, Connor, an RK-series prototype, began development under Ryder's supervision and was released in August in the same year as Cyberlife's last resort towards the deviancy crisis. Rumours among CyberLife employees put someone else as the lead of the RK800/900 project, and although the company goes through extensive measures to dispel the rumour, it somehow manages to reach the Detroit Police Department. It is with this rumour in mind that Lieutenant Hank Anderson is partnered with the same android in question.
Little do they know that the revolution brewing on the horizon is just the beginning.
also on ao3
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Before
A gloomy figure left shadows in their wake as they swept through the brightly-lit corridor of a hospital, the click of combat boots against smooth floor clearly audible as the voices in the hall died down. Most only noted the person’s threatening posture and boiling expression and bolted out of their way fearing consequences; little did they know that had they paused to take a better look, they would have noticed how young they were - too young to be wearing such hatred on their face.
They stopped abruptly in front of a door with a sharp snap of their feet, and their hand shot out of their pocket towards the knob but froze with the sharp yell of a nurse. A roll of their eyes. Turned to face the nurse.
‘Visitors are limited to family members only,’ the nurse explained as she closed the last bit of distance between them. Then it clicked. ‘You didn’t register at the front desk?’
‘My brother has been asking for me for days. Ask the front desk. I gave them my name.’
A slight flinch from the harsh tone. ‘I’m sorry, but I still need to confirm your identity. It’s for the patient’s protection.’
The figure huffed. From the smirk on their face, it might have been a silent laugh. They reached into their coat with their teeth grinding. ‘Your ID?’
The nurse looked taken aback. ‘I believe you should be the one presenting identification.’
‘Like you said, “it’s for the patient’s protection”,’ they parroted. ‘How can I be certain that you are an actual nurse but not another spy sent by someone who will bring him harm?’
A pause. The nurse looked away for a second as if to think of the best course of action, but this split second is enough for the person to twist the knob and slide into the ward, the slam of something against the wall indicated that they somehow managed to also barricade it from the inside. The nurse banged her fist on the door in a futile effort of protest before dashing away to get backup.
Inside the room was another atmosphere in its entirety, however, and would have been peaceful if not for the muffled hustle and bustle from the hallway. The blinds were pulled down, the lights were dimmed, the monitor was muted; everything to guarantee that the boy lying on the bed slept undisturbed. He was wearing a green beanie even in his sleep, and next to his head was a small stuffed toy which was rubbed against and clutched when he opened his eyes.
‘Sister?’ he asked the person who had broken into his room.
The sister sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her brother’s cheek. All the anger on her face was gone. ‘I’m here, brother,’ she said. Her thumb swiped against the bottom of his eye and came back wet. ‘I bought us a few minutes to talk.’
Her brother’s face scrunched up. ‘I’m sorry,’ tears started flowing freely down his face and into the pillow and the stuffed toy. ‘I didn’t mean to -’
‘The fault does not lie on you,’ she took out a handkerchief and dabbed his face. ‘It was a reckless move, but I doubt you have another choice.’
‘I -’ a hitch in his breath. ‘I don’t want to go.’
‘I know. I am here to take you away.’
‘You can’t. Baba is -’
‘If you think I care about what he thinks, you are sorely mistaken,’ she stood. ‘Is there anything you want to bring with you from the apartment?’
The brother hesitated. ‘Can I show you later?’
His sister’s face turned blank. ‘Of course,’ she said in a lacklustre tone. It was obvious that she did not want to do so. ‘I need to take care of something. Will be right back.’
‘Okay.’
She turned around and closed her eyes. A deep breath. Glowing wisps of blue emerges from her spine, then from her head, then finally from all over her body, and her eyes were swathed in the same blue glow when she reopened them. She raised her hand.
A blue sphere appeared in front of the desk barricading the door and knocked it away.
The same nurse from before entered. ‘You could’ve told me that you’re here to discharge your brother!’ she said accusingly. ‘There was no need for that hostility. And you shouldn’t even be -’
She was interrupted by the sister shoving a stack of paper towards her chest.
‘Then shut the fuck up and do your damned job.’
oOoOo
Now
Androids have always unnerved Captain Louis ‘Lou’ Allen, but for a very different reason people normally expect. For years after their mass production, he could feel an unexplained buzzing in his nerves, one that, throughout his limited childhood, he had learnt to associate with ‘shit randomly exploding around him’. Now that Anna’s… gone to space, there was no one else in the world to vouch for him, telling him that yes, his feelings are valid, and that he isn’t imagining the hum coursing through his body whenever an android comes close.
Not anymore, though. Ever since he became half-bot and perhaps half-immortal, not once has the buzz returned, which was more of an inconvenience than anything; before, he could predict whether shit was about to go downhill and be responsible and warn people, but now, there was never enough time to vacate a room before, say, the screen of a monitor cracks on its own and shatters into thousands of pieces.
The negotiator CyberLife sends almost brings back the unpleasant buzz. This android - RK800, if its - his? - jacket is to be believed - is too harmless-looking for a model designed to hunt and kill other androids who break away from their programming and the most advanced prototype CyberLife has to offer. His voice is pleasant enough, but that only makes Lou’s spine tingle and threaten to charge the air with static; a sign he has learnt to watch for before an outburst. He hides a deep inhale, listens to the android’s - Connor’s - question, and faces him when he realises that Connor won’t go away anytime soon unless he actively does something.
‘Listen, saving that girl is all that matters,’ he tells the android. The twitch of his face only slips the situation into a whole new level of uncanny valley. Since when did CyberLife allow so much life on their androids? ‘So either you deal with this fucking android now, or I’ll take care of it.’
And it’s so typical CyberLife, isn’t it? Lou thinks as he grabs his rifle and kneels behind a toppled, bullet-ridden table his team has been using for cover. There’s a girl’s life at stake, and there they are, thinking that this is a prime time to test their newest prototype as if actual human lives are merely tools they can use whenever, whatever, however. Just like my own, he thinks bitterly as the place where human flesh meets pure cybernetics aches from hunching over the desk for too long. Scrap that, cybernetics were weaved into his very muscles and nerves and changed him fundamentally, and CyberLife didn’t let him know until years after the operation. It wasn’t even someone within the company -
So anyways. Fuck CyberLife. Fuck their monopoly on the android market. Fuck them for playing god.
But orders are orders and Allen received explicit ones telling him to not interfere unless the android looks like he’s gonna fuck up, so he doesn’t have much choice but to piece everything together through comm chatter and the images from the drones flying over the patio. Whoever is in charge of creating this android, he sure as fuck hopes that they made him knowing what he’s doing.
o0o0o
A few hours later in the relative safety of his office, Lou reads over the report compiled by his people. One of the men shot down by the deviant is, thankfully, alive and recovering, but the other had drowned in the swimming pool long before they were able to do anything. He told the others to go home first, giving them enough time to digest what the fuck just happened in the penthouse, but stayed in the precinct himself just to - just to go home with everything settled. Leaving a job unfinished always makes him anxious and unable to relax at home, especially when people die under his watch, and the numb calmness of the recipient of the call - the man’s fiancé, if Lou remembers correctly - chased away what remaining sleep he is going to have for the night.
And the face. The person who came to collect Connor’s bullet-riddled body. The flickering skin above black metallic plates brushing against his armoured thigh where his cybernetics acted up from his little magic stunt. He never thought he would see them again, but well - he’s not a prophet, no fucking he is not. No more sleep for him tonight.
That is when he notices a line near the end of the report. Android took Officer Antony Deckart’s service weapon and violated P.L. 544-7 American Androids Act. Request to tighten programming to prevent further incidents, it writes, and it makes him think of the other house he has that he’s been letting… people use as a safehouse. Switching tabs, he examines the footage from the hostage situation once more. Connor had, indeed, taken the gun and even admitted to it when questioned by the deviant, but it only served to gain its trust when he threw it away. He broke protocol only to accomplish his mission, and in the end no one was harmed except for the deviant who had killed two officers. And Connor himself.
It is a tricky scenario, yes, but Lou can do tricky. Connor was just doing what he was supposed to, right?
He highlights the segment and deletes it. He deletes the previous versions of the file as well just in case CyberLife are thorough bastards, and whoever made him, Connor seemed… like an asset. Lou would hate to see all the effort go to waste.
I better not regret this.
o0o0o
As much as Lou wants to stay in bed and sleep with a cat on his chest, debriefing is still something he must do, so the next morning he finds himself facing a bunch of rebellious SWAT members who are too curious about the negotiator they didn’t manage to properly meet yesterday night.
‘That was his trial. Nothing more, nothing less. The android proved himself to be useful under situations like this. That’s all I need to say,’ he repeats for the umpteenth time. ‘I don’t think we’ll have any more missions with him, so stop asking questions. You won’t need them anyway.’
‘It was plastered all over the news, Captain,’ the newest addition to the team - Shum - says. ‘It’s CyberLife’s newest prototype created by Ryder himself. You can’t fault us for wanting to know more.’
Jim smacks her on the back of her head. ‘Led by Ryder, yes, but you can’t build an android like that alone, Shum.’
Not with the current staff CyberLife has, Lou says to himself. But he saw her. He knows. ‘Alec Ryder isn’t capable of this shit.’
‘Who else can it be, then?’ someone else - Nelson, if he remembers correctly - asks.
‘I don’t know.’ How can they have such short-term memories? ‘There’s one other Ryder on the table and she’s supposed to be dead.’
‘Wait, you mean Sara Ryder? As in the guy who got kicked out ten years ago?’
Lou gives them his best ‘who else can it be?’ look, and it is what successfully shuts everyone up.
What game are you playing this time, Ryder?
#dbh au big bang#female ryder#male ryder#dbh connor#dbh captain allen#detroit: become human#mass effect andromeda#groom lake aftermath
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The Doctor who’s not really a Doctor
»»—— Crew Member #4 of Space Pirates ATEEZ ——««
all aboard The Perihelion, welcome to the co-pilot’s log system! here you’ll be able to access the crew’s profiles should you wish to read about their journeys:
[CAPTAIN] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]
“look I’m a doctor but not that kind of doctor, please don’t bleed all over me”
often described as having celestial-level beauty, with a demon’s fiery soul (and mouth)
get on his bad side and he’ll start a solar flare magnitude of a roast that you wished you weren’t invited to
“HE’S MY BEST FRIEND, WE’VE BEEN FRIENDS FO-“, “yes OK WE GET IT WOOYOUNG”
grew up in the upper district of Liyutania where it’s renowned for its rich architecture, scholarly institutions and affluent demography. The lower district consists of merchant markets, working-class citizens and where the nationally popular activity of podracing would take place in Drifters Arena
Yeosang is half human, half Suva [database file: rumoured to be descendants from the stars] hence the etherealness he’s inherited from his mother. His hair and skin has a soft glow whenever he’s in direct sun light, has limited ability to self-heal (although it takes up quite a bit of energy to do so) and precognition – both of which are common among Suvas. However Yeosang has yet to gain control over his visions; majority of the time it comes randomly and only shows for the next instant/near-future rather than far future
the days Yeosang wasn’t cooped up reading encyclopaedias on the major comets and constellations of Planet Aipotu, he’d tag along with the family’s cook to the lower districts to help with ingredients shopping
on the contrary to stereotypes for people of his class, Yeosang was brought up in a family who taught about equality rather than status, compassion over ignorance. So mingling with the lower district community was something he actually enjoyed, often finding the residents to be more genuine despite their rustic nature
Old Brax from the local bakery would often treat Yeosang to a hot oshiadilla bun [database file: steamed buns that comes with various floral-infused custard filling] ever since he offered to help the baker package and display the food around the shop
a simple smile, greeting and/or subtle kind gestures were what made Yeosang loveable
the day 10 year old Yeosang experienced his first vision was the same day Wooyoung came stumbling into his life. A confused little Yeo managed to smoothly side-step and grab onto the stranger with lilac hair to stop a potentially painful crash thanks to his foresight
“I like your hair! It’s the colour of clouds at sunset….I’m Yeosang by the way. Kang Yeosang! What’s your name?”
immediately Wooyoung knew this kid was different from the rest of the uppers (slang for the rich ones) and dropped his defences a little more, “name’s Wooyoung and thanks for…”
“just Wooyoung?”
Yeosang learnt at a young age just how privileged he really is, and his brows furrowed at thought of how lonely it must’ve been for Wooyoung – what youngling would want to return to an empty house at each day’s end?
first he split half his oshiadilla bun to share, before changing up young Wooyoung’s routine in a more pleasant way by making sure he’s surrounded by laughter and good company that night
the Kangs pretty much find themselves having a new addition to the family, the first time Yeosang saw Wooyoung drop his tough exterior was when his mother fitted Woo in his new school uniform and embraced him as if he was her own child
where Yeosang excelled in, was his studies (because the boy genuinely enjoyed learning) whilst Wooyoung gave it his best, though his intelligence comes in a different form
has always loved astronomy and reading since young, which his parents were supportive of and provided the means for him to continue studying at the top institutes for his doctorate
is well versed with 8 different languages and specialised in deciphering scripts as well as star charts/maps by the time he graduated
being a model student Yeo has a sophisticated disposition with underlying quick-wittedness. He once broke character to deck a classmate with a book and even went as far to throw hands for verbally humiliating and splashing dirty water on Wooyoung in the eating hall. Wooyoung had to hold him back before the Headmistress came storming in to break up the fight
his parents gave him a stern talking but they understood his intentions, Yeosang’s mother in particular was just as protective of her adopted son
nowadays if Yeosang had to attack it’d be through his colourful vocabulary because, “my jawline isn’t the only thing that can cut a bitch”
he did learn some hand-to-hand combat from San and Wooyoung had taught the basics of shooting a beam pistol – for extra precaution of course
became The Perihelion’s official navigator after the crew met him at one of Wooyoung’s racing days
long story short: miscommunication occurred with a local merchant so cue Yeosang to the rescue – majority of the crew gawking at this angel – fluently translating to the correct dialect and civilly explaining to the hot-headed merchant that what they meant was “how much?” and not “shit fraud”
he knew exactly the item they were after (thanks to an impromptu vision again) which caused Hongjoong to be shook, San was mildly impressed and the rest of the crew were just confused
“do you think he can read minds?”, “hush! He’s right there…..though that’d be cool if he could”
“no offence but you might want to work on your intergalactic translations first before trying to translate charts,” and here they all thought that San’s gaze was piercing, Yeosang might as well have shot arrows through them
Yeosang was totally lowkey judging
as thanks Hongjoong invited Yeo along for lunch, classic enthusiastic Mingi picked the boy up before anyone else could say anything and started to walk off in search of food
Seonghwa tried to get him to put Yeosang down because he was 90% sure that the half-Suva was close to using the good ol’ knee-them-in-the-balls, plus the rest of the public were starting to stare
“HEY! What in Andromeda’s name are you doing with my best friend?!” a wild sweaty, sleeves already rolled up Wooyoung appeared
thankfully with space dad’s & mum’s intervention, things didn’t get too out of hand (save for Wooyoung nearly butting heads with both San & Mingi) and by the time the twin suns were setting everyone was sharing drinks at the local Tav
after Yeosang casually enquired Hongjoong’s crew about their intentions for needing the map to Parilles [database file: a minor planet long forgotten in the current’s solar system], there was a moment of silence before a barrage of “HOW DO- YOU CAN READ THIS SCRIPT???”
later on Yeosang would break the news to his family that both him and Wooyoung got invited to ‘an expedition’ which they accepted, “just so I can finally make use of this piece of parchment that I only spent a quarter of my life studying for.” Both of them promising their parents to write whenever they can and visit annually at least
grew to become Seonghwa’s favourite child, sometimes helping the actual doctor with his work (or care for plant children). Refused to leave his side when the newly-awoken cyborg was in recovery, “there’s just something in my eyes and no I DON’T need tissues” followed by not so subtle sniffles
the navigator’s office is nothing less than regal (contrasting the rest of the ship’s organised mess) with shelves of books, pin boards, dangling starcatchers and a solid cherry oak desk in the middle where Yeosang would be busily scribbling notes with ink & quill on the array of charts he’s got splayed out as his little Yunhogizer flits around. Somewhere in there is also a secret compartment filled with emergency sweet treats too
currently is dealing with sulky Wooyoung and Mingi because he blocked them on the companion bot’s messenger after that whole spicy photos fiasco that he’s so sure has permanently scarred his otherwise perfect eyesight; “be gone you ferals, and repent for your sins! By the way, I’m revoking bro privileges Wooyoung”
(moodboard made with love, by @s1ardusk ♡)
#ateez headcanons#atzinc#ateez scenarios#ateez au#ateez imagines#pirate ateez#pirate ateez au#ateez blurbs#kang yeosang#ateez yeosang#Perihelion Crew#ateez fic#ateez writing#pyx writes
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R.O.S.E-6: The Personal Recordings of Dr Shell.
A marvel like R.O.S.E-6 doesn’t come naturally. It takes time, work, and failed attempts. Dr Shell documented all of them.
warning: mentions of miscarriage (nothing explicit)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“This is Dr Victoria Shell, lead scientist on the R.O.S.E project.” Victoria talked into her recorder as she looked over the blueprints laid before her, all the notes given to her at the ready and an ample supply of material she could turn into this proposed android. “I have compiled all of Dr Polendina’s and Dr Watts’s notes on aura and prosthetic construction in order to streamline the process. Summer Rose agreed to donate a sample of her genetic material, which we will be attempting to infuse into this creation in order to access the Silverlight Mrs Rose can produce.”
She set her recorder to the side, rolling on her gloves. “Let’s begin.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No one was expecting immediate results with this. However, Victoria held herself to higher standards then the rest of the scientific cohort she had to put up with.
“Damn it all,” she scowled, jotting down a note to add exhaust vents for heat, and anything she could think of to aid the robot in successfully hosting an aura. This was the first one that managed to have even a partial transfer of aura, but even then...
“Attempt 1 of bonding aura to R.O.S.E-1 failed entirely.” She found her fire extinguisher, turning it on the lump of burning metal and synthetic skin. “Memo to me, investigate into aura-friendly materials for the next bot.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The second time was more promising. This time, the android opened its eyes.
Once she had determined that sensory processing and motor functions were in place, she allowed General Ironwood and his chosen carer for the bot to enter. “Alright. Preliminary testing seems to be running smoothly. The aura hasn’t been rejected yet, but we’ll be keeping an eye on the subject to make sure. If you want to try conversing, you’re free to. It responds to audiovisual stimuli.” If she didn’t know better she’d say the thing was curious.
Xiao Long strode by, moving to sit down on the chair beside the laboratory table, the android sitting with perfect posture and straight legs, the entire skeleton made of silver and black metal. Glowing pink lines of energy wove throughout the internal circuitry, pulsing gently with each blink of silver eyes.
Those same eyes focused intently on Xiao Long as he sat down, the robot blinking at him inquisitively, but without any fear. Of course there was no fear. It wasn’t real enough for complex emotions like that.
“Hi,” Xiao Long talked to it, resting his hand on the lab table. “Welcome to the world, Ruby.”
Victoria raised a brow and glanced at General Ironwood. “‘Ruby’?”
Ironwood smiled, a touch of grief in his eyes. “They would have called their daughter Ruby.”
“That’s not what I was asking.” Why were they naming it? It was a tool, a weapon- ah. Right. The famed Huntsman tradition of named weaponry. That made sense. “But I understand.” If Xiao Long wanted to name a weapon after a miscarried foetus then he was welcome to. Victoria was going to do her job.
The robot surprised her, however, the voicebox crackling to life in its throat. “... uuu-beee?”
Xiao Long’s face lit up. “Yes! That’s right, you’re Ruby.” He grabbed its metal hand, carefully. “I’m your dad. It’s great to meet you.”
“Voicebox seems to work well,” Victoria noted. “Appears to be able to roughly mimic other sounds.”
“She’s learning,” Ironwood sounded awed. “Dr Shell, this is incredible! She’s incredible.” His grin broadened. “A protector with a soul. Can you imagine it?”
She raised a brow. A soul? Technically, she supposed. “Don’t get too attached, sir. It’s still in the prototype stages.” Still, she allowed herself some satisfaction as her creation tried to mimic Xiao Long’s hand gestures as he held up a hand, placing its other palm against his and badly copying a smile as it managed the simple task.
So it could learn. That would be useful in the future.
But the future came too quickly. Soon enough, the ambulatory functions and speech patterns began to shut down, the robot’s eyes going vacant more and more often as the pink lines of energy that wove through its circuitry began to flicker and die, like an aura quickly approaching breakage levels.
One day, after speech had slowed to near-incomprehensible levels, and the robot had been unable to do anything more than blink, the light in those lines was gone. Xiao Long sobbed beside the laboratory table, until Victoria was able to find Ironwood and get him to shoo the other man out.
She truly didn’t get the fuss, it wasn’t like the robot could die. That was something living things did. Besides, this was an opportunity to rebuild, better than before. Now that she knew this was possible, she could improve.
She flicked on her recorder, speaking into it as she looked upon the empty shell of new potential, Xiao Long’s tears having left small droplets on the lab table. “R.O.S.E-2 showed promise, but the aura was unable to remain stabilised without a living host. However, this shows that we are getting closer to a more suitable recipient vessel.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Attempt three was damn near perfect. She’d managed to make synthetic skin to cover the skull, all the way down to the shoulders, after a note had come back from some of the other scientists about how the bare metallic skeleton had looked creepy.
It seemed to work, apparently. Xiao Long had even taken to dressing it up.
R.O.S.E-3 lasted a few months, without any of the side effects that had been a hassle with R.O.S.E-2. Xiao Long got to take this one home, and introduce it to his daughter. Ironwood brought it to meet his trio of Ace Operatives, and they all found it impressive.
It was impressive indeed.
It was also completely incapable of being muted. Victoria was definitely going to install a mute button into any further models.
“So then dad and Mr Ironwood took me out into the park, can you believe it?” R.O.S.E-3 babbled incessantly as Victoria opened up the plate on the back of its head, checking to make sure everything was in working order. “I got to see snow, it was so amazing and pretty! They said it’s ‘cold’, do you know what ‘cold’ is, Dr Shell?”
“Yes, cold is a lowered temperature, caused by less kinetic energy in molecules which generates a lower amount of thermal energy.” She replied absently, adjusting a few wires to check the motor reflexes. The robot’s hand spasmed in answer. Good. “Cold tends to be subjective to people, and it’s common for endothermic reactions to feel cold as well.”
“Can I feel what cold is?” The android asked curiously, Victoria slotting the headplate back in and activating her semblance, drawing her fingertip over the boundaries of the seam as Cleave adhered the metal back together, repeating the process with the skin section that she’d cleaved off for access.
“Why would you want to feel that?” Temperature receptors would be so finicky to put in. “You have pressure sensors,” of the same standard as those in prosthetics. “That’s enough.”
“But- I’d love to know what wA R M H U G S F Eel like!” The robot’s voice wavered for a second, the sound converting into square waves as Victoria plugged a wire into the data port that rested in the android’s nape. This was the most important part of every check-up, as it allowed Victoria to download all of the robot’s memory files and back them up. It meant that every rebuild wouldn’t have to involve the drudgery of relearning basic things like walking and talking each time.
“I’ll consider it.” She should also consider weaponry for the next update. After all, the Silverlight was still, unfortunately, dormant. Until the damn bot managed to get that working, ordinary weaponry would have to fill in the slot.
“Really?” R.O.S.E-3 beamed, the alertness in its eyes phasing out for a moment as Victoria checked that the download was finished and unplugged the wire.
“Yes, yes,” she checked her scroll, checking to make sure that the data was being stored on her personal servers. She’d review them later and transfer them into the memory bank drives. “Now get out, you’re done here.”
“Thank you thank you thank you!” The android hopped off the table and hugged her tight, but not enough to injure her.
Victoria stayed stiff as a board, clearing her throat. “What are you doing, R.O.S.E-3?”
“Thank you for considering it. I really really want to know what things feel like.” Those big silvery eyes looked up at her, the android smiling with a simple-minded naivete.
“Stop hugging me,” Victoria ordered.
“Sorry, mother,” it smiled and let go, and Victoria stared at the robot, aghast.
“... What did you call me?” How dare it call her that? Someone had messed up programming a mind into this incarnation, clearly, and she was going to fire them.
“Mother?” The robot tilted its head. “Did I… do something wrong?”
Victoria schooled her expression into something calm and clinical, not wanting to scare the robot and cause a panic. It was still a robot, after all. One being programmed for combat capabilities. She refused to be murdered by her own creation.
“Of course you did, ROSE-3. I’m not your mother, and you shouldn’t see that sort of affection with me.” She affected a concerned expression, knowing that the robot was sensitive to the emotional displays of others. “Is your designated family not showing you the right level of care? I can have you reassigned if you want a proper mother.”
“No- wait!” The robot’s face screwed up in despair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! Don’t take me away from the Xiao Longs! Please? I love them.”
She tutted. “Robots don’t love.”
“But I-” The android floundered, hands curling in fabric of the long sweater they wore, a pastel monstrosity that only Ederne could have given it. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong…”
“I know you didn’t.’ She kept her voice soft, as though she was actually addressing a person. “I’ll allow you to stay with them, but you need to keep quiet about all of this, alright? You don’t want them to know how bad of a mistake you made.”
The robot looked like it was going to cry, which was impossible. Victoria didn’t install anything that could work as tear ducts. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. Now run along. The general wants to see your progress.” Victoria had some calculations to do on that weaponry.
“I- oh. Okay.” The android hopped from foot to foot, and it still looked too much like a robot from the shoulders down. Victoria would rebuild it better next time. Make it look more humanoid. Add hair, maybe. That would definitely help the illusion of realism. After all, it was meant to be perfectly disguised as one of them.
“Run along.” She ordered, watching the robot bolt. Hm. Still clumsy. They’d have to better calibrate the next body with better proprioception. And get rid of this… behavioural quirk that had shown itself.
She waited until the room was clear and fetched her recorder, tucking a strand of black hair back into her bun as she made a note to herself. “R.O.S.E-3 called me ‘mother’ today. Clearly this is a defect in the current programming. I’ll reset it and inform the general that we had another aural shutdown. I refuse to have such a glitch persisting in my work.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Come on, Lieutenant!” The android beamed up at the tall woman, its short black hair falling over its eyes. “I can take it!”
“I don’t know...” First Lieutenant Ederne held her warhammer close, almost protectively. “I mean, Timber’s not exactly light.”
“This is a durability test, Ederne.” Victoria reminded her from the sidelines, Captain Ebi and Second Lieutenant Zeki standing with General Ironwood. “That’s the point.”
“Please, lieutenant?” The android bounced on it’s toes, and Victoria wondered where it learnt to mimic that gesture from. “I know I can do it! Dr Shell made me super tough!”
Victoria smirked in pride. She’d definitely upped the durability of the materials she’d used this time. She was quite happy with this iteration, so far. There hadn’t been another repeat of the ‘mother’ incident, so clearly R.O.S.E-4 had learnt from it’s predecessor’s mistakes, once it woke up.
She didn’t really get why Ironwood ordered her to wipe out the memory files of each failure, but she did it anyway. Besides, it gave her the leeway to go in and alter some of the ‘mother’ incident from the android’s files, just in case anyone else reviewed it. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that Ironwood and Xiao Long and the Ace Operatives were all bizarrely attached to the bot.
She didn’t understand why, but she knew that they preferred it to be treated as though it was actually a person, so she may as well cover her tracks whenever she put the thing in its place for trying to act too human.
She left her warnings in the robot’s personal files instead.
“Come on, Elm, she’s totally got this!” Ebi cheered on.
“I do!” R.O.S.E-4 grinned, giving Ederne double thumbs up. “Nothing else put a dent in me, not any of the bullets or anything!” It gestured at the destroyed training room in answer. They had tossed a lot at it, to test it’s capabilities. It did well. Victoria was quite pleased with how her engineering skills held up.
Ederne still looked uncertain as she hefted her weapon. “Well… okay. If you’re sure?”
“Do it!” R.O.S.E-4 smiled innocently up at her, Ederne’s face marred with her unease as she swung her warhammer up, over, and down.
Metal screamed and broke apart, warped by the force of the blow as all of Victoria’s hard work was destroyed in one swing, leaving a mess of scrap heap on the ground. Motor fluid began to leak out of the destroyed wires, coloured pink with metal dust for better mobility.
Timber clanged on the ground as Ederne dropped it with a gasp, her hands clasping over her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as she fell to her knees, reaching for the damaged prototype and cradling it gently in her massive arms.
“No-!” Ebi was the first one to speak, but Zeki was the first one to move, crossing the room in long strides to place a hand upon Ederne’s shoulder, kneeling beside her as she stared at the broken mess in her hands.
Victoria realised what had happened to her creation and scowled. “Damn, that’s going to be a bitch to rebuild.” Still, every break meant a new chance to improve, so she couldn’t help but relish each destruction of her prototype, every chance to make something better of the faulty product.
Ederne flinched, her breath hitching as tears began to roll down her cheeks. Ebi huddled next to her, on the other side to Zeki, talking in low tones. “Elm, you need to let go. It’s going to be okay. She’s going to be fine. Just- let go of the body, Elm-”
Victoria noticed with some disbelief that the second-best operative in Atlas was beginning to tremble.
Honestly, some people. Ederne should get over herself.
General Ironwood finally found his voice. “Dr Shell- if you could go to your lab? We’ll bring Ruby in soon.”
Victoria nodded and walked past her failed creation, already dreaming up new improvements. She walked down the hall, her lab coat swishing around her as she pulled her recorder from her pocket and made another note. “R.O.S.E-4 wasn’t durable enough. Next time I’ll use a tougher alloy for the outer shell.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next time she got her project brought into her lab for repairs, the bot was in even worse state than when Elm had crushed it.
“What happened here?” She scowled at the ace operative, not recognising the face. Must have been the new recruit. Something Bree. Started with a H. Heidi? Holly? Something like that.
“Grimm, Doc.” Helen answered, looking very put out. “There were more than our intel said. She got split off from us. We couldn’t get to her in time.”
“I see.” She surveyed the damage. She’d be better off just scrapping it entirely and starting over. R.O.S.E-5 was in literal pieces. “Alright, thank you, Hayley. I’ll get started now.”
“It’s Harriet, actually-” The ace operative rared up like she wanted to fight.
“Yes, yes, now if you’ll excuse me?” She waved her off. “I have work to do.”
Hattie glared at her for a moment, before she was gone in a blur of gold lightning.
Victoria locked the door behind her, a very prominent section of her ebony hair streaked white, the stripe running through her bun as well. She adjusted her glasses and fetched her monitor, as usual, locating the android’s core and plugging it in so she could start the memory extraction. “R.O.S.E-5 was recovered from the field. Beginning reconstruction.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She thought her work was over. That the project she’d put literal years of her life into was gone forever, when Beacon fell. Her project had been destroyed in full view of everyone, tarnishing her name as a scientist and an engineer.
She was certain she’d lose her job for it. At the very least, she’d have nothing to do for a while, until she got assigned to a team headed by a different scientist.
She’d probably resign if that was the case. She refused to follow another’s lead when she’d spent so long blazing her own path. She had built a machine that would save the world, and it got utterly destroyed by a child in a death match. How humiliating.
She’d told Ironwood that R.O.S.E-6 was designed to kill Grimm. Damn him for insisting.
It came as a pleasant surprise when she got the message on her scroll, walking into her lab to see her creation laid out on a lab table, ready and waiting for her.
She smirked, flicking on her recorder. “The Vytal Tournament was a failure. Luckily, we have recovered R.O.S.E-6’s core.” She set the recorder aside and grabbed a blowtorch. “Let’s start over.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Silver eyes blinked open, and Victoria stretched, unplugging the wire from the port on the back of the robot’s neck. “Welcome back, R.O.S.E-7. How does it feel to be better than ever?”
#ROSE 6#rwby#ruby rose#elm ederne#james Ironwood#my writings#anyone who can guess Victoria's allusion earns an internet cookie
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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 28 of 83 : World of Sea
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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT
Part 28 of 83
by
De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)
140406 words
copyright 2020
written 2007
All rights reserved.
Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.
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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users
Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.
All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.
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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here
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Chapter 8a: Exile’s End
Silor trimmed the sail of the boat given him by the fleet and tied the rudder. As long as the wind held reasonably steady, he would continue to head west. He stretched out on the bunk and brooded.
It makes no sense. She had me. No ship would take me in. At the gatherings end, I would have been drowned. Sarfin told me that she was behind this boat and supplies. That can’t be right! … Unless she isn’t done with me! What kind of plot does that white-haired witch brat have for me? Should I turn about and try for the Daroff fleet instead of going to the Pallant fleet?
He drifted off into a nap before he came to any conclusion. It was evening when he awoke. The boat was rocking briskly along, taking the waves quite differently than a big ship would. He was still headed west, his course only a few degrees off the sky glow left by the setting sun on high, scattered clouds. Hunger nibbled like a small fish stealing the bait from a hook.
Silor rummaged the lockers and neatly packed supplies. Most of what he found needed cooking and it was too late to set up the solar cooker. There were a few things that were ready to eat, packed where he would be sure to find them. In the package he found a note. It took a bit of work with a bow-drill fire maker to get a candle-lantern lit.
By its light he saw written in a bold hand,
Silor, Lad:
Do not despair. You have friends coming to your aid. The power of the witch does not run through the entire fleet. The more who work together against her the better our chances of freeing the fleet from her grip. Light your lanterns and keep a watch to the southeast. Do not shorten sail or alter course or we may miss you. We are coming.
Your friend, Barad, Captain of the Grandalor.
In some fear that he may already have missed them, Silor lit his other candle lanterns and set them about the boat. He ran one up to the mast-head and began to watch to the southeast.
The moons were getting low when he spied a single spark on the horizon. The light blinked in threes. He returned the blinks on one of his lanterns. The spark blinked in return … just once, then went out.
Shortly, he heard a hailing drum signaling ‘heave to’. He did, stowing lines neatly, out of habit. The dark bulk of the Grandalor, running without visible lights of any kind, blotted out the setting moons. Lines were heaved and secured.
Silor was a born deck-hand, otherwise known as a rigging-rat (though what a rat might be, none knew), and did not wait for a ladder. He was up the swaying line to the deck in a moment. A dark-lantern was uncovered, shining full on him and revealing little of its holder.
“Come wit’ m’,” said a feminine voice. The woman led the way aft and down a companion-way. At the foot of the ladder was a clean, tidy, lighted corridor with sliding doors. One was open a crack. His companion and guide put out her lantern, opening the door on the lantern’s back and neatly snuffing the wick between her fingers. Placing it on a shelf, she straightened and Silor saw her medium brown hair with its complex braid and fall.
He recognized her at once, both from the descriptions and gossip that had been flying about the Gathering and from glimpses got while watching the feast that he had not attended. Before he could speak she held her right hand to her lips and put the left on the hilt of her knife.
“Shoosh, lad,” she whispered. “Oi need t’ know wye ye wadnae come t’ our wedding-feast. Oi did spy ye near. ‘Ave ye ‘ate for us?”
While he was still unsnarling the tangled net of her Arrakan accent, she moved. Her foot behind his knee, a sudden shove and he was on the deck, a knife at his throat.
“No! No! It was the witch! You were sitting next to her! I was afraid to go in for fear that she would do worse to me than she already had!”
Her brow wrinkled in thought but at least she pulled back the knife. “T’e wicken? T’e w’ite ‘aired girl?” Kurin a witch? Can he really believe such idiocy? Barad did say that he was seriously beached on dry land.
A cabin door opened and Captain Barad emerged. Saying with concern, “What’s happened, my dear? Did you stumble? Was Doctor Corin wrong to take you off the invalid list?”
“Nae, m’ ‘eart. Oi but asked a quest’n. ‘E’s answered ‘t.”
She stood, letting her knife dangle casually in her left hand, ready for instant use.
Barad grinned at the little tableau for a moment admiring the combat skill that he had just seen through the slightly opened door. You still surprise me, my Love. I saw that bit. When did you learn Arrakan Jitsu? Your mother must have taught it to you. He held the door wide and said, “Come in, Silor, and you too, Lady Tanlin. We have much to discuss.” He shut the door behind them.
Barad waived Silor to a comfortable chair and took one himself. “Will you sit, Tanlin? We are not Captain, Captain’s wife and a crewman. For now, we must be three friends with a common interest and goal.
Tanlin sat reluctantly, giving Silor a dark glance.
“Oi dinnae trust ‘im. Tis nae t’ late t’ send ‘im bock t’ sea.”
“My Dear,” said Barad mildly, “we went to much trouble to get this young man for our cause. Without taking the trouble to find if he can help us, it would make little sense to send him away.”
“Ye’re right, o’ course, Oi’m t’inkin’ wit’ m’ feelings, nae for t’e good o’ m’ ship. Oi‘ll put t’e safety o’ t’e ship forst.”
“Silor, do you know how you offended Tanlin?”
Hesitantly he answered, “Is it because I didn’t go to your wedding feast?”
Tanlin waived a hand toward Silor and said earnestly to Barad, “Luve, tis m’ custom t’at’s involved. Oi should explain.”
She turned to face Silor squarely. “In t’e Arrakan fleet t’ere are twa kinds o’ reason t’ miss a wedding feast. T’ey are bot’ ‘onorable. If ye are detained by illness, duty, or distance is ane reason. Such folk usually try t’ send word or congratulations. Tis a gaffe nae t’. T’e ot’er does as ye did, an’ ‘angs about near t’e feast, t’ be openly seen as nae goin’. T’ey’re ‘onestly statin’ dislike or worse. T’at’s wye Oi worried about bringin’ ye on t’ our ship.”
Silor cast his eyes down and slumped. “If I had known your custom I would have sent you my words of congratulation publicly. Captain Barad has known me for five Gatherings and even offered me a berth on the Grandalor for the last two Gatherings. He knows that I meant you no offense.” He raised his eyes and looked directly into hers. “I can only say that I am sorry.”
“So tell m’, ‘elp m’ t’ understand wye ye stayed away like an enemy.”
“It was fear. Not of you. Nor of you either, Captain. It was the other one there with you. The Dragon-witch.”
Tanlin leaned back in her chair and laughed. Not at all what either Silor or Barad had expected. “‘Er! A young girl o’ twel’, maybe t’irteen Gat’erings? A Dragon-wicken!” She wiped an eye and looked at her husband. The solemn look he gave back silenced her. “Ye really mean t’is, donnae ye, Luve?”
Barad nodded. “Most Dragon-witches are frauds. They have some small slight of hand or other trick that they use to overawe people. They always let it be known ‘what they are’, usually to a few at first. Then, when rumor has grown enough, they declare themselves and rule by fear until exposed.”
“So ‘oo ‘as she confided in? Oi saw nae sign o’ fear in any but ‘im.” She pointed at Silor.
Solemnly Barad said, “Most Dragon-witches are frauds. This girl is one of the rare exceptions. You may ask anyone. She spent most of a Gathering learning from the wisest and most dangerous of the Great Sea Dragons, Blind Mecat herself. She has very subtly insinuated herself into the very fabric of the fleet.
“She has no need of fear. Adult Captains and Masters treat her as an equal. I doubt that she will ever try to rule the fleet or all of those in it. She has the power to silently govern those who do rule. It is always done with debate and differences of opinion but in the end she has her way. She is insidious.
“Kurin became the youngest apprentice in the fleet. Two Gatherings faster than is normal, she became the youngest journeyman in fleet history. She remains unseen, hidden by being out in the open.
“Ask Silor. He has lived with her nearly all of his life. He knows.”
“Oi find t’is ‘ard t’ believe. Oi’m sure t’at ye understand, Silor,” Tanlin said skeptically. “Tell m’ t’e way o’ ‘t from t’e start. Ye ‘ave convinced m’ ‘usband an’ luve but ye ‘ave nae convinced m’. If ye donnae, ‘e ‘as agreed t’ put ye bock into yer boat an’ let ye take yer chances wit’ t’e Pallant fleet.” Privately she thought, What a cargo of dung! Play hard to convince, you told me, Barad. I will for you. You know that he’s crazy. You told me so yourself. That’s what makes him our tool, you said. A broken shell has sharper edges to cut with than a whole one… I wish that I knew what your plan is.
TO BE CONTINUED
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The Miys, Ch. 66
I am happy to report that this chapter has been beta’d, by @satan-parisienne. They didn’t tell me about any content I should tag, but if I missed something, please let me know.
Happy Thanksgiving Week to all my U.S. readers! Because of the holiday, I’ll have family in town, so there will not be an update next week on the 3rd. Regular updates should resume on Dec. 10th, so keep your eyes peeled.
When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was how tired I was. “How does that work,” I groaned as rubbed my throbbing head. “I was asleep for hours. Why am I exhausted?”
“You were lucid when you were supposed to be resting,” Grey answered as they came over to check my vitals and unhook the equipment from my little trip.
Tyche gave a grudging nod as she held a straw to my mouth. I drank gratefully, and grimaced. Whatever I was drinking tasted like electrolyte drink and medication. “Did you catch everything?”
Grey, my sister, and Antoine glanced at each other. Before they could say anything, a buzzing voice cut in. “There are gaps in the recording on your end, which were not unexpected. The implants are not designed to broadcast outside of your auditory processing center, and I can only perceive vague intentions.”
On my opposite side, I heard the sound of chairs clattering across the floor and my berth sank as two rather heavy people used it to push themselves to their feet. A string of curses in Japanese filled the air just before a thick, Irish accent boomed out. “She just let you drug her for ten hours so she could question a talking germ. While she is being constantly having her blood filtered to replace her hemoglobin so the same thing you want her to have a chat with doesn’t kill her. She is sick, she is dehydrated, she is exhausted. Your questions need to wait. She needs to sleep first.”
I held up a hand on that side without so much as glancing over, trusting that Conor would lean down so I could reach his face. When I felt a beard press against my palm, I stroked his cheek with my thumb. “Baby, they’re right. It’s fresh right now. People only tend to remember information for forty-eight hours without repetition. So, it can’t wait, unfortunately.” I finally turned my head and looked up.
Conor had not only pressed his cheek to my hand, he craned his head down so I could see his face easily. Tears filled his eyes, threatening to spill over. “Sophie. I know I’ve been an ass, but this is the second time you have been close to dying in less than so many years. And there is nothing I can do to protect you on this one…”
I tugged him down so I could hug him. “You’re sick, too. We all are. But answering questions isn’t going to threaten my life. I promise I will sleep after this.” I leaned as far as I could around him so I could see the scowling face of Maverick behind him. “You hear that? Sleep. Lots of sleep. After I fill in the gaps, I’ll sleep.”
Maverick turned one baleful, dark eye toward me. He considered me solemnly before nodding “I’ll accept that deal.” He stepped forward, coming to stand next to Conor. “Sophia, we just want to make sure you take care of yourself.”
I nodded. “I know. But sometimes, it comes down to taking care of myself, or letting myself suffer just a bit so that I can take care of everyone else.” Smiling ruefully, I reached for Maverick’s hand. “But that is a huge part of me. It isn’t going to stop. You both need to know that. If you want to talk about it, we can do it after I fill in these gaps and get some sleep.” Once they nodded in confirmation, I turned back to the medical team plus Tyche. “Let’s do this. What do I need to fill in? Point me at your gaps.”
Noah waved with one vomu. “Most importantly, where did Else come from?”
My stomach sank. “Right to the tough stuff.” I swallowed thickly and resisted the urge to look at anyone except Noah. “They said that we, humans, accidentally made them. Here. On the Ark.”
Every voice in the room rose, all at once. I rolled my eyes and covered my ears, noticing that Tyche had done the same. Sure enough, a high-pitched whine filled the room. Judging by the sight of Grey and Antoine hitting their knees and the vibrations coming from the other side of my berth, Noah had employed their own special brand of crowd control. Once the whine stopped, I lowered my hands and Noah gestured that I should continue.
Clearing my throat, I obliged. “Else is… childlike, almost. They don’t mean to hurt anyone. They know us. They… like….us. Like, a lot. They were so, so sorry about what happened to Nixe.”
“You said we made them,” Grey exhaled, trying to get everything back on track.
“By accident. Yes.”
“Did they know how it happened?”
Now I knew why Else had gotten so short with me. “I only know how I was conceived because I was told by someone who was there, Grey. Why do we expect Else to know any differently?”
They nodded, somewhat curtly, to indicate their concession to that point. “If we can determine out how it was created, we can extrapolate how to combat it.”
“That makes sen – wait. What do you mean, ‘combat’ it?”
“Else is a bacterium, specifically one that has infected the humans on the ship and can kill us if left unchecked. By definition, it is a plague.”
Tyche’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she whirled around to face the head researcher. “You mean antibiotics. As in, killing it.”
“Of course.” The tone was confused, as though this was the obvious solution. Being that they were the closest we had to a head of medicine, I suppose the solution did seem obvious. Except one critical piece of information…
Quickly, I flicked open my datapad. “Sophia Reid to Xiomara Kalloe. Xio, are you able to come down to my medbay? I need you, right now.”
“Ten minutes out. Do you need me to send Miys ahead of me?”
“Noah is already here, and there is no immediate threat.” Not to me, anyway. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.” Dismissing the screen, I looked back up at my friend and fellow Councilor already in the room. “Grey, it’s not that simple. Else is sentient. I’m pretty sure. Which means Galactic Law may apply, hence why I asked Xiomara to come.”
They blinked slowly. “The trials.”
“Yep,” I nodded. “She’s been digging into Galactic Law ever since then, to make sure we don’t get caught flat-footed again. If Else is sentient, we have to treat them as people under the law.”
“Couldn’t Noah have told you that?” Maverick chimed in, bewildered.
I shook my head. “Unfortunately not. ‘A similar species, regardless of what point of evolution, cannot make the decision if another species may be sentient.’ It’s to prevent sympathy from overriding logic.”
“Else is a bacterium,” Grey argued.
“With a hive mind.” I gave a pointed look at Noah. “Which means, if they are sentient, they could evolve into something like the Hujylsogox, given time.”
Noah made a gesture of confirmation, sweeping one vomu across its body. That seemed to settle the matter of Xiomara’s involvement, and we all patiently waited for her to arrive.
Finally, she breezed in the door as though her skin wasn’t ashen from illness. Defiantly of any perceived lack of health, she crossed her arms and braced her feet as she looked at us. “So, what’s the emergency? I could be lounging around with all I can drink Gatorade right now.”
Before Grey or I could say anything, Antione held up a hand to stave us off. “Sophia just woke up from her conversation with Else, and we need to know if you are versed in the Galactic Law regarding determination of sentience in a new species.”
Comically, Xiomara slumped slightly, hands dropping and mouth gaping. Almost immediately recovering, she cleared her throat. “I mean, yeah. I’ve gotten that far. It’s fascinating stuff, actually. But why?”
“They can talk.”
“Only with words previously used by you, and they do not retain the information.”
“Because several generations have passed for them! Humans don’t retain language for more than one generation if there is no way to use it or pass it on. You know this!” This argument came from my sister. Tyche was getting as upset as I was, apparently.
“And they re-learn it very quickly,” I tried pointing out.
“So do antique chat bots.”
“Except that Else demonstrates that they know what the words and concepts mean, and can retain internal logic of the conversation.”
“Which makes sense if it is causing you to hallucinate the entire conversation.”
I sent a pleading look at Xiomara, but she only tilted her head from side to side. “Speech isn’t necessarily a criterion, but even if it was, there is no clear determination that Else is capable of intelligent speech. That seems to depend solely on native communication.”
Damn it. I snapped my fingers rapidly, trying to think of a new piece of information, berating myself for getting into this position. Myself. “Self. Else demonstrates a sense of self. One independent of its concept of humans. It… they pled for their lives. They apologized for hurting us, and understood what that meant. Not only that, they corrected me several times on where they came from. Arguing demonstrates the ability to use logic, right?”
“Not necessarily,” Xiomara pointed out. “Conor argues with me all the time.”
“Hey!”
I glared at her. Now was not the time for jokes.
Apologetic, she held up her hands. “On the other side, though, sense of self as a separate identity from others, along with understanding of the concept of death, are criteria for sentience.”
“What are the rest?” I asked, hope flooding my voice.
“Do they have any subjective experiences?” she asked.
“I’m honestly not even sure what that means,” I admitted, close to tears.
“Opinions,” Antione supplied helpfully. “Experiences through their frame of existence and perception that they have opinions about unrelated to survival.”
I bit my lip as I thought. “The showed regret?”
“They also know we can kill them,” Grey argued, not giving up without a fight.
“They showed empathy?”
“So does your cat.”
Xiomara shook her head at Grey’s petulance. “Jury is actually still out on cats, so that’s not as definitive as you would like it to be. But empathy doesn’t count – even among humans, several psychological disorders prevent empathy, but that doesn’t mean those people aren’t sentient.”
“They asked me to stop reciting scientific papers?” I asked in a Hail Mary attempt.
“They had what they needed,” was the suggestion from our self-designated Devil’s Advocate.
“Yes and no,” I said softly, realizing something. “They found it annoying and boring… They also scolded me for using profanity.” Little things I had initially ignored rushed to the forefront of my memory. “They knew Conor only gave the catnip to Tyche because he thought she would like it. They knew Tyche loves me… they knew what that meant. And they actually told me how sick I was, the first time. I didn’t realize it, but they told me my face and hands were injured.”
“That’s what the nightmare was that made you scream?” Tyche demanded.
Nodding vigorously, I clarified. “When I first came to the medical bay, there was moderate cellular damage in my hands, remember? We didn’t think anything of it, because it was so simple to fix. But in the nightmare, my hands were a horror show. I never would have even had them scanned if it wasn’t for that nightmare. And the bruises around my eyes, from the anemia… they mentioned something was wrong with my face.”
“They told you out of self-preservation,” Grey supplied as the subsequent argument, but the staunch faith was wavering at this point.
“They didn’t know we were dying. Not then.” I took a deep breath. “And they make jokes, when I talk to them. When I asked if they were deliberate or accidental, they didn’t just tell me they didn’t know. They made a joke about my parentage. Which means they took offense.”
Xiomara took a deep breath and ran a hand over her hair. “Boredom, annoyance… being offended. Those are definitely opinions, and not related at all to survival.” I held my breath and prayed to any entity that was listening.
“By definition of Galactic Law, Else is sentient. Antibiotics are out.”
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#the miys#humans are weird#original scifi#aliens#sentience#apocalypse#humans are space orcs#earth is space australia#original writing#fiction#series
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Finale / Misc Boxbot and Voxman family Headcanons
First, some assorted ones based off Thank You for Watching the Show:
-Robbie and Sara are totally Boxman's grandkids, and he and PV spoil the shit out of them whenever they visit, but no single one of the gen 1 Boxbots is their parent -- all six contributed to their design, so the gen 2 bots consider them all combination moms/dads and aunts/uncles. Though, Robbie tends to stick closest to Jethro and Raymond (especially Ray, he really looks up to him!), and Sara favors Ernesto and Shannon.
-The two of them really only fight as product tests, or for fun/combat training alongside the plaza crew -- Ernesto couldn't care less about the plaza's existence now that Boxman's gone. They're even friends with the new KO's Bodega employees during their off-hours! Though, whenever their grandpas visit, the two will go right into Serious Mode and try to wreck the place for real, to try and impress them.
-Darrell was the only robot that actually moved out after the finale, the rest all still live at Boxmore, even if they no longer work there. With his business skills, he's already the most successful evil farmer (also, like, the only evil farmer, but whatever) in the Neutral Zone, and his family visits him every other weekend.
-He did get upgraded to a robo-young adult, so he could live on his own, but it's not too noticeable. The only real differences are that he’s just a few inches taller, and now draws with colored pencils as well as crayons.
-He also took in Raymond's pet chickens.
-The bots still frequent the plaza as customers rather than just attackers now, and sometimes hang out with Enid, Rad, the backup Bodega crew, Dendy, and on occasion KO. Raymond designs fashions for Drupe in between his band's practice sessions, and if Mr Logic gets really busy Shannon sends some of her audience members to help him out. And, of course, Mikayla's even got a drink named after her at the cat cafe, which she stops in to order whenever she misses her feline friends (especially Teacup)!
-All those portraits, the Jethro mug, and the kitten model Mikayla that Boxman has in his house were Shucksgiving presents, as was Peej's book. PV knocked on the door right after the kids left from celebrating with him, figuring it would be as good a time as any to finally give him that cake.
-Jethro's actually taken up gardening, and grows flowers around the factory, though they tend to die pretty fast in the windowless hallways. He once tried to use some of Venomous' leftover gear in the labs in order to engineer them to need less sunlight, and the results were...tentacle-y.
-Boxman and Mr Logic are best friends again. ;v; Even if they don't often agree on things, and definitely don't work together anymore, Boxy regularly shows up at Logic's barbershop to get his hair cut and chat, and keeps him in the loop on everything that goes on with the rest of his family.
-When PV and Fink attacked the plaza in their bio-mech suits after returning to Earth, it wasn't actually the bodega employees who defeated them, but Carol, who pretty much just took one look out the window at the fight, said "Oh HECK no," and MESSED HIM UP. Fink stayed at Boxmore while he recovered in the hospital!
And now, some older, slightly weirder heacanons that I never really bothered to post:
-Doctor Weakpoint and Lord Boxman are mother and son. As in, yes, this person right here:
is the kinda-joke villain who kept sending robots to destroy POINT, even after some of its original members left. I also really like @the-golden-ghost's theory about Boxy being an ex-minion, so I think a lot of the other villains' disdain for him comes not just from him being a joke villain, but also a former HENCHMAN to a joke villain. Plus, she was probably very busy coming up with plans to destroy POINT every single day (and rebuilding Steamborg after he got trashed), hence Boxy taking himself go-karting for each of his birthdays, and eventually leaving to become a more serious villain on his own.
-He still calls her sometimes, and leaves lots of voicemail about how things are going at Boxmore, but she never answers or calls him back. ;-; She does send the kids birthday cards and candy, though, and they love their grandma a lot even if they've never been able to meet her.
-Fink did go to KO's school, like in the episode we were supposed to get. But she was in class 6-11B, rather than 6-11A like KO and Dendy, and they just never ran into her.
-Kinda dark one, if he gets hungry enough, Darrell has no problem with trying to hunt down and eat other robots, particularly his own clones (since it's not like there's ever a shortage of him around, plus their brains are extra tasty). Don't let him skip a meal, ever, and if you do...keep an eye on the vents.
-The entrance to Shadowy Figure's lair in Professor Venomous' house was literally just kept hidden under a rug. He also sometimes accidentally left glorbs or his scarf around the house, since sometimes he would lose control and start to shift back to PV unexpectedly. The only reason PV never noticed is because he's just THAT MUCH of a dumbass sometimes.
-I see that the fandom's caught on to the idea of Laserblast having a crush on Boxman long before even becoming a villain, and I LOVE it, but I raise you this: Boxman had a huge crush on Laserblast as well when he was first starting out with villainy. Attacking POINT with that junkfish cake may or may not have been one of his many excuses to see Laser again, and he even got some inspiration to work on laser weapons for his own creations from him.
-Boxman already knew who PV was LONG before the man finally decided to tell him about his backstory, because of this.
-Alternatively, the reason Boxy became a supervillain and tried to attack POINT in the first place? Because Laserblast snubbed him for a date, solely due to the whole "heroes shouldn't date villains" thing.
-Mikayla’s head literally was prototyped using one of Boxman’s old guitars. He doesn’t know how to play, like his sons, he just owned it to look cool.
-There was a short period of time, like three-four months, between Boxmore's completion and Lakewood Plaza Turbo's construction, in which Lad Boxman and Mr Logic actually did attack POINT and do petty villainy, in addition to their new manufacturing jobs. Logic was the brains, coming up with lots of schemes and handling all the logistics, and Boxman was the brawn, putting together new robots to fit their needs and carrying out the actual operations. Needless to say, NONE of their efforts were successful, or even memorable, as they were pretty easily outclassed by other, more established villains.
-Jethro's arms and legs have been there from the beginning, and were supposed to be for an upgrade that Boxman never actually implemented. He just didn't give enough of a shit to ever remove them from production.
-Leggy Jethro is his real mind, and is what runs underneath the more basic programming in the rest of his hivemind. He just never had the ability to actually come out and express himself, without the extra glorbs' energy. The other Jethros know they're him deep down but aren't able to fully understand why they feel...different. Not themselves. Hence, why they keep trying to assure themselves and others that they ARE Jethro...
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Enemies to Lovers. Right?
The gates open as the buzzer goes off notifying people that the exam has started.
You run towards the nearest robot and back handspring onto its circuit’s, holding on as it starts spinning uncontrollably.
Ripping out the panel, you start removing the circuit’s.
You continue doing this when the ground shakes from a loud explosion and someone starts screaming.
“DIE! DIE! DIE!”
You run towards the screaming and explosion knowing who it is when you spot a group of 2 pointers heading towards someone in the same direction you were going.
You jump onto one grabbing its robot head and swinging your feet to the other one making them collide and explode.
“Hey those were my poin- You!” you look up at an infuriated Bakugo.
Your eyes meet but you look away giving him none of your time and continue looking for more bots.
“HEY, I’M TALKING TO YOU!”
Rolling your eyes, you keep looking when you spot someone stuck between two rocks and a zero-robot going for her.
You run to her, hoping to get there in time to save her.
When you reach her, a green haired boy does too.
“Handle the robot, I’ve got her.”
He runs to the robot as you throw her out the way unable to get yourself out the way in time.
He swings you away from the robot as he does the final blow and is falling from the sky.
“Uh-oh.”
By the time, the exam is over, the green haired guy is being taken away to heal his injuries when you feel someone grab your shoulder spinning you around to face them.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” The hothead boy screams in your face.
You scoff at the one and only person this loud in the world, yanking your shoulder from his grasp.
“Shut the fuck up and leave me alone, you’re not my dad or anyone to me for that matter.” And with that you walk away leaving a surprised Bakugo alone on the field.
Two weeks pass when you receive a hologram from All Might saying you made it into U.A.’s Hero Course.
“Yes! Wait till I tell KitKat.” You run towards the front door when you remember that you’re not talking to the brat anymore.
He’ll just have to wait till school starts. Oh, he’ll be so pissed.
The first day of school you make sure to get there early and the only ones in the class are the green haired dude and a guy with half red and half white hair.
You walk to the green haired dude to get to know him.
“Hi, I’m (F/n) (L/n), you’re the boy from last time right?”
He looks up at you from his notebook, surprised someone talked to him, especially a girl.
“Y-yeah, I’m Izuku Midoriya.”
“Thanks for saving me at the exam. I’m at your favor until I can repay you.” You bow down as he becomes a stuttering mess.
“O-oh n-no w-worries, its w-what anyone s-should have d-done.”
You continue talking when the girl that you saved joins you and you learn her name is Ochako Uraraka.
“Deku how did you get in here?!” Your ears perk to the familiar voice and you see poor Izuku with a terrified face trying to answer.
So, he’s Deku?
You stand up and push Bakugo out of Izuku’s face and glare at him.
“What the fuck are you doing here bitch?!” You wince at what he called you but stand your ground.
“Shut your fuck ass up and sit down. And what kind of stupid ass question is that? How do you think he got in, by flying? No. He passed the exam. And I swear to god call me a bitch one more time and it won’t only be me you’ll have to deal with,” you grab his collar and pull him towards you so that you can whisper in his ear for only him to hear “But I’ll tell Mitsuki.”
He pulls away and you give him your ‘it doesn’t look like it, but I’ll kill you’ smile as he glares at you and sits down.
“Settle down class.”
You hadn’t realized the teach- Wait is that even a teacher?
You look at the big yellow worm like creature in confusion when it opens and the actual teacher steps out.
Mr.Aizawa explains how the classes will be then sends the class to change into their pe uniform so that you can all do a quirk assessment.
“Alright this is just like what you all did in secondary school, except,” The class perk their ears and listen more intently “that you can use your quirk.”
As the class starts talking about how cool that is, you stand silently and slightly bummed.
With my quirk everyone has an advantage against me.
Maybe Bakugo was right… no. nope. I will not let this stop me from being a hero.
“The one with the lowest score will suffer the consequences of expulsion.”
What?!
Oh no oh no oh no. It’s the first day and I just might be my last.
Determined to not get expelled, the assessment begins after Bakugo throws the ball.
For the ball throw you only throw it 87 meters and the class begins wondering if you even have a quirk.
Everyone except Bakugo of course.
You feel slightly better for the more physical ones like the sit ups, seated toe touch, and the long-distance run.
Not so much the long distance run when you see Bakugo using his explosions to boost him ahead.
While running you never gave up, and you weren’t alone since Izuku was behind you by a hair.
You had to admit that he was fast because you usually beat people in races.
Without involving quirks of course.
He kept going ahead of you but not even a second later you would be ahead.
Luckily for you he got tired out and you still had all your stamina.
And that is why you shouldn’t run full speed from the start.
You smile to yourself when you cross the finish line and give Izuku a hug.
“Good job Izu.”
“Th-thanks… (N/n).” You smile at the nickname he gave you but don’t notice the angry Bakugo who heard and saw what happened between you two.
Why did she hug him? He fucking came in last! And what the fuck did he call her?! Fucking normie thinks he ca- Wait. Why do I care? No, I don’t care.
After all the tests you manage not to come in last in the Sit Ups or toe touches along with push ups since you did lots of physical training knowing your quirk wouldn’t do well in combat.
You think of how proud your parents would be if they actually cared about you.
Immediately regretting the thoughts, you stand with the rest of the class as Mr.Aizawa pulls up the scores.
What…? I… I got 17th place and not last? Yes!
You smile really proud of yourself but then notice your friend, Izuku got last place.
You hear a snicker come from behind you and see a smirking Katsuki looking down at the shaking Izuku’s body.
You roll you eyes and squeeze Izuku’s hand reassuringly.
Katsuki, not liking what’s going on though not knowing why he doesn’t, pushes in between the two of you angrily causing you to let go.
You glare up at the back of Katsuki’s head as Izuku smiles thankfully to you.
“By the way I was just kidding about the expulsion.”
“What?!” the whole class says in unison.
*
*
*
After school Bakugo grabs Izuku by the collar when everyone leaves the class.
“Stay away from (Y/n) you fucking bitch.”
Izuku winces at the cursing but wonders why Kaachan would care whether or not he hung out with (Y/n).
“B-b-but, (Y/n) is my f-friend.”
Bakugo puts him down roughly and gets all in his face.
“Well now you’re fucking not!”
“W-why?”
“BECAUSE I SAID SO DEKU!”
“N-no, I mean why d-do you care?”
Izuku covers his face, ready for Bakugo to punch him, or something but after a moment of silence he looks up at Bakugo’s confused face.
Why do I care? Bakugo thinks to himself.
“K-Kaachan?”
Getting pulled out of his thoughts, Bakugo grabs his stuff and walks out the class without a word and looking in a hurry.
“What was that?” Izuku asks himself while fixing his collar, yet again.
*
*
*
You’re at the gates to your apartment that you rented out to get away from your family when you hear someone calling your name.
The landlady has known you since you first met Bakugo since she sometimes volunteered at your school and she knows about your problem with your parents, so she offered you the cheapest apartment.
You look back to see who it was calling your name you see Katsuki running towards you.
What now? You think slightly annoyed but mostly mad at yourself for ever thinking something could happen between the two of you.
“Nerdette.”
You roll your eyes at him and cross your arms impatiently.
“What do you want Katsuki?”
You watch as he furrows his eyebrows thinking and also confused with himself.
He quickly covers up his confusion and gives you a non-caring look as he shrugs his shoulders.
“So, you, ran all the way from school for… no reason?” You try not to laugh but it doesn’t work and Katsuki gives you an annoyed.
You miss the slight twitch of his lips as you start walking to the building and Katsuki walks by your side.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He ignores you and opens the door holding it open for you, quickly saying to you after you walk in:
“Don’t think you’re special.”
You cover up your smile with an annoyed look, yet slightly surprised he would open the door for you.
He’s still walking with you by the time you reach the elevator to go to you floor.
You walk in and so does he.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Running from school just to fucking see her? Then opening the fucking door for her?!
Katsuki keeps arguing with himself in his head when you reach your floor and he mindlessly walks you to your door.
You stand facing him in front of your door, him being a little too close and you having to really look up to look at his face.
“Well,” you start unsurely, “this is my stop. Bye?”
He finally looks down at you and just looks at you with a blank look.
What are you doing to me (Y/n)?
He thinks to himself and about what he did for you like opening the door and the whole getting pissed about Deku being with you and just everything he’s felt towards you after that day that he yelled at you for going to the entrance exam.
He leans down for him to see your face better and puts a hand by your head on the door to not fall.
Your cheeks redden at the close proximity as you avoid eye contact.
��With his other hand he grabs your chin softly and makes you look at him.
You’re stunned by the caring look in his eyes when he slowly leans into your face.
“K-Katsuki?” you say so low that he only barely heard.
He ignores you as he tilts his head slightly.
BAM!
You both jump back from each other when your neighbor slash landlady slams her door open and walks into the hallway saying hi loudly to you.
“O-oh, hi Maria.”
You smile nervously at her when she realizes the flustered Katsuki looking away from you trying to hide his face by scratching his head.
Maria, finally realizing what she interrupted, smiles a good-bye to you and walks back into her place.
Katsuki, trying to not let you realize his flustered state says a quick good-bye, not looking your way and walks to the elevator.
What the fuck was that? You both think to yourself walking away.
You rush inside to your place and close the door, freaking out.
“What was all that?”
You think about what he was going to do but only one thing comes to mind.
“Was he going to… kiss me?” You ask yourself.
No that’s impossible.
“Why would he want to kiss me?”
He wouldn’t, that’s why it’s impossible.
You shake your head as if to rid the thoughts from your head and grab your phone dialing Izu’s number that you had gotten today at lunch.
You laugh lightly remembering his flustered mouth full face and how Uraraka almost choked on her water when you casually asked for his number.
“She obviously likes him, and Izu is just a shy mess.” You smile at the thought of your favorite ship when Izuku answers the phone.
“(Y-Y/n)?”
“Hey Izu, are you busy?”
Izuku looks down at his sketch of All Might before answering.
“N-not really.”
“Great, can we meet up?”
You plop down onto the sofa as you talk to your friend.
“Yeah sure, f-for what?”
“Well,” you contemplate on telling him unsure if you should, but you have a feeling that you could trust this Broccoli. “it’s about Katsuki.’’ You finally say.
Izuku remembers the event that happened after school and figures that the reason Kaachan left in a rush was to see her.
“Kaachan? What about h-him?”
“Just meet me at the Café in 20.”
He agrees to your plans as you hang up and get ready.
The two of you meet up and you tell him about the relationship between you and Katsuki, along with the argument you had with him the day before the entrance exam.
After that you finally tell him what happened today.
Izuku being a good listener and thinker comes up with the conclusion that Katsuki likes you, not telling you about what Katsuki did today unsure if you would get mad at him.
“No that’s impossible. Why would he ever like me?”
“Y-You know (N/n), even though I haven’t kn-known you that long you seem like a v-very likeable person.”
“Thanks, and all Izu, but you’ve known Katsuki longer than me, so you should know that just a ‘likeable person’ wouldn’t be enough for him. He deserves the best person out there with a quirk just as strong as his, someone who believes in him and is there for him when he needs them most.”
You sigh looking down at the table knowing Katsuki would never like someone as weak as you.
“But aren’t you that person (N/n)?”
You scoff at the ridiculous statement and shake your head.
“Though I will admit, what I feel for Katsuki is more that a childish crush, I could never be the person for him. We’re just… Enemies.”
You fight back the tears of all the memories of your childhood with him and how it probably meant nothing to him.
“Th-thanks for meeting up with me I-Izu, but I have to g-go now.” You get up quickly walking out and wiping the tears that managed to escape your watery eyes and walk to the one place that ca make you happy.
The rock at the beach where you would sit at with Katsuki as kids.
Finally reaching the beach you can no longer hold back the tears and keep wiping them away as they come out.
Making your way to the rock you scold yourself.
”Why am I so stupid? What was wrong with me to ever think that.. that my KitKat w-would ever-“
You stop talking when you bump into a hard wall- err well more like person that calls your name.
“(Y/n)?” Katsuki asks, then realizes that you’re crying.
You take note about how this is the first time he’s ever said your name but are too sad to even feel good about it.
“What the fuck happened?!”
You look up at him, pouting and teary eyed.
He can’t help but think how cute you look like that.
No Katsuki, stop this bullshit and find whoever’s ass I need to beat for making her cry.
“N-nothing.” You say looking back down and wiping your tears with you sleeve before crying again.
Great, I’m crying about the stupidest thing ever and I just had to do it in front of him.
He probably thinks I’m pathetic.
“Don’t. Fucking lie to me.” He says to you sternly.
You lean into his chest trying to hide your face as he stiffens.
“J-Just give me a m-minute to calm down.”
He does the craziest thing you could possibly think of and surprises you when he wraps his arms around you in a hug.
The warmth you feel from his body somehow calms you and you manage to stop the tears from leaving your eyes.
You sigh before pulling away, not to Katsuki’s liking since all he wants to do right now is just be with his arms wrapped around you.
Finally coming to your senses, you straighten up and look at Katsuki.
“S-sorry about that, I-I just needed s-someone a-and… yea um… I-I’ll just go now.”
You run off while Katsuki calls for you to wait and chases after you.
You manage to get to your apartment before him, the adrenaline starting to wear out and you make I to your apartment.
“(Y/n).” Katsuki lightly knocks on your door.
You ignore him and change into your pajamas and lay in bed.
“I’m not leaving!” He shouts from the door when you hear something being slid down the door as he sits down.
He’ll leave at some point… hopefully.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Hey peeps! So? How’s chapter 2? It’s actually the longest I’ve written at 2934 words. (Not counting this) I don’t really think it’s that good… but I hope you like it! Anyways Chapter 3?
#bakugou x you#bakugo bakugou katsuki bakugo smut fluff bakugo x reader katsuki x reader bakugo x fem reader
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via Barb's Place Ms. Fix-it
by Barb C
Rating: G
Setting: Post-The Gift
Characters: Willow, Giles
Synopsis: If Willow doesn't take care of things, who will?
Author's notes: Written for the 2019 Which Willow Ficathon. This is a stand-alone, canon-compliant fic. (I.e. not part of the Barbverse.)
Buffy Summers had been dead for exactly one week, three days, eighteen hours, and forty-two minutes. Not that Willow was counting. She didn't have to; the slow and steady energy drain of the spell she was using to keep the body from decaying while they all decided what to do was counter enough. The click-click=click of her heels on the pavement followed her around the corner as she turned off Wilkins and onto Maple, heading for the Magic Box. The sun's last rays painted the western sky a brilliant orange behind the roofline of the storefronts. The strap of the satchel she carried dug into her shoulder, and she concentrated on the small discomfort, willing it to drown out the whirring of her thoughts.
Inside her head, Goody-Two-Shoes Rule-Following Willow kept pointing out that concealing Buffy's death was seriously dodgy, and could only cause more problems the longer they kept it up. Once the authorities did get involved, surely they wouldn't be happyif they found that Buffy Summers' friends had just... buried her in the back yard, well, in Miller's Woods, in a home-made coffin, without a permit or an autopsy or a death certificate, as if she were a pet goldfish or something. Buffy had died without a will, so would the house go to Dawn, or to Mr. Summers? Or to both? Would they have to go through probate? (What even was probate, anyway?) She was pretty sure that they couldn't afford a lawyer, if Mr. Summers wanted to fight for custody, and even if they could, what judge would let a minor stay with a couple of unrelated barely-out-of-minorhood hemselves women instead of her own father? And could they pay the mortgage? Would the bank foreclose?
But Dawn didn't want to go live with her father, and no one could contact Hank Summers anyway. And there was also the hiding-the-Slayer's-demise-from-demonkind-because-the-replacement-Slayer-was-doing-ten-to-twentyness of the whole situation.
What Willow really wanted to do was curl up somewhere and cry. But if she did that, nothing would get done at all. Dawn was a mess, Xander was obsessing over the planning of the aforementioned back-yard funeral, Anya was great at pointing out problems but not nearly as forthcoming with solutions, Spike was an alcoholic puddle on the crypt floor. Tara could offer emotional support, but not much else. And Giles, the actual certified grownup, was wandering blankly through the motions of, well, just about everything.
So (argued Subversive Countrculture Hacker-cum-Superwitch Willow) obviously the only thing to do was fix up the Buffybot yet again, and pretend that Buffy Summers was alive and well. Not that that would really help much on the paying-the-mortgage front, unless they sent the Buffybot out to get a job, which at this point was looking like a better and better idea, but totally aside from all of that, the truth was, part of her simply wasn't able to bear the idea of sealing, stamping, or certifying that Buffy Summers was really most sincerely dead.
The sign on the Magic Box door said "OPEN," but only a single light shone in the back of the store, illuminating the rare books section. Willow cupped her hands against the glass and peered through the blinds. She could see a dark figure hunched at the reading table. Was Giles just... sitting there, in the dark? Biting her lip, she pulled the door open. The jangle of the bell was loud in the nearly-deserted street.
The hunched figure straightened. "Ah. Willow. I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting you." Giles stood, a slow, jerky unwinding, and came to meet her, a particularly musty volume tucked in the crook of one elbow. His deeply line face was unutterably weary. Not just tired, but lost. Not that Willow imagined she looked particularly chipper herself; it had been a rough couple of weeks. He crossed to the checkout counter, set the book down, and flicked on the switch for the front lights, flooding the store with brilliance. Well, relative brilliance. Willow caught a glimpse of The Rituals of Osiris on the cover, embossed in eye-twisting curlicues. Giles adjusted his glasses. "I beg your pardon. I was just doing some, er, inventorying. I've been composing my final report to the Council, and frankly, I needed a bit of a breather."
He trailed off, and Willow gulped. Final report? She wasn't oblivious; Giles had been chafing at the bit to go back to England for years. Or was it champing at the bit? Whatever, Giles had been doing it. But always before there'd been something – someone – to tie him to Sunnydale a little longer. "No, no, I was wondering if Anya was around? For financial-type questioning and answering. I can come back tomorrow if it's a bad time." Were there any good times? "You - you're not already finished with the report, are you? Are you sure you included all the relevant details? The monks, the Knights, the minions? Whatever was up with Ben? There was an awful lot going on."
Giles replaced his glasses. "It's quite comprehensive, I assure you." He busied himself behind the counter, doing something mysterious with receipts. "I'll submit it as soon as we determine how to best... handle the details of Buffy's passing. Once that's done, I'd expect to hear back from Travers very shortly with my new assignment."
Apprehension blossomed into panic. Giles couldn't leave. Not now. Everything was changing, falling apart, and she couldn't move fast enough, hold on hard enough, to keep the shards together. I have to fix this, I have to fix this, I have to fix this. "You can't leave," Willow blurted. "I mean, no matter what we do, the Hellmouth is still going to be here, being all hellish and mouthy, and if we're trying to convince the demony types that Buffy's still around – " she unslung her satchel and plunked it down on the counter top, rubbing her aching shoulder. "Shouldn't her Watcher be around too? For verisimilitude?"
Giles straightened, sighed, ran a hand over his face. "Willow... we've had this conversation before."
"No. No, no, we haven't." She waved her hands in agitation. "Not this one. We had a similar-yet-different, almost but not quite totally unrelated conversation! Last time you wanted to leave because you thought Buffy didn't need you around, and now – "
"Buffy is no longer around to need me," Giles finished.
"But that's exactly why you have to stay!" Willow pulled a sheaf of printouts from the satchel and fanned them out across the counter – schematics, wiring diagrams, reams of C++. "Buffy's gone. I've got to the get the Bot repaired if we're going to have a hope in heck of fooling Social Services, but that's a walk of the cake variety compared to getting it to fight demons on the regular, and it's – "
His expression wasn't softening. Giles had serious leaving-on -a-jet-plane face. Think, think, think – what had snapped him out of it the last time he'd wanted to leave? Buffy, of course. Buffy telling him that she still needed him. But Buffy was gone. (Did it make it better or worse, saying 'gone' instead of 'dead?') Buffy couldn't need him anymore. Except, except... inspiration struck. "Giles, it's not going well. The demon-fighting of the Bot, I mean. I was hoping you could help."
"Er." Giles regarded the stack of printouts with an expression of faint alarm. "I'm afraid that my expertise doesn't extend to chipsets. And what do you mean, it's not going well? The robot was quite successful against Glory."
"Not that kind of help. And that's because we were basically just using her as a distraction." She leaned across the counter, voice dropping to a confidential whisper, as if the Buffybot were listening in and might get its feelings hurt. "The problem is, the Bot's strong, but she's not very tough. She's actually pretty fragile – all those delicate gears and servos and circuits. She wasn't engineered for heavy-duty demon fighting. She's got all this fighty-kicky programming based on Buffy's combat style, but when she's actually fighting a demon, if it gets its hands... claws... appendages on her, a lot of the time it can just rip her apart. That's fine if we just bring her out once a year to fight some major baddie, but if she's going to be patrolling every night? She can't heal by herself, and we have limited supplies for repairs, and..." she threw up her hands.
The glasses were getting a thorough polishing again. "That's unfortunate, but I'm not seeing how I can be of assistance. I'm neither an engineer nor a programmer, Willow."
You're not getting away that easily, mister. "You don't have to be! What she needs is a teacher. That's the beauty of it. She's got learning routines. I don't want to think about whatever it was Spike wanted her to learn, but she can incorporate new options into her decision trees. Someone needs to show her a different kind of fighting style, one that minimizes her chances of getting grappled. And there's nobody who can do that better than you can."
Giles was wavering, she could see it. Maybe Fake Buffy was better than no Buffy. She stared up at him, beseeching, willing him to say Yes, yes, Willow, I'll stay, I'll help you. Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Very well. I'll make the attempt, at any rate. But as soon as the robot is capable of protecting herself adequately, I really must – "
"Oh, Giles, thank you!" Willow flung herself across the counter to give him an impulsive hug, scattering the printouts and knocking the book to the floor. She let him go with a squeak if alarm and dove after them. Giles knelt to help her pick the papers up, and she stuffed everything back into the satchel willy-nilly. "This will work, I'm sure of it! She's almost ready for a trial run – I'll call you as soon as she's ready! Oh! And I'll come back tomorrow morning to talk to Anya."
She couldn't exactly say her heart was lighter as she left the store, but at least one piece of her shattered world was glued back into place, however temporarily. Surely Giles would realize after awhile, that staying was the right thing. Willow hurried along the darkening streets towards Buffy's house, where Dawn and Tara would be waiting. Tomorrow... well, maybe tomorrow Anya would have some ideas for what to do about the money, and the legal questions, and... Willow groaned. There was so much still to do, so many things she had to make right – because who else would do it? It was all too much. Even with the Bot... everything would be so much easier if only...
If only Buffy wasn't...
She shivered, though the late spring evening wasn't cold, not at all. Buffy was gone. Buffy was dead. And there was nothing she could do to make that right.
Her eyes stung. She wiped them defiantly, then ran a thumb under the satchel strap. Her heart might be ligher(ish), but the satchel definitely seemed to be heavier. She opened the flap, peered inside. What on earth...oh. Drat. She'd stuffed Giles' spellbook in there by accident. She should return it. But she was almost back to Revello Drive, and she was going back to the Magic Box tomorrow to see Anya anyway... she'd keep it just for tonight. Maybe read a few chapters. She'd been wanting to brush up on her Egyptian rituals anyway. Maybe it would distract her from her problems, if only for a little while.
What could it hurt?
End
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