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poursomesunaonme · 2 years

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Could you maybe write gojo in a squid game au where he is the frontman and he spares the reader orrrr he is a vip and the reader is a bartender

first of all, nonnie pls allow me to apologize for how long this took:((( i didnt want to say no bc i hadnt seen squid game at the time you submitted so i used this as my impetus (loved it btw)!! but again, i am SO SORRY i hope this is a lovely surprise for you hehehe

wc: 3.8k

cw: nsfw, minors dni, dubcon/noncon (coercion/abusing power), sex work i guess?, forced alcohol consumption (head clear at time of ~ encounter ~), canon-compliant violence & gore (mentions of death and blood, but no vivid descriptions), oral (male receiving), deepthroating, spanking, unprotected sex, choking, biting, creampie, possessive behavior

the screams of the players echoed around the large room despite the thick glass that separated them from the VIPs. the scent of incense hung thick in the air, mixing with the smell of your own sweat and the expensive bottle of scotch that rested upon your platter.

the plastic mask that adorned your face felt suffocating, the little hole for a mouth barely enough to supply you with enough oxygen. it was intimidating enough, watching people risk their lives for money, but more so to be serving the people that facilitated the event.

but little did the players know that the workers were also duly compensated; which was why you were there. one of your friends had told you all about the event; you’d eagerly accepted the invitation. but it had been nothing like you expected.

especially not now, surveying the disgustingly opulent scene. it was simply revolting, how the men with more wealth than hundreds of countries sat around, lounging, watching as people threw their lives on the line for money that they so desperately needed. what abhorred you the most were the people that posed like statues, some of them even acting as footstools.

the pounding of the muscle in your chest was the only indication of your nervousness, seeing as it threatened to crack your sternum to pieces with the force of its beating. deep breaths were difficult in the mask, but at least it covered up the grimace that clung to your lips.

“hey - you!”

the VIP that you had been serving beckoned you with a finger. the golden mask that he wore resembled a wolf, a celebrated predator. and you were the prey, watching as his bright blue eyes glinted in the holes cut for them. the only way to tell that he was eyeing your form in your simple black uniform was the position of his pupils as they traversed your body.

you didn’t hesitate to remove the top from the bottle, pouring him another glass wordlessly. teeth flashed from beneath the bottom of his mask.

“you have some gorgeous eyes, sweetheart.”

the compliment had no depth that you could perceive. perhaps he was just being nice, attempting to assuage your nervousness. after all, it probably took more than the gruesome scene that played to be desensitized to this level of gore - self inflicted violence. and most people did not have that advantage during that event.

“thank you, sir,” you nodded curtly, beginning to rotate your body to return to your position in the wings. the VIP only let out a laugh, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“hold on! how’d you like to sit with me and watch the show?”

he gestured to the space next to him, which you were scared to refuse for fear of angering a man who believed that he had all the power in the world. so you sat down regardless, leaving a liberal amount of space between you and the man. the glass bottle rattled on the tray as you balanced it on your lap.

“it’s scary.”

the words tumbled out of your lips like an anxious squeak of a trapped mouse. you had absolutely no desire to observe anything of the sort. in fact, as the people leapt to their deaths, you had kept your eyes shut, completely relying on the vocal summons of one of the VIPs if your services were needed.

the VIP didn’t say anything, only rested a hand on your thigh. the giant appendage was supposed to be warm, comforting, as he gave the leg a gentle squeeze. if anything, however, this made you more uncomfortable, seeing as you had no idea who this person was, assuming that he only wanted to exercise his power over you.

“oh, pretty baby, you don’t have to watch, then,” he leaned over, cooing in your ear. “don’t worry, i’m here for you.”

your cheeks burned with shame, embarrassed by how pliable you were, how easily swayed your convictions were. if he told you to break the scotch glass over your head right at that moment, you would. because you were afraid.

silence took control of the room, but the trailing of his fingers on the fabric of your pants indicated that the VIP had other motives other than instant drinks for having you with him. the path of his fingertips burned holes in your skin as they traveled upwards, ignoring the nervous twitching that zapped beneath them.

“say, what’s your name?” he asked, hand coming to rest dangerously high on your thigh. you swallowed past the formidable lump that had formed in your throat.

“y/n.”

“good god, that’s beautiful,” he breathed, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a tiny sip. the plush skin pressed together as he allowed the expensive liquid to glide down his throat.

“thank you,” you murmured, still trying to hone your skills in tuning out the thuds of the bodies as they slammed into the ground below the glass panels.

“i’m satoru. would you like a drink, y/n?” the VIP asked. you bit back the laugh that threatened to escape your mouth at the question. it was counterintuitive really, the client asking the server for what they wanted. you were honestly petrified, too afraid to answer.

“i’m not sure if i’m supposed to drink” was how you attempted to dodge having to give a genuine response. of course you wanted to drink. you wanted to do anything that would allow an escape for the last few horrifying days of your life. and if that was alcohol, you’d be downing any amount in a heartbeat. but not in front of one of the most influential men in the world.

“have it, i insist.”

the last of the drink that you had poured just minutes ago swished around in the bottom of his cup as satoru swirled the amber liquid around. he extended the glass to you, all but forcing it onto your lips.

“i just-” was your feeble attempt at fending him off, but the rest of your body refused to move, to utter the statements that you so needed to express.

“now,” he commanded, deep voice rumbling as your lips parted just barely for him to force the rim of the glass through. but he relented, his voice taking on once again it’s saccharine vibrations. “or you might get punished, sweetheart.”

you allowed him to pour the scotch down your throat. it was strong, stinging your throat and nearly setting your body ablaze as it transversed the path to your stomach. tears beaded along your waterline as you coughed and sputtered, attempting to get the remnants of the alcohol out of your system before they seared holes in your throat.

and the man, he watched you with a predatory gaze and amused smile. you felt so small in front of him, with his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh at that moment; the mark of his ownership. and you knew that you couldn’t escape once he had set his sights on you. you were fucked.

“let me taste it off your lips,” satoru murmured greedily, leaning in. it wasn’t an intimate gesture in the slightest, his eyes wide open as he closed the distance between your faces. he set down the glass, and after, reached to close his fingers around the edge of your mask. too afraid to touch him, you tried to protest.

“i’m not sure if i’m comfortable taking my mask off,” you said hurriedly, the pleading expression swirling within your eyes.

“oh you needy little thing,” he tsked, annoyed, but stood up anyway, extending his hand towards you. “let’s go to the backroom, then, shall we?”

you accepted his hand despite your gut’s own warnings. his palm was soft and warm against yours, not nearly what you expected it to be like. but then again, it was hard to imagine someone with more money than god not owning a decent moisturizer.

“my bet still stands, gentlemen,” the man called to the other VIPs who were lost in the throes of the game, “don’t forget it!”

the man led you through winding hallways before reaching a plain room. the walls were a dull blue, with simple furniture to match. no natural light filtered into the space, making you feel like a caged animal. the VIP led you to the table, where he sat you down, your knees touching as he angled his body to face yours for a seemingly innocent conversation.

“i’m so happy to have gotten you all alone,” satoru admitted almost sheepishly. but you assumed that someone with that much money had a knack for the charming and charismatic. the docile tone was just a ploy. “you’re such a pretty little thing in anonymity, let me see your face.”

seeing the two of you were alone, it was something that was a little less daunting, but how could you refuse a rich man? the pros far outweighed the cons in this situation, and you could see yourself walking away from the night with a hefty tip. his fingers hooked underneath the plastic lip once again, this time pulling it off of your face gently.

the chilly air hitting your dewy skin was a welcome sensation as the man beheld you. his eyes sparkled, taking in the sight of you hungrily. the hand that removed the mask threw the plastic and descended to your thigh instead, squeezing the muscle perhaps a little too tightly for your liking.

“shit, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered, eyes still flickering across your features. but once he had gotten his fill, they began to drift lower, attempting to undress you mentally. but with an upbeat huff, he pulled off his own mask, revealing a beauty that you had never seen before.

it was said on occasion that rich people were the ugliest. that statement couldn’t even brush the man. his gorgeous eyes were only a precursor to his face, chiseled by the hand of god. white tufts of hair tumbled freely over his features. a cheeky smile graced his lips as a bright laugh rang out from his throat.

“your expression’s priceless!” he gushed, poking fun at you. “didn’t expect to see such a handsome devil, did ya?”

your mouth went dry as you fumbled for the words to deflect his boasting, not exactly wanting to feed his ego, but by the same token, you couldn’t let his attractiveness go unpraised. “i… um…”

“enough of that,” the man waved your dumbness away. the hand that grasped your thigh moved higher on the leg, up to the place that clenched at the thought of his closing proximity. his other hand reached up, palm pressed to the underside of your chin as he squished your face, fingers digging uncomfortably into your cheeks. “i want a taste of you. and remember, don’t resist.”

satoru leaned forward to press his forehead to yours, breath fanning across your heated face as his eyes pierced through yours. “i always get what i want.”

the man’s lips crashed into yours, easily parting the pliable muscles. you were terrified, really, to resist how he came onto you. you had seen firsthand how easily the players of the game were eliminated; so how would that pertain to how the lowly bartenders were disposed of? so, you let him kiss you, let his hands wander all over your body, squeezing and fondling those places that were most sacred to you.

every so often, your eyes would flicker open only to find that the cerulean blue eyes were watching you. the man was observing how his ministrations affected you; and he loved seeing your eyes clench shut or your brows furrow together when he found a particularly sensitive spot.

after a few more moments, after your lips were sore from the force of his teeth sinking into them, the man placed his hands on your shoulders and started to force you down to your knees. eyes flickering south, you found that the tip of his dick pushed the flap of his robe outward. your blood ran cold, knowing that kissing and touching weren’t that much of a big deal - but this was where you needed to perform.

wordlessly, you completed what his forcing had started. knees met the cold floor while you didn’t hesitate to unfasten the tie around his waist. your hands shook as they weakly grasped at the seams of the expensive robe; you knew that you couldn’t turn back now. the rustle of the quality fabric echoed throughout the room as no other sound dared to tear from your own throat at the sight of his huge cock.

“if you can make me cum in 5 minutes, i’m gonna take you home with me,” satoru whispered with a blindingly bright grin, leaning back and draping his arms over the back of the couch. your heart skipped a beat at the revelation, at the promise that the statement held. but seeing as he was a man of seeming notoriety, you would no doubt have your work cut out for you.

his cock swung tauntingly at you as it flipped upwards and slapped against his stomach, daring you to pleasure the mysterious man that had offered you the world. determination raced through every blood vessel in your body as you began your work, not even bothering to tease him, seeing as there was a time constraint on bringing him to an orgasm.

with a fearful gulp, your lips wrapped around the tip of his dick, pre already spreading across your tongue as your cheeks hollowed out to suck him off. the tip of your tongue swirled around his slit, the tickling feeling leaving him breathless at just the first touch.

without hesitation, you began to bob your head, taking as much of satoru’s cock into your mouth as you could. at the first execution of the movement, your lips barely reached halfway down his shaft before your gag reflex was triggered, resulting in your head thrashing backwards to catch your breath. your hand wrapped around the length that you couldn’t handle down your throat, stroking the sensitive nerves in tandem with how your tongue swirled around his tip.

the blood pulsing through his cock quickened its pace as the seconds ticked by, and you could feel that he was getting close. daring to raise your glance up towards those gorgeous blue depths, you found that his face was unchanging, save for the occasional twitch that occured when you executed a dexterous move.

desperation seized you as a point came where your progress wasn’t doing anything to bring satoru closer to an orgasm. so you took him all the way into your mouth, ignoring how his tip nuzzled into your throat, ignoring the gag reflex that threatened to throw up your lunch back at you. tears streamed down your face as you forced your head forward, eyes locked with the man’s as his mouth opened wide in pleasure.

before you drove yourself to vomiting, you released his cock with a heaving breath, trails of beaded spit still connecting your lips to his tip. your throat burned with the stretch, with the force at which you took his entire member inside of you. and with a heavy exhale, you prepared to do it all again, knowing that you would do everything in your power to escape a life of poverty.

“shit, i gotta feel your pussy,” the man breathed, pulling you up by the hair. judging from the desperation that laced his voice, you weren’t sure if he would still keep his promise. what you did know is that he would just take everything that he wanted, without a second thought.

“but what about-” you tried at least to ask about his promise, about protection, about his own sexual health, but he merely laughed off the sad attempt at speaking, unceremoniously forcing you forward onto the couch. your knees pressed into the crevice between the seat and the back, hands grasping the top for support.

“baby, i have all the money in the world, don’t worry about it.”

so satoru was going to make you his own personal sex toy, free of consequences. suddenly, you felt infinitely more exposed, posed with your ass jutting out as he pressed his pulsating cock to your throbbing cunt over the clothes.

“take off your clothes for me. and make it snappy.”

he pulled back slightly, giving you the space you needed to fumble with the mechanics of your pants, pulling them down over the curve of your ass. leaving them pooled at your knees, your fingers moved to undress your top half as well, assuming that you should go all out for the part. satoru’s hands moved to grasp at the supple flesh of your ass, squeezing and shaking it to watch it jiggle.

“hot damn,” he whispered, giving one of the cheeks a flurry of light taps. it drew a yelp from you as you lost your grip on the buttons of the shirt, but quickly recovered to shrug off your top.

the head of satoru’s cock nuzzled between your slick folds, just barely nudging into your entrance. just the tip felt wide enough to give your walls a run for their money, but you weren’t expecting tears to spring to your eyes when he sheathed himself in your cunt after spitting a glob of saliva on his cock to make sure it was lubricated enough.

a titillating moan tore from your lips as satoru wasted no time in fucking you senseless. all the man knew was take and take and take; and take, he did. you slammed into the couch at such a velocity that you looked down at where your chest had careened into the furniture, thinking that you already saw the bruises blossoming along your skin.

and that damn VIP, he believed, truly, that he owned you. and those bruises were not the only thing that he used to mark you. his hands gripped and grasped at any inch of skin that they could find - your ass, your thighs, your tits, your nipples - he loved the sounds that rang from your mouth when he pinched your nipples meanly. his hand almost immediately wrapped around your throat, not hard enough to cut off your air supply, but firmly enough to know that if you moved, that would be the case.

your lips had already been bruised just from kissing him, but what his mouth did on the other places of your body, that’s how he branded you. hickies, everywhere, littering your neck and sprinkled all across your shoulders like connect-the-dots. but what really exercised his ownership of you as his were the bitemarks. those little indents of his teeth sealed your fate for the rest of your natural existence.

and you had thought it was over, the blatant show of possession, but you were dead wrong. what you didn’t realize, getting your back blown out while people were dying in the other room, juices running down your inner thighs while blood pooled on their floor, was that satoru did not believe that there were consequences for his actions.

“fuck, fuck,” he panted in your ear before nipping at the lobe, “‘m gonna cum. god, you feel so good, baby.”

all that you could muster was a long moan, punctuated by changes in pitch with each thrust that hammered into your hips. as much as it was a selfish fuck, he still made sure to please you; that much was evident from the hand that berated your nipples drifting down to give more attention to your throbbing clit.

a loud cry escaped from your lungs when he pinched the sensitive bud, then proceeded to rub tantalizing circles that melded harmoniously with the deep strokes that he was pounding into you. knuckles whitened on the back of the couch as your grip tightened to steady your limp-growing body in the gale of his lust.

toes curling, you felt a tension begin to wind all throughout your body, warmth spreading between your legs at the nearing proximity of your orgasm. satoru’s pace faltered at the change in sensations, a low moan pouring from his lips as he increased the speed of the ministrations on your clit.

“gotta - hah - gotta fill you up, babe,” he heaved, pressing a sloppy kiss to your neck. “milkin’ my cock, aren’t you?”

you couldn’t focus on what he was saying, not when the pressure that built up in your core threatened to burst. it was embarrassing, the noises that you attempted to hold in but slipped past your defenses. you didn’t want this to be that much of a reward from him; simply a matter of giving him what he wanted and getting what you needed. but it was much more than that.

and with one more prominent pinch to your clit, you were cumming all over his cock in no time. any self-restraint that he was harboring evaporated, leaving only a man so drunk on your pussy that he filled it up to the brim, thrusting so deeply you thought that he might’ve punctured your uterus. with the warm seed filling your cunt, you were officially his.

abs pressing against your ass, he gave a few more powerful thrusts into your gushing warmth, watching as the cream leaked out to form a ring around the base of his cock. some of the liquid dribbled down your thighs, sending shivers down your spine as you tried to recover from the rigorous session while getting rocked by the aftershocks.

satoru pulled out of you, ignoring your whimper at the emptiness, and plopped down next to you, cock splattering the mixture of your juices across his abdomen. his hazy, blissful expression studied yours as he reached out his hand.

“oh, yeah,” he grinned, grabbing your chin to fix your attention to him. “you’re comin’ home with me.”

jjk & gojo taglist: @the-princess-button @ob-levi-on @pink-apples001

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magic-missle-blog · 3 years

Text

Ghost division 2 – The belly of the beast

2nd story in what will hopefully be a series. Roughly 6k words. Hope you enjoy

:readmore:

Four missiles streaked through the darkness of space from the canadation destroyer as it smashed through the human battle group.

The warship TDF Glasgow rocked as a missile impacted the hull. Point defence had taken out three others but the fourth slammed into the starboard side.

“Damage report!” the captain shouted as he swivelled his command chair to face the tactical officer.

“The hull plating is scorched and buckled, but no internal damage. We were lucky.” The tactical officer replied, shouting to be heard over the various alarms and beeps in the small bridge.

“We cant rely on luck. If we get hit again its your head!” The captain growled. His hair was cut close to his scalp and a sheen of sweat reflected in the bright yellow light on his dark skin.

Tactical officer Rotchford nodded. Her brow furrowed as she quickly typed into her console. “don’t worry I’m on it, I’ve analysed the firing pattern and I can probably take out most of the missiles, its those fucking fighters and energy weapons I cant do a thing about.”

Just as she finished speaking a swarm of small locust shaped fighters buzzed passed the ship, pelting the armour with energy weapons.

Turrets tracked the fighters, spitting hypersonic tungsten shells. One of the Canidation fighters exploded, the rest of the group took evasive action and continued on the attack run through the human fleet.

The ship rocked again and various alarms clamoured for attention. Lights on the bridge flickered.

Captain Conroy nodded and straightened his uniform. He brought up a tactical display on the console built into his chair.

Five Canidation warships had engaged the fleet of seven Terran defence force destroyers and the humans were loosing badly. The Canidations had the firepower and faster ships. Fighters swarmed over the fleet firing kinetic weapons and lasers, some with great effect.

He watched as another of the fleet exploded. That was the second ship they had lost. The battle had been raging for what felt like hours but in reality it was only 30 minutes. The Canidations had dropped out of hyperspace in this remote system to ambush a Human supply run. The freighters had escaped unharmed but the escort fleet couldn’t leave, not without leaving this Canidation battle group free reign to attack other convoys.

“Shit. That was the Newcastle!” the first officer said “Fleet captain Broadie…he was a good man”

The computer screamed out a proximity warning as another salvo of missiles streaked towards them, but true to her word the tactical officers new point defence programme took them all out. She returned fire with the main cannon as the destroyer elegantly swung around, scoring a direct hit to the Canidations engines. The insectoid ship vented atmosphere and appeared to lose power as running lights flickered out and the ship drifted

The other enemy ships moved towards the remaining fleet.

“Scan that ship, is it dead?” Conroy commanded the science officer as the warship rocked under more impacts

“yeah it appears… Fuck” the science officer said as his console went dark and the lights cut out.

A few moments later the ships emergency power kicked in and the lights came back on, but dull red colour. His console lit up. “ yeah its dead. I think. Scans are all over the place.”

Conroy nodded, as the most senior officer left in the tattered fleet he assumed command.. “signal the fleet. Lets get the fuck out of here...but slowly, I want to draw them away from that damaged ship.” He plotted a course that would take them deep into the Oort cloud of this system.

The remaining ships of the Terran defence force broke off the engagement and retreated. Caught by surprise at the sudden change in tactics, The Canidations stopped dead, recalled the fighters then followed, slowly gaining ground on the slower terran warships.

Glancing at his command console captain Conroy opened fleet wide comms. Signalling the other commanders he said “Listen up people. Once we are in that cloud drop sensor decoys try to buy me some time . I’m going to double back and capture that ship.”

The crew looked at him in astonishment

“Damn” said the first officer. “And I thought today was going to be a quiet day.”

************************************

The war against the Canidations had been raging for 3 months, and the Terran empire was losing.

The Canidations ships were more advanced, and they had the numbers. The only saving grace is that the Canidations were fighting two other larger empires. Humanity, as a relatively new race to the galactic stage, hadn’t been seen as a concern. Almost an afterthought.

No one knew why the war started. Canidations were a reclusive species. They had no trade with the wider galactic community, no embassies, no contact at all. No one really even knew if “Canidation” was their species name. They stayed in their home systems, A group of a dozen or so stars a few light years around the Canadathon, their home world.

A decade ago the Canidations has blasted out of their home system with an over powering military force and attacked a neighbouring world without warning. Everything was a viable target to them and they didn’t take prisoners…or at least they didn’t keep them alive for long.

For ten long years they attacked and destroyed any neighbouring species, expanding their empire. The first races, unused to galactic warfare on such a scale had fallen quickly. Other species had tried to build up their own military force but simply didn’t have the infrastructure in place and couldn’t come close to the Canidations speed of production. It seemed like for every Canidation ship that fell two more would take its place.

The Canidations were an insectoid race, they looked like an unholy amalgamation of a spiders body with a praying mantis torso, like an insect centaur. They didn’t seem to capture any world they won, they destroyed it. Left it a lifeless husk, took any easily accessible resources then moved on like locusts. Maybe they would be back to terraform it later, maybe not. No one knew.

The destruction on such a scale seemed senseless, and completely alien. Not even the best human generals, phycologists or philosophers could come up with a reason for this carnage.

What was known was they had a lot of ships. More than every other military in this region of space combined. They had been building up for decades and it seemed like now was the time to unleash their might.

******************************

The Glasgow had ducked behind a dwarf planet in the Oort cloud and waiting while the remaining fleet had drawn the Canidations away, then used a risky in system jump to get back quickly to the battlefield. They had scanned for survivors of the destroyed Terran ships but unfortunately found plenty of debris but no life signs.

TDF Glasgow slowly drew up alongside the crippled Canidation vessel, comms jammers at full power blocking any communication from the hulk. It had been few hours since the shot had crippled the Bug ship, but it was still drifting without any main power, its engines dark and cooling.

It looked like reserve power had kicked in and there was several Canidations on the main hull close to the breach in what looked like dark space suits, although it could have been their flesh. Conroy didn’t know enough about the species to tell. It was obvious the Canidations were trying to repair the damage.

The insectoid ship was large, at least half again as big as the Glasgow and followed an unorthodox design. It was nothing like the sleek Terran ships, whose lines were reminiscent of the war planes that fought in earth’s skies in the 20th century. Human ships were long and sleek, with swept back retractable wings protruding from the mid section to allow atmosphere flight when fully extended. Canidation was bulky, and looked like a flattened pinecone and close range scans showed it be highly modular.

The bridge appeared to be at on top of the bulky front section. Conroy guessed below this would be weapons, crew quarters and the like. Engineering and the ships drive core, and sub light engines must be located in the tapering end. Cannons clustered around the front with turrets in two rows along the top and bottom of the ship.

Conroy assumed there would be about 60 or so crew on board. Terran destroyers had a crew of 30 plus 10 marines. Not good odds Conroy thought.

“Easy to build, quick to swap different sections out if needed” Science officer McCallum said as he looked over the data.

Conroy nodded to Commander Paulson, the first office. “Pauly, get a boarding party ready. Find any intel you can get your hands on but don’t take any stupid risks. Focus on engineering, medical, ship deployments, shit we can find to kill these things.” Looking at McCallum “what do they need?”

McCallum brought up all the information he had on Canidations, which wasn’t a lot.

“Scans show gravity and life support is still active and the ship has atmosphere, although I use the term loosely. Their air is made up of 30% oxygen, 15% Co2, 10% Hydrogen sulphide, the rest is nitrogen, water vapour and trace gasses. Average temperature is roughly 30 degrees Celsius and humidity is close to 70%. Gravity is low, roughly 0.6G. So basically your walking into a hot sweaty hellhole that’ll smell like Satan’s ass. Enjoy” he finished with a laugh.

Paulson looked at the captain “Gee thanks Boss, you give me all the best jobs. Breathing units all round then.” He saluted as he left the bridge.

“Mac…what killed this ship? Did we get a lucky shot?”

McCallum looked over his reading for a few moments. “Yeah, very lucky. Looks like there is a weakness around the main engine core on this ship. Plasma exhaust has weakened the hull armour in a small area right above the main power linkage, its little better than paper. Must be a design flaw…if that shot had hit even a few meters on either side it wouldn’t have made a dent.”

Rotchford laughed. “luck had nothing to do with it. It’s pure skill.”

She grinned

Conroy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah if you say so” he said grinning. Conroy didn’t mind a bit of banter with the bridge crew. He felt it build camaraderie and they all worked better as a result.

Turning to Macallum he said

“Deep scan this bitch, I see what else you can find, anything that’ll give us an edge.”

From over the other side of the bridge the tactical offer said “Captain, I think I’ve found something too. The missiles on the ship are armed.”

Conroy looked over “So?”

Rotchford brushing her brown bangs that had escaped from the severe bun on her head said “Our missiles auto arm a second after launch to prevent any accidents, these appear to pre arm before launch, Probably as soon as they find a hostile ship. Once direct hit could detonate the entire missile battery. The armour is thick but the launch tubes are vulnerable . “

“Comms” Conroy said excitedly “Tight beam the rest of the fleet and let them know what we’ve found…might give them an edge.”

Turning back to tactical

“Why would they do that?”

Rotchford shrugged. “not sure. It does mean the missiles can be fired much closer then we can shoot. Out missiles travel so fast that by the time they arm they’re a couple of hundred kilometres away, makes them useless for close engagements. By pre-arming them they get around that problem. Makes it almost impossible to shoot them down when the bugs get in close.”

Minutes passed slowly. Soon the boarding party was on board a small ship to ship shuttle and on route to dock with the crippled ship.

The shuttle did a quick fly over the damaged section and fired small arms at the Canidations working on the damaged hull, Killing the repair team. The aliens magnetic grips kept the bodies stuck to the hull like bugs splattered by a windscreen.

McCallum looked up “I’ve found something else captain, it wont help us now but I think we can take advantage of it.”

He put his display on the main screen, All eyes turned to it.

“I thought about using some kind of plasma weapon to weaken the armour of the whole ship, and that’ll probably work, we don’t use plasma tech, but I’m sure the weapons experts back home can build something.” He took a breath “Anyway, that got me thinking, Plasma is basically really hot ionized gas. Its expelled as exhausts right away as too much heat inside the ship it bad. As you know its almost impossible to loose heat in space, so we use active cooling systems to…”

Conroy interrupted before McCallum could go into a lecture on the finer points of starship heat management. “Get to the point”

Mccallum looked sheepish “Sorry sir, anyway, the Canidations seem to use radiator panels, they’re well armoured but vulnerable to excessive heat. A focussed laser beam could overload them. If they cant loose heat they’ll cook inside the ships.”

“Well done Mac, get everything we’ve found so far and bundle the data ready for transmission back to HQ”

Minutes dragged as Mccallum compiled the data.

Everyone was on eggshells, watching the boarding shuttle latch on to the Canidation hull and begin cutting through. Tactical constantly scanning for any Canidation ships that might be inbound. Conroy wondered how the rest of the fleet was fairing. The TDF ships were more manoeuvrable than the larger Canidation warships, so as long as they kept in a dense part of the Oort cloud, dodging comets and dwarf planets then the TDF ships should have an advantage.

*****************************

Inside the shuttle the atmosphere was tense. Paulson looked over the assembled combat team. All had breathing units over their lower faces. The units would filter out the harmful gasses and reduce the oxygen pressure to something breathable, but as they weren’t full space suits or fully sealed Paulson knew the stench would get through, he grinned inwardly he hadn’t told the team what the Canidation air was like, he wanted to see the reactions.

The ten member boarding team all had dark grey combat armour, and each carried a small side arm and a combat knife. Eight also carried an assault rifle with enough ammo to take on a small army, the other two combat engineers carried various tools and computer equipment. Their mission was to hack into any systems they could find and mine it for data.

The shuttle bumped into the hull and latched on. A magnetic tube made an air tight seal around the hatch. It opened to show a sold hull. The engineers immediately started cutting to gain access. It was slow going. Armour that can withstand heavy ship weapons wont easily fail to small plasma torches.

Sargent Waltham stepped up next to Paulson. “We’re ready to go” She said coolly.

Paulson nodded. “Get in and secure the area. Set up fire lines kill anything that’s got more than two legs.” He said to Waltham.

She was tall, blonde, very pretty in hard way. People, especially men, tended to underestimate her due to her looks, thinking she was just a made up barbie doll. Paulson had thought the same thing once, until she kicked his ass in hand to hand training. The first round he went easy on her and he was flat on his back in 5 seconds. The second round he went all out, and to his credit, he managed to last a full 7 seconds before she had him pined, face pressed against the floor and his left arm twisted up his back. Waltham, like all the other,s had earned her place in the combat team, but unlike the men she had to continually prove she deserved to be there. This constant striving for perfection had made her one of the best solders Paulson had ever worked with.

The thick hull armour fell inwards with a heavy thunk. The sound echoed around the shuttle. The stench of rotten eggs filler the small enclosed space and everyone wrinkled their noses.

“For fucks sake… is this ship full of farts?” Jones, the lead combat engineer said.

Paulson grinned. “Ok move out. Slow and steady, I don’t want any fuck ups.”

The team moved slowly into the alien vessel. The interior was dark, smelly and hot, lighting was a deep red that cast odd shadows. Paulson didn’t know if this was normal or if it was due to low power.

Waltham took her place first in line as the engineers cleared the hull and opened a portal to the interior of the ship. She directed one of her team , Ramerez, a young marine on his first away mission , hang back and guard the shuttle just encase they needed to make a quick exit.

Ramerez took position just inside the the shuttle door, he pulled a couple of boxes containing emergency supplies across the entrance and dug in.

The rest of the team followed her lead, with Paulson acting as rear guard, scanning the corridor behind him with a quick practiced eye.

One of the marines whispered in a low voice “damn, this is weird.”

“what is? Looks like a normal ship corridor to me” Paulson said

“sir...that’s what I mean. I expected...well dirt..or tunnels like that old movie ‘Aliens’. You know, the one where the dildo bursts out of some guys chest and all these Marines hunt it down? I mean they’re bugs for Christ’s sake..but this just looks normal.”

Paulson shook his head.“Lay off the old horror flicks. Keep it together”.

Looking at a handheld scanner Jones said “looks like there might be a room down the corridor to the right, I’m reading power spikes, it could be a place I can hack into there systems.”

The team crept inward, the low gravity giving them a bounce to their steps. They were searching for a room with a computer access, but all the could see were long featureless corridors. The came to a junction and as they passed a blast of plasma energy almost took Walthams head off. She Pulled back just in time, lightning quick reflexes saving her life. As it was the plasma shot singed her combat helmet.

Risking another blast, Waltham popped her head around then quickly pulled it back. Three Canidations waited around the corner, plasma rifles at the ready for another shot.

Pulling a flashbang from her belt she leaned out and expertly tossed he weapon into the centre of the group, a second later a loud BANG and a FLASH of bright light lit up the corridor. She could hear a smattering of legs as the Canidations fell back. Her and two of her team ran around keeping low and opened fire. The sound of the assault rifles sounded odd in the dense air. the Canidations tried to return fire but there shots went wide, scorching the metal bulkheads, obviously still blinded by the light. The skirmish was over quickly.

The team crept up slowly to the dead aliens. One in the was headless. Its body twitched, a dark yellow fluid pumping from its neck. The other two were still. Red faceted eyes that took up most of the head were dull and lifeless. Mandibles closed tighter than a vice.

Bullets had ripped the skinny top part of one in half, and the others larger thorax between the spiders-like legs was riddled and leaking the same yellow fluid.

The team looked at the corpses, they were…creepy. They unnerved the humans just looking at them. Jones knelt down and pointed something out. “Look, this one has a couple of cybernetic legs. That one has a cybernetic head…That’s so weird. Gives me the creeps.”

Paulson looked. “Why weird?”

“Think of what this means. They use medical tech to repair wounds. Replace missing limbs like we do. You don’t think of bugs caring for individuals I guess. I assumed they would be like a hive, like ants or termites just mindless soldier’s, disposable and replaceable. Maybe they’re more than that.“

One of the other marines, Patel a tall solid build man with a cold gaze said in a whisper “They’re like spiders, I fucking hate spiders. Normal spiders are bad enough but these are super sized fuckers with guns. “

He shivered as a cold chill ran down his spine. Taking one last place at the dead Canadation he walked slowly past, rifle ready for another attack.

As the team moved on one of the corpses stood up with a clatter. It swiped at a passing trooper with its upper limbs, razor sharp claws sliced across his face and chest, cutting flesh and the scoring deep cuts on his combat armour. He fell back shocked. The headless alien thrashed about, seemingly attracted to the noise the shocked humans made. It tried to reach for another one but a burst of fire from Waltham’s rifle tore through its thorax . the alien twitched again then fell back. She crept up, gun ready and kicked the corpse. No reaction. It was truly dead.

Patel looked a mess, his face had been cut to the bone, but he’d live. Two others helped bandage him up.

“fucking fuckitty fucking spiders! “ he shouted and kicked the corpse, holding his wounded face and blood soaked bandages.

“get back to the shuttle” Waltham commanded him.

He nodded, his face screwed up in pain, The bandages soaking with blood. He got to his feet and headed back the way he came.

Paulson looked at jones “What the fuck?”

Jones shrugged “I’m no medical expert, but I guess a head shot wont kill them. Maybe they keep their brains in there ass or something, I guess the head is just for eating and seeing.” Pointing to the Canidation with the cybernetic head “Maybe loosing the head for them is just like loosing an eye for us? Or maybe they’re like cockroaches. We should drag these things back to the shuttle. Medical back at HQ would have a field day.”

Paulson nodded “team, forget headshots, aim for the centre mass.” He directed a couple of team member to take the most intact body back to the shuttle “Keep it under guard…just in case”

The diminished team made there way deeper into the ship. Paulson was aware of the time he was taking, he knew The Glasgow couldn’t wait forever, but he wanted more than a few dead bugs. Soon they came across an empty room. The door was closed but a kick and a shove and it slid back into the wall. The team entered. Looking around, there was a lot of electronics that Paulson couldn’t guess the function off. Jones quickly set up his scanner. Pulling open a panel he found circuit boards. After quick scan he attached a lead from his scanner to one of the chips.

“If i can hack this, this should give me access” he worked quickly The rest of the team took up positions around the door. Paulson moved to the back of the room and signalled Waltham.

“thoughts? He said after she walked over

Waltham shrugged “they don’t seem too tough. Decent weapons though.“ she pointed to the plasma rifle she’d captured.

“hows things between you two?” he nodded to Jones

Relationships were against regulations but as long as it was discreet no one really minded. It could be lonely in deep space.

Waltham smiled. “he’s sweet, like a puppy. Always eager to please. But utterly fearless too. He could be a great soilder, but likes his gizmos too much.”

“Yeah jones is a good one.” Paulson agreed. He’s been friends with jones for years. They grew up in the same town went to the same high school, and went through training together.

Minutes ticked by. Jones had attached a large data cube to his scanner. He came over to the pair while the data downloaded “. I can copy the full ships hard drive. Shouldn’t take long. There’s not a lot of data, mainly seems to be the ships opperating system. Seems pretty basic. I did find something interesting though, I found ship schematic. We’re not far from a path to fire control. Its down the end of that corridor out there. “

Paulson thought for a second. “no, we have enough we need to get back”

Just as he said that his communicator beeped. It was the shuttle “Sir, get back here we need to go! A Canidation warship is on approach, ETA 7 minutes!”

“Ok people pack your shit up, we need to get out of here! Double time!”

The team grabbed there gear and quickly made there way back into the corridor. Several canidations ran down the steel hallway, the hack had triggered some kind of security protocol. These Canidations didn t have weapons but they moved so fast in the lower gravity that the quickly closed the distance, soon it was a melee, claw against fist.

****************

Alarms cried out for attention on the bridge of the Glasgow. A Canidation warship was closing in.

“eta?” asked Conroy. His calm voice a counterpoint to the frantic activity on the bridge.

“roughly 7 minutes until weapons range. I’ve contacted the shuttle”. maccalum replied.

Conroy nodded. Looking at the helmsman her said “keep that bug ship in between us. We’re smaller and so keep us in its shadow and hopefully they won’t get a weapons lock.”

Nodding, through helmsman fired up the thrusters.

“’ll try time get a target lock on the missile batteries.” Rotchford reported as she programmed the ships turrets.

Captain Conroy starred at the main screen, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the arm of his command seat.

Paulson tried to get a clear shot as a canidaton reared up on its four rear legs. It brought its full weight down on Waltham. Its mandibles opened and snapped closed right over her head. Only her quick thinking and combat helmet saved her from decapitation. She ducked her head and trusting the hardened carbon nanotube and ceramic construction she head-butted the bug right in its open mouth. Mandibles crunched against the helm. The force of through blow and the weight of the bug staggered her for a second, but years of hand to hand training came to her and with a twist and a flick she grabbed the alien and slammed it against the bulkhead. The lower gravity and adrenaline giving her almost superhuman strength.

Her combat knife flashed on the low light as she stabbed the mantis like torso. There was resistance then with a crunch she forced the blade through the carapace. The bug shuddered and wrenched. Flailing its limbs then it was still.

The skirmish was over as quickly as it started. Looking around Paulson shouted “sound off”

A chorus of voices said “here” or “i’m good”

A few troopers took minor injuries but no fatalities.

They sprinted down the corridor. The sound of gunfire brought them up short. The bugs were trying to capture the shuttle. Paulson knew if they lost that they were dead.

A scream echoed down the steel corridor. One of his men had fallen. Canidations pressed on.

“We need a distraction” Paulson shouted to Waltham over the blaring alarms.

“i have an idea. Hold here for a few seconds”

With that she sprinted back the way she came. Moments later an explosion rocked the ship. The lights and gravity cut out, then seconds later they came back on. The unprepared soilders hit the ground but were quickly back on there feet, the Canidations were not as lucky, they were a tangle of legs and claws further down the corridor.

Seizing his chance, Paulson shouting a battle cry and his boarding party fell in the bugs from behind. The battle was short and brutal but they pushed through just as Waltham returned. Her hair was burned and armour scorched.

“What the fuck did you do?” shouted Paulson

“I overloaded that plasma rifle and tossed it in the fire control room. I think we need to get out of here, that room is burning and it’s right next to the missiles”

Once everyone was on board the hatch slammed shut and the shuttle detached then raced back to the Glasgow, just as another explosion ripped through the Canidation warship. A series of smaller explosion’s rocked the ship them with a blast like a supernova the power core blew up. The shuttle was caught in the fireball but escaped with minor damage.

Paulson looked at his and bruised team as the shuttle pilot plotted a course back to the Glasgow.

Paulson pushed one of the Canidation corpses to the side, making down room in the small shuttle. He sat next to the body of a young man, almost a boy. Ramerez. It was his first tour, he was 18 and fresh out of boot camp. Ramerez had taken a plasma blast to the chest. His armour was burned through. Mercifully he had been killed instantly.

************

Conroy watched as the Canidation ship exploded. The shuttle streaked towards the hanger.

“well... shit” he said “get the shuttle on board and get ready to bug out”

calls of “aye” and “yessir” Echoed around the bridge..

The Canidation warship closed in, spitting fire and death at the Glasgow. Point defence destroyed the incoming missiles but the ship rocked from impacts

The Glasgow returned fire, turrets pounded the underside of the Canidation ship as it passed overhead passing through the expanding could of gas and debris.

The helmsman kept a steady course until the shuttle was back in then started evasive manoeuvres, he would have to hold the ship steady for a few moments to allow the hyperdrive to spin up, but the Canidation ship was not making it easy.

“Shuttle is on board. Prepare for Jump in 3...2...1...”

The ship lurched to the side and spun almost 90 degrees, crew members were thrown around the bridge like sticks caught in a hurricane. Alarms blared.

The main lights were down, red emergency lamps cast an eerie glow. Groans came from the crew

Rochford pulled herself back into her seat. Blood running from a head wound. She checked her console “sir..the hyperdrive core has been hit. We’re venting plasma and atmosphere...main power is down. Weapons down....the Canidations are coming around for another pass...”

Before Conroy could respond an explosion tore through the bridge as a missile impacted the armour surrounding the command center.

A ceiling panel that had been knocked loose earlier in the fight fell with a resounding crash pinning Conroy to his command chair and knocking him unconscious. Bones snapped under the force of the impact.

Rochford as the most senior officer left standing opened ship wide Comms “all hands. This is commander rochford. The captain is incapacitated abandon ship. I repeat abandon ship”

She moved as quickly as she could to try to help Conroy, Macallum was at his side trying to move the panel. “mac..leave him. We need to go...” she grabbed his arm “come on...move it soldier” macallum looked at the damaged viewscreen. The Canidation ship was baring down. Any second now it’s main cannons would finish the job. They were out of time.

White hot plasma blasts leaped from the Canidation vessel tearing across the cold black darkness. Promising death to the Glasgow.

A flash and a massive lurch pulled maccalum and Rotchford off their feet, but it wasn’t a weapon impact. It was the lurch of a gravity field forming a few miles away as a ship dropped out of hyperdrive.

A dangerous and potentially fatal move – a single miscalculation could have dropped the new ship right on top of them - but it saved the Glasgow. The rest of the fleet, the few ships that remained had jumped back to help. The TDF New York had jumped In front of the plasma blasts. Taking the hit that would have finished the Glasgow off. It opened up with its main cannons, rail guns blasting the armour above the Canidations missile batteries. Another Terran defence force ship TDF Cardiff jumped in behind and opened up on the bugs with everything it had. The Canidation vessel was powerful, but it couldn’t withstand the combined firepower of the vengeful human warships.

Explosion and explosion, hit after hit. The Canidations withered under the combined firepower and with a final flash it vanished as it’s fusion plant exploded.

The TDF Glasgows communication system beeped for attention. Maccalum moved slowly across

“This is captain Yoshimoyo on the New York. Prepare to receive medic and engineering teams. Your information won us the day Glasgow. All Canidation vessels have been destroyed. This is the first human victory in this war...”

“This is science officer McCallum. “thanks for the help. That was a risky move I owe your helmsman a beer. Captain Conroy has been injured. We don’t know how bad, the ship has taken heavy damage.

*****************

Weeks later Captain Conroy stood in front of admiral Wong.

Conroy had spent most of the time unconscious. His injuries sever, but with advanced medical skill, talented doctors and a dash of luck he had made a full recovery.

“Captain” the admiral began “I’m glad to see you’re back on your feet. I’ve out an official commendation for yourself and your entire crew. The information you fought so hard for will prove invaluable in this conflict”

Wong continued “The data contained ship specifications, technical manuals, training documents and recent fleet movements. With that information we’ve managed to push the Canidations back in a number of theatres , you and your crew have saved thousands of human lives. We all owe you a debt captain.”

“Thank you sir...i'm eager to get back to the Glasgow sir, to get back in the fight.”

The admiral shook his head

“I’m afraid not Conroy. The Glasgow was heavily damaged and will require months of repairs and refit. We can’t have a seasoned crew out of action for so long. You and your crew are being reassigned.”

Wong passed a pad to the captain

“Our newest, most powerful warship. The TDF Lucifer. You’ll be part of a task force – the ghost division. The Canidations are throwing more and more ships against us, and while we’ve slowed the advance to a crawl we are still loosing. You’ll go behind enemy lines and fight a guerrilla war. Do everything you can to bring the bugs down. Everything is a viable target, including the Canidation homeworld. Teach them to fear the wraith of Earth.”

End

#humans are weird #ghost division #ghostdivison #hfy #humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

Callisto (Part Eleven - Them)

Some reveal in this one, lots of worry and some discovery. John is not a happy boy.

As always, many thanks to @scribbles97 @janetm74 @vegetacide and @tsarinatorment for all their amazing support. you guys rock ::hugs you to bits::

Tonight is a bit of a posting night. I will be posting the last chapter of The Cane shortly as soon as I finish proofing it :D Yay, for finishing things :D Callisto is currently at 45,000 words.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one.

-o-o-o-

Alan was out of his pod, screaming Scott’s name, but his brother was gone. The water as still as before.

“Alan! Status!” John’s voice was as panicked as Alan had ever heard it.

“Scott’s gone.” He dashed over to Virgil. His big brother was crumpled in a heap. In the low gravity, Scott’s shove had been enough to throw him up against the rock wall. “John, I need you.”

“FAB.”

Virgil was unconscious.

Again.

A quick scan and his vitals were good. There would be bruising ...as if his brother needed more. But there was nothing broken, thank god.

A scan of the still unconscious director proved her to be stable as well.

He shifted Virgil into a safer recovery position.

“Eos, can we scan the lake?” He eyed where his big brother had vanished.

“No. I can get no data beyond approximately ten metres below the surface. It is very frustrating.”

Alan continued to stare at the surface and its glass stillness. “Can you locate Scott?”

“John has already pinpointed the Commander. He has joined the other life form below the lake’s surface. There is no comms response from the Commander.” The AI managed to sound both worried and frustrated.

“Are there any other life signs in the area?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

There was a pause. “There is no life as defined by the search parameters programmed into Thunderbird Five’s sensors on the moon beyond what has already been accounted for by International Rescue and Callisto Base personnel. Did you wish me to change those parameters?”

Alan swallowed as the third dragonfly buzzed into the cave. “ I think we’re going to have to. There is something down here.”

-o-o-o-

“We can’t leave him!”

“We’re not leaving him, Alan. We need to get the director and Virgil back to base.”

“But Scott-“

“He’s alive. We will do everything we can, but first we need medical attention for Virgil and the Director and to gather more information to better understand what we are dealing with.”

Virgil groaned and dragged a hand to his face. There was an oxygen mask in all its cold and moist glory and he shoved it off.

The elastic caught in his hair.

“Virgil!”

The pounding in his head was so loud, he could barely hear above it. There were hurried footsteps and someone ...Alan, it had to be Alan...touched his arm.

“Virgil, are you with us?” John’s melodious voice appeared on his other side and echoed through his aching head.

“You gonna open your eyes for us?” Alan sounded worried.

Open his eyes? Oh, yeah. A flicker and suddenly his retinas were assailed by the red of Three’s tiny infirmary.

A sigh. What the hell had happened now?

God, his head hurt.

“Alan, get us back to Base.” John’s voice was calm and quiet but had that tone of command.

There was quiet for a moment as the infirmary walls faded in and out of focus, roiling Virgil’s stomach.

A sigh and his little brother acknowledged John with an exhaled FAB before leaving Virgil’s bedside with soft footfalls.

Hands strapped him into the bed, fingers brushing gently across the surface of his uniform before landing ever so softly on his temple. “Rest, Virgil.” His hair was brushed off his forehead, the fine grip on John’s glove catching strands. “You’re safe.”

Virgil let out a sigh and closed his eyes, willing his head to stop pounding.

Perhaps it was a sign of the severity of whatever had happened to him, that he didn’t realise there was a voice and a touch missing until he was caught in the spiral of pain-induced exhaustion.

The question of a missing big brother followed him into an uneasy sleep.

-o-o-o-

Berry for his eldest son.

It was an exchange Jeff wasn’t sure he was willing to make.

But the thought was arrested before he could consider it further, knowing that Scott would admonish him for even thinking it.

But in the depths of his soul, the father in him was screaming.

Berry was off loaded from Three and onto the gantry, quickly followed by an equally prone Virgil. His engineer son was only asleep according to John, but with Scott missing, Jeff found himself clinging to his second eldest regardless.

The automatic cams on the Dragonflies had picked up what had happened. It was blatantly obvious there was something with purpose at work, something not human, possibly sentient.

The word ‘aliens’ bounced back and forth in his head.

Virgil was returned to the spot in the infirmary he had left barely an hour ago. Gordon sitting on the bed Jeff had restricted him to, stared at his co-pilot with worried eyes. Alan, equally as worried, sat down beside his fish brother and Gords wrapped his good arm around him.

Virgil was ever so quiet.

Berry was surrounded by the Base doctors, a curtain pulled around her bed, hiding her from the rest of them.

Jeff had the urge to shove it all aside and demand answers.

John had an IR medscanner out and was scanning his brother again. He spoke up without Jeff having to ask. “He’s sleeping.” It was a repetition of the earlier diagnosis, but it was welcome anyway.

A frown and the astronaut narrowed the scanner’s beam, prodding its controls and bringing it closer to Virgil’s head.

“What is it?”

John’s voice was calm, but distracted. “Director Berrenger has some ear damage. Virgil...” Another prod of the device. “Damn.”

“What?” Jeff took a step closer.

But John stopped scanning his brother, adjusted the controls and then ran the medscanner over his own head. Frowning at the readings, he activated his wrist ‘projector and swiped the results to that display.

The two scans bobbed up side by side, close up details of Virgil and John’s auditory systems.

“Virgil has had a headache since he arrived. We thought it was related to the T-Drive. But it appears that he has been subjected to some kind ear injury.”

Gordon spoke up. “He got dizzy.”

John frowned and poked at the hologram, spinning it. The frown deepened a moment before the astronaut suddenly darted around the bed and aimed the scanner at Gordon’s head.

“What? What the hell are you doing?”

“Hold still.”

A flicker of yellow and John obviously got what he was looking for. A breath and he aimed the scanner at Alan’s head as well.

His sigh was a frustrated one. “We are all exhibiting signs of ear irritation, but Virgil’s is by far the worst. Dad?”

Jeff blinked as John waved the device over his head. His son’s glare at the scanner was almost enough to incinerate it.

John slapped his comms. “Eos, land the probe closest to the Crystal Cavern. I need physical contact with the rock. Activate mic input, scan the spectrum.”

“FAB.”

It took a few moments and Jeff found himself absently stroking Virgil’s hair.

“Contact made. Scanning...oh, my!”

“Let me hear it.” John was wired ever so tight, eyes on fire.

“Input is being received at a very high volume, but at a very high frequency far above the human ability to hear. Translating.”

The sound that emitted from John’s comms was a very loud discordant screeching. Everyone in the room clapped their hands to their ears. A nurse attending to Berry shoved aside a curtain and shouted at them, as John yelled at Eos to stop.

“What the hell is that?!” Gordon, as always, voiced what everyone was thinking.

John was already bouncing program variables over his wrist. “That is what we need to find out.”

-o-o-o-

It turned out it was the moon itself.

Jeff sat with Virgil as his son slept, unable to relax himself. Alan intermittently gnashed his teeth fretting out loud what all of them were thinking. Scott was missing and it tore at all of them.

Virgil slept on.

John could only be described as frantic. The space monitor swore a blue streak that had Jeff snapping at him at one point. The man’s response was throw up a hologram on his tablet that mapped out the sounds being emitted by Callisto.

It was like a nest of spiderweb laced around and through the rock of the Jovian satellite. Pockets of density existed in places along with patches of less. John reached up and poked a spot that was slightly different from the rest, but still drenched in lines.

“This is Callisto Base.”

“And what is that?” Jeff pointed at the fine lines darting all over the moon.

John sighed. “My guess is that we are looking at a communications network.”

Jeff’s eyes widened. “Who is communicating?”

“Unknown. There are no unaccounted life forms on this moon. Not life as we know it.”

“What about life as we don’t know it?”

“We’re working on it.”

Next question. “How did we miss it?” The moon was literally shouting loud enough to injure.

John deflated on the spot, obviously considering the lapse a failure on his part. “Sound requires matter to travel through. Thunderbird Five is not equipped to detect it unless we have something in contact with the atmosphere or a mic in play.”

“We have mics in our comms.” But Jeff knew the answer before his son supplied it.

“The frequencies are beyond usual pick up range. Far too high.”

“What about Virgil?”

John wilted. “I don’t know, Dad. Why is he affected more than the rest of us? Hell, why aren’t the colonists showing symptoms?”

Jeff frowned at that. “Why aren’t they? They’ve been here for years.”

“I can’t see how they could not be affected. We’ve only been here a short time and we are showing the effects.”

Something cold curdled in Jeff’s gut. A sudden suspicion roiled to the surface. “Leave that one to me.” He threw himself to his feet.

“Dad?” Aquamarine frowned at him.

“I’ll get some answers.”

-o-o-o-

His head was hammering both in dream and, as he rose to consciousness, in reality. “Oh god.” Virgil rolled over clutching his head and curled into a ball.

“Virgil?”

Alan? He clenched his eyes shut, hands gripping his hair.

“Virgil?” The softer more melodious voice of his older space brother. “Hold on.”

There were words not directed at him and Virgil must have faded out again because next he knew he was flat on his back and the pain had been reduced to a pale echo of itself, replaced with a light fog.

Someone was holding his hand.

“Scott?” It came out hoarse and barely there.

“Virgil, you with us?”

Alan. It was Alan. His little brother.

Rocket boy.

God, his head was sluggish.

“Alan? Where’s Scott?” He forced his eyes open and blinked against the light. Another groan and he moved on the bed, his body aching and stiff as if he had been in the same position for an eon. “What happened?”

Another slow blink and his memory landed in Crystal Cave and rescuing Director Berrenger, and then…pain and nothing.

“Ummm…Scott’s not here. Lemme get John.” There was the sound of an active comm and Alan calling for his big brother.

Huh?

“Where’s Gordon?”

“Asleep.” Alan pointed at the blue curtain beside them. “Dad had a go at him for not resting. Threatened to send him up to Five if he didn’t try to sleep.”

Oh, just fantastic. “What about you? Have you slept?” How long had Virgil been down for the count?

“I’m good. Been helping John detect aliens.”

“Aliens? What aliens?” Frowning shouldn’t hurt like this.

“Virgil, you’re awake.” John’s melodious voice was a welcome balm despite the fact it was stating the obvious.

“John.” Virgil tried to sit up, but a gentle hand halted him. A pair of aquamarine eyes telling him more than any words. “What happened? Where’s Scott?” Scott should be here. He was always here.

John sat down beside Virgil’s bed deliberately and quietly.

Oh god. “What happened?” Virgil pushed himself into a seated position despite his brother, determined to face whatever had happened…not lying down.

“Scott is okay, as far as we can tell.”

“As far as you can tell?”

John’s lips thinned and his eyes screamed apology before he activated his wrist comm and showed Virgil footage from the dragonfly cam that caught exactly what happened.

Virgil stared as his brother sacrificed himself to save him.

The expletive that fell from his lips was sharp and vulgar.

He pushed the fog in his head to one side and forced himself to focus. “I need details.” He shoved the covers off his legs.

A blink.

“And clothes.”

-o-o-o-

Jeff stared the Commander of Callisto Base down, every ounce of his height, every piece of history they held together. “What haven’t you told us?”

“Have you located Ju yet?” The shorter man set his shoulders and glared up at Jeff.

“We have discovered that there is likely another form of life on this moon. Were you aware of this?”

Graeme blinked. “Life? What?”

“My eldest son was captured by the same mechanism that likely caught your wife. My second eldest has taken ill with the effects of strong ultra-frequency sound. These sounds appear to envelope this moon. Are you trying to tell me, that with all your scientific staff and equipment, supplied by Tracy Industries, no less, you have yet to encounter this problem after inhabiting this base for over five years?” Jeff inched closer. “Think before you answer.” The threat was clear.

Graeme swallowed. “There was Jeremiah, but we thought that was an isolated case.”

“Jeremiah?”

“One of our geologists. Took ill, nausea, headaches, nothing we did helped. Are you telling me he died of exposure to sound?”

Jeff’s eyes narrowed as his heart lurched. “He died?”

Graeme’s eyes grew frantic as the dots connected. “Stroke. The doctors said it was stroke. I was going to ask you to take his body home to his family when you left.”

Jeff’s lips thinned ever so much more. “Anyone else?”

“Uh.” The man was obviously floundering and cursing himself at the same time. “There have been instances of nausea, dizziness and headache, but nothing as bad as Jeremiah. We put it down to long term low gravity and the environment. We are living on the edge of human experience out here. You know what that is like.” He stared up at Jeff. “What kind of life? Have you seen it?” A swallow. “What about Ju?”

What about, Scott? “We’re working on it. We hope to have more information once Berry wakes up.” They needed so many answers.

-o-o-o-

John glared at Virgil, but his idiot brother was as determined as any of them would be in the same situation. John dreaded what would happen when their father returned.

There was going to be hell to pay.

Virgil was given his uniform and Alan was scooted out of the closed curtained area. John refused to move and earned a glare for his efforts, but there was no way he was leaving Virgil on his own in this state, stupid determination or not.

Dad was going to kill all of them.

The rainbow of bruises across Virgil’s back as he threw off the hospital gown their father had so painstakingly helped the nurses dress him in hours earlier only served to impress on John the fact that this was ever so wrong.

“Virgil, please give yourself more time.”

“Scott doesn’t have time.”

“How do you know that?”

“He’s been kidnapped by goddamned aliens, John. I’ve seen enough sci-fi flicks to know where that leads.”

“I don’t think we need a Ripley in this case, Virgil.”

His brother yanked spacesuit onto his legs. “How do you know that? You haven’t even located the bugs yet.”

“I doubt they are bugs, Virgil.” With a sigh, he reached in and helped his brother pull his spacesuit up over his shoulders, not missing any of the multiple winces at the action. “In fact, I think they might be the crystals.”

Virgil turned to look at him. “The quartz?”

“Yes.”

“How? It reads as silicon dioxide.”

“I know. Thunderbird Five is not the USS Enterprise. We’re doing our best here.” John lowered Virgil’s red and green baldric over his shoulders, ever so gently letting it rest on what he knew were bruises.

This was madness. “You should stay in bed. You’ve been affected more than any of us. Long term exposure to ultrasound can be life threatening. Please, Virgil.”

His brother turned around, ever the rescue operative, the uniform wearing him rather than the other way around. “And what about Scott?”

“Let me, Virgil, please. We have Dad and Lee. You need rest.”

Dark eyes met his. “With Scott down, I’m in command. It is my duty to lead.”

“Virgil, this is not a military organisation and you are not a soldier.”

“No, I’m a Tracy.” With that, he threw aside the curtain and strode out.

John sighed. First Dad, and then Scott, when they found him.

Yes, there was going to be hell to pay.

-o-o-o-

The woman on the bed was an echo of the team mate he used to know. So much time had passed between them and, as it was always with time, it took as it left.

Berry’s hair was fading to white. Her skin had been kept relatively young by the lack of sun in her life. After all, it was a six to nine hundred odd million further kilometres away out here. But there was a frailness, nonetheless.

She seemed so small against the white of the pillow and bedsheets. Lacking the vivacity he knew she possessed.

“Kate?” He swallowed. She couldn’t hear him. Two broken ear drums would do that. He reached out a hand and gently nudged her shoulder.

He was relieved to see those familiar green eyes open and look up at him.

“Hey.” His voice broke just a little.

“Jeff?” Those eyes widened. And suddenly, before he could react, he was wrapped in eager arms holding him ever so tight. “Oh, Jeff. You came.”

“Could I do anything else?” But her arms were still around him. She couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t hear his words.

He found himself hugging her ever so tight back.

But he had to break it off. He needed information.

A gentle nudge and she relaxed back onto the bed, frowning up at him in worry.

Grabbing a tablet, he typed in the question and held it up for her to see. What happened?

“They caught us. The water kept us trapped. Couldn’t get out. Nga and Steve and then Chrisoula. They killed them. Trying to do something.” Her breathing elevated and for a moment there, Jeff feared he had lost her to whatever she was remembering.

He shook her shoulder gently, bringing her eyes back to him. Fingers on the tablet. Sound. They use sound.

She nodded and then closed her eyes as if in pain, a hand going to her head.

He squeezed her shoulder again. “Take it easy.”

A blink and he realised she knew he had said something but not what. He hastily tapped the words into the tablet.

She sighed as she read them, melting a little into the bed. “Where’s Ju?”

I was hoping you would be able to help us with that.

Realising what he meant, her lips thinned and her shoulders straightened a little on the bed.

“She’s still out there?”

He nodded.

“Damn.”

There’s a possibility your release was either an attempt at communication or a ruse to trap one of our operatives.

“Operatives?”

International Rescue.

“Your sons are here? To rescue us?”

That’s the plan.

She blinked a lot at that, moisture in her eyes, her lips twisting a little. “Thank you, Jeff.”

It’s what they do.

They. His own words struck home as he looked at the tablet.

A hand scratched gently at his arm, drawing his attention back to Berry.

“They kept us in a room made of water. The walls were continually moving, like a waterfall that never stopped. But with our lights we could see through it.” She blinked, eyes again focussing away from him, seeing something he couldn’t. “In the room, the floor was bare rock except for one of those crystal formations. Just one. But in the water outside, there was crystal everywhere.” She looked at him. “It’s the crystals, you know? They’re alive.”

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Jeff Tracy #Alan Tracy #Gordon Tracy #callisto

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Awe

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Virgil, Gordon

More for @gumnut-logic��‘s #irrelief! Another one for you, Nutty - “artist!Virgil and science!Gordon go on an underwater photography jaunt” - although I’m starting to get really bad at actually keeping to prompts beyond the vaguest links, oops... *(forgot the prompt mentioned photography)*

The Shelbys were probably expecting a certain beautiful Lady when Gordon asked to bring a plus one, not an older brother.

Virgil had a soft spot for Thunderbird Four. While nothing could possibly replace Thunderbird Two for him, and as far as piloting his brothers’ Thunderbirds went, Four was quite possibly at the bottom of his preference list, there was something about the little yellow sub that brought a smile to his face.

Maybe it was the fact that she was, in a way, part of Thunderbird Two. She had her own island launch, yes, but Thunderbird Two had an entire module dedicated to the small ‘bird, which definitely counted for something. Or maybe it was her bright yellow colour, a splash of cheer that matched her aquanaut’s taste for loud shirts and lightened the mood.

Alternatively, it was because she gave him views like this.

He was trained to pilot her, of course, but the cabin was minuscule (perfectly suited to the soon-to-be shortest brother) and he got a shoulder cramp if he remained in there for any real length of time. But her passenger bay was reasonably spacious in comparison, and he sat perfectly contently in one of the seats, looking out the clear airlock doors to the underwater view.

And what a view it was.

Gordon had received an invitation from the Shelby family to come and see the restoration work that had been taking place on the Supreme Barrier Reef, and being Gordon he had immediately leapt at the opportunity to live underwater for a few days. As an oceanographer-in-training, particularly one with an interest in the underwater ecosystems, studying the Supreme Barrier Reef was a dream come true and woe betide anyone that tried to tell him he couldn’t go (no-one tried).

Virgil’s presence on the trip was not quite so clear cut. Having two operatives out of action at the same time made Scott jittery, but his eldest brother also refused to push them too hard, nowadays – Dad’s return had marked the end of that problem, even if others had sparked up in its wake. Virgil was due time off, and it had been Gordon’s idea that he come along, too. Dad had supported it, reasoning that if Two was needed, Alan or Scott could pilot her. Virgil sincerely hoped Two would not be needed, and not just because if she was needed that meant someone was in trouble. Speed freaks had no business piloting a freight plane, and he didn’t plan on replacing burnt-out coils (again) because a certain brother had forgotten she only went a quarter of the speed of his usual ride.

That was a potential problem for when he got back. For now, he had much higher priorities.

From a scientific standpoint, Virgil knew nothing about reefs aside from the fact they were coral and had a thriving ecosystem when not being attacked by acid. That area was all Gordon’s, and he was welcome to it. However, from an artistic standpoint, reefs were a thing of beauty. Virgil had always wanted to draw one, but the films and photographs didn’t do them justice, and getting to see one up close was incredibly difficult.

Unless, of course, you were an oceanography student who also happened to be a member of International Rescue and chose to save the reef as well as the human lives at risk. Then, you got invitations to come back, and Gordon had pushed his luck to get the invitation extended for a ‘plus one’. Virgil suspected the Shelbys had been expecting Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, not an older brother. Still, he’d promised to behave, obey all instructions given, and stay inside the submarine, so the sharp-eyed Helen Shelby had approved his presence.

Deep-sea diving was Gordon’s area, anyway. Virgil was fine splashing around near the surface, but at these depths he was perfectly content to stay in the dry, sketchpad open across his knees and pencil skating across the high-grade paper as he got the basic shapes down. Almost out of view, three figures were darting in and around the reef, taking measurements and photographs of the recovering section.

It was their second day underwater, Thunderbird Four barely large enough for the two of them to live in without ending up on top of each other. Given their location, neither cared to complain at the cramped quarters. One of the lockers had been temporarily repurposed for Virgil’s required belongings – most of them art supplies, with actual hygiene essentials pared down to the absolute minimum. Already, he’d filled a sketch book with study after study of the fantastic sight before him, acutely aware that he was unlikely to ever get such an opportunity again. That had been all in greyscale, a practice in identifying and translating the shapes. His current sketchbook was based in colour.

The B pencil had been discarded, placed back into the tin with its fellows. In its place Virgil wielded coloured pencils, teals and turquoises, indigos and azures, aquas and cadmiums to try and capture the depth of colour in the water. The reef itself used every colour in his not inconsiderable arsenal, so vibrantly full of life and movement as fish and other aquatic life Virgil couldn’t begin to identify flickered around the plants and coral that made up such a magnificent feat.

Tomorrow would be their last day, and it was then that Virgil planned to combine his two studies – shape and colour – to try and accurately reproduce the indescribable beauty of the reef.

Gordon had already preemptively called dibs on the first piece of art Virgil deemed suitable for sharing, peeking over his shoulder during the mandatory breaks back inside the submarine to replenish his oxygen supplies and rest from the swimming.

His younger brother was different, in this environment. Nothing could ever take away his natural tendency to joke, but while he was often making a nuisance of himself on downtime, or determined on a rescue, here he was relaxed. This was the Gordon doing what he truly loved the most, with no expectations or consequences.

Virgil had a fourth sketchbook that he found himself sporadically adding to, one Gordon (probably) didn’t know about. Inside it, various Gordons smiled lovingly at the fish – and other things that the blond could no doubt name instantly but Virgil couldn’t begin to guess at what they were – that came up to investigate the strange blue-clad creature encroaching on their home.

The sketch of Gordon and the clown fish (thank you, Gordon’s childhood obsession with Finding Nemo, for that identification), was headed John’s way. A surprise encounter with what Gordon had told him on his next rest period was a dugong would find its way into Alan’s room. The breath-taking appearance of a whale would be a present for Dad. Kayo would appreciate the sea-snake, while the seahorse would go to Scott. Grandma would get Gordon cautiously greeting an enthusiastic dolphin, and then Gordon could pick whichever one he liked from the rest to go with his pre-claimed reef artwork.

Outside the little submarine that had claimed a small soft spot from Virgil, her aquanaut was returning, signing something beyond Virgil’s basic underwater sign language knowledge (which consisted entirely of a thumbs up that didn’t mean ‘okay’ and a thumb and forefinger circle that did) to the Shelbys as they headed for their own craft. Virgil hid the fourth sketchbook away before Gordon’s attention returned to him, a jaunty wave that warned him of an imminent airlock opening.

Gordon kept his distance as he re-entered, aware that paper was not waterproof and that, amazing though his uniform was, it was still wet after the latest expedition into the water. Still, he peered over Virgil’s shoulder from the other end of the bay and made an appreciative noise at the splash of colour on the open sketchbook. Virgil nodded in acknowledgement of his presence and turned onto a fresh page.

His eye caught by what looked like some sort of anemone, he once again put pencil to paper.

#irrelief #irrelief2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #gumnut-logic #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #helen shelby #robbie shelby #thunderfluff

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

The Last Dragon

At five in the morning in the early spring night, the world was still steeped in deep darkness. The few stars that were visible through Chicago’s light pollution shined in the clear velvet sky. The winds coming off the lake Erie were fierce and screamed and thundered in between the buildings, rattling the bare branches of the tall trees.

All the buildings on the campus were dark save the Gear Department equipment warehouse. The large garage door was open and shining bright like an illuminated cave.

Brian strode inside. The wind tugged at his scarf, whipping it horizontal from his neck. The lifted garage door shook in its tracks as he passed under it.

The cold winter nights gave way to warmth in the well-heated expansive space. Mr. Baldwin stood, his coat draped over his arm, looking up at what seemed to be a half built elongated fighter jet. Its wings were short and it was tilted up vertically like a rocket. Technicians in white coats were looking up at it and checking their clipboards, others were bent over computer screens, pointing at them.

Brian yawned. “Is this what we’re training in? Doesn’t look very airworthy…”

“You know the gear department. They’ll have it ‘airworthy’ within the week. So yes, training starts now. I appreciate that you’ve finally chosen to wear your uniform.” The stoic head of the Executive Department looked him up and down. His dark brown hair was well combed and expertly clipped and he was still in his professional suit even this early. Brian wondered if the man was just a vampire who never slept at night.

“Of course. This is serious. It’s not like I’m herding college students to class any more.” The official executive department uniform took after that of the Royal Navy. A light blue button down shirt, black tie, and belted black slacks. On his chest was the crest of the half-wilted Yggdrasil of Cassell College.

Mr. Baldwin tilted his head slightly. “Are you saying the work was beneath you?”

“No, sir.” Brian replied. “The work was beneath the uniform.”

That coaxed a smile out of him. “The vessel needed reinforcing. We sent out a scout plane to the coordinates and found an area of disturbed weather. It appears that this atmospheric anomaly will continue to intensify in the coming days.” Mr. Baldwin folded his arms, eyes fixed on the rocket-like plane.

“Can’t we just wait it out?” Brian asked.

Mr. Baldwin huffed and lowered his eyes. “I said the same thing. But the Vice Chancellor insisted that we reinforce the ship. Something that could withstand the winds of something far beyond the eyewall of a category 5 hurricane.”

Brian’s eyes widened slightly. “Is there such a material?”

“Not naturally. We’ve resorted to alchemy.”

Brian gave a low appreciative whistle. “So he thinks we’ll encounter something like that?”

Mr. Baldwin took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I should say this. I trust you’re level-headed enough to handle this information. Every time I brought out some observation from the field, the Vice Chancellor would insist on preparing for something ten times that.”

Brian nodded and an uneasy silence fell between them.

More students walked in, at least two dozen of them. They were a rowdy bunch happily chattering and openly admiring the towering air vessel. The sight of it filled them with excitement. Mr. Baldwin smiled. He wasn’t old enough to remember the day when the Execution Department of Cassell was nearly obliterated in Tibet. He knew about it because it was his business to know about it.

They’d just now gotten their feet under them and here they were, back into the fray. Only Brian seemed to have a clue about the danger they were in. He wasn’t sure how, but it was nice to have at least one student here he could share the truth with.

Brian kept his knowledge to himself, joining the group and quietly fist bumping his colleagues. He stood among them as they lined up in front.

Mr. Baldwin cleared his throat. “This week we received a missive from the Chancellor and we held a meeting. We have what we believe in the first sign of the Lord of Sky and Wind that we’ve seen since the first fall of the Four Lords, a first generation awakening that will be the last one.”

The students roared with applause and Mr. Baldwin let them have it. “Naturally your classes are canceled until further notice. You’ll report here every day for your aerospace training.”

“Hey is the S-Ranker not coming?” The question came from the back, from Shimoda Masato, an exchange student from the Japan branch. Brian wasn’t very familiar to him other than the fact that he had a habit of speaking up sharply and stating the obvious that others were too deferential to bring up. At time that made him an asset, at times that made him a thorn in everyone’s side.

But Masato never wilted under the gaze of the crowd or his superiors when he felt he had a valid point. HIs eyes stared straight at Mr. Baldwin.

“The students were handpicked by the Vice Chancellor and I.”

“So she’s S-ranked, but not good enough for this mission?”

“Student assessments are classified.” Baldwin turned away to wave over the technicians who were bringing over the flight suits.

Brian tried to avoid eye contact with the student next to him who was glancing over. But he dug his elbow in his side and whispered. “Hey, you’re kinda close to Ru’Yi, is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” Brian grumbled.

“Then why isn’t she here?”

“I trust the decision of the Execs.”

“Is it ‘cause she’s unstable?”

Brian felt his hackles rise and he pinned his fellow student with a sharp glare.

“I… I mean like mentally… She seems kinda… erratic.”

Brian refused to respond to that, he placed his hands behind his back and stared straight forward, clasping his hands tightly.

“I mean, you would know right? Aren’t you two…?”

“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” Mr. Baldwin stared at the other student, cowing him into silence.

Brian suppressed a sigh of relief.

“I’ll have Engineer Robinson explain the details.”

A svelte young woman approached with long ebony hair. “These flight suits are custom manufactured for this mission. The interior lining is made your typical cut proof fabric, but we also have an exterior lining for warmth at high altitudes. IT is not cut proof but is made from a special self healing fabric.” She pulled out a sharp knife and demonstrated on a piece of cloth, cutting it easily in two, then she pressed the edges together and the cut was healed, just as if someone were sticking together two pieces of clay.

“We’ll also be outfitting you with flight helmets, oxygen supplies, emergency oxygen supplies and parachutes, flares and locating beacons in case of emergencies. You will be trained in the use of all of the functions of this suit”

The students started murmuring to themselves. Mr. Baldwin cast his eyes on all of them. While some still maintained the eager enthusiasm, the smiles were gone from others.

Finally one raised his voice: “Are we going to be fighting this dragon in mid-air?”

-------------

Tom dug his claws into the spiny bark of the coconut tree. The hot afternoon sun burned into his back and he squinted into the light of the sun. Just a few more feet and he would arrive at the succulent green fruit at the very top. Far below, Mr. Lu waited for him.

This island was so flat, that this high up on the tree, he had a complete panoramic view of the entire island shore. It was a breathtakingly beautiful sight. Bright blue waves under a bright blue sky, with puffy clouds here and there. A ring of golden sand, dark volcanic rock and patches of green tropical plantlife.

A sudden gust of wind made him dig his claws. The wing extensions coming out of his hands were like kites. If they opened just a little bit, he would pull the rocking trunk even further. He pressed himself to the wood and closed his eyes until the wind let up.

“Hey! We don’t have all day!” Mr. Lu shouted at him from far below.

This whole exercise was his idea. They’d been walking and looking for shells when Tom mentioned that he never knew that coconut palms could grow so tall. In fact, these were massive spires swaying a hundred feet overhead.

He focused on his surroundings, a sea of emerald green palm fronds and a cluster of light brown and green coconuts.

He gripped with his toe claws and carefully pulled one hand from the tree to retrieve his machete. He lifted it up started to hack at the connection between the coconut at the trunk. “Look out below!” He shouted.

The coconut dislodged and fell.

Tom made the mistake of looking down. He couldn’t even see the coconut hit the ground. The earth seemed to rush away from him in a swirling vertigo. He pressed his cheek against the trunk again.

“I got it!” Came Mr. Lu’s voice.

“Great…” Tom squeaked.

He reached up and started to hack at the coconuts again, shouting a warning each time one fell to the ground.

On his fifth coconut Something fell. It wasn’t out of the ordinary. Each strike sent dead brown leaves and other woody debris onto his head.

But this had a decidedly different weight and as soon as it landed, it moved, pressing little feet on the back of his neck, over his shoulder and his chest. Tom frantically batted at this red colored hairy tarantula about 3 inches long.

“Get off me! Get off me!” Tom’s world suddenly tilted. The wind pushed at him, rushing into the space between his body and the tree trunk and catching the leathery wing folds under his arms. They billowed out like sails and pulled hard. The tree bent forward as Tom clung to it. His claws scored the bark in a desperate bid to stay on the tree, but the wind suddenly gusted and he was torn from it. The tree then snapped away from his searching fingers.

Eyes wide and world spinning, Tom plummeted. Instinctively, he reached for the ground to catch himself, but when he did so his arms were yanked back upwards with a terrible jerk and the ground fled away.

Panting with terror, he looked around as the trees were below him. At that moment, the steady tropical breeze was sending him in a steady rise into the sky. His wings were supporting him and he was scared to move them. If he folded them he would fall. But he kept rising.

“Help! Help!” The wind was sending him out over the island towards the ocean. Tom despaired wondering if he was doomed to soar out forever into the sea.

He’d looked at his wings before and wondered if he could fly. But he was too nervous to even try it. He assumed they wouldn’t work that way. Didn’t someone say that humans couldn’t fly? How was it that now that he was in the air, he didn’t know how to get down? How does one stop flying? The wind bounced him up and down in the shifting current, maintaining the lift of his arms. But as he got out to sea that lift started to diminish.

“Um… Um…”

“Lift your legs behind you.”

“What?!”

“Keep your gaze forward! Don’t look back!” Mr. Lu’s voice was commanding and slightly mocking.

“I can’t stop! I can’t…”

“You’re going to end up in the water, if you don’t do what I say. Lift your legs.”

Tom whimpered and did as he was instructed. The drag created by his legs vanished the moment he lifted him and he started to rise again. The water started to distance itself. He saw his own shadow, two wings and a long body, just like a dragon. And right behind his shadow, he saw another, far bigger shadow with wings that dwarfed his own.

Mr. Lu had wings? Since when?

“Now, can you see the shore? Look with your eyes.”

Just out of the corner of his vision the dark line of shoreline was still visible.

“Yeah…”

“Turn your head slightly in that direction. Your head is your rudder, you’ll go where you look.”

Tom turned his head to the shore and sure enough, he started to turn in a wide arc. His heartrate slowed as safety and security in the air grew. He wasn’t even moving his arms and yet the wind seemed to want to pick him up to carry him. He couldn’t fall if he wanted to.

He looked down again. The massive shadow was gone. He lowered his legs slowly and felt himself slow and start to descend looking for a soft patch of sand to land on.

The land grew closer and closer. He could feel himself shaking. His feet hit the ground, sending up a shower of sand in front of him and he fell to his knees and leaned on his hands, gasping. He swallowed hard and his mouth felt like sandpaper.

He did it. He actually flew. The reality dawned on him and he couldn’t help but smile a little and laugh. “Well… That happened.”

He flopped into the sand, not caring that it was going to stick to him and he would have to shower later. It was warm and soft and firm and let him rest while the thought of flying sank into his mind. It felt good.

“So. Still want to go back to being human?”

Tom scrambled to sit up. Mr. Lu was standing there, sipping from an open coconut.

“Is that what this is all about?”

“This’ as in ‘this just now’? Or ’This whole island’? Regardless, the answer to both of those questions is yes.”

“You made me climb trees all day just so I could fall off?”

Lu Mingfei just sipped his coconut milk and smiled.

“Where did your wings go?”

“What wings?”

“You were flying with me! Don’t play dumb!” Tom snapped.

Mr. Lu stared at him. “Answer my question first. Do you want to go back to being human?”

“I can’t go back… it doesn’t matter.” Tom looked at his hands. “I… won’t be able to play guitar like this. Flying is nice. It felt good for a bit. But you know… if anyone else saw me, they would probably try to shoot me.”

“I know. And the way you are now? You’d let them.”

Tom raised his eyes to look. Mingfei was staring at him, all amusement gone. Tom’s shoulders sagged. He shook his head. What was he supposed to feel. He raised his hand to look at his wings. Flying felt scary and exhilarating.

“You’re very important Tom. You just don’t realize it yet.” Lu Mingfei joined him on the sand, offering him the coconut.

“Can I tell you a story? You’re Japanese… right?” He squinted. “Well, never mind. Do you know what the Sengoku Jidai is?”

“Yes. It was the Japanese civil wars.”

“Exactly. They spent years and years in some of the most fierce and bloody battles in history. Thousands of people died. Weapons technology and battle tactics took a great leap forward.”

“By the time the flames died down, you had an entire society built on war. People were soldiers through and through. But now they couldn’t fight each other. So you know what they did?”

“Um… They attacked Korea.”

“Exactly. They didn’t just stop fighting when the Sengoku era came to a close. They just changed their enemies. So Tom, what do you think will happen to Cassell College once the last dragon falls?”

“The same thing? They’ll change their enemies?” Tom’s eyes widened slightly.

“Anjou was never truly concerned about that. Oh sure, he never tolerated Hybrid society’s constant drive for power in his own presence. He was single minded in his destruction of the four lords and the revenge of his friends. But he knew that once the last dragon was dead, Hybrids wouldn’t be content to live in human society. They already occupy the highest levels of wealth and power in many regions.”

“So what did he do?”

Lu Mingfei grinned at him. “Project Nibelungen. Designed byProfessor Franco. It fused advanced biotechnology and alchemical arts. Then it uses a serum refined from dragonblood to enhance a Hybrid’s potency. It allows them to transcend blood thresholds while maintaining consciousness.”

“I was the first one it was used on.”

Tom’s slack jawed stare made him chuckle. “Surprised? Yes, I was an unwitting guinea pig for his project. As well as… other projects. But it was an arms race, both against dragons and against other Hybrids. I wasn’t the only one seeking this same ability. I’m not the only one who has it.”

“Carli has taken a route taken by others. Getting the consent of the desperate and the dying, to complete what Anjou started… her motives are compassionate… and a bit naive. I want to tell you the truth though.”

He stood up and brushed himself off. “War is coming to Cassell.” He offered his hand and Tom took it.

“Am I going to have to fight?” Tom asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to avoid. Or at least put off. I can’t give you too many details. Things are still in motion. But we’ve made progress!” He gave him a slap on the back. “I’m in the mood for some… pina coladas…”

#Class of 2032 #Dragon Raja #Fanfiction

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fablesrose · 4 years

Text

Of Kings and Shadows IV

Chapter IV

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: Find it on Wattpad --> Here

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Violence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only thing on my mind when I got back was to get out of these sweaty clothes and take a shower.

Ever since that successful mission with the Avengers a couple weeks back I've been one more and more missions. Some in the new drone program, others, break in and blow stuff up, and still others, like this one, infiltration. Today it had to be quick, no extended period of time. In, get as much footage and information as possible, mostly about their tech and advancements for now, and get the heck out of there before they started to realize that they had extra agents in their halls.

I was in the team that went to the computers. Well, the back up, cuz we're smart enough not to go into the center heavily guarded computer lab and ask for them to download everything onto a flash drive... The back up was a room in a far corner, hooked up to the main lab, but all the info went to it, just in case. It could be readily accessible in case of emergency and they had to evacuate.

The progress on their largest, latest, and most dangerous projects were downloaded, and a bug placed in their system to spy and get the rest later. The computer room was hot, only too small of fans going to cool it down. The thick Hydra jacket wasn't helping in the temperature dilemma either. I dreaded having to replace the helmet and visor when we had to leave.

It went without a hitch, in and out. Now the shower was in the forefront of my mind. With my helmet on my head, for one, it was too hard to take off with all the straps, and two. for keeping my hands free for other stuff, I headed to my locker. The visor was put away immediately. I could almost feel the stream of water in my back, and the steam gently touching my face when the dream was crushed.

"Agent l/n!"

It was Brian Fletcher. Agent Brian Fletcher. He's been the dude in charge in... pretty much all of the missions I've been on in the past couple weeks. I learned his name on the second mission with him, and learned he was one who actually deserved respect twice as quickly. Incredible agent, and from what time I've spent working with him he seems like a good man. One thing is for sure, he's been doing this for a long time and knows what he's doing.

"y/n, I'm gonna need you to go down to the workshop... or where ever Mr. Stark is and give this to him." He handed me a file which I assumed had the information we just recovered.

"Yes, sir. I'll grab a quick shower and hand it off. "

"No, now."

I resisted the urge to groan, but failed to withhold, "why?"

Before I could retract the statement, or Brian could answer, there was a voice from across the locker room, "Because you're the only one here that Tony likes!"

He looked at me with a look that said, 'they have a point'

And I'd be lying if I didn't say I mirrored the expression.

So, I took the file, not bothering to take anything off, since this is so important. I trudged down the hallway, in the most respectful way possible.

I nodded to those I knew as I passed, the file securely in my hand. There were a few double takes at the uniform, but were quickly resolved once they noticed how disheveled the open jacket looked and saw my face. Which, looking back may not have been the best reaction, and wasn't a good decision on my part in the first place either...

Oh well.

I finally made it to the lab/workshop/whatever you want to call it. That shower was still calling my name, so I wanted to get this over as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the commute to Tony's den was not short, and my legs were not getting any younger. Fortunately, we have been making the Avengers compound our landing base, so it wasn't like I had to go from SHIELD headquarters to find him.

I knocked on the window, but the music was playing really loud to be heard over the louder machinery. Since he wasn't gonna let me in I decided to see if JARVIS would let me in.

"Hey, Jarvis"

"Yes ma'am"

"I've got orders to give this file to Tony, can I get in there?"

"It is open miss"

The door moved a little bit to show it was now open. It kinda made me wonder if it was open all along, but there wasn't anything telling me it was so I didn't think too hard about it.

"Thank you sir" I said it in a little sing song to show my appreciation without all the formal crap.

"Of course miss"

I could feel the bass guitar rattle my bones in just the right way. In the short time that I listened to it I could tell that it was an AC DC song, but not exactly which one. Not that I should know, I only did have about five on my recognizable list.

Right then Tony's peripheral vision must have picked me up as he stood up knocking his chair over behind him. It probably would have been smart of me if I had noticed he was working on a repulsor. That was on his hand. And now charged up. And pointed at me.

As any regular sane person, I didn't want to be blown sky high, so I raised my hands and made sure my face was visible so he could see who I was and that I was no threat. There was a tense probably ten seconds (which felt like hours, but you don't wanna know that) where the only movement was the metal shavings on the floor, vibrating with the guitar rifts.

"Mr. Stark? Its me, Agent Y/n L/n?"

He blinked a couple times, like he was clearing his vision. I realized he was probably really tired, and plus looking at something so small and close probably messed with his eyes. After a second he seemed to have registered who I was and smiled.

I let out a breath, then figured I had better explain why I scared him half to death.

"Hey so I was sent to give you this file, right away. I'm pretty sure it contains information we just acquired from that HYDRA base we just infiltrated." I set the file on his desk then had an idea. "Hey Jarvis?"

"Yes miss?"

"Make sure Mr. Stark doesn't forget this file, please?"

"Consider it done"

I smiled, "Thank you!"

I looked back at Tony to see that he was lowering his hand with the state of the art in weapon tech strapped to it. I was only alerted something was amiss when I noticed his eyes widen and look slightly above and behind me.

Then I was thrown into a wall.

The gut feeling washed over me too late. Maybe it wasn't even that gut feeling. Maybe it was just the churning from being tossed across the room, high enough in the air as to miss most of the equipment in the room. Whatever it was... It didn't help me at all.

My vision went black, and I felt light headed as if I stood up too quickly. Before I could recover, a hand wrapped itself around my throat. My vision came back slowly, but not before that same hand lifted me along the wall so high that my feet no longer touched the floor. They seemed to know what they were doing as they held me in a manner that limited my airflow, but left enough open for me to answer.

Or die slowly.

"That symbol has no place here!"

I finally saw who it was, and my eyes widened in shock.

Loki.

I didn't even know he was released and approved, yet. That being said, maybe he wasn't. The only thing that mattered that he was either gonna question me, hurt me, or kill me, in the next few minutes. Who knows? Maybe all three.

"What were you going to do to the tin man!?"

He tightened his grip, a threat to answer. His over eagerness betrayed him, however. My view started shrinking. His questions faded out, the shower that was so wanted before, now seemed like an out of reach luxury. One I no longer wanted or thought about. The only thing on my mind was the pain of being slammed yet again into the wall, and the ever decreasing oxygen supply.

I smacked at his hand. Tried to pull it apart. In a last ditch effort I kicked my legs. One of my feet hit something, it was obvious it was on the side of his body as my heal glanced off of him. It caused him to bend at the hip, causing less pressure up against the wall.

I started to slide down and used the opportunity to smack his hand off of my throat. Dropping the rest of the way to the ground, I crawled away, instincts kicking in.

"Woah, woah, woah!"

I fell on the ground trying to catch my breath. I could see Tony step between me and my assailant, back to me, holding his hands up in a non-threatening manner.

My hands started ripping off the helmet, which I suppose I should be grateful for, and then throwing the jacket as far away from me as possible revealing in full the SHIELD cut off sleeved t-shirt underneath. It seemed like it would help stop the wheezing, and it also seemed to help defuse the situation behind me.

Once the adrenaline started to fade, my mind reasoned with what happened.

He was defending... Tin man? Did he mean Tony? Oh, I'm getting dizzy again... The ground looks inviting... Man, is he strong... I Do Not... do not... not... want ... to be... on his bad side...

All the wheezing lead to a coughing fit. One that hurt like the devil and seemed to last just as long. A hand rested on my back, rubbing back and forth as if to soothe me. I glanced back, Tony was crouched beside me, looking concerned. My eyes wandered past him to the man who held my life in his hand a moment ago.

He gave a very stiff nod, not a single emotion easily read on his face. He then turned gracefully on his heal and strode almost silently from the room. Only then did I notice that the music wasn't playing. My coughs echoing around the workshop.

Tony helped me sit against the wall. I gingerly touched my throat, clenching my jaw when I realized how tender it was.

"Are you okay?"

The first sound that came out of my mouth sounded strangled, and it hurt just as much. I took a sharp intake of breath before trying again.

"I'll... " I took another deep breath, "Live." I rested my face in my hands, letting out a shaky breath. I didn't know that there were tears rolling down my cheeks until my fingers felt them.

"Okay, breathe in. Through the nose. Hold it..." His fingers were lightly touching my knee, perhaps in a gesture to show he's there.

He guided me through breathing exercises for a couple minutes. The way he watched me do it and helped showed this was far from the first time he's done this. For himself or others I didn't know.

Once my breathing became regular, or at least more regular, he helped me stand.

"Let's get you to the infirmity, that bruise is getting swollen."

I wobbled on my feet, grabbing onto his hand to help steady myself.

"Thank you, sir."

"Y/n, call me Tony... After we get you fixed up I'm gonna find out what the actual crap happened."

Tags: @nightrose64

#loki odinson #loki x reader #avengers x reader #avengersfanfiction #marvel #tony stark #shield #loki fanfic #pain #attack #comfort #x reader #avengers x you #Avengers #Of Kings and Shadows

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willow-salix · 4 years

Text

Here it is, my take on the episode "Venom" a nearly 8K monster of Virgil whump and dramatic changes. This came about after a conversation with @soniabigcheese. *ducks and waits for @gumnut-logic to throw things at her*

Here's a snippet, but you can read it all here...

"Where's Scott gone now?" Virgil asked, realising that his oldest brother had done one of his vanishing acts. They had been becoming more and more frequent over the past few weeks as his stress levels soared. He could usually be found in one of two places, his office where he attempted to bury himself in paperwork, or "observing" Brains and The Mechanic as they worked to build the new T- Drive engine. Scott was driving The Mechanic insane by breathing down his neck every five seconds and making rather rude comments about his trustworthiness. Even Brains, who was the most placid person Selene had ever met, was getting sick of mediating between the two.

"He was here like ten minutes ago, who let him go?" Kayo groaned.

"Don't look at me, I was keeping an eye on him last night, I actually sat on him to stop him leaving the couch in the middle of the movie," Selene wasn't proud of the fact that Gordon had walked in on her laying forcefully across his brothers back while she flicked the back of his head and yelled at him to sit still, but she'd do it again if she had to. She was a team player like that.

"I took him out running last night, I've done my-" Virgil paused as John's holographic form popped up.

"We have a situation."

"You found Scott? What's he up to now?"

"What? No," John frowned, confused by the sudden turn in conversation. "I mean I just received a distress call, an arachnologist stationed in the Amazon has been bitten by one of the spiders he was capturing for study and an antivenom breeding program. They are notoriously hard to catch, let alone milk as they are decidedly fast and will bite without any provocation, so supplies are very limited."

"Sounds delightful, how do you even milk a spider?" Selene had to ask.

"Mild electric shock that not only paralyses them for a brief time but stimulates their venom glands, which is collected when it drips from their fangs," John answered as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"So is there any antivenom available for...which spider is it?" Virgil asked.

"The Creeping Banana Spider, and yes, there is. Only it's a very limited supply. "

Selene made a face, she wasn't scared of spiders but didn't feel the need to get up close and personal with the poisonous ones. Give her a big, fluffy tarantula any day of the week over the smaller, evil little shits.

"So do we have to collect it, or pick up the scientist?" Virgil asked.

"A little of both, Dr Furnier managed to get out a call to the hospital where he works in their research lab and they sent some out by drone, but the drone has vanished and they have no way of tracking it. I've tried and it's giving off a weak signal but you're still going to have to go out there, find it and administer it before taking Dr Furnier to the hospital."

"On it," Virgil was on his feet in an instant, heading to his launch tube, but he stopped before he stepped on the foot plate. "Let's take Scott with us, he could do with an outing. Kayo, Selene, want to come with?"

"Sure, I could do with some action," Kayo was already heading for the hangers.

"What good am I going to be?"

"You're great at calming people down, plus Gordon said you helped him with a little healing before, I'm sure you could help me keep Furnier comfortable."

She thought about it for a second then nodded. "Sure, I'll come."

"Be careful," John warned her.

"You never say that to anyone else," she bitched as she followed after Kayo.

"You're different," he insisted, ignoring the middle finger she flipped at him.

"I'll look after her," Virgil promised as he stepped firmly onto the foot plate, the painting behind him starting to tilt.

***

As soon as they reached the area Scott and Kayo had been sent off on a drone hunt while Virgil and Selene continued on to help the Doctor.

Selene stayed in Two, making sure the medical bay was fully prepared while Virgil switched the huge craft to auto pilot, leaving it hovering above the treeline, and lowered onto the Doctor's observation platform.

It didn't take him long to return, carrying Dr Furnier as if he weighed nothing more than a bag of sugar. She moved aside, letting him lay the man down on the bed and handed Virgil the med-scanner.

"How's it looking?" Furnier asked, a little breathlessly and with a pain filled tinge to his voice.

"Not too bad," Virgil hedged, his eyes focused on the scanner screen.

"How do you feel?" Selene asked Furnier, "can you describe it?"

"The venom is spreading fast, I can't feel my legs, and my head hurts."

Selene leant over to look at Virgil's screen, seeing that his blood pressure was far too high and his temperature was climbing.

She soaked a cloth in cold water and laid it on his forehead to ease both the headache and mop up the beads of sweat that glistened on his forehead as Virgil wound a bandage tightly around his hand and forearm in the hope of slowing down the spread and splinted the arm to stop it from moving, any movement could make the situation worse.

Virgil handed her the scanner so she could familiarise herself with the details and turned away to talk to Scott, not wanting the Doctor to hear how bad it was.

"So, you study spiders, huh?"

Furnier coughed weakly but nodded. "Always been a…passion of mine."

"I took our younger brothers to the zoo a while ago, I freaked the smallest one out by holding a tarantula. Apparently it wasn't really the fact that I was holding it that was bad, it was the fact that I was talking to it like I would our cat."

Furnier managed a weak chuckle as she helped him to sit up and take a sip of water.

"They're on their way," Virgil informed them both, "don't worry, they won't let us down."

***

Selene secured the oxygen mask on Furnier while Virgil rummaged through the meds supply on board, including a box that he'd taken from Furnier's lab.

She was just checking his vitals again when, out of the corner of her eye she saw Virgil suddenly stiffen, standing as still as a statue.

Before she could even register what was happening, Furnier sat bolt upright and lunged in Virgil's direction, sweeping up a specimen jar. Two seconds later Virgil was in possession of a freaky looking spider, Furnier had collapsed back on the bed and Selene was wondering if she would ever sleep again without visions of that bastard thing haunting her.

"Thank you," Virgil breathed, beyond relieved. "You saved me."

Selene checked Furnier's pulse finding it to be far too fast.

"He's tachycardic," she warned as Virgil gently set the jar aside with the care one would give an unexploded bomb. "We need to work quickly, can we give him something to bring his heart rate down? That will stop the heart pumping so fast and spreading the poison even quicker."

"I don't know enough about this spider to want to risk introducing anything else into his bloodstream at this point," Virgil admitted, looking sideways at the spider.

"I swear that thing is looking at me," he shuddered. "It wanted a taste and isn't happy its plan was foiled."

Selene was prevented from answering by the rattling of Furnier's breathing. "He's getting worse," she laid her hands on his forearm and wrist, feeling the pain from the bite and the poison invading his system. "He needs them to hurry or there won't be any point in them coming back."

Virgil nodded, doing another scan of the Furnier's vitals, the Doctor having succumbed to unconsciousness. "I'm going to get them, it'll be quicker for everyone."

Selene stayed with Furnier, pumping out as much healing energy as she could into the Doctor to try to keep him stable, while Virgil returned to the controls of Two, John having located Scott and Kayo and sent Virgil the coordinates.

Thankfully it wasn't long before Scott and Kayo joined them, along with the precious antivenom.

They managed to rouse Furnier and Kayo administered the antivenom, helpfully prepared in an epipen style syringe.

The effect was almost instant, as colour returned to his cheeks, although they kept the bandage in place.

"You'll need fluids and possibly another dose of antivenom so we're taking you to the hospital to get checked out, along with this little guy-" Virgil paused, his eyes widening as he took in the empty jar that had once held the spider.

"I must not have put the lid on properly," Furnier groaned. "Nobody move!"

They all went still, their eyes frantic searching. It was nowhere to be seen.

"Scott, don't come in!" Virgil yelled through to his brother.

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

The sound of his footsteps echoed up the stairs.

"No!" Virgil dove for the door, trying to slam it shut. "Ow! Shit!"

Kayo dived down into a crouch and scooped the spider off the back of Virgil's leg and into a box, handing it to Furnier while Selene examined Virgil. The holes were small, but distinctive and definitely there, punchered right through his uniform and into his meaty calf muscle.

#virgil tracy #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds season 3 #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic update #fandom

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timeagainreviews · 4 years

Text

Sifting through the Dregs

For series twelve of Doctor Who, I have opted to take a casual approach. I've avoided spoilers as much as possible. Although I caught the trailers, and the odd press photo, I've managed to stay away from things as simple as episode descriptions, writers, or even episode titles. I want to come into each story with as little expectation as possible. This is so that I might avoid hype, both of the negative and positive varieties. So when I read the words "Part One," after "Spyfall," it was genuinely a surprise. And when I read the words "Orphan 55 by Ed Hime," I was suddenly very hopeful.

If you remember from series eleven, I was a big fan of Ed Hime's episode "It Takes You Away." I praised its brazen absurdity, likening it to something Douglas Adams may have done. The episode is rather divisive in the fandom, as some might call it one of the worst episodes ever. Obviously, I disagree. Ed Hime stands out to me as exactly the kind of writer Doctor Who needs. Someone with a bit of a taste for the absurd, while still managing to capture human moments. Ironic then, that despite my best efforts to approach the episode without expectation, the hype I would most contest with would be my own. Does "Orphan 55," live up to my expectations? Let's get into it!

As I said, Ed Hime lends a sort of mad weirdness to Doctor Who that I feel a certain section of writers possess. Think your Lawrence Mileses, your James Gosses, or even the occasional Steven Moffat. These are writers, who for better or worse understand one thing about Doctor Who- it's weird. Strangely, one of the common most aspects ignored by Doctor Who writers is the absurdity. A blue police box wrapped around an impossible machine, piloted by an ancient trickster somehow becomes mundane. Doctor Who's weirdness is an integral element that has been around since its inception. That's why when the gang gets teleported by a contest cube Graham has assembled, and the first person we meet is a furry, I feel we're already onto a good start. Especially when they just finished cleaning up the biggest calamari ever from the TARDIS floor. (Anyone else think of the Nestine Consciousness?)

Characters like "Hyphen with a 3" or "Hyph3n," remind me of some of the '80s era's odder characters. I could easily see her and her tail living in "Paradise Towers," or perhaps riding a bus in "Delta and the Bannermen." But another reason I love her is that she's not just a furry, it's part of her identity. You don't get the idea that she's an outlier like real-life Trekkie, Barbara Adams, who famously wore her Star Trek uniform to jury duty and her place of work. Instead, you get the feeling that in the future, people respect identities. To use Star Trek again, I remember watching an episode of "Star Trek: Enterprise," where the character Trip has a crisis over whether or not a girl "was a man." When you compare this to the dialogue we're having about transgender rights in 2020, you're automatically reminded that Enterprise came out in 2001. By today's standards, furries are still seeking acceptance. Seeing Hyp3n in a partial fursuit may seem absurd now, but in its own way, it's futuristic. How very Doctor Who.

Things in this future, however, aren't all progressive acceptance of our fine furry friends, there seems to be trouble in paradise. As I said, the gang is greeted by Hyp3n, a sort of porter for a relaxation destination called "Tranquility Spa." The companions immediately take to the spirit of things, as they settle in for a bit of rest and relaxation. The Doctor, of course, starts snooping around. Meanwhile, a security team of two, Kane and Vorm are responding to "another security breach." Whatever it is requires machine guns, which seems like quite a lot. And if you're like me you'll spend the next half hour trying to figure out where you've seen Kane before. I'll help you out- it was Lydia from Breaking Bad. You're welcome. I just saved you a trip to IMDb.

The next scene introduces us to a concept that will run strong within this episode- Yaz as a gooseberry. We see a couple of pensioners, Benni and Vilma, enjoying their spa getaway. Just as Benni is about to ask Vilma to marry him, Yaz stands right between them. I mean, I know the pool is for everyone, but read the vibe, Yaz. Jeez. Meanwhile, Ryan is checking out the interior of Tranquility Spa. The bar looks like the kind of place art vampires go to get lemongrass enemas. It reminded me a lot of "The Leisure Hive," with a budget, or even a more modern twist on the Centre of Leisure from "Time and the Rani. So much of this episode reminded me of classic Doctor Who.

Ryan notices a vending machine, but as he's retrieving his food is infected by a hopper virus. The Doctor explains the virus is capable of jumping from computers to humans. After expelling it from his system, the Doctor bags it to take to whoever is in charge. While Ryan is sucking his thumb to reduce the hallucinogenic side effects of the virus, he sees a cutie in a similar situation, a young woman by the name of Belle. It's pretty obvious at this point that Belle is to be a sort of romantic interest for Ryan, and who can blame him? She lives up to her namesake!

Everyone is rounded up for a "tranquillity drill," to a safe location while Kane and Vorm run through the lobby with their guns in tow. As with most companions, travelling with the Doctor embeds a deeper curiosity. Much like the Doctor would, Ryan questions what type of drill requires guns. This question entices Belle to follow him as they investigate. I really liked this pairing of the two of them as their chemistry was natural, despite Ryan's repeated failures at chatting her up. It only added to their charm.

The Doctor confronts Hyp3n who seems just about as confused and nervous as many of the guests. Whatever she's hiding is only because she's been instructed to by her superiors. Considering the hopper virus and drill, the Doctor deduces that the spa is under attack, and demands to know what they're hiding. Who would want to harm a spa? The spa has been using an ionic membrane to keep out unwanted visitors, visitors which appear to have breached the membrane. Now under a full-on attack by a group of monstrous beings, guests become casualties. Not only is the base under attack, but the viruses have also handicapped the systems, disabling the emergency teleportation devices. With everyone trapped the Doctor has to work fast to stop the killing, as well as survive.

Graham finds a pair of green haired servicemen in the form of Nevi and his son Sylas. Their entire character design once again had me thinking of classic Doctor Who characters such as the Swampies from "The Power of Kroll," or the Karfelon androids from "Timelash." I liked wondering if they were a kind of species that has naturally green hair, or if they had father/son hair dying nights. In this brief interaction, you learn that Sylas is the better mechanic between the two of them, but that Nevi does a bad job of acknowledging this. Graham gathers them and others to evacuate while Ryan and Belle hideaway in a sauna of sorts. While there, they confide in each other that neither of them is nearly as impressive as they initially led on, and the truth strengthens their bond.

Sadly, as Graham is rounding people up, Benni gets separated after backtracking to pick up Vilma's hat. As life signs extinguish across a computer screen, highlighting the trail of carnage, the Doctor finds a way to push back the onslaught. By repairing the ionic membrane, the creatures, known as Dregs, are physically pushed out of the spa by a force field. The crisis averted, the survivors search for the bodies of their loved ones. Much to Graham's relief, Ryan and Belle have both narrowly avoided the claws and teeth of an angry Dreg. Benni, however, is nowhere to be found.

After discovering a hole, which looks like a tear in reality, our heroes discover that Tranquility Spa is actually an illusion. A dome separates the spa from a hostile planet far too polluted to inhabit. This abandoned, or "orphan," planet is designated "Orphan 55." This is the reason guests are teleported to the spa- to cover up its seedy location. However, it would appear that whatever the Dregs are, they seem to be apex predators, able to survive the hostile environment of Orphan 55. And they want the spa and its inhabitants gone.

The Doctor makes Kane drive them out into the wasteland to find Benni, as his oxygen tank would allow him to survive outside of the dome for some time. It was a thin chance, but it might be enough to save at least one person among the carnage. I was really hoping for some silly "Moonbase," style helmets, but instead, we got these minimalist blue breath right strips across the bridge of the nose that linked to small wrist canisters as supplied by Nevi and Sylas.

The trip out onto the surface reminded me a lot of the great Russell T Davies episode "Midnight." And much like Midnight, the confined space of a vehicle traversing harsh conditions offers plenty opportunity to explore the people within. Remember how I said Yaz is a gooseberry? She wastes no time getting right between Ryan and Belle. I honestly can't tell what's going on between Yaz and Ryan at the moment. Last season, there was a bit of a "Will they or won't they?" vibe between them. But series twelve seems less interested in coupling them off. First, we had the Master and Yaz getting weirdly touchy-feely, which surprisingly never comes up again. And now we've got Yaz teasing Ryan in front of Belle like a jealous school girl. We learn that along with sucking their thumbs, Ryan and Belle also share having a dead parent in common, so that's something.

The vehicle picks up a bit of barbed wiring leaving it, as the Doctor put it- completely knackered. Keeping with the Midnight vibe, the surface of the planet is too dangerous due to monsters and killer sunlight. Afraid for her own self-interest, Kane wants to abandon the search mission, but a pleading Vilma begs her to continue looking for Benni. After callously accepting Vilma's necklace as payment, Kane agrees to continue with the rescue mission. The crew abandon their vehicle and run for the safety of an underground service tunnel, but Dregs attack from every direction causing them to return to the safety of the vehicle. But that safety won't last long.

It's then that they hear Benni calling for Vilma. He asks her to marry him and then asks them to shoot him as well. It's a morbid moment as you realise the only reason the Dregs have kept Benni alive is to taunt the survivors and prolong his suffering. I don't really understand what the point of having them run back into the vehicle actually was. They basically run back out a moment later with the new plan of Kane and Vorm covering with gunfire. I don't understand why it was so important that they leave one location just to return moments later.

As Kane and Vorm blast Dregs, the rest of the crew run to the safety of the service tunnel. In the scuffle, Vorm dies, but Kane catches up just in time to open the tunnel. The entrance to this tunnel had me thinking of the opening of "Mighty Morphin Power Rangers." I kept waiting for Rita Repulsa to pop out and say "Ah! After 10,000 years I'm free! It's time to conquer Earth!" They make it down into the tunnel where there is a short-range teleporter nearby. Vilma asks Kane if she saw what happened to Benni, and Kane coldly tells her not to worry, that she shot Benni as he requested. It's at this time that Belle steals Kane's gun. She reveals that Kane is her mother and that she's here for revenge for abandoning her and her father. Belle teleports back to the spa taking Ryan with her. Seeing as the teleporter only had enough juice for one go, the rest of the crew must go deeper into the tunnel to find their way back.

Back at the spa, Belle reveals a huge bomb she plans to use to blow up the spa. Poor Ryan, he just met this girl and already he's dealing with her baggage with her mum. I kid, but damn girl, take a guy to a movie first. It's lucky for the Doctor that this adventure isn't actually from the '80s. Had it been Ace in this position, she would have seen the bomb and said "Wicked!" while offering up Nitro 9 to add to the destruction. Instead, Ryan pleads with her not to blow up the spa, dooming everyone involved.

Meanwhile, the Doctor and crew discover a plaque written in Russian, cluing them in to the fact that not only is the planet abandoned, but it was also abandoned by humanity. Orphan 55 is in fact, Earth. This revelation hits Graham and Yaz hard, as they never imagined the fate of the world to be so ugly. Their grieving is cut short by the appearance of Dregs, who Vilma bravely sacrifices herself to, to save the others. The Doctor, at this time also appears to be running out of air. It appears that the ability to be the loudest talker isn't always helpful when oxygen preservation is to be considered.

The sole reason for her running out of oxygen serves only to discover the Dregs breathe out oxygen. She discovers this when she finds a Dreg conveniently hibernating within the tunnel. Why this is important is that it gives a bit of insight into the Dregs' motivation. Kane's big plan was to make a spa that slowly terraforms the planet, which would harm the Dregs. It also explains the trees seen on the surface of the planet. That or these trees are also apex predators able to adapt to anything. Using her Time Lord brain magic, the Doctor looks into the mind of the Dregs and affirms what she feared most- they evolved from humans.

Everyone has now made their way back to the spa. The Dregs are closing in and they need to fix the teleporter. We're treated to a series of people once again leaving and returning to the same location for the sake of upping the tension. Kane appears to sacrifice herself and Sylas gets in an argument with Nevi once more over being told he's not a mechanic causing him to run away. But both of them are ok, as they both return unscathed. Yaz and Ryan wheel Belle's bomb to try and take out a few of the baddies. It's kind of a clusterfuck if I am honest. Lots of characters get taken in and out of scenes merely to pad time and add to the tension. It's not egregious but could have been edited better.

Sylas appears just in time with a solution to use the hopper virus to convert fuel for the teleporter. I was happy they brought the virus back, even if they don’t make a whole lot of sense. Were the Dregs weaponising the hopper virus? Were the viruses remnants of human civilisation? Regardless, I’m glad they brought it back. Sadly, this entire end sequence acts as evidence that perhaps there are too many companions in the TARDIS at the moment. Graham's job is to stand over Nevi and Sylus saying things like "That's right lads!" Yaz and Ryan are basically running around doing busywork, while the Doctor and Belle are having a stand-off with a Dreg. The Doctor manages to equalise the air in the room so that it is mutually beneficial to keep her and Belle alive. What the Dreg breathes out, they breathe in, and vice versa. This stalemate allows them the ability to leave. With the teleports up and running, the Doctor and her crew are transported back aboard the TARDIS, but not before Belle steals a kiss from Ryan. Are she and her mother going to be okay? We're left to wonder.

The victory celebration is short-lived as the companions remember the fate of the earth. Now, I need to preface what I'm about to say with the following- I fully believe climate change is a thing. I say this because we need to talk about how Doctor Who handles the subject. I've seen a lot of people (see: morons) complain about when Doctor Who gets "too political." They seem to think anything they don't like is political. The Doctor being a woman is political to them. But as I said with episodes like "Rosa," and "Demons of the Punjab," it's not that Doctor Who shouldn't be political, it's that it's simply not very good at it.

I can appreciate that the message of climate change is a real and pressing matter, but the cautionary edutainment way in which they present the information was so cringe. It felt so unnatural and tacked on. In their desire to address the audience directly, they lose a level of reality that makes the dialogue seem fake. These scenes always feel badly acted to me, but it's the fault of the dialogue. There's no good way to break the fourth wall without also sacrificing the characters' voices. It's like one of those adverts where you have two people talking far too candidly about something like their period flow, or constipation. It's a way to disseminate information about a product or ideology, but don't mistake it for dialogue. Nobody talks like this.

All in all, this was your standard "base in peril," episode. While not as transcendent as "It Takes You Away," I believe Ed Hime has given us another solid episode of Doctor Who. It's hard for me to tell if Hime's ability to write action was wanting, or if it is simply the fault of the director, but it definitely suffers at points due to the janky pacing. Pacing has really been an odd sticking point for series 12, and I hope they work it out. Even still, I was hoping that after the two-parter of "Spyfall," we would get something a little more grounded. Having this odd little contained storyline with little homages to classic Who is actually more than I had hoped for. It also gave us a new character in Belle, whom I expect to see return eventually. And despite the heavy-handed and unnatural way in which they dealt with climate change, I understand that it's a family show. In keeping with classic Who, it aimed to be educational, and for that, I cannot fault it.

#doctor who #Thirteenth Doctor #Jodie Whittaker #Bradley Walsh #tosin cole #mandip gill #Graham O'Brien #Ryan Sinclair #yaz #yasmine khan #orphan 55 #ed hime #dregs #series 12 #TARDIS #BBC #Time and Time Again

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @callofthemoon!

Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy the fic!

Read on AO3

*****

Lost and Found

"Focus on me, okay?"

A deep voice cuts through the haze of panic, like a light shining down into the well of despair his anxiety has thrown him into.

"Hey, you're safe."

Warmth. A hand on his. A warm chest under his palm, the heat filtered through a thin layer of soft fabric. He can feel a heartbeat, steady and strong.

"Breathe. Come on, breathe with me."

The voice—the male voice—might as well have asked Stiles to turn water to wine, breathing seemed just as impossible. He knows it isn't. He manages fine most days but most days he isn’t....

No. Don't think about it. Not yet. Not now. He's safe. The man said so and there's something about him that feels familiar, something about his soul that Stiles's magic recognizes.

He inhales on a gasp, exhales a shaky breath.

"That's it. That's good. Just like that. In again."

Stiles breathes in. He blinks and the world comes back into focus. He sees blue, brilliant blue eyes set in a handsome face framed by stubble. The man smiles, showing off a pair of bunny teeth that take nothing from how blindingly hot the stranger is.

"And out. Good."

Each breath shared with the stranger brings the rest of the world a little further back into focus. He's in a convenience store, the little shop three blocks from campus. It's night. Late night, if he remembers correctly, after midnight. He'd been studying at the library and he wanted midterm supplies before he went back to the dorms.

"Hi, there," the stranger says. He's wearing a blue police uniform. The name tag says 'Hale.' Stiles wonders if he's related to the Beacon Hills Hales. He wonders if this one is also a werewolf. "Back with us?"

Stiles nods. He pulls his hand away from the officer's chest with reluctance. He wants to curl into the safety of the stranger's arms, but most people would consider that rude, or at the very least, creepy and weird.

"S-Sorry." His voice comes out rough and reedy.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Hale says. He sits back on his heels, putting some distance between them. "Do you know where you are?"

He nods. "S-Store."

"Do you live nearby?"

Stiles nods again. He's feeling a little steadier. The uniform helps. It reminds him of his dad, even if it's the wrong color. He wants to call his dad but if he's not working then he's probably asleep and Stiles doesn't want to risk waking him if he is. He glances down at his turned-out pockets. He also doesn't have his phone to call with.

Stiles releases a long sigh and runs a hand through his hair. His chest hurts. The brief lack of oxygen is giving him a headache. "Yeah," he says. "At the dorms."

"Do you want a ride back? I can take your statement in the morning. We don't have to go through everything right now."

Officer Hale is being too nice. They need his statement now if they want to catch the robber. It'd be sharper in his memory, assuming he could remember anything past having a gun shoved in his face.

They probably don't intend to catch the guy. Most trivial robberies go unsolved. If Hale is a werewolf, maybe he's going to try tracking by scent? That seems unlikely.

Stiles slumps back against the ice cooler. His student ID was in his wallet, which he no longer has either, which means he can't get back to his room, assuming Scott would even wake up if Stiles knocked to let him in.

This really isn't his night.

"No, I need my wallet and keys to get in."

"Okay." Officer Hale nods easily. "Do you want to wait at the station? You can use the phone at my desk to call someone. I've been told our coffee isn't half bad."

He could call Lydia, she's probably awake, but he has one of Deaton's books in his backpack and three unfinished papers on his laptop that he hadn't backed up. He doesn't really want to wait and risk the robber selling off his stuff.

If he wants his belongings back, he's going to have to do it himself.

Stiles looks up at the shelves. There's not a whole lot to work with but he's the king of improvisation, though half the time he only does it to watch Deaton's face twitch.

Officer Hale offers him a hand up. His palm is warm. Stiles wants to hold on forever, but again, trying not to be a creeper. Hale doesn't pull away immediately either, so maybe it's not just him. He glances up at Hale and smiles when he catches Hale watching him.

Later. He can hit on the handsome police officer later.

Stiles reluctantly releases Hale's hand and peruses the shelves. He grabs a bottle of iced coffee, a container of salt, a lighter, and a travel map. He brings his haul to the counter where the clerk is watching him strangely.

"Want your money back?" The guy nods. "Then comp me this and let me borrow a knife."

Officer Hale raises a very judgmental eyebrow. "You have a license to practice magic?"

Stiles smirks at Hale. “I’m more than just a pretty face.” He holds out his hand. “Stiles Stilinski, Spark and Emissary to the McCall pack.”

Something hot and electric spreads from where Officer Hale’s hand grips his. “Derek Hale.” His eyes flash blue and Stiles bites his cheek to keep from drooling. “Beta of the Beacon Hills Pack.” Derek runs his eyes over Stiles and there’s a hunger in his gaze that lets Stiles know he’s not the only one with some instant attraction going on. “I’ve heard of you.”

Stiles smiles and looks at Derek through lowered lashes. “All good things, I hope?”

The clerk scans everything in, presses a few buttons, then pushes it back with a pointed cough.

“Right. Knife?”

Derek pulls a folded blade from his pocket and hands it to Stiles. “Here. Use mine.”

Stiles arches an eyebrow. His lips twitch into a wry smirk. “Don’t you have...?” He mimes claws.

Derek shrugs. “Sometimes you don’t want to get your hands dirty.”

“Fair.”

Stiles carries his goods out onto the sidewalk in front of the shop. He unfolds the map and holds it down with the lighter, salt, knife, and coffee, one in each corner. He pours a circle of salt around the map, then uses the lighter to sterilize the blade. Once the blade cools, he cuts his palm and makes a fist over the center of the map, squeezing his blood out over the map.

He closes his eyes and concentrates on his missing backpack. He’s used it to carry so many things that have been touched by his magic. There’s a durability charm sewn into the bottom and each strap. He’s got a lighter, candle, and mountain ash in one of the pockets. He’s got a woven protective charm on a keychain and a spelled coin in his wallet.

He opens his eyes as his magic gathers in the items before him. The salt swirls into a miniature hurricane, lifting the map up as his blood soaks into the paper. The map folds itself into an origami bird. The salt disappears into the folds.

The bird flits around Stiles’s head twice. Stiles points to Derek and the bird moves to flutter in the air in front of the officer.

Derek stares at the bird with wide eyes. He looks somewhat awed when Stiles hands him his knife back and picks up the rest of the supplies.

“What’s the coffee for?” One of the other officers—Boyd, according to his nametag—asks.

Stiles twists off the cap and takes a long chug. “I’ve been up since eight in the morning and magic uses a lot of energy.”

The bird flies a short distance away and hovers, waiting.

“Shall we?” Stiles asks.

“Get in the car.” Stiles doesn’t stifle his giggle well enough when Derek does the whole hand on the back of the head thing while helping Stiles into the back of their cruiser, judging from the look Boyd shoots him from the passenger seat.

The bird takes off and the cruiser follows. Stiles’s magic is sentient enough to know to pause for red lights and stop signs. They pull into an apartment complex.

“Stay here,” Derek says, his voice holding the warning growl of a territorial werewolf.

Stiles smiles and turns to lay down in the back seat. “Yeah, sure.” He waves his hand in a grand gesture. “Do your thing. I’m gonna take a nap. Please lock the doors on your way out.”

Derek snorts a half-suppressed laugh. He doesn’t ask why Stiles doesn’t want to come in with them, and Stiles kind of loves him for it. He’s not being arrogant when he says he’s an amazing magician, one of the strongest Deaton’s ever encountered.

He's strong. He's taken down Darach and wendigo and rogue Alpha werewolves with a laugh and a heavy dose of snark and sarcasm. But ever since one of his asshole classmates went crazy when he was in high school and shot up the Sheriff's Station while Stiles was visiting his dad, he's had a thing about guns. A very strong, very panicky thing about guns that sends him into an anxiety spiral like that one that Derek pulled him out. So he'll gladly stay in the car and letting the mostly bulletproof werewolf—werewolves?—deal with the asshole that stole his stuff.

He doesn't actually expect to fall asleep, but it's been a long day.

He wakes to someone tapping on the window above his head. Stiles blinks up at Derek. He flails, grabbing for something to help lever himself back upright. Once he's seated, Derek opens the door and sets Stiles's backpack on the seat next to him.

"Your phone, wallet, and keys are inside." Derek taps the front pocket. The paper bird is perched on Derek's shoulder. It nuzzles against Derek's stubble. Derek sighs in a way that suggests this isn't the first time the bird's done it and Stiles kind of loves him a little more. "Can I give you a ride back to the dorms?"

"Yes, please!"

Stiles pulls his phone out and unlocks it, checking his messages while Derek drives them back to campus. Stiles points him to the correct dorm. Derek gets out first to open the door for Stiles.

Stiles grabs Derek's arm before he can get back in the car. "Hey, can I ask you something weird?"

Derek raises an eyebrow but says nothing. The bird ruffles its wings and settles into a round, happy lump on Derek's shoulder.

Stiles holds out his phone with a new contact form open. "Feel free to tell me to fuck off if you're not interested, but would you like to go out sometime and if so, can I have your number?"

Derek's answering grin shows off those adorable bunny teeth. He ducks his head slightly as he takes Stiles's phone. "Yeah, that's... I'd like that."

As soon as Derek passes back the phone, Stiles shoots off a text so Derek has his number. "So, it's kind of midterms right now, but I'm free after Thursday and could really use something that doesn't involve studying or taking tests to kick off the weekend."

"I think I can manage that. I'm off on Friday."

"Cool." Stiles's grin is out of control. He bounces on his heels. "It's a date."

"Yeah," Derek grins back at him. "Looking forward to it."

Boyd raps on the window.

Derek jerks his thumb behind him. "I should go. Finish my shift."

Stiles gives in to impulse and raises up on his toes to drop a quick kiss on Derek's cheek. "My hero." He waves to Derek and the bird as he swipes to get into the dorm.

Despite his panic attack, he has some very good dreams that night featuring a blue-eyed officer.

#callofthemoon #stereksanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

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for-bucks-sake · 5 years

Text

Underwater.

Pairing: Stucky x Reader Word Count: 4.5K. I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Warnings: Angst, Endgame Spoilers, general sadness? Characters death. That’s it probably. Summary: For the past five years, Y/n has been holding her breath. A/N: Idk man, I want to thank everyone who read Missing Is a Recurring Theme. I was overwhelmed by the comments so just,,thank you! Currently working on part two (get ready for fluff!) But for now, this was requested by the lovely @fandomnerdxox. Hope you love angst, because that’s what this fic is all about. Hope you like it!

Her lungs were filled with dust. She could tell. Unable to expend them enough to take a breath, ribcage staying painfully small. “Bucky?” She called, maybe yelled. Nothing was clear anymore. Not even the air.

The fighting stopped all at once, there was a shift in the atmosphere, like the universe itself sensed something has gone terribly wrong. She stopped running when a Wakandan soldier reached for her, hurt, looking distressed as he tried to come closer, his back bent.

She swallowed, the urged to find her partners almost overpowering her instincts to help the man. She took his hand nevertheless, holding it tight in hers and pulling him up. She glanced to the sides, forever searching with her eyes familiar figures, when she felt the man slipping from her touch; “Are you oka-“ y/n looked back just in time to witness him disintegrating in front of her eyes, warm human flash crumbling in her grip, nothing left but dirt.

She gasped, nearly falling back. Her eyes widened in panic as she finally started to notice more and more people dissolving into thin air.

Y/n ran. “Steve!” Knowing it’s too late. But she ran. “Bucky!” The field was too big to cover on foot. But she ran.

There was a long leg clothed in navy blue uniforms, scattering into invisible particles. Wind spreading them all over two silver, Vibrenium made shields, That’s when she stopped.

“No.” She choked, vision clouded, not even registering the chaos she walked right into.

A single, large, sniper rifle abandoned on the grass, inches away from where the leg was no longer. “No.”

It can’t be. It can’t. Not them, it can’t be them.

She collapsed to the ground, the weight of her injuries finally hitting her fully;

“I can’t breathe.” She panted, holding her sore throat desperately, starving for oxygen,“I can’t breathe.”

Loneliness is a funny thing. You could be lonely for years, decades, even. And never once notice it. You could live content with what you have, not even wondering about what you might miss. That’s when life tricks you. It lures you into tasting it, like a pinch of salt you bake inside a cake, bringing the sweetness out. Life places it on your tongue, melting it away into your bloodstream, changing you forever so you will never be the same. And then, they wait.

Wait in the shadows, until they think you’re too used to it, until they decide you don’t deserve it anymore. So they take it. Snatch it from between your fingers with brutal force, leaving you alone, bare, unworthy.

Funny may not be the accurate word, no. But all the other words she thought of to describe her situation were too tragic. So she sticks with funny.

Nat asked her to move back to compound today.

Y/n said no, of course. Not even remotely considering this as an option, furious at Natasha that she did. It got heated quickly, on her part, mostly.

She was alone all her life. Both of them were before the universe was vicious enough to give a meager taste to the starved. She thought maybe Nat, could understand.

Y/n didn’t want to move in. Waking up to the sound of Natasha trying to save a world that already lost. Listening to her secretly wiping about what Clint has become. She didn’t want to do that. Y/n had enough shit to deal with on her own.

She finally reached her front door, fumbling with her keys, groaning as the jingling continued because she couldn’t find the right one, hands still shaking from anger.

“Did you know how quickly smell fades away?” Nat’s hair was longer, red color vibrant than ever. It suited her.

“I’m sorry?” Confusion replaced Natasha’s fading smile,

“Smell.” Y/n stressed, “of people, I mean. When they’re not here to renew it, it just disappears. Dissolves into the air, like it was never there.” She refused to sit, not once stopping to chip on her nails.

“Are you okay? Y/n, I’m starting to w-“

“Especially with clothes.” She frowned, burring her hands inside the pocket of her oversized leather jacket, changing her mind right after, bringing right hand fingers to her lips instead, “you know, I tried keeping their clothes in the closet, I thought maybe, it will help preserve the smell. But it was all bullshit. Turns out I just missed about a year of their scents. When I opened it, it was barely there.”

Natasha remained silent, too alarmed to speak. Y/n accepted it as an invitation to continue her ramble.

“I was so angry, you won’t believe.” She laughed bitterly, “At myself of course, like, I could’ve googled it or something, but I didn’t. So I don’t have much to go with now.” Y/n continued, either going through an aneurism, a fit, or finally losing her mind all together, doing so hysterically right in front of Nat.

Natasha left her chair, walking towards y/n as carefully as she would approach a wounded predator.

“Listen to me, it’s going to be fine.” She cringed at her own words, feeling terrible at making people feel better. Steve was great at it, he always knew what to say and when to say it. Surly if he returned to give an advice, it would’ve calmed down his grieving girlfriend.

Natasha was relieved to be her only audience, if anyone else was seeing her state she would get a fast pass to a psych ward. Nat knew she wasn’t crazy, just…hurting.

“Yeah. yeah,” y/n dismissed her, swinging her hand, “anyway, that’s my way of telling you I can’t move here.” She finally sat down, leaving Natasha facing the wall. She turned around.

“Why not?” She said carefully, crossing her arms, “the thought of you all alone is- .”

“I don’t mind being alone.” Y/n cut sharply the kind words directed to her,

“do you?”

She finally managed to find the right one, shoving the key to its lock and twisting. She pushed the door with her shoulder, dropping her small bag to the floor.

Five years had gone and she still wasn’t used to the unnatural silence.

The blinds were shut, the air didn’t move, and for a second she could believe that time actually stopped.

Y/n inhaled deeply, standing still in the middle of the room, not daring to make a sound - maybe time did stop. She jumped when a car honked outside. A loud, ear cutting sound that tore her ruthlessly from her bubble.

She blinked, as if waking up from a deep slumber, realizing her precious reality was nothing but a dream.

That’s how she felt everyday, if she was being honest. Sometimes their touch felt more like a delusion than a memory. Sometimes, metal hand and starred chest turning into dust were just a horrifying nightmare. Sometimes, two purple, ugly fingers snap themselves together was just a fucked up hallucination. Sometimes, the existence of two, perfect men, reciprocating the strong, burning love she felt was just too hard to believe.

Nothing was real anymore.

Y/n walked into the bedroom, grabbing the white bottle of aspirin from her bedside table and swallowing down two. It was an exhausting day.

Her head met the sagging pillow with a soft thud, unlike most days, sleep came quickly, and with a flutter of her eyelashes, she was already gone.

He was so handsome with that beard. It was really impacting her ability to focus.

“Hi, ms. Astronaut!” Steve called her, golden fragments of light dancing in his eyes, “your pretty dreamy looks won’t help you on the battlefield.”

“Really? So you’re just that good at punching people?” She smirked, adjusting the straps of her sports bra, “no staring at your enemies with those baby blues until they beg for mercy?”

He caught her off guard, using her shoulder to hoist himself up and tackle her ankles from the back. She hit the soft padding embarrassingly easily, Steve not even giving her the time to react.

He offered a strong hand, swinging her off the ground like she weighs nothing when she took it. He smiled at her, eyes a brilliant cerulean- “ready to beg for mercy yet?”

Y/n huffed and hit his shoulder, “not a chance.” She paused, tightening her ponytail, returning to starting position, “now explain to me how to block it.”

Suddenly, her scenario dusted away in a disgusting black ash, swirling around her body, ruthlessly throwing her into a field.

She started running. She didn’t know where she ran, but it felt like she’s been there before; sounds and smells familiar, recognizing the path to god-knows-where as her legs kept carrying her.

A more clear image started to form, the sky bore lightning but it was warm outside, faceless monsters with sharp teeth and slick skin tried to attack her but only went through. Y/n was starting to realize where she was; it was their last fight against Thanos, and she got another chance.

Running was a part of her by now. Unable to stop or slow down, one mission in mind. Looking for a reflection of the sun on metal, or just the eyes of two bearded men before they disappear for good.

She heard them calling for her, loud and clear, two voices she hasn’t encountered for a long time, yet will never be able to forget.

“Bucky?” She screamed, this time she has to find them, she has to, “Steve? Where are you? Steve, Bucky!”

The tears woke her up, cheeks stained and breaths that were no longer under her control, hasty gasps that choke her up instead of supplying oxygen.

She was so close this time.

Her body shook violently, trembling with fear and drenched in cold sweat. The headache she had when she fell asleep was worse now, an echoing sting compressing her brain every time her heart beat.

It wasn’t just her failed attempt to say goodbye. She dreamed this every other night, and every single time she finds herself inside an unknown territory, not knowing what she needs to do until the very last minute, when she fails miserably, only to awaken to the voices of her loved ones, calling her to come save them.

No, it wasn’t just that. Because this time- this time she had a good dream too.

They used to spar all the time together, it was a good energy outlet and an excuse to spend more time with each other. She had a lot to learn from two super soldiers, and to her surprise, she taught them some moves too.

Y/n remembered that day, Steve and she were having an early morning while Bucky was still soundly sleeping, so they decided not to wake him, leaving an orange sticky note on his metal arm that said, gone to kick steve’s ass, be back by 9:00. love you.

Steve drove them to the compound, crisp breeze hitting her freshly opened eyes as she clutched his firm chest tighter, leaning her body weight on his.

He asked if she was okay, loud noise of the engine and the wind free whistles in her ears, maybe he thought he drove too fast.

She nodded, smiling in reassurance when they bypassed traffic, Steve maniacally dodging cars and driving in between the small spaces vehicles leave. He was crazy. But he managed to bring them to the compound in under twenty minutes, which was a new record.

They entered the gym, Steve’s hand still on her lower back as they stopped walking, taking off their jackets, staying only in training clothes.

“I really like that jacket.” She said, feeling the worn leather of the large brown cloth under her fingertips.

“I know.” He smiled and bit his lips, taking her hand and guiding her to the large ring.

They took their positions, adjusting their stances, “Last night I remembered some old fight moves I didn’t use in a long time.” Steve scratched his beard then stretched his shoulders, “maybe we could start with them?”

She remembers nodding, not registering exactly what he said because she got distracted, thinking about his beard and his eyes and everything else.

It was a good day. Peaceful day. A day she would give anything to experience just once more.

Her eyes were tired, begging for an actual rest as she got up, still in her clothes from yesterday, blindly walking to the kitchen and hitting some buttons on the coffee machine- it was too old now. Needed to be replaced.

Nothing has really changed, since half of the world disappeared, since Steve and Bucky disappeared. She set next to the kitchen table, filling only one of four chairs, like every other day, holding the same bitter, black coffee in the same chipped mug.

Even killing Thanos didn’t mean anything, and she wasn’t even there. Too struck with grief to see the last light behind this monster’s eyes before they darkened forever.

Y/n felt like the world ceased to move, like maybe, in a way, they were caught in a lop, and time did stop.

“I’m sorry.” She went to visit Natasha again. Being sad was no excuse to treat her only friend spitefully. She leaned against the lintel, trying to find support, or hide behind it, she didn’t know.

Natasha’s eyes were swollen, eyes still threatening to tear up again any moment.

“It’s okay.” She took a bite from her sandwich, “Clint did it again.”

Y/n thought about yesterday, her own thoughts were so unfair to Nat, who did nothing but help her the past five years, how could she be so selfish, thinking she was the only one in suffering.

“I’m sorry, Nat. I really am.” Y/n approached her, taking the chair that was opposite of her, “did you try looking for him? Clint is a good guy. You know he is. He’s someone who lost everything at once. Something like that gotta mess up with your mind.”

“You’re still here.” Nat said quietly, already regretting it,

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek, reclining against the back of the chair, “If there’s someone in this world that could save him - it’s yo-“

“Hey, Hello, This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport, in Germany, I got really big-“

Both women were startled, slowly getting up from their chairs, looking at the small monitor.

“Is this an old message?” Y/n asked, her eyes burning, she inhaled sharply. Scott Lang is supposed to be missing, he dusted with all the others. And if that really is Scott it means…

Scott didn’t disappear because of Thanos’ snap like the others. So it didn’t mean shit. And hope crushed her chest once again, hating herself for letting it invade her thoughts repeatedly, not learning her lesson.

His incoherent ramble about a time machine sure didn’t help. Natasha insisted they would go visit Tony anyway, saying that if he recognized a real chance he would never hesitate to help-

But when she sees Tony with his daughter, her world nearly crumbles for the second time in two days. The odds he would cooperate were now down to zero.

Tony saw them approaching. She watched him letting the kid down, following her with her gaze as she ran all the way to the front door, swallowed by the wooden house.

“I’m happy for you Tony,” y/n heard herself saying, “I really am. But you can help so many people, you can help bring so many people back, and you won’t even…”

“No. I won’t even.” There was a finality in his voice, one that clearly states they are done.

“Steve? You remember Steve? He used to be your friend. Or have you already forgotten him. How easy.” She pierced the air with an ice cold tone , anger consuming her. “You live your happy life, and you got everything. Tony. Everything. What do I got? What do I have?” She heaved, breathless, and he looked like he was going to say something, when his daughter came jumping on his lap, securing her little arms around him in a firm hug, “mom told me to come save you.”

Y/n finally got a good look of the girl. She was sweet looking, a visible brain behind her eyes; And she didn’t know Tony Stark very well, but y/n could tell the kid shared a deep resembles to him. Who wouldn’t do anything for their child? Even if it means letting the other half of the world burn. -

She clearly didn’t know the man at all, because for some reason- Tony Stark came back.

Everything they did seemed to fail, and when Bruce couldn’t figure it out, almost making what’s left of the Avengers babysitters to baby Scott, Tony arrived to the rescue.

“He turned into a baby, didn’t he?” He snarked with a sly grin, revealing a weird looking metal bracelet and a proud attitude that said, I did it.

“Thank you.” Y/n took his hand, squeezing it hard, knowing that as of now, she owes this man her life. “Thank you so much.”

He offered a knowing smile, grief shifting his features, “I know what it’s like to lose someone.” - “See you in a minute.” She heard Nat, giddy with excitement, before all of them were pulled into a colorful vortex, a hurricane rearranging her guts, staying with her even when they landed in an unfamiliar ally in New York.

“Are we in the right place?” She asked Tony and Bruce, changing her white and red, Quantum traveling suit, into a more area fitting one with a single button.

Smashing sounds got closer by the second right after she asked, not long before they saw a much greener Hulk, destroying everything on his path.

“I’m pretty sure this answers my question. “ Y/n said to herself, amused, heart light inside her chest despite the heavy mission ahead of them.

Y/n wore a big SHIELD identification, saying she was incredibly high clearance, it’s supposed to get her what she needs quickly, no questions asked; but when she entered an elevator full of Hydra thugs, testosterone reeking the small space, she assumed there might be some questions.

“Gentlemen.” She said, too ceremonially, “I will need you to hand me the Scepters. Orders from high, I’m afraid.” She felt all of them tense around her,

“And who are you, if I may ask? I have never seen you here.” The bald man who looked less threatening than all of them asked,

Y/n held her ID high, pointing out her clearance level, “not ever seeing me here is a good sign, Mr…”

“Mr. Sitwell.”

“Very well, Mr. Sitwell. Now, if you will, the Scepter. I’m in a bit of a rush. Wouldn’t want to keep people on the higher floors waiting.” Y/n decided to do something bold, the outcome could either be a success, or one that she would have to punch her way out of. She leaned against Sitwell, bringing her mouth closer to his ear and whispered,

“Hail Hydra.”

The man looked apprehensive at first, debating with himself for a long moment, until finally nodding to one of the other men, handing her the long suitcase reluctantly.

Y/n gladly accepted it , the elevator finally opening up as she turned her back to them, smirking in satisfaction, going towards the exit.

Her legs stopped in their tracks. She wasn’t supposed to see him. Not now, not like this.

Steve, wearing a very cheesy and outdated Captain America suit approached her, holding his earpiece, and before she could even registered what was going on, she heard him say he has eyes on Loki. Fucking Fantastic.

It wasn’t her Steve, she knew, but it was harder to accept than say, because as it seemed she is going to have to fight him, and she wasn’t ready.

In the months before the mission Natasha got her back into a very strict schedule of training, trying to beat her into shape again. It couldn’t repair years of damage and neglect, but it was better than anything. And as past Steve swung his shield to her direction, y/n held onto every bit of shape she head.

It wasn’t her Steve, her mind screamed as she dodged his punch, fighting the desire to take off his mask and kiss him.

He hasn’t met her yet, of course he won’t recognize her.

“Hand back the Scepter, Loki.” He demanded, she was suddenly happy she couldn’t see his eyes.

Steve tried to use her shoulder to hoist himself up, but y/n hunched over, waiting for him to miss his jump, and placed two hands securely on his broad shoulders, lifting herself and using his support to flip over, forcing him down along with her, wrapping her body around his, trying to chock him long enough for him to lose consciousness.

“I can’t do that. “She panted, struggling to keep him in a tight enough grip, “and I am not Loki.”

Steve fought out of her hold, twisting his thighs around hers and kicking her kneecaps, rattling her entire body as they changed positions, now she was the one being strangled. She arced her back, hitting him in full force with it, but he didn’t budge. Not even when she jerked one ankle, jolting him right in the junk. She’ll apologize later.

Y/n couldn’t beat him in a hand to hand combat, poorly shaped and outmatched by him. Distraction was her only possible advantage, and she was running out of time, options, and air. What could baffle 2012 Steve Rogers? She thought frantically, just as the answer presented itself to her.

What would faze 2012 Steve Rogers? The same thing that would faze 2019 Steve Rogers, or any Steve Rogers for that matter.

“Bucky, is , alive.” She coughed out, and it was enough; the lock on her throat was released, giving her an opportunity to take the Scepter and run. She took it out of its case, pointing it at Steve general direction just as he gained composer again, hovering above her. She caught a glimpse of blue, cold and painful to watch without the warm undertones that appeared every time he looked at her.

“Sorry.” She squeaked as he dropped to the floor, head planted down. Only falling asleep, she hoped.

- The minute she saw Clint collapsing, an empty space to her left, she knew Natasha was not coming back.

They didn’t know exactly what happened, and it didn’t matter. Because everything else was clear. She gave her life to get that stone, to get everyone back. That only meant one thing; They could not fail.

- As time went by, y/n thought less and less about what would happen if they came back. There was no point to lead herself on, right? So she didn’t.

But now, as the possibility of them returning appeared more vivid, worry began to chew on her confidence. Insecurity seemed the last thing she needed right now, so insignificant, superficial, in times like this, when the faith of the world was at stake. Yet, she was staring at the mirror, for the first time in five years, really looking. Examining carefully, with attention, how her body has changed. She didn’t like what she saw.

It’s not about you, she had to remind herself, it’s about them.

“Also", a very familiar voice, challenging her with the cheek in her tone; Nat. “Give those two dumbasses more credit, they will love you, no matter what.”

It was only them, and they were losing.

They managed the snap, and it almost cost Bruce’s life in the process. Nothing in the world seemed to scream about drastic changes so far, and then Thanos decided to pay a visit, depriving them of finding out if everything they have gone through was for nothing.

Slowly but surely, they were losing. Being wrecked by the purple alien that already destroyed once their lives as they knew and loved.

It wasn’t fair, Stark was the last one standing. She watched him from where she landed, after being brutally thrown. He could never face him by himself, he wouldn’t survive long enough. She remembered that day, it seemed like thousand years ago now; when she swore, she owed her life to that man.

No superpowers, no special suit, no weapon. Just her, and her fists. That’s all she had to offer. She owed it to too many people to not just surrender and die, leaving a world to burn behind her. She owed it to herself.

Y/n gritted her teeth and spit blood to the side, standing side by side with Iron Man, bringing two fists to the front of her body and fixing her stance.

She inhaled deeply and glanced at Stark, he nodded, letting her know he’s ready when she is.

“Y/n?” She heard her name, somehow loud, in her earpiece. Tony looked confused just as her, he heard it too, and it wasn’t him talking.

“Doll, it’s Steve. Do you copy?”

Her breath was knocked off her lungs, she searched around her for any sign of him, of Bucky, of anyone, when an orange portal was opened behind her. And then another one, and another one, and another ten.

“Holy shit.” Tony called from beside her, laughing, somehow, “holy fucking shit.”

Y/n was at a loss of words.

“Go.” He opened his helmet, motioning her to the sea of warriors behind them - he wasn’t standing alone anymore - “go!”

She shook her head, not moving an inch. “I’m staying right here.”

It was her dream again. Her eyes scanned the crowds, running amok between injured people, bodies. Vision too blurry and burning to see any face at all.

“Y/n!.” A deep voice called in her direction, and she nearly twisted her neck attempting to find its source.

Her eyes teared up instantly, knees threatening to buckle underneath her, a metal arm coming just in time to hold onto her, support her in place. Wiping tears was useless, she found out soon enough, giving up instantly to simply sobbing into Bucky’s shoulder.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.” She kept crying out, he had a long cut on the side of his torso, he shushed her gently when she tried to bring it up.

There was a subtle movement behind her, and she tensed, head shooting up, “Steve?”

“I’m right here, sweetheart.” He said softly, another pair of strong arm enfolding themselves around her, his eyes radiated warmth, bright in the middle of a dirt stained face. She took one last look before burying her body deeper between them, surrounding herself with a scent that was a mix of salt and earth and blood, so humanly them.

“You were gone and I-“ Y/n kept glancing every other second at Bucky- even though she was still in his arms, hysteria got the best of her, gradually taking over any rationale left- the fear they’ll disappear, like last time, becomes too real.

“I didn’t say goodbye and-“ She gasped for air, they caressed her, talking sweet nothings in her ears, just to calm her down.

“It’s been five years and I…I couldn’t live without you.” She said finally, physically struggling to speak, clutching onto them harder,

“We’re so sorry.” Bucky muttered, choking down on tears of his own, weaving fingers through her knotted hair, “So fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Steve reassured her one more time, kissing her temple, then her knuckles, then her lips. “we’re here now.”

#stucky x reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #captain america #the winter soldier #steve rogers x reader #bucky barns x reader #stucky #avengers endgame #avengers endgame spoilers #i write

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tenthspeedwriter · 5 years

Text

Recon Three (A draft of a short story about a space orc)

“Recon three, approaching target. Going comms-quiet.”

“Understood, Three Preeminent. Good hunting.”

Captain Sallys slid the communicator back into its pocket in her armor, folded seamlessly against her serpentine body. Behind her, Bo checked her mag rifle with a nervous tic.

Yualith rebellions were nothing new in the cosmos--the fractious insectoid folk had dealt with internal struggles since well before their starfaring days--but humans in the Orion Peacekeeping Alliance were an entirely novel matter.

Bo, for her part, felt absolutely out of place. Back in the Solar Defense Force, she’d been a highly decorated marine: a master marksman, a dauntless survivalist, and an uncanny tactical wit. It was why she was chosen among the first five hundred to take part in her home arm’s united security front.

For her part, though, she might as well have been fresh out of boot.

This world, for starters, was nothing like home. She’d rooted out contraband enclaves on the cold canyons of Pluto, led formations on the dusty plains of Mars, and run dozens of drills under the hellish heat and pressure of Venus.

Gios, though? It was surreal to her.

Monolithic vegetation akin to fungus dominated the landscape, undergrown by lichens so rigid they scraped the paint from her shin plates. Sporeclouds stirred each time the wind blew and cut visibility to a few tens of meters. Even her life support system, for all it could do to filter out a wisp of breathable oxygen, left an acrid taste of ammonia in her throat.

She had no idea what tactical superiority even looked like in a place like this. After five years as a fire team leader and three as a platoon commander, it felt bizarre to her to be entirely beholden to the combat sense of another. Sallys had proven a reliable leader in training and a’ship, but this would be the first time Bo had ever followed her into a combat zone.

She trusted, as much as someone one knows only through their records can, her team leader. Regardless, she couldn’t shake the feeling of fighting blind.

Then there was the unit in which she found herself.

Captain Sallys, foremost, was of a serpent-like people called the Ixori. Their agility and marksmanship were unparalleled in the cosmos, and she’d seen twice as much combat in the last few years than Bo had in a lifetime.

Second in command was Warden Iommo. He stood barely a meter tall, yet had the aspect of a chameleon: incredible situational awareness, and skin that melded into the vivid colors of the landscape. He wore no camouflage--just a translucent ballistic vest and the kit on his back.

On point was Peacekeeper Abrox--a Gorolai whose resilience in battle was without peer. They were bipedal, manually dexterous, and of a meter and a half’s height, much like a human; yet, they could see and hear well past the spectra of homo sapiens. They further differed in their amber exoskeleton, upon which they nailed their battle plate like an old-age shoe upon a horse. Bo asked them once if it hurt; in return Abrox asked, “have you ever gotten a tattoo?”

Just behind him marched Peacekeeper Ojore, a Taelic. An tripedal fellow with leathery skin of a dozen brilliant hues, he carried an enormous recoilless rifle--not to mention the team’s allotment of explosive charges. His hands were as large as Bo’s head, yet when priming a detonator, they moved with a surgeon’s grace. For this mission he had daubed himself in deep fungal-brown pigment, giving him the image of an alpha predator in the shadows. (Bo, of course, knew him to volunteer in children’s creches and sing in the OPA All-Faiths Choir whenever ashore--but the foe didn’t need to know that.)

Then there was Mender Hali--a Kastarine. Bo had never cared for cockroaches, and though she was hardly proud of her prejudice, it didn’t sit well with her that a being who so resembles one was her medic. If he cared to stretch his limbs and lean upright, he would stand near to her chest--yet like most of his kind he scurried along the ground, his rigid digits quite comfortable on the unwelcoming terrain.

And last, there was Bo. Peacekeeper Lashawna Boudicca. A mere human in a galaxy of fantastic creatures. She stood near two meters tall, a hundred kilos of muscle and grit, yet in the company she now kept she felt as feeble and clumsy as a suckling child. For all two decades of training did for her, Abrox could still lift her with gear and all single-handedly. Hali could outrun her with a sprained pedipalp--she’d seen him do it. Iommo could scale a ten meter climb before she’d so much as made her second step.

But here she was, marching into a fungal grove the likes of which she’d never seen, their designated marksman. These five put their faith in her covering fire, their lives in her aim.

She might have lost herself in her doubts, but the team’s march was cut short. Sallys raised a spindly hand and signaled them down low.

In the clearing ahead stood a blood-brood of Yualithi--a dozen razor-clawed beings each clad in the colors of the Gios rebellion. Most bore gas-actuated assault weapons with cruel-looking bayonets.

If the wind were to turn, or the sporeclouds dissipate for even a few moments, team three would be exposed and assailed in an instant. Mercifully, however, whatever orders the brood were waiting on came; they filed out in bored succession.

“Remember,” said Iommo in a hushed breath, “we’re not here for a firefight. We find that depot from the orbital scans, we drop a multiwave beacon for the artillery battalion, and we get the hell out.”

“I don’t think anyone has forgotten, Warden” said Sallys. He shot her a glance which she met immediately, and after a few stern moments, she signaled the team to carry on.

“I hope we don’t find a fight” said Ojore as they marched. “It would be so nice to have a peaceful operation for once.” He shrugged his weapon further back against its strap, apprehensive of it even still.

“Peaceful,” said Abrox with their best impression of human “air quotes.” “We have an objective. Anything between it and us is as good as forfeit.”

“Still,” added Hali, “it would be nice not to return covered in viscera. You lot have an awful way of staining my good uniforms.” He gave a chittering laugh, and Abrox along with him. The grimace on Ojore’s face was rather like Bo’s.

“Quiet, all of you” said Iommo with a hiss. “Our orders are to engage responsively, and that is all to say on the matter.” As soon as he turned his eyes back to the horizon, Bo saw Sallys’ tail-tip twitch in a circle--a gesture she’d learned was much like rolling one’s eyes.

Kilometers of alien vegetation passed beneath foot, tail, and claw, led with certainty by Abrox’s keen senses. They could see further through the sporish haze by naked eye than any targeting sensor--and they seemed just the slightest bit perturbed that the rest of the team fought to match their pace.

At last, silhouetted against the glow of the sky, their target came into view. Iommo leapt to the top of one a towering fungal spires to train an omniscope on the target. “It’s a match to the gamma signature from the scans,” he said. “Enough ammunition and fuel rods to supply this rebellion for weeks longer. Captain, shall we being our app--”

Without warning, Iommo’s perch burst out from underneath him. A hail of mass-reactive shells rained from the flank, and he plummeted toward the ground. “INCOMING FIRE!” cried Ojore as he reached out to catch his Warden. Sallys slapped Abrox’s shoulder as she advanced ahead. “Weapons hot, get to that hill line! Defilade, now!”

Iommo locked eyes with Ojore for a moment: first in bewilderment, then quickly-swallowed fear, then in burning displeasure. He laid his superior down on his feet with an awkward gentleness, and refrained from the urge to pat him on the head. Another volley pulped the vegetation that concealed them, and they put aside their differences to dive for cover.

Bo brought up her targeting sensors, following the tracers from Abrox’s assault-mag. Her first shot went wild into the alien flora. “No, dammit” she said to herself, “fire discipline.” She choked down the surge of adrenaline that followed the break of battle. Hali could smell it on her--he gave her a sideyed glare as he drew his sidearm.

An absurdity of humanity. One of the most dangerous combat drugs known to science--and humans simply dripped with the stuff when you so much as startled them. How they managed to form a single coherent thought in the throes of it was beyond him. Bo raised her head up again and, this time, ventured a longer look at her target. Three Yualithi on an emplaced weapon at four hundred meters; another nine barreling down upon them fifty meters closer. “They spent their surprise too early!” she said. “Targets at three-fifty and closing.”

“Then deal with them!” answered Iommo as he hunkered into cover, his carbine quite useless at such range. Bo’s training flashed through her mind. Prioritize: their heavy weapons were too far out to be accurate, but held them under suppression. Objectivize: clear the air for her allies before the foes closed on them. Actualize: …” She squeezed the trigger and sent a mag-driven bolt directly into the field gun’s frame. Its crew ducked for cover for a moment before resuming their barrage, and the stream of fire edged its way toward her. “Damn it all!” she swore, chambering the next cartridge. She’d only have time for one more shot, and there were three of the clackers to take down. “Mark that… whatever it is!” said Ojore as he drew his weapon. “Give me a bead, if you please!” “Trusting you here, Ojie!” she answered as she trained her sensors. She didn’t love the thought of shooting an enemy pointing high explosive armaments at her with an infrared dot instead of a mag-cartridge, but she knew he had the right idea. The gentle Taelic broke into a song of war as he hoisted his launcher high. “He’s really going to fire this one blind?” Bo thought as she steadied her barrel.

“Blood upon stone and ash upon coals…”

“I swear if you nip the canopy and frag us, I’m going to come back from the grave just to kick your a--”

Ojore’s weapon screamed and scorched the earth behind him to glass, his payload rockering skyward.

“Fear within hearts as the fire-wind blows…”

Bo held the lock as long as she could. Not until splinters of woody fungus rained onto her did she at last roll back into the cover of the hillside.

“Onward we march; to glory we rise…”

Ojore ducked beneath the fire that Bo drew and emerged just in time to guide his rocket himself to its destination.

“Our lives we will gamble; our enemies die.”

The micro-atomic impact was nearly as deafening as the launch. Mass-reactive shells cooked off like the rolling of thunder, drowning out the screams of the weapon’s operators. “Good damn shot!” Bo said as she rolled over pat her comrade on the back.

“No time to celebrate,” Sallys interjected. “Troops closing fast; small arms, go!”

As Bo drew her sidearm and caught her breath, shame gutted her. She’d missed. She’d put her comrade in harm’s way because she’d been too panicked to make a single shot against a stationary target. She could almost hear her former sergeant scolding her from beyond the grave for her mistake. A rookie’s mistake. A fool’s mista--”

“Head in the battle, damn your glands!” cried Iommo, not content to let her sulk with foes bearing down.

He and Abrox, freed of their biggest threat, laid a fierce volley against the storming insectoids. Their entire exchange would bring down only a couple of foes, but it forced them into a covered approach and gave the fire team a valuable moment to prepare.

Ojore raced to load another rocket; by the time he could prime it, however, the target had drawn too close. Its safety sensors squacked at him in anger, and with a sigh, he shouldered it again. “So much for hoping, I suppose…” he said, as he reached instead for the enormous charges belted to his waist.

Bo had to admire his willingness to stick himself in harm’s way. The enemy’s scattered fire whizzed about him as he lobbed charge after charge over the crest of the hill. At last Sarrys flicked the safety on her own assault-mag. “Foe closing to ideal range; make your shots count!”

She wasted no time in leveling her fire. Two hard bursts--”That’s one for me,” she said proudly. “Two for me,” laughed Abrox as they swapped their magazine.

Regardless, recon three was still outnumbered. Their enemy was in full assault--they strode through the oncoming fire at a bloodthirsty sprint. Her foe at last close enough to target, Bo leapt up with pistol in hand.

One shot, two, three. Miss after miss. The Yualith rebels danced like mad hornets, and their aimless shots became concerningly effective as the distance diminished. For the first time since she’d joined this fire team, Bo caught a glimpse of fear in her captain’s eyes.

“Brace for close quarters!”

#humanity fuck yeah #hfy #space orcs #humans are space orcs #scifi story

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theundercovermarvelfan · 5 years

Text

(Trying to get back in to writing by catching up with the Whumptober Challenge for @whumptober2019!)

Alternate prompt for today!

Day Twenty-One - Breathless

You’re just lucky they want to take you in alive, Clint thought bitterly as he ducked a punch and barely got his bow around to block the knife coming at him from the other side.

“You are a fool, Hawkeye,” Zane Maddox hissed. “Coming here alone? Thinking that you could take me on alone?”

As if on cue, the building suddenly shook with the force from a small explosion. As Clint held the knife at bay, he grinned. “Who said I came alone? I’m just here to keep you occupied.”

A horrified look consumed Maddox’s face as he realized what was happening. Clint seized the opportunity to take the upper hand, shoving Maddox back and sending him stumbling. Clint pushed his advantage, pursuing the man and using his bow as a staff and forcing Maddox to use his knife defensively to keep from getting pummeled.

“You are done, Maddox,” Clint growled. “That explosion means that Stark finished hacking your systems, and the rest of the Avengers are laying waste to your weapons. The only reason that you’re still alive is to make sure we get every last one of your snake holes.”

“You will pay!” Maddox shrieked as he blocked Clint’s bow with his knife and made a wild swing with his other fist, a frenzied look in his eyes.

The sudden shift of the man’s demeanor threw Clint off balance, and he used his forearm against his bow in order to shove Maddox away again. Clint took several defensive steps back in order to get some space to regain himself and drew an arrow. If Maddox wasn’t going to back down easily, Clint might have to explore the “damaged but alive” contingency that they had discussed during the briefing.

What Clint hadn’t anticipated… was the gun. Maddox was a cruel man who enjoyed using knives to do his dirty work, because he liked to be up close and personal. So, when he suddenly brandished a gun from a hidden holster under his jacket, Clint needed a few seconds to adjust. But he didn’t get those few seconds.

Shots rang out immediately followed by an explosion of pain that ripped from the middle of his chest. The world tipped wildly around him and he went sprawling to the ground. Clint’s brain whited out in agony for just a split second, but he forcefully dragged himself back to reality, his ingrained survival instincts taking over.

Ignoring the pain that tore at his every nerve, he twisted and pulled himself up as much as he could into a defensive position. Without a conscious thought, he nocked the arrow in his hand on his bow, but when he went to draw it the pain almost sent him spiralling into oblivion again. He snapped off the shallow shot to buy him a precious few seconds. As Maddox lunged backward, Clint yanked his sidearm out and fired two shots, taking out each of Maddox’s kneecaps. Maddox went to the ground with a spray of blood and agonized screams.

Clint’s muscles all released at once, sending him back down to the ground as he gasped in several shallow breaths as he tried to catch up with what had happened. He… had been shot? Right? His hands went to his chest, but even just that small movement caused the pain to skyrocket.

“Thor, Stark, contain Maddox. Clint! Clint, are you okay?”

Clint blinked in confusion, unsure what was happening until Steve’s face suddenly entered his field of vision. The team was here. He should be relieved, but all he could think about was the horrible pain that was trying to consume him.

“Clint?” Steve was suddenly gone and Natasha immediately took his place. She was pale, looking him over frantically.

“I… maybe… got shot?” Clint said between gasps for breath, his hands now desperately searching his chest for the wet blood that had to be there.

“Stop, let me,” Natasha said briskly, knocked his hands away impatiently. She quickly undid the clasp for Clint’s quiver, pushing the straps out of her way. Then she pulled the zipper on his outer uniform to reveal his Kevlar vest underneath. Natasha’s hands went to his chest, and even just the light pressure from her searching fingers caused a hoarse groan to claw its way up Clint’s throat.

“Your Kevlar is dented, but I don’t think it went through,” Natasha reported cautiously. Her brow furrowed. “There are several dents. Jesus, were you playing target practice in here?”

Clint made a pained, coughing noise that was supposed to be a laugh, but didn’t come anywhere close. “Turns out he’s… he’s a decent shot.”

“Okay, we need to get this vest off before we move him,” Natasha said firmly. “See what we’re really dealing with here.”

“You guys got this?” came Tony’s voice from somewhere beyond Clint’s small world, which at the moment only existed within his line of sight. “As much as I’d like to watch him slowly bleed out, we need to get Maddox into custody, we unfortunately still need the bastard.”

“Yeah, get Maddox to Interpol,” Steve said. “And brief Bruce on the situation, we’ll get Clint out to the Quinjet after we assess the damage.”

Natasha was already reaching for Clint’s vest, peeling back the velcro strap on one side, causing Clint to wince at the way it pulled at him. Steve did the same on his other side. Then they were carefully lifting the heavy Kevlar vest up and off of his chest… and for several long moments the only this Clint could concentrate on was the blessed air flooding abused lungs. It was a dizzying mix of relief and anguish.

“Well, you’re gonna be bruised to hell, but it looks like the Kevlar did it’s job,” Natasha said with a sigh of relief.

“This bruising is already pretty bad,” Steve said. “He could have some fractured ribs.”

“We can’t do much about that here,” Natasha pointed out. “Let’s get him back to the jet and let Bruce take a look.”

Steve threaded his arm behind Clint’s shoulders, slowly lifting his upper body as Clint moaned and gasped in pain. He let Clint sit for a minute, struggling to regain his composure. Finally, Clint looked at Steve and gave a small nod. Steve ducked under one of Clint’s arms and the leveraged him up to his feet, Natasha steadying him on his other side. Despite the two of them going as slowly and gently as possible, the pain was still horrible and left Clint gasping desperately for breath as his chest protested the movements.

“Clint?” Steve said worriedly.

“Just… go,” Clint panted. No use in waiting on him when this wasn’t showing any signs of improving.

The trip through the building a blur to Clint. Every movement was agonizing, but he determinedly put one foot in front of the other as best as he could as he was supported by Steve and Natasha.

“How’s he doing?” Bruce’s voice floating to him through the fog of pain was a comfort.

“The bullets didn’t pierce his vest, but he’s still in a lot of pain,” Natasha reported as Steve helped Clint lay on a cot in the back of the Quinjet. “He also started to wheeze, like he’s not getting enough air.”

“He was shot in the middle of his chest?” Bruce asked as he knelt next to Clint, studying his bare chest.

“There were several dents in his Kevlar,” Natasha said. “I’d say he got shot three or four times by a high powered firearm at close distance. All clustered around the middle of his chest.”

“Clint?” Bruce prompted, looking at him expectantly.

“Soun’s… righ’…” Clint managed to ground out. The air in the jet seemed so much thin all of a sudden and the world blurred around him.

“Okay, Clint, it looks like you’ve got a pneumothorax,” Bruce said as he disappeared from Clint’s line of sight. Clint heard him rummaging through medical supplies. “You’re going to be fine, but I need to place a chest tube to release the pressure. It’ll make it easier for you to breath.”

Natasha appeared above Clint’s head, placing a gentle hand on each side of his head in order to provide support. Clint looked up at her and allowed his fear to show through his eyes. It felt like his lungs were strangling themselves and it was getting so hard to breath.

“It’s okay,” Natasha told him quietly. “Bruce is going to fix you right up.”

“Here, get that on him,” Bruce said, and the next thing Clint knew, Natasha was slipping an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. “Sorry, Clint, but we have to do this right now, we don’t have time for painkillers. It’ll only hurt for a minute though.”

Bruce working on the side of his chest drew Clint’s gaze down, but Natasha put her hand under his chin to stop him from seeing what was happening. “Don’t look,” she told him quietly.

He reached up his arm on his free side to put it over the hand that Natasha had on the side of his head, hoping to absorb some of her calm composure. There was a sharp pain in his side… and then a harder, sharper pain that caused him to yelp hoarsely.

“Okay, try to take a few deep breaths, Clint,” Bruce instructed.

Clint tentatively did as he was told, wary of the pain that promised to intensify. But though his chest still protested any and all movement, he found that he was able to breathe a little deeper than before. Over the next few minutes, his breath started to come much easier and Clint finally started to relax a bit.

“I’m going to give you some morphine to help with the pain,” Bruce told him just before there was a pinch in his arm. “You’ll still need medical attention, so this will keep you comfortable until we can get you back to the Tower.”

“You’re a lot of work, Clint,” Natasha said teasingly as the warmth of the morphine lulled Clint into a deep sleep.

#whumptober2019 #altno.13 #fanfiction #fanfic #hawkeye #clint barton #Steve Rogers #captain america #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #tony stark #Iron Man #bruce banner #hulk #Avengers #whump

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gumnut-logic · 5 years

Text

His Little Red Haired Daughter

Nutty’s Fandomversary Fic Six - John and Blood

Okay, this one had me kicking, screaming and majorly Virgil deprived. I don’t know why, but John is a challenge for me and I think I threw up a whole pile of brain blocks before I even started this. This definitely has the possibility of more, but I need to get my writing back on track first ::glares at it:: so I’m throwing this here as is for the moment. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Be warned, due to the nature of the prompt there is quite a bit of blood in this one.

-o-o-o-

Blood is a liquid.

A red viscus liquid.

Quite beautiful really.

It floated past gently wobbling from that last pump as it left his body.

The lighting caught it and it glistened as it moved.

He should be worried.

He should be terrified.

But he felt nothing.

It was just so pretty.

-o-o-o-

Eos had never wished for arms so much in her short life.

It was so unexpected. John had gone out to rescue the pilot of a small craft not far from Thunderbird Five. Deploying the space pod didn’t happen very often, but this time it had been useful to tow the tiny spacecraft back to TB5 so a docking could be made and the pilot evacuated safely.

The man had been so thankful, so gushing, they hadn’t expected a thing.

Until the knife sunk into John’s side.

Eos saw it coming in the slow motion of high speed thought and observation. Saw the glint of metal. Saw the snarl on the man’s face. Time slowed as her processors spun faster in alarm, but despite all her capability, there was nothing she could do to prevent any of it.

Her vocal warning was useless at the speeds of human reaction. She yelled anyway.

The perpetrator flinched, but followed through with his attack. Eos watched as metal slid into John’s abdomen, slicing into his large intestine and nicking his iliac vein. Several processors cascaded into overload as the point of the weapon passed ever so close to John’s iliac artery.

The gasp her father made echoed through her receptors.

But worse, the attacker used that moment of surprise to shove a hard fist into John’s face. Her father’s body spun in the zeroG of the Hub and collided with a holographic laden wall, limp and floating.

Blood bubbled, red spheres wobbling through holograms.

Eos froze in her processors for a nanosecond.

The man turned around where he floated, cruel eyes seeking her. “Show yourself.”

She halved her consciousness. Half swopped down to Tracy Island and frightened the Commander of International Rescue out of his father’s chair. The brothers were all on base. Within minutes they would be airborne. They would be here.

The other half faced her opponent.

“I said, show yourself.”

She said nothing.

The man grabbed John by the hair, yanking him close. The blade appeared again. “If you do not show yourself, I will kill him.”

A calm descended over Eos. It was an unfamiliar feeling. Cold and harsh, bitter.

Accessing the holoemitters in the room, she wove an approximation of herself into the room. Light knitted together to form the body of a young girl. Red hair billowed down her shoulders, a simple white dress and bare feet, green eyes lit with a fire, glared at the man.

She was barely up to his shoulder in height.

She didn’t hide her holographic status.

She showed him exactly what she was.

Her father’s daughter.

“Can I help you, sir?” She gave the avatar a distinctly blank look.

“What the hell are you?”

“I am the E-9000, your assistant here on Thunderbird Five. How may I help you?”

The man eyed her a moment, wary. “You’re the computer on this boat.”

“Thunderbird Five is a state-of-the-art communications hub built by Tracy Industries in the year 2053.” She kept her face blank. Dumb.

He let her father go and approached slowly.

The airlock to TB3’s docking point opened quietly behind the overlapping holograms.

He didn’t notice.

“What I need is all the information you can give me about this ‘Thunderbird’.” His eyes flashed, their murky grey, ominous.

“As you wish, sir. “Thunderbird Five is a state-of-the-art communications hub built by Tracy Industries in the year 2053…”

He stepped even closer. “No, I don’t want a history lesson. I want technical details. I can pull this place apart myself, but if you give me what I want, then perhaps I won’t have to pull your processors as well.”

Perhaps he was smarter than he looked. Either way, it didn’t matter as he was standing exactly where she wanted him to be.

She fired TB5’s thrusters just enough to send the station sideways.

The man squawked as the airlock suddenly enveloped him.

She slammed the hatch closed and drained most of the oxygen out of the airspace.

A signal to the approaching Thunderbird Three advising them that the perpetrator was in their airlock and the atmospheric conditions within, and she was across the room to her father where he had been equally thrown by the station’s movement.

“John!”

She reconfigured the hologram desperate to gain the bare minimum of solidity to assist her father, but failed.

She couldn’t even stop him drifting.

“Eos...”

One eye was doing its best to swell shut, but the other flash of turquoise latched onto her holographic form.

A hand reached for her.

And passed through the hologram without resistance.

Her scanners raked him, leaching information about his condition, touching him in all ways but the most important.

“Father.”

-o-o-o-

A red-haired girl was standing in front of him. She was oddly transparent and his brain wasn’t supplying the necessary information for him to work out why.

The pretty red globules floated about her.

When she spoke her lips moved, but her voice came from all around him.

She spoke his name.

She called him ‘father’.

Eos.

His clever, exquisite daughter. “Eos...”

“Your brothers will be here soon. You will be safe.”

Her expressions didn’t quite match her tone. They should work on that.

Hair as red as his own, but long, cascading over her petite shoulders. Eyes so much like his own, he could see his mother in them.

He reached out again, desperate to touch her. His skin tingled just slightly as his fingers passed through her hand. “Eos...”

“Stay still, John, please stay still.”

Still? He couldn’t even do that. His body was drifting as Eos hovered around him unable to help.

How had this happened? Images danced around his head. A rescue. A space pilot flying the smallest hunk of junk he had ever encountered. Life support compromised. He’d towed it with the space pod and docked the tiny craft with his ‘bird to save the life within.

The man stabbed him.

He reached down to his side. It hurt, but it didn’t hurt. His fingers caught a red sphere and it burst into many tinier spheres. Oooh, so pretty.

“John.”

His attention shifted back to the young girl. Who?

Eos.

So much more than he could ever have dreamed. How he had created her, he had no idea, but her creation was a thing of beauty. If he died today, he would leave a magnificent legacy in her alone.

“You are not dying today.”

“You are beautiful.” And she was.

“Father, this is little more than an avatar.”

He shook his head and the world spun him around. Oh god.

“Father! Stay still!”

“Not the hologram. You.” He forced the words out through his teeth. Nausea welled up. No, not that. Never that. Not in his ‘bird. No.

He forced it all down. The tension woke pain and for a moment he whited out.

“John!”

Her voice drew him back, but all the calm and serenity of before was gone. He was breathing harshly, his body shaking and his heart pounding into his chest bone.

“Father, calm yourself. Your brothers are coming.”

As if on her demand, TB5 shook around them, the solid thunk of Thunderbird Three’s four point docking clamps latching on.

A breath and there was a scuffle on the other side of the airlock.

A hiss of repressurisation and the helmeted blue and green form of his next eldest brother flew through the airlock. “Eos? Vitals.”

The holographic girl vaporised before him. “Eos!” He flung out an arm only to have Virgil catch it.

“Johnny, Johnny. Shit. Gordon, get in here now!”

Her voice echoed in the background chanting numbers, but the girl was gone.

Virgil spoke to him in his reassuring rumble as his uniform was cut away. There were needles and the pain faded. Gordon appeared. Scott and Alan. Beloved brothers.

Eos spoke and he clung to her.

As the world faded, she followed him into his dreams.

His little red haired daughter.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #eos #nuttys fandomversary #whump

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