#like the courier couldn’t and can’t control what they deliver and yet it’s got them in hot water multiple times
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Ulysses obsession with the Courier is a special type of sad to me cause the Courier’s part was so important but so unwitting. They had no idea what was in the package they delivered and neither did he. Neither had an idea of what it could’ve done and the Courier was only caring out their job (mind you the Courier could be killed via notes in the express contract if they don’t). To them it was just another regular delivery to the divide and one that they likely thought would help, just like all the ones before.
It’s so tragic for Ulysses to hold so much ire to the Courier when it really was the case of it could’ve been anyone. Anyone could have delivered that package but they did and so he focused the blame on them and it destroys what he is trying to instill in the courier on a fundamental level.
#like yeah the courier delivered the package but in the end that’s a job#any random courier could’ve delivered it especially since we know in the past the factions were farther apart and this travel was a smidge#safer but courier six got it and this Ulysses blamed them#like I don’t care much for Ulysses because I think lonesome road embodies don’t shoot the messenger at it core#and what people focus on doesn’t focus on the fact that in the bigger picture#everything went wrong because two factions were at war and at some point the codes would have been delivered#and the divide destroyed cause with how close it is to NCR territory it would of been found#like there is an inevitable and too many people treat Ulysses as if he knows more or is more aware of the idiosyncrasies of conflict#when he’s like fundamentally flawed just at the standard of being a legion apologist STILL and just how focused he is on one persons#involvement cause yeah choices matter even the small one but I think Veronica’s quest says it best with a line from the courier#you can’t control what they do#like the courier couldn’t and can’t control what they deliver and yet it’s got them in hot water multiple times#like do you think they enjoy being shot or knowing they are indirectly responsible for activating the annihilation of a community#to me it’s hypocrisy to be willing to end the world or one world to prove a point and whatever argument made that only military factions#suffer forget there are innocent civilians suffering that had no part and Ulysses is no better than the Courier#I don’t like devils advocate and a lot of the dlc just feels like that but idk I know people love it but the depth is just not there for mr#ulysses fnv#fallout#fallout new vegas#courier six#the courier#lonesome road#the courier has very little personality outside what we give them but some lines and delivery paint a picture#like uhhhh undertale deltarune rules ig
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The Joker x Reader - “John Wick” Part 2
Y/N left The Organization 3 years ago for the one reason strong enough to make her settle down: love. But after tragedy crushed her to pieces, she decided to leave The Joker and seek refuge with an old friend and mentor - John Wick. Needless to say The King of Gotham can’t accept his wife running away without a word, especially since he didn’t have a chance to tell her things she might want to hear.
Part 1 Part 3
2 Days Later
You walk down on Cherry Lane Street when you lastly get to your destination: the homeless guy begging for change in front of the fence surrounding Yellow Star bus station. You take out your empty vial and a gold coin from your pocket, dropping them in his cup; might as well take advantage of your numerous resources while visiting the area.
“God bless, miss!” the man rattles the container and you whisper:
“I need a refill for this medication from Dr. Wong.”
“Give us one hour,” he replies in a low tone, then louder. “Thank you, miss! God bless!”
So many people around and nobody notices the courier on a bike swiftly retrieving the ampule from the bum’s fingers.
You start walking away, willing to kill some time until your order is ready: it’s a nice morning and it would be better to wait than drive back to John’s house. In the matter of fact, one of your favorite coffee shops in town is just three blocks further and you have to admit you’ve missed the place. Maybe your gracious host wants something too; better call and find out.
“Hello?” he picks up immediately.
“Hi, I’m going to Kavarna. Should I bring you a drink?”
“Oh, absolutely. Large espresso, quadruple shot.”
“You mean heart attack?”
Jonathan laughs, confirming his strong refreshment.
“Yes, I think that’s the other name for it.”
“Suit yourself,” you lift your shoulders up. “I will become a legend by effortlessly killing Baba Yaga. You don’t have a bounty on your head, do you? I can collect the money also.”
“Nope, no bounty,” he informs, amused at your statement.
“Damn… I’m disappointed Mister Wick, but I will still deliver your coffee because we’re friends,” you decide to be lenient.
“I appreciate your effort,” John smirks and Y/N huffs at his cheekiness.
“It will cost you 3 gold coins!”
“Three?! That’s a rip off,” the complaint follows.
“I had to eat your chicken Alfredo so you owe me,” the reminder makes him snicker.
“Fair enough,” he stretches on the couch and rolls his eyes when the doorbell suddenly rings. “Later,” Jonathan cuts it short, wondering who the heck is bothering him this early in the day.
“Byeeee,” you hang up, continuing your promenade towards 87th Avenue.
“Coming!!!!” he yells since the doorbell is obnoxiously pressed over and over again. “I said I’m coming!” John hurries and yanks at the nob, surprised to see your husband as soon as the door is opened. “Mister J,” he sort of greets the uninvited guest.
“Wick,” The Joker sucks on his teeth, barging in the next second. “Is my wife here?” he eyeballs the living room, completely worn out after the recent sleepless nights.
“No,” the simple response is ignored.
“This is my fifth stop in two days,” J emphasizes his unfruitful quest. “I’m a man of many tricks, yet it’s not easy to find her. Do you mind if I take a look around?” your spouse pretends to be polite while stomping up the stairs, not that he got an OK from the owner of the house.
“Yes, I do mind!” John frowns, closely pursuing The King of Gotham.
“That’s too bad, Wick! Call the cops then!” The Joker barks, glancing throughout the 4 bedrooms upstairs. There’s no trace of Y/N and he descends the staircase, remembering there are 3 more bedrooms on the ground level. “She didn’t contact you at all?” he inquires and freezes when the first inspected room reveals a familiar sight adorning the nightstand: a small shrine containing Kase’s framed picture, a folded blue onesie and the tiniest pair of socks.
J approaches the cherished tokens, annoyed at your friend’s stunt.
“She’s not here, hm?!” his clenched jaw makes it difficult to articulate the words.
“She’s not!” John insinuates the obvious, apparently unconcerned by The Joker’s escalating temper. But that’s only on the surface because he knows what your husband is capable of: in his case it never takes more than a push for a total mood switch.
“Don’t play games with me, Wick!! She’s hiding right here!”
“She’s not hiding! If she was, you’d never find her. You were expected to show up: like I said, Y/N is not hiding! You ask if she’s here and she’s not home. Frankly, Mister J, I don’t remember ever trespassing on your property!”
The Clown Prince of Crime stands in the middle of the room with his mouth opened, appalled he’s being lectured.
“You have some nerve, Wick!” he shrieks, struggling not to snap at Jonathan’s honest remarks. “I’m prepared to overlook the outburst with one condition: don’t text her I arrived. I presume you have her new number?...“
***************
After one hour and a half
“Jonathan, I got your coffee!” you enter the empty kitchen, yet there’s no trace of him. “John?” you set the cup on the counter and turn around at the husky intonation:
“He’s in the courtyard.”
You glare at The Joker with mixed feelings; the only ones he can actually read are hate and disgust.
“What do you want?” Y/N sneers.
He’s more than displeased at your bitterness after tracking you down for days: it would be really nice for you to show some gratitude. Unfortunately, that’s not how things work.
“Is that how you address your partner?!”
“Ex-partner!” you persist and J has to say it:
“I wasn’t aware we divorced!”
“I thought my message was clear,” you interrupt his nonsense before it spirals out of control.
“You left without giving me instructions on what to do with the baby stuff,” your estranged spouse grumbles.
“I told you to do whatever you want with the items I left behind!”
“Meaning?!” he shouts, exasperated.
“Donate them, burn them, put them in the garbage. I don’t care! If you’re confused, request help from your girlfriend! I’m certain she’ll be more than happy to oblige!”
The Joker would normally lose it at this point, however there’s something distracting him from going entirely bonkers.
“My what?!...”
“Your mistress, J ! The woman you’ve been dating! Or are you going to play stupid and deny it? I saw you, ok? So don’t even try your sneaky ways! I’m not five years old!! And definitely not an idiot!” you lash out since you have plenty to mention on the subject. “Is that why you didn’t…” and your voice breaks, “… drive Kase to the Penthouse? Because you had a meeting with her?...”
The King of Gotham has no idea what to do with all the accusations thrown at him; it’s obvious no matter what he utters it’s going to fail.
“I don’t have a mistress, alright?!” his index finger goes straight up in the air.
“Then what were you doing at that woman’s house? Was she polishing your gun?!”
To his own amazement, J has to recollect from your criticism the best way he knows how:
“Nobody’s been polishing my gun!”
Your ears are ringing from the outrage building up in your heart, that’s why you barely discern what he’s pronouncing.
“Murderer…” you mumble and that’s enough to stop his defensive rampage: a plain word that’s been used to describe him a million times, yet it never came from Y/N and not with such a heavy connotation. “You…you were supposed to bring my son home in a car… instead he was brought to me in a coffin… O-only three weeks old…”
The Joker would love to retaliate but you’re crying so hard the only sentence coming out is very far from his intended resentment:
“I know I should’ve driven the car… I didn’t… and I can’t take it back. I also know you tried to kill me; I was pretending to be asleep. If you detest me so much, why didn’t you pull the trigger? It was impossible to miss two inches away from my face.”
The lack of an explanation gives J a nudge in the appropriate direction:
“Do you know why I didn’t react at all? I trusted you wouldn’t do it.”
You keep on wiping your tears and John slides the patio door, apologizing in his own residence.
“Umm…Sorry to intrude: someone just tossed this over the fence,” he shows the couple a piece of paper. “Everything good?” he scans the premises since the tense atmosphere worries him, especially Y/N struggling to regain her composure.
“What’s with that paper?” The Joker growls, dismissing the question.
“It’s a message from The Bowery King, requesting a meeting at your and I quote: earliest convenience for urgent business.”
“Urgent business?...” you repeat, sniffling. “Regarding?...”
“It doesn’t specify,” Jonathan hands you the missive and you’re intrigued.
“He never summons anybody unless it’s important… I’m going,” you decide on the spot, jiggling the keys from your car.
“I’m coming too,” J offers to accompany his distressed wife.
“I’m going alone!” you circle around him and the obnoxious comment annoys an already upset Y/N.
“Fine, but I’m coming with you.”
*************
“Please, take a seat,” the man extends his left arm towards the two chairs located in front of his desk. “I was hoping Mister Joker would join us,” he intertwines his fingers while maintaining a calm smile.
“Can you please tell me why I’m here?” you finally speak after not making a sound the whole trip; you found it useless to launch a conversation: the confinement of a car was overwhelming when your undesired escort couldn’t probably wait for a second chance to fight.
“Of course,” the grin widens. “Though I’m afraid I must open a can of worms; I urge you to acknowledge it’s necessary in order to enlighten the mystery of this gathering. No objections? Awesome,” he wiggles in his beat up recliner, delighted to initiate his debriefing. “Mister Joker, is it true that in the past 6 months you’ve been frequenting a certain establishment belonging to a Miss Evelyn Black?”
“Excuse me?” J leans over the desk and you close your eyes, sickened at the already bad vibe given from the strange situation.
“Sir, please keep in mind I am not a judge and I mean no disrespect,” The Bowery King lifts his arms in surrender. “I am merely trying to aid and I swear it with all make sense in the end. So, Mister Joker, did you or did you not?”
Your husband puckers his lips, muttering mostly to himself.
“Yeah.”
“And are you aware Miss Black accommodates a lot of gentlemen with her busy schedule?”
“Is that her name?” you finally growl, numbness taking over. “Six months?” you don’t give J an opportunity to reply to your first inquiry. “You started seeing that woman six months ago?! When I was pregnant with our son?!” the angered wife is slowly transforming into the person she was before leaving the organization and The Bowery King is relying on it. “Did the sight of me carrying our baby gross you out??!!”
“What?!” The Joker snaps. “What are you talking about?! You didn’t gross me out! How dare you meddling in my private affairs?!” J counterattacks the man’s statement, feeling cornered from both sides. “Who do you think you are, hm?!”
“I didn’t blame you for anything Mister Joker,” the devious individual affirms. “Like I said, I’m no judge.”
“Then what’s the point of this charade?” your spouse yells and it’s a great relief humiliation can’t be measured because you probably surpassed the threshold.
“Did you know that Magnus Stonnenberg is one of her passionate admirers?” The King’s revelation drops the hint and your body instantly stiffens.
“No! Why the hell should I care?!” J yells, unable to control his disposition after what he perceives to be a despicable insult.
“Magnus… Magnus was just declared ex-communicado two days ago,” you disclose, puzzled. “I was at the Continental when it happened: he killed Anuscka Volovdya on hotel’s ground.”
“He sure did,” the man agrees. “Do you know why?”
“If you don’t quit this show, I’m gonna blow your brains out! I don’t care I’m on your territory!” The Joker’s psychotic gaze underlines the threat he’s ready to fulfill; the Soup Kitchen owner takes a deep breath, rushing towards the conclusion.
“Magnus Stonnenberg is a very jealous man, Mister Joker. Maybe he didn’t like the fact you were spending so much time with the lady he adores; he might have even thought you’re her new favorite. There were…” and The Bowery King pauses,”…reported instances when he allegedly attacked, wounded or even killed men that got too close to Miss Black.”
“And how the fuck is this relevant to me?!” your husband is preparing to jump over the desk and squeeze the life out of your insolent host.
“If I may be brutally blunt, sir,” The Bowery King accentuates each term, “you’re a man nobody likes to mess with. So maybe instead of a face to face confrontation, Stonnenberg might have chosen a different approach: if you took something he loved from him, maybe he took something you loved from you?”
“What are you saying?” you ask, perplexed. “He was involved in the car crash that killed my baby?!”
The Joker momentarily forgot his indignation since he can’t believe the sentences pouring out of the man comfortably resting in the recliner.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” The Bowery King smirks. “There’s only one important detail though: your son was removed from the car before it was smashed to pieces.”
J gasps and you cover your mouth with shaky fingers, sobbing at the unexpected revelation.
“My… my son’s alive??!!”
“This is what I managed to find out from my sources: Magnus plotted for a while, waiting for the perfect occasion to strike. The opportunity arose when your child was send home in the vehicle with just one driver at the stop light on Montgomery Avenue; as you know the area is pretty much abandoned. The driver might have thought it was safe to take a deserted route, yet it was Stonnenberg’s chance to strike. It’s not hard to kill one chauffeur, remove a three weeks old from his car seat and replace him with God knows what. It’s not hard if you have accomplices also.”
You’re becoming increasingly agitated and The Joker’s intimidating silence prompts last bits of information.
“It seems Anuscka Volovdya was one of Magnus’s main conspirators. When he didn’t pay her the promised price, she menaced to jeopardize the entire operation. Two days ago at the Continental, Anuscka found out you were there and she planned to confess. Magnus couldn’t have that happen so he executed her even if that resulted in him being declared ex-communicado. I assume it’s better to have your revenge no matter the consequences, if the final result is the same: you’ll never know your son didn’t die in the car accident.”
“Are you sure Kase is still alive? Where is he?” Y/N whispers in disbelief.
“Not sure, but I’m working on finding out as we speak,” The Bowery King reassures and you abruptly stand up from your chair, deciding it’s time to bail.
“Thank you very much! Spare no expense in finding out what really happened to my baby! I will be back with compensation,” you storm out of the room and The Joker follows, fuming at the shocking news.
“Slow down, would you?” J grabs your hand and it’s enough to make you burst. You aggressively push him away, hissing:
“This is all your fault! You couldn’t keep it in your pants and now I have no idea where our baby is! I don’t know if anybody feeds him, changes him or holds him!! Or maybe he was abandoned in a ditch to die anyway!!”
“I didn’t sleep with that woman, do you understand?! What the hell is wrong with everybody?!”
Y/N has no more tears to cry and no more endurance for lies; she has a purpose again and it doesn’t include the man she considers her ex.
You rush on the convoluted hallways, ignoring his justifications and almost bite one of The King men’s head off that is brave enough to verbalize what the rest of the crew is curious about:
“Hey Y/N, are you back?”
“YES, I AM BACK!!” the ferocious attitude makes him shrivel up while placing his rags in the locker:
“Jesus, I was just asking…” he quietly protests, glad to see you are exiting the building without further retribution.
You are the first one to get in the car and immediately lock it before J gets in.
“Hey, open up!” he knocks on the window and has to step aside when you race out of the parking lot in a frenzy.
“Are you serious?” he flares his arms around when John steadily drives up to him; your friend was patiently waiting outside since he didn’t want to intrude on the meeting.
“Need a ride?” Jonathan suggests and The Clown gets in the SUV, simmering with vexation. “What happened?” the question instigates a candid reaction:
“I fucked up.”
Also read: MASTERLIST
You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattapad under the same blog name: DiYunho.
#the joker x reader#the joker fanfiction#the joker imagine#john wick imagine#john wick x reader#the joker jared leto#the joker suicide squad#joker#joker fanfiction#joker suicide squad#joker jared leto#dc#dcu#mister j#Mistah J
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A Courier’s Journey
Ch.9
Finding the ghouls friend was one thing but sneaking through an entire basement while trying to hide from a whole group of giant invisible mutants was another. Six didn’t know where to start “Do you think we have enough time on the Stealth Boys to find her? “ she whispered to Boone to which he just shrugged in response. She paced back and forth with her fist tucked under her chin and the other on her hip “Okay! So here’s the plan, we use the Stealth Boys and couch throughout the rest of the basement. I know it’s not ideal but it should keep us out of their field of vision enough to sneak by. If we can’t see them then they can’t see us!” She nodded to herself and looked at Boone who look for a second maybe a little impressed but not much.
Activating the Stealth Boys they made there way deeper into the basement. It’s was humid and smelt of burnt flesh. As they crawled through the basement they noticed the sound of large footsteps up ahead, before six could make a wrong step Boone grabbed the back of her vault suit collar and pulled her back. Her butt hit the ground with a slight thud causing the mutant to stop and think right in front of her, she was about to let out a small screech when Boone found her mouth and covered it with his hand muffling it. “Must be hearing things.” Said the mutant on a cracked voice. As he walked away Boone let go of her mouth and they continued down into the very bottom of the basement.
Reaching what final floor they slipped past another guard and headed into the jail cell which is what the last room was called. As they got to the door it appeared to be locked “shit!” Six whispered “What is it?” Boone whispered back from behind her “The door is locked, the guard must have it. We need to knock him out somehow and get it.” They snuck back up and just before she was about to get right in front of the mutant, her Stealth boy deactivated and exposed her “Change of plans!” She shouted as the mutant screamed “Intruder!!” The mutant charged his incinerator but before he could fire she sprung into action and grabbed right onto it using her entire body “Stupid human get off!!” He waved it back and forth and she clung on for dear life “Boone a little help!!” Boone was already aiming at the it but couldn’t get a clear shot. All of a sudden the mutant screamed “Enough!” And slammed Six and his weapon against a wall. Six collapsed onto the floor out cold giving Boone the perfect shot and fired. Boone rushes over to her and checked her pulse “Courier? Can you hear me?” He sighed with relief as he felt her pulse and that she was still breathing. He quickly checked if anything was broken and then took the key from the body of what he knew them as the Nightkin.
Six woke up to a sore back, arms, and legs, but she was alive so that was a plus. “Hey.” Came a familiar neutral voice. “Im guessing you got whatever kind of mutant it was that beat the shit out of me.” He nodded as she stretched out her arms and got up slowly. Looking around she realized they were in one of the jail cells “Had to get to a safe space until you woke up.” He stayed as if it was the most normal thing. “Thanks buddy.” She have him a small smile, they looked threw the last cell and found the ghouls friend laying on the floor. She sighed and turned around before shutting the door. “We don’t have anymore Stealth Boys so we gotta get out of here fast.” Something felt wrong to her about leaving the ghoul laying there like that but there wasn’t anything she could do. They made there way back to the ghoul waiting for them. Hearing the news she could tell he was upset but he kindly got out of there way afterwards.
Finally dealing away with what they called themselves the Nightkin she and her sniper friend went up to inform the ghouls upstairs. Jason’s thanks was short and sweet as he rushed into the basement with his other disciples as he waved to Six for them to follow him. As they reached the basement he gave her the rundown “I waited to speak with you one las time before I descend to the launch pad, wanderer. I want you to know that we will remember for all eternity how you delivered us to the threshold of the Great Journey.” He waved his hands in the air majestically trying to show his excitement “Our preparations are nearly complete, but the rockets that carry us to salvation are yet missing vital components.” Six shook her head and sighed knowing where this was going. “If you would still help us, wanderer, speak to Chris. He can tell you what is missing. There is no way we can thank you enough, your arrival here was a blessing. We will remember you always.” He smiled brightly and with that Jason Bright bowed his head and walked down to the launch pad with the rest of his followers.
Chris walked in looking slightly grim “Jason says that I am to cooperate with you on the final tasks necessary to launch the Great Journey.” She nodded “How can I help?” He told her the items and a very vague way to find them and with that they Six and Boone made their way out of the basement through a latter “ Why waste out time with this?” Boone’s voice was laced with irritation “I don’t think we are wasting time, If it helps them find happiness.” He looked at her bewildered as she was studying where to go on her pip-boy map. Help them find happiness? He hadn’t seen it that way at all. Why does she even care? No one helped anyone in the Mojave, but she helped him with not even a thought of payment. Why is she trying so hard? He couldn’t wrap his brain around it. “Okay so I think I know where we can find one of these things, it’s a little bit of a walk past Novac.” He just nodded and she lead the way forward.
Gibson’s Garage was the first stop on the map “Hi there. I’m old lady Gibson, or so they tell me. I’ve got odds and ends for sale, and I’m pretty good at fixing things too.” Six chatted with her for a bit and talked about how Gibson missed her husband, and how they used to scavenge REPCON. It wasn’t easy but Six managed to get a good deal on the part they needed “Thanks so much ma’am!” They shook hands and headed off the the next location. Which was harder to find then the first but she eventually did “Alrighty we should be good. Let’s get back to Chris!”
After they returned with all the stuff they needed she needed to get something off her chest that has been bothering her “Hey Chris, why won’t they let you control anything on the launch pad?” Chris sighed in annoyance “When I joined the flock, Jason made it clear that he wanted me to supervise the repairs, not do them myself. It would be a waste of my gift to work on just one system at a time. Form up here, I’ve been able to supervise the entire project.” She shook her head “The radiation down there would kill you, Chris. Because you’re human.” He crossed his arms and grumbled “Typical human trying to mess with me. I was human once, you know. Grew up in Vault 34, northeast of here. Nice upbringing of you like assault rifles and target practice. But oh, you like machines that don’t shoot people? Not so nice the.” She looked back at Boone for a second who just looked bored “Who should maintain the Vault’s reactor? Houser? Mitchell? No -make it Haversam. He likes machines!” He ranted for what seemed like hours but was only seconds “So you left your vault because.....you were bald?” Rage showed in his eyes “Bald? You call this bald, smoothskin? I’m a monster! A monster!” His hands turned into fists “Look Chris, Jason told me himself, The Great Journey is for ghouls only. You’re not going.” His eyes widened and suddenly he realized “Oh god! You’re telling me the truth aren’t you..!” He was so angry and upset for a second he couldn’t think straight and even contemplated sabotaging the whole project until six convinced him otherwise “There’s a little town called Novac up the road, you could set up your new life there.” He looked like he had tears in his eyes “Life among humans again? That’s what you’re suggesting? I guess....I guess it’s the only chance I’ve got.”
As they walked out of the basement and headed upstairs they heard Jason voice on the speakers, he was talking to his followers about how the Great Journey will save them and how they were grateful for Chris and her. Six and Boone entered the Launching pit and set off the rockets. Loud music played as they witnessed the rockets launch high into the sky faster then anything she had seen before. The room filled with smoke and they quickly headed out of there. “I still don’t understand what the point of that was. It’s idiotic to think that they will actually find a great beyond.” Six stopped and look up at the stars “I don’t think it was....I mean sure it sounds far fetched but I think it’s amazing to have something that gives you so much hope, real or otherwise. It’s something to fight for, something to make each day count.” She looked down at him and gave him a genuine smile. “Come on, your friend Manny owes me some answers.” She headed off first as Boone stood there in shock by her words. Fight for hope? I guess that’s a good enough answer...for now.
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Binding: The Transition
Summary: The contract has been signed, sealed, and delivered, and moving day is finally here at last.
Length: 3.7k
A/N: I’m so excited because y’all are finally getting a good glimpse at the Pets and their dynamics! I have a favorite Pet but it’s ONLY because they were the first one I had fully conceptualized. But shhhhhhh, I love all 3 so much!!!
1 | 2 | 3
Upon execution of the contract, the ‘Pet’ shall have twenty-eight (28) days to transition into the estate. All necessary expenditures incurred during the transition period shall be covered and/or reimbursed by estate as needed. Such expenditures include lease fees, storage costs, etc.
Dia sighed heavily as she surveyed her living room. Despite her apartment’s compact layout (some would call it “cramped,” she preferred “cozy”), it was her home, filled to the brim with precious memories and maybe far too many little knick-knacks than her shelves could handle. It had served as her own private oasis when work had become too stressful and overwhelming, and her fortress of solitude when she had needed to just hole up in her fuzziest blanket as her heart healed from the damaging and disappointing dissolution of her previous relationship. She sighed. Yes, she was excited--exhilarated, even--to move onto this new and promising chapter in her life; but with this page turn came the bittersweet ending of a chapter in which she’d undergone great growth. She turned around slowly, eyes catching on everything she owned haphazardly clustered together in little piles in every corner of the room, a tower of boxes standing sentry next to each pile. “This is really happening,” she mumbled in disbelief as she stooped over to to grab a roll of packing tape before plopping down next to a random pile, “I’m really doing this.”
As she began to pack away her things, she let her mind wander back to that fateful afternoon. She had felt completely blindsided by the icy control Junmyeon had exerted so smoothly over the situation. She’d sat there shell-shocked, her mind replaying the previous moments on a continuous, slowed loop as she tried to understand what in the hell had just happened. He had let her think she was calling the shots, that she was the one leading him in the most intricate of tangos rather than the messy two-step she’d so clumsily stumbled through. It was a brilliant, masterful display, one that had left her craving more. So much more, in fact, that she didn’t even let Chanyeol finish his glass of wine. (She’d felt guilty about it, but she’d reasoned it wasn’t all that rude considering he was her driver so he couldn’t risk being even the tiniest bit inebriated since her safety and wellbeing were his prerogative. That was her excuse and she stuck to it.) She remembered the way Rebelle had smugly smirked at her when she handed over her copy of the contract, which now proudly bore her signature. Admittedly, her bratty side had wanted to withhold the contract if just to wipe that smirk off the attorney’s face, but she was already so weak for a man she barely knew and Rebelle was right: She was the only one standing in the way of her own happiness.
Happiness…
God, she didn’t even really know if she knew what happiness felt like anymore. It’d been so long since she’d last truly experienced it. Thinking back, the last time she felt an inkling of pure happiness was the night she’d stumbled across Seungcheol’s profile. At the time, he had seemed like the perfect match for her. He was intelligent, charming, sensitive, understanding, honest, humble, and endearing with a streak of pride that allowed him a certain amount of commanding swagger. Being with him in the beginning was very much a rose-tinted scene out of a movie. It was just so perfect. He gave her the space she needed, never demanded too much of her, was more than attentive to her. And yet….Yet he couldn’t seem to really give her everything she really needed. Yes, she would be the first to admit she didn’t quite know exactly how to articulate to him what her true needs were because she was still discovering what they were. However, as time stretched on, his attention waned and the handful of needs he was satisfying dwindled one by one until she was filled with resentment and anger. She resented him for not seeing she needed more of a commitment than their part-time play and undefined relationship nor for giving her the chance to ask for more. He’d just assumed she was okay with how things were going when she wasn’t. She had wanted things to work between them, she really did; but seeing him that morning with a warm body that wasn’t hers lying beside him…. That was when the festering sore of her resentment scabbed over with her anger. She was angry at him for so easily tossing her aside for someone else, and she was even angrier to see the sparkling collar encircling the ungrateful bitch boy’s delicate neck. She would have clawed Jeonghan’s eyes out if she hadn’t just gotten her nails done.
As much as it tore her apart to walk away from him, she didn’t regret it. Nor did she regret all the time spent with him. She’d learned valuable lessons from that painful time and had come to better understand herself as well as her needs. She only regretted things could have ended more amicably; but even that was a very small regret, one easily overshadowed by her reproach for them. Still, she supposed that if things worked out between her and Junmyeon, she could at most send them a fruits basket. After all if it weren’t for them, she might not have ever been granted a chance to find her happiness again.
She smiled to herself as she finished taping the last box. Standing up, she brushed off her knees and looked around at all the cardboard towers crowding her living room. “Wow,” she mumbled to herself. This was really it. She was really doing this.
Her reverie was broken when the annoying shrill of her phone pierced the air. Wiggling the buzzing device out of her back pocket, she answered it without glancing at the screen, “Hello?”
“Is this Dianna Baptiste?” a soft voice lazily drawled through the phone, its lisp catching on the end of her last name.
Dia’s mouth ticked downward slightly in confusion as she answered the stranger, “This is she. May I ask who’s calling?”
“Good afternoon, Miss Baptiste. My name is Oh Sehun and I’m responsible for coordinating your move into the Kim Estate. I’m calling to confirm tomorrow’s schedule.”
“Oh! Alright, yes. You’ll have to forgive me, I wasn’t expecting your call so I might be a little scatterbrained. I actually just finished packing,” she confessed with an airy giggle.
“That’s quite alright,” he responded evenly. “Have you had a chance yet to review the proposed itinerary?”
Dia blanched, “Itinerary? I don’t think I received one…?”
“It was delivered by courier 18 days ago.”
Well shit, Dia thought to herself. “Oh… Um, hold on a moment, please.” Tucking the phone between her cheek and shoulder, she scurried over to her entryway table to rummage through the cluttered pile of mail she routinely dumped on it near daily.
“If you can’t find it--”
“No!” Dia exclaimed triumphantly as she snatched up the envelope in question. She took a deep breath and calmly reiterated, “No, no. I’ve found it. It just got lost in the chaos of everything I suppose.”
Sehun congratulated flatly, “Wonderful. Now, if we could please discuss it.” Despite his upward inflection and polite phrasing, it was clear that Sehun’s patience for this interaction had already grown thin.
Brat, Dia scowled. Reaching for her letter opener, she quickly opened the envelope to fish out a sleek, leather portfolio which proudly wore the embossed initials of her new Daddy at the very center. A shiver went down her spine as ran her thumb along the silver characters before she carefully slid the starched paper out to give it a cursory glance when she heard Sehun sigh on the other end of the line. Right. Two could play this game of fake politeness. “Yes, let’s begin,” she countered in the sweetest, fakest tone she could manage.
“Excellent. First, we need to confirm tomorrow works for you; based on your previous statement concerning the progress of your packing, I believe that it will. Is that an accurate assumption?”
“Yes, it is,” she answered, wisely choosing not to make a quip about the age-old adage of people who make assumptions (though she was certain it was something the brat needed to hear).
She could hear a checkmark being scratched onto paper over the other’s line. “Mr. Kim has requested you be totally moved into the estate by noon, hence why we have tentatively stated the arrival at your apartment will be 5 AM. Does that time work for you?”
Normally, she would have fainted at the thought of being up before the sun on a Saturday, but she knew herself well enough to know she’d be too jittery to sleep past midnight considering this new adventure would begin in a matter of hours. “That’s fine. How many people will be helping me move? I’d like to at least have coffee and maybe a small breakfast ready for everyone to kick off the day.”
Sehun hummed thoughtfully. He was never one to turn down anything free, especially food and double especially coffee; and if she was offering...technically it wasn’t against the rules. “That will depend on how many trucks you’ll need to help you move.”
Glancing back at her living room, Dia quickly tallied up the boxes and guesstimated how much space each would take up in a truck. “One truck will suffice, I believe.”
Sehun could have squealed; less men meant more food for him. Maybe this Dianna lady wasn’t so annoying after all. “Then you’ll need to prepare for four.”
“Great! Do you happen to know if any of the crew have any food allergies or maybe how they take their coffee?”
Sehun’s lips betrayed him and twitched upward into an impressed smile. How responsible and considerate of her. Yeah, she definitely wasn’t annoying… Well, for now at least. “As far as I’m aware, no one has any food allergies. Two prefer iced Americanos--one will ask if there’s an espresso shot in it but I strongly advise you not to get an espresso shot--and another takes it black, but be sure to have plenty of extra sugar and cream on hand because he will ask for it when he’s halfway through. And I-- the last one doesn’t really like coffee so if you could manage to pick up a choco bubble tea for him that’d be great. If not, it’s fine--”
“No, I’ll be sure to get it for him,” Dia assured. “It’s the very least I can do since they’re working so early on a Saturday.”
Sehun tapped out a brief message to his crew notifying them that he had so graciously secured a source of nourishment for the following morning’s laborous activities. While his tastebuds leapt at the thought of the free meal, his heart felt the tiniest bit bad for her wallet so he decided to extend the professional courtesy of asking, “Would you like for the estate to cover the costs for preparing breakfast and coffee?”
Dia chuckled, “If this is your way of telling me to cook a big breakfast, then you don’t need to worry. I don’t mind buying everything.”
“Are you certain? This would count as a necessary expenditure per the contract.”
“Yes, I’m certain.” She lowered her voice to conspiratorially whisper, “Between you and me, I want to keep my tab at zero for as long as possible so he’ll be more likely to buy me something I know I can’t afford.”
Sehun lowered his voice too, “Smart move.” Clearing his throat, he checked off a couple more items on his list and began, “Once the truck is loaded, which should be no later than 7 AM, your belongings will be transported to the estate while you will be escorted to a furniture gallery where you will be able to choose what furnishings you would like to have in your suite. We’ve allotted the hours of 8 AM to 11 AM for this; however if you arrive before or after 8 AM, the time block will be adjusted to give you a minimum of three full hours but no more than three and a half to make your selections. Do you believe that is an adequate amount of time?”
“Um,” Dia nervously fiddled with a loose curl as she struggled to wrap her brain around what Sehun had so calmly disclosed, “what exactly do you mean by ‘suite?’”
“Ah, yes, your quarters in the estate are equivocal to that of a master suite in a normal home. You have the bedroom, of course, in addition to a private full bath ensuite, a dressing area, and a sitting area, as well as even a small kitchenette and breakfast nook. I also believe you have two full walk-in closets in the dressing area but I don’t have the exact floorplan in front of me now to confirm it.”
Dia gasped, “Holy shit, that’s...wow....”
Sehun couldn’t help the bemused chuckle that floated out of him, but chose not to further acknowledge her shock. Instead, he repeated, “Do you believe that three hours or so will be an adequate amount of time to choose the furnishings for your suite?”
“Well,” Dia rubbed the back of her neck as she shifted her weight to her other hip, “I’m not really sure, honestly. I haven’t actually gone furniture shopping since I was in college. And even then, it was only to pick out bedding and some curtains, my ottoman too at most. I’ve just collected everything else over time, I guess.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be assisted by one of Mr. Kim’s favorite interior designers. His name is Kim Heechul; have you heard of him?”
Had she heard of him? Dia could have laughed in Sehun’s imaginary face. Of course she’d heard of Kim Heechul, everyone had heard of Kim Heechul: Self-made design and architecture mogul, personal interior designer to the most elite of the elite, and professional tea connoisseur. You weren’t anyone unless Kim Heechul knew you, and now he would know Dia. She swallowed and took a deep breath, willing herself to play it cool and not fangirl over the phone let alone tomorrow when she actually met The Kim Heechul. “Yes, I’ve heard of him.”
“It’s okay if you fangirl,” Sehun snickered, “he loves it when his ego is stroked.”
Dia deflated into a nervous pile of bubbling excitement but somehow managed to keep her voice even as she followed up, “Good to know. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind tomorrow.”
Sehun nodded, “Good. In the back of the portfolio, there should be a section about dedicated to this portion of your day tomorrow. Please be sure to fill out the consultation forms as best and as detailed as you can; you’re limited on time here and while he can create miracles out of nothing, even the great Kim Heechul can only do so much in such a short amount of time. So the more you give him on that form, the better he’ll be able to help you.
“Now, once you’ve finished selecting your furniture, you will have several appointments you will need to attend, most of which will be fittings--”
“Fittings?” Dia interrupted. “But I’m bringing all of my clothes with me?”
“Yes, fittings,” Sehun repeated. “You may wear your clothes around the estate and to work during the duration of your relationship with Mr. Kim. However, he has certain...tastes, shall we say, when it comes to fashion and such so you will need to have a separate wardrobe for the occasions he specifically requests for you to wear certain things. Additionally, I’m sure you’ll find that his style and tastes align well with your own so should you choose to upgrade your everyday and professional wardrobe, your measurements will already be on-hand for the seamstresses, tailors, and stylists. The others all have upgraded wardrobes as well so you shouldn’t feel ashamed or guilty if you choose to upgrade your own when the time comes. Not to mention, the jewelers still have to make your collars which require your exact measurements and matching you to the most flattering gems and metals. You’ll have a small part in designing your official collars that you will wear once your trial period ends. Mr. Kim, as well as the others to a certain extent, have already given their input on them, but since they’ll be yours and yours alone to wear, your input is necessary too.”
Collars.
Her very own collars.
Dia’s heart stopped--full stop, completely ceased--before it snapped back into action and kicked into overdrive as the reality of Sehun’s words crashed down against her chest like a leadened vest, forcing her to click the volume of her phone up to the highest level just so she could kind of hear over the sound of her blood rushing past her ear. “I-I’m...collars?” she sputtered, completely unable to really process the word.
Sehun frowned slightly at her trepidation. “Yes, collars. Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m-- Well, honestly and to be pretty blunt about it, I’m pretty damn shook right now. You saying all of that about collars-- my collars made everything just so real,” Dia rambled as she slowly lowered herself onto her sofa, tucking her legs under her to make herself small as if to better hide from the massive, Junmyeon-shaped shadow of change looming over her. “Like...I’m really doing this. This is really happening tomorrow.”
“Yeah, it is,” Sehun assured her softly. “Listen, I know it sounds like a lot because it is; but you’ll get through it, step by step. This isn’t the first time myself or anyone in the estate has gone through an acquisition. Tomorrow will be hectic, there’s no other way to get around that. But I think you’ll find it pretty fun and interesting, and that’s mostly on account of my crew. I won’t say too much about the guys who will be doing the actual moving because I am a firm believer they truly are an indescribable experience; but just know that despite how incredibly loud and wild they can and likely will be, they’re remarkably careful so nothing of yours will broken. And I’m certain you remember your driver, Mr. Park: He’ll be the one to take you to all of your appointments tomorrow. Despite how intimidating he must’ve looked to you at your lunch, I promise you, he’s just an overgrown elf with the heart of a puppy. I’ll be with you all throughout the day tomorrow to help guide you until you’re completely moved in. Just don’t fall for my handsome face because that will be very hard to explain to Mr. Kim.” Dia giggled and Sehun smiled, “You laugh, but I’m quite serious. It’s happened before!”
“I don’t doubt it one bit!”
Minki was unamused.
Tired and unamused. The absolute last thing he needed to be doing right now was figuring out how to escape his room after his partners kidnapped him despite knowing how incredibly busy his day--which, uncoincidentally, happened to be the busiest day the estate had seen in a little over a year--was going to be. He’d been up long before the sun had even stretched its arms as it sleepily pushed the moon out of the sky and he still had so much to do. He needed to coordinate with Heechul’s team for the entirety of the afternoon, have a final consultation with the stylists and jewelers in less than 2 hours, double-check the kitchen staff had everything necessary for the evening’s meal, quadruple-check the main room was in pristine condition, and practically micromanage all the men in his life to ensure they would all be ready for the evening’s main event. It was a lot for anyone to handle, but damn it, Minki was nothing if not efficient. He would get everything done with enough time to spare to even sneak off and get a proper manicure without the tabloids catching him.
But first…
He sighed discontentedly as he mulled over the clothing options hanging before him. Everything would look incredible on them but they needed to wear something to make a lasting impression on her.
Setting his phone aside, Yugyeom struggled to keep a smile off his face as he attempted to casually ask, “What time is she supposed to be here?”
Minki noted the excitement brimming just under the barely calm overtone of the younger’s tone. Rather than commenting on it, he simply shrugged, “If you had looked at the itinerary, you would know.”
“I did look at it and I saw the estimated time. I know you know the actual time of her arrival, which is why…” Yugyeom dragged out the last word as he slinked forward to envelope the smaller man in tight backhug, dipping his head down to hook his chin over Minki’s shoulder to whisper in his ear, “I’m begging you to tell me the exact time.” He slid his hand down to wrap around the trimmed waist concealed (much to his annoyance) by one of the many oversized, fluffy sweaters that remarkably resembled all the ones missing from his closet. “Pretty please,” he purred sweetly, “pretty baby, will you tell me?”
“You’re horrible at begging,” Minki quipped before pushing his way out of the hug.
“Even worse at seduction,” Taeyong snickered behind his hand from where he was lazily reclined on Minki’s plush bed, amusedly watching the scene before him unfold.
“You’re both so unfair,” Yugyeom scowled at them before plopping down onto the bed. “All I wanted to know was what time she’d be here so I could look my absolute best and make a good impression on her before you both scare her off!” he whined pathetically, kicking his legs in the air and pouting extra hard for good measure.
Taeyong rolled his eyes and pushed himself onto his elbows so now he could rest his chin on the youngest’s shoulder, “We all know I’d be the last one to scare her off. But Minki…” They glanced at the man in question before dissolving into a puppy pile of laughter.
“Say another word about me and I’ll shove my stiletto through your entire Studio Ghibli collection and your Abuse Brown records,” Minki calmly threatened without a single glance toward them, his eyes too preoccupied with carefully inspecting the trio’s outfits for the evening. Everything absolutely had to be perfect.
After all, they were welcoming home Daddy’s (new) little girl.
--Admin Lily
#exo scenarios#got7 scenarios#nct u scenarios#nct 127 scenarios#nu'est scenarios#nu'est w scenarios#exo sehun#got7 yugyeom scenarios#nct u taeyong#nct 127 taeyong#nu'est ren#nu'est w ren
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Blood Donor- Chapter 2- The Feed
Story Summary: Harper Chase is a young woman that is unwillingly drawn into a world that she didn’t know existed. She quickly meets Adam, a vampire, and becomes his life source. Will she discover that she likes his lifestyle, or will she run for the hills?
*Warning: As this fic is about a vampire (Tom Hiddleston’s Adam in Only Lovers Left Alive) it will contain copious amounts of blood… Please be aware before reading!*
A/N: Hi guys! I’ve been thinking about this story for awhile. I have a love for Tom Hiddleston’s Adam, and wanted to write a little story about him. Let me know what you guys think! -C
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Adam paced the hallway in his large, decrepit Detroit home. He had received a call on his television/phone contraption, alerting him that the Blood Bank had received a lovely, young, female specimen. Most importantly, she was O-negative… his favorite. Normally, Adam didn’t get excited about much. After all, he had already lived for hundreds of years, and the state of the world today disgusted him. He thought about the greed and ignorance of the human race and the utter waste they caused…
“Fucking zombies…” He muttered, as he walked back and forth down the hallway, his striped robe billowing behind him. He normally received filtered blood from the hospital’s blood bank, as he didn't trust human blood straight from the source. There were too many medications and nasty drugs that made most humans taste revolting. He was fine with feeding from bags of uncontaminated blood from his refrigerator, but he was a vampire. That instinct to hunt and feed from a living human would always be at the forefront of who he was. He was made to hunt, quite literally, hundreds of years ago.
Adam felt the old oriental rug crush beneath his feet as he walked to the window one more time to see if she was here yet. He knew that this encounter would more than likely be terrifying for her, but thankfully, vampires were given a special gift. They could make sure that their meals didn’t remember being meals. Tomorrow, she wouldn't even remember it, and he’d still be sated.
He had a standing request with an organization called the ‘Detroit Blood Bank,’ that when they came across clean, pure, O-negative blood, he would have first choice. Those opportunities didn’t come around very often, but when they did, he paid the Blood Bank handsomely for it.
Over his many years, Adam had become wealthy, and spent his money now on vintage musical instruments and recording equipment. He was brilliant in all things, but especially science and math. He loved to tinker with electronics, and had invented things that were useful for his everyday life. After living for that long, you tend to pick up a few things, after all.
His head whipped around as he heard a car purring from outside his home. He hurriedly went to the window again, and pulled back the drapery just enough to see that he had a delivery…
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“What’s your name, sir?” Harper asked from the back of the Mercedes. The man’s bald head tilted toward her as he listened.
“The Courier.”
“But… don’t you have a name?”
“No…to you, I am the Courier. I pick you up, make sure you get there safely, and deliver you. That’s it. That’s my job.”
She sighed as she looked through her window at the passing scenery. They had left the downtown area and entered an industrial area… or at least it used to be. Now, it was full of empty and collapsing automotive plants, that were so spooky at night. It was quite a bit different than Ann Arbor, where she and her friends were from. If she hadn’t come to the conclusion that this was all a dream, she’d be terrified.
After a few moments, the car slowed as they pulled into a driveway, or lack of a driveway, as the grass and weeds were so tall that there was no way of seeing what was underneath. Harper looked up at the enormous home that lay in front of them. It was built from red brick, and at least three stories tall. Most of the windows had been boarded up, except for a large window in the middle of the house. If she had passed this house on the street, she would swear that it had been abandoned many years ago.
Suddenly, pale fingers wrapped around the edge of the covering in the window and moved it aside slowly. She saw a glimpse of black hair, and as quickly as it had moved aside, it went back into place.
“We’re here. Watch your step.” The Courier said as he opened the door and took her hand, helping her out of the car.
“We’re… where, exactly?” She looked at the creepy scene, noticing a worn path that went through an overgrown trellis around the side of the house.
“We’re where you are meant to be.”
“Um… no, I’m not meant to be here, since I don’t even know where here is.”
“You signed a contract, Ms. Chase. You could try to run, but you wouldn’t get very far. Just do as you're expected, and it will all be over soon. You might even find it exciting.” He chuckled darkly.
“I don’t think this house is saf-” When she looked back to The Courier, he had disappeared… just like that. The car and everything! What in the world?
She sighed as she looked back toward the house. This was so weird. She really hoped that she’d wake up soon… she’d have a very interesting dream to tell her friend, Lainie, about.
Oh… Lainie! Harper could call her and ask for a ride! She had to get out of this hellhole that she had found herself in. She reached down to pat her pockets, looking to find her phone, but found nothing. All she wore was the short, black, silk dress Cassandra had put her in… she had no bag, no phone, none of her belongings… nothing.
She felt a deep pit in her stomach. She was completely lost on this dark corner in Detroit, alone. She looked down the desolate street, and back up to the house, weighing her options. Maybe there’d at least be a phone in the house that she could use. She decided that she’d take her chances, as she breathed deeply and ambled up to the house.
It was in the midst of summer but it was cool at night, and she felt goosebumps erupt on her skin as she approached the large structure. The concrete porch steps were hard beneath her feet, and the worn wood of the porch creaked as she stepped onto it. She had seen horror movie scenes just like this one, and she could just picture Freddy Krueger or that creepy guy from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre popping up and ax-ing her. That thought made her move a little faster.
She knocked on the door once, twice, three times… still nothing. She knew she had seen someone in the house when they pulled up in the car. Maybe they had left?
When she twisted the doorknob, the door opened easily, giving her access to the house. She could hear soft electronic music wafting through the air, and as she placed one foot inside the house, she realized that it wasn’t abandoned after all. Someone lived here…
She slowly made her way past a set of stairs and down the hall Adam had been pacing just a few moments before. She didn’t see a phone anywhere, and she got the overwhelming feeling that she shouldn’t be in there. One quick look around, and she’d be out of here.
She walked back down the hallway, and entered a large room that was packed to the brim with things you didn’t normally see every day. In the center of the room lay a mauve-colored, suede couch, and around the couch lay… everything else. In rich tones of reds, golds, and blues, she saw stacked books, vinyl records, recording equipment, guitars, dusty lamps, candles, magazines… and the air was so electric that she could swear the hair on her arms was standing straight up.
She lost her way for a moment, as she walked over to the vinyls and began to thumb through them. What was she doing? She needed to get out of here. “If this is a dream, I can’t really die can I?” She whispered to herself.
Adam leaned against the wooden door jamb behind her, and watched intently. She moved quietly, smoothly, and with a grace that many humans just didn’t possess. His eyes moved with precision and stalked her frame as she stepped over to one of his boxes of vinyl records. She thumbed through them for a moment before pulling one out.
“Huh…Bob Dylan… I know this album.” Harper could remember her parents playing the song ‘Sara’ repeatedly when she was a little girl. She turned the large album around in her hands to look at the track list on the back, and hissed as the stiff cardboard corner cut into her middle finger. She watched a small drop of blood begin to bead on her finger.
Adam’s body stiffened as he smelled her, suddenly she was more overwhelming than before. He closed his eyes for a moment and willed himself to stay in control. Things got messy when he couldn’t control his actions… this was going to be a quick feed, just something to sustain him for a while… a treat, even… and that was it. No muss, no fuss… she was just a simple meal.
“What are you doing?” He asked, startling her. She jumped around to face him.
“Um… I’m sorry. I’m kinda stranded. I thought I could use your phone to call my friend? I didn’t mean to be snooping.”
“I’ve got no phone, so you’re out of luck.”
Harper watched as the mysterious, tall man began to saunter toward her. His bare chest was pale, his shoulder length hair was as black as coal… and there was something in his light eyes that petrified her. This dream was getting a little scary.
Before she knew it, he had stopped mere inches from her and looked down to her hands. “You’re bleeding all over my Bob Dylan.”
“Oh, yeah… I’m so sorry. I cut myself on the cover. It was an accident.”
He nodded as he took it from her. “I would expect nothing less...” He wiped the album cover on his black jeans, as he muttered “…zombie…” under his breath.
She was becoming even more uneasy as they stood there together, and he could tell that she was beginning to shake slightly. Time to get to business. “What is your name?”
“Uh, Harper.”
“Harper. Do you know why you are here? Or who I am?” Normally when a human was sent to him, they already knew what was expected of them. In fact, most humans that were involved with the Blood Bank had volunteered themselves willingly… some humans even got off on the whole thing. It was strange that this girl was so un-informed.
She shook her head. “I wasn’t told anything… I was just dropped outside of this house. I have no idea what’s going on. I keep thinking it’s a dream, but I never wake up, and-…” She spoke quickly as her voice began to quiver.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Do not start crying.” Adam knew he didn’t do well with human’s emotions. He had no time for it.
“I’m just really scared. I don’t understand any of this…”
“There, there.” He stepped forward, placed his large hand against her cheek, and let his powers work to his advantage. Suddenly, every ounce of fear in her mind was replaced by warmth and comfort. Even though she was in a strange house, with a very strange man, on an abandoned street in Detroit, she was precipitously calm and happy. She was now toasty warm, where before she had been cold, and she felt like nothing could harm her in her sheltered bubble.
“Now, that’s better, is it not?” He smirked as his hand drifted from her face to her neck. He knew that it wouldn’t be long before dawn. After that, his ability to feed would diminish and this opportunity, and money, would be totally wasted.
He was racing the sun and promptly needed to find the spot on her body that he’d feed from. Humans were built uniquely… some had veins and arteries that were easy to access, and some did not. He could distinguish how close the blood was to the surface of her skin, just by smelling her. He could sense her pulse quicken, as he delicately placed his nose against the soft skin of her neck and inhaled deeply… mmm, divine… but that wasn’t the right spot.
He could feel her body quiver as he moved to the other side of her neck and then inspected each of her arms, none of the spots seemed right.
Adam had a gift of making humans feel at ease when he wanted to, and Harper was definitely feeling it. He knew that while she watched him move with glazed over eyes, that feeling wouldn’t last forever and she’d eventually wake from her daze. He needed to hurry.
“Would you lay down, Harper? It will make this easier.” He asked, as he gestured to the suede couch. He watched her eyes move from his to the couch and back again. He could tell that her uneasiness was creeping back in. Adam made his way to the side of the room, took a vinyl record from its sleeve and placed it on the turntable. Soon, Bob Dylan’s gritty voice flowed through the air and the words to ‘One More Cup of Coffee’ began. “There. That better?”
She shrugged as she watched him amble over to the couch. Why did he want her to lay down? What would it make easier? This was so weird.
He held his hand out to her. “Well, come on. My patience is wearing thin.”
She unconfidently did as he asked, and he helped her get perfectly placed on the couch. Even though Adam was strange, he was so beautiful. Lovely, delicate facial features that were sharp at the same time, and his voice was like velvet. It seemed as if she could hear several dialects in the way he spoke, and he seemed wise far beyond his years. His demeanor was unexplainably calming, and he made her feel immediately better about her situation.
“Now…” He spoke, as he knelt on the floor beside the couch. “You don’t know what I am?”
“No.” She shook her head and stiffened as he placed his nose against her collarbone, slowly inhaling her. He let out a long breath as his jaw clenched tightly. Control, Adam.
“My name is Adam. I am a vampire.”
She snickered. “No, there’s no such thing. Oh, I’m definitely dreaming, and it’s becoming more and more unbelievable. Wait, is it Halloween in my dream? ‘Cause that might explain all this…”
Adam was dumbfounded. “No, it’s not Halloween, and that is an incredibly rude insult.” He continued to smell her as he chastised her words. His nose wandered up her right leg, and back down. He was getting closer.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. It was just that you said you’re a vampire. We all know that vampires are just medieval fairy tales. I mean, if you think about it, nothing can survive on just blood… it’s scientifically impossible and silly.”
“Silly? You’ve got to be joking. Vampires are terrifying deliverers of death…”
“Mmm, yeah, right. You know, Bram Stoker’s Dracula was modeled after Vlad the Impaler… he never actually drank blood, did he? Let me guess, are you from Transylvania? Can you turn into a bat? Do you actually have a reflection?”
Adam rolled his eyes and scoffed as he listened to her words. “I’m aware of those myths, they’re untrue.”
She raised her eyebrows cockily. “What about this-- do you burn in the sun?”
“As a matter of fact, I do, and it fucking hurts. I can see that I’m going to have to request a less mouthy meal from the Blood Bank next time. You’re distracting me.” His nose trailed up her left leg, and when it reached her inner thigh, he stopped. This was it. That was the spot, and he couldn’t contain himself any longer.
“…and why are you sniffing me like that?”
“Oh, I’ll show you why.” His voice had taken on a deeper, grim tone, and Harper watched as his eyes changed from a pretty blue to an amber gold. He hissed, opened his mouth wide, and two fangs erupted from the top of his mouth like forceful springs.
Harper gasped and moved up to her elbows. “How did you… do… that?”
“Here’s a medieval fairy tale for you-- Dracula wasn’t real, but I am.” He growled as his fangs sank into the fleshy part of her thigh.
She screamed and tried to move her legs to get away, but Adam had wrapped his arms around her hips and was entirely too strong. She heard him moan, and when her eyes met his, she realized that this was no dream. It was reality. Vampires were real.
A trail of deep red blood began to trickle between her thigh and the side of his mouth, providing a stark contrast against his pale skin, and she felt herself begin to grow weak. Was she truly going to die here?
Adam extracted his sustenance from her thigh, and even though he was in a blissful feeding frenzy, he knew to watch for signs that he had taken enough from her. Her skin began to grow paler and the blood flow slowed… he knew he had to stop.
He pushed himself from her, and lay supine on the floor. What he was feeling was something that he rarely experienced. This was the ultimate high for him, and nothing else could ever come close.
After a few moments, he had come down from his high and pulled himself up to check on Harper. She was alive, but still unconscious from the blood loss. He should have stopped before she became unconscious, but he felt lucky to have stopped when he did.
The dawn was hastily approaching, but he sat there and watched her for a few moments. Her chest rose and fell in a methodic rhythm that put Adam in a trance. Her lovely heart was pumping blood throughout a body that was quickly trying to recover from a vampire feed.
He looked down at himself and noticed a thick trail of blood that had dried as it ran down his chest. His face was probably atrocious! He found the mirror in the hallway and wiped all the dried blood from his chin… he did, indeed, have a reflection. He wished he would have told Harper that. Maybe, if there was a next time, he would.
*******
“Harper, wake up! We need to get packed up… hotel check-out is in an hour!”
Harper slowly opened her eyes and found the drab wall of a hotel room.
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you, Lainie.” She said as she slowly sat up. Sure enough, her best friend was sitting on the bed next to her. Maybe that was all just a dream? She was relieved, and a little bit disappointed.
“Girl, you look pale this morning. Where did you go last night? I assume you found some hot guy, right? You left the bar and I never saw you come back… but you were in your bed this morning.”
“Um…” Her head ached, but other than that she felt absolutely fantastic. “I really don’t know…”
“Since when do you have a Bob Dylan shirt?”
Harper’s eyes grew wide as she looked from her friend down to her body. She was wearing a t-shirt that she had never seen before… oversized and black, with a white silhouette of the gritty singer that she had listened to the night before. It all seemed so hazy, but she suddenly remembered cutting her finger on a Dylan vinyl cover. Surely, that had all been a dream. The man… or vampire… couldn’t have been real.
She let her hand drift under the bedsheet to her thigh, and there she felt two small divots in her skin—perfectly spaced like a vampire’s fangs.
#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston fanfiction#Tom Hiddleston fandom#vampire#only lovers left alive#adam#blood#tom#hiddleston#HIDDLESTONERS#Thomas William Hiddleston#corrah
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Scapegoat by Eric Juneau
Copyright 2020 by Eric J. Juneau. All rights reserved.
This story is in no way intended to infringe on the established copyrights and trademarks of Capcom Co., Ltd. It is for entertainment purposes only and is not intended for sale. It may be freely distributed providing that no alterations to the story are made.
The characters and incidents portrayed and the names in this story used herein are fictitious and any similarity to the name, character, or history of any person, living, dead, or otherwise, is purely coincidental and unintentional.
Scapegoat
by Eric J. Juneau
The following takes place before "Mega Man X".
Commander Sigma did not need an office. Offices were human constructs to provide private space to focus on work. But a reploid accomplished most job tasks by connecting to a computer terminal. They executed at speeds beyond any organic life form's reaction time.
But it appeased the human politicians and militarists to give him an an office. One with a wall-to-wall window behind his desk overlooking the city buildings. They thought it befit his station as leader of the Elite Seventeenth Unit of Maverick Hunters. An office symbolized status--I get one, you don't. Therefore you are inferior to me.
Zero did not have an office.
Which was why he was standing in Sigma's.
"In my time as commanding officer... no, as a Maverick Hunter at all... I have never seen such a blatant disregard for property," Sigma said. "Do you know what was salvageable from the fire?"
Zero pursed his lips. "Judging by the disaster recovery brief, I would say 'very little'."
"I'm glad you had the mindfulness to at least consider the damage you've done." Sigma picked up the data PDA and held it out. "Nothing. Nothing was salvageable. As one would expect when a geothermal reactor becomes engulfed in flame."
"Sir, I didn't have a choice. One of the mavericks' stray shots hit the fission shielding."
"But you didn't have to add fuel to that fire. You turned a manageable blaze into a raging inferno. The entire district had to be evacuated."
"There were no human casualties. Besides, the plant was a lost cause anyway. The fire was controllable. So I let the natural process of destruction do some of the work for us. As far as I know, we have no standing orders to apprehend mavericks. Correct?"
"Yes, but that doesn't mean actively trying to destroy them. Those mavericks could have been rehabilitated. Reprogrammed. We need soldiers in this war, Zero. There are more of them than there are of us."
"We don't know that, sir. Mavericks hide, stay undercover. There may be more of them, but they don't have a unifying force-"
"Until one day when they do. Dammit, Zero. You have clearly learned nothing from this incident. Since day one, I've been barely able to suppress your brutality and mania. Therefore, I'm demoting you, effective immediately."
Zero gasped. "You can't take away my A-Class. That's verified through independent eval-"
Sigma held up his hand. "No, not that. That can't be changed by your commanding officer. But your mission allocation can. From now on, you are only cleared for epsilon-level assignments."
"Epsilon? That's the lowest there is! It's for privates and emissaries, not hunters of any rank."
Sigma leaned in and pointed his finger. "Until you prove you can handle combat with a calmer head, this is your fate. These lower level assignments will teach you there's more to being a Maverick Hunter than violence and destruction."
"But-"
"There will be no argument. Your first assignment is already in progress. Get to it, hunter."
Sigma didn't have to tell him he was dismissed. Zero turned on his heel and left the office. The door slid shut behind him.
In the corridor, Zero accessed his account. Sure enough, the only tasks on his assignment queue were epsilon-level. Everything else had been filtered out.
Worse yet, all epsilon-class missions required a partner. Zero didn't see who the second delegate was on his current assignment, but it didn't matter. The system would notify him or her that the prerequisites had been filled. Reploids didn't need downtime--didn't need sleep, didn't need food, didn't need to relax. When an assignment was ready, so was the hunter.
Whoever signed on must have been a real go-getter if they didn't care who the senior officer would be. He or she was probably hopping at the door like a puppy.
Zero headed to the transportation bay. Nearly as he predicted, his partner chased after him, waving his hand. He was a blue reploid with angular limbs and a young face. Zero recognized him, though they had never met.
"You're Mega Man X, right?" Zero asked.
"Yes. Although everyone calls me 'X'. Honored to be working with you."
Zero nodded. They walked down the corridor, while Zero discerned first impressions. "So you're the original reploid?"
"Yes, sir. Although I'm not technically a reploid, since all existing reploids are based off my design. You know, since 'reploid' is a portmanteau of 'replicated android'. I'm considered the original prototype."
"But you're with the Maverick Hunters now. Why?" Zero asked. "Aren't we essentially killing your children?"
"Well..." X rubbed the back of his head as they walked. "I don't think of it that way. It could be some kind of programming error, or a fatal bug that makes them violent towards humans."
"Then why have they got you pushing pencils? Taking epsilon-level assignments? You should be with the tacticians and intelligence. You know the most about the vulnerabilities and flaws in your own design."
"Well, one is inexperience. I only joined up recently. Another is... I'm a pacifist." X hung his head.
Zero stopped in his tracks. "You're a pacifist? And you joined the Maverick Hunters?" Zero threw back his head and laughed, yellow hair swishing behind him.
X nodded. "But I realized that I could still do something about it. I wasn't intended for combat but I was designed for it. Every one of them is like me. So if they wreak havoc and I just sit there, I'm as bad as them."
Zero nodded. "Noble," he said as they walked into the elevator. At least he couldn't question X's loyalty. Even if he seemed a little wormy, a little naive for a Maverick Hunter, they'd get along fine.
The elevator dropped them off outside the transportation bay gate. Gristle, a hunched reploid with red bug eyes, was manning dispatch.
"Zero, what's shaking?" he said in a gravelly voice. "Whatcha got going on today? You got a chum?" Zero could almost feel Gristle's datacrawler oozing around his mission log. "Whoa, epsilon-class? What'd you do to get the garbage run?"
"Don't ask," Zero said. "Don't want to talk about it." Zero headed into the bay toward the teleportation capsules, with X following. A long row of booths stood against the wall, similar to restoration chambers. Reploids could use these instead of their own internal teleport circuits, which saved on energy and lifespan.
"Hey, hey!" Gristle shouted. "No, no, no. Not for you. Teleportation's only for delta-class assignments and higher. You take a manual."
Zero looked where Gristle pointed. Small personal vehicles--like ride chasers, cruisers, LUVs--lay scattered in the bay. They were necessary to humans who couldn't teleport. But to a reploid, he might as well have been told to ride a tricycle.
"Ha, ha. I recommend the Little Sultan." He pointed to a two-seated streamlined hovercar. "It's a fine day for a ride anyway, isn't it?"
Gristle's laughter followed them to the hovercar. They both got in and took off through the garage's open maw.
True to Gristle's statement, the day was fine—blue skies with crisp, clean air. But weather control systems will do that for a city. The bright sun certainly didn't match Zero's mood. But X drank it all in, like he had never left Maverick Hunter HQ. Perhaps that was true--rookies tended to get stuck in the bowels of labs and workstations.
"Look, a dog park," X pointed out.
To their right a fenced-off square field enclosed humans with dogs, humans with robot dogs, and robots with real dogs, all partaking of the sunny day.
"Sure is nice to see the city without all the destruction. Something to remind us what we're fighting for. What to look forward to when this is all over," X said.
Zero nodded. "What do you know about our mission?" Might as well make conversation, since the vehicle was self-driving.
"We're delivering an encrypted data package to IngeniVox, a technology manufacturer and innovator." X held up a tiny black rectangle.
"You know what IngeniVox does?" Zero asked.
"Primarily, they make the energen capsules reploids use to restabilize their reactor cores. The data we have is the updated hardware design for the power port interface, so IngeniVox can integrate it into their work."
Zero nodded. "Exciting stuff."
X fiddled with his fingers. "Well, I guess, since it concerns reploid power generation, it's sensitive enough they couldn't risk transmission over the HyperNet. So they needed a courier. And since all assignments require a backup..."
"Only epsilon-level," Zero said. "This mission doesn't need a delivery boy, it needs a mailbox."
X cocked his head. "I take it you think this mission is beneath you."
"It's not my typical fare… but you probably love this." Since you're a pacifist, Zero added in his head.
"Well, it's a safe mission. No one's going to come to any harm or be put in harm's way."
Zero barked a laugh. "I like your optimism, kid. "
X muttered "Kid? I'm older than you. I'm older than every reploid," as the hovercar curved around a corner.
Zero did feel a little lighter as they entered the venture district. Here, manufacturing mixed with business development--the epicenter of progress for the city. Every diamond-glass building glowed in the sun, from skyscraping towers to wide aquaponic fortresses.
The hovercar decelerated into the driveway of a small building shaped like a tulip bulb, covered with mirrored paneling. Maybe fifty people worked there at any given time. A modest logo was stenciled next to the door.
Zero and X entered the reception area. Several flat-panel screens displayed a slideshow highlighting "cutting edge" and "hyper automation" among smart looking humans and teal-and-orange backdrops. The couches and tables looked barely used. But there was no one in the room, not even at the reception desk.
"How do we meet our contact?" X asked. "I expected the entrance to be monitored."
Zero checked the reception console. "Computer is locked due to timeout."
"Is the office closed?"
"It's normal business hours," Zero shrugged. The door to the building proper was secured by a thumbprint reader. Zero wasn't about to violate that policy--he was in enough trouble as it was.
X grimaced. "Something's… off. I don't know anymore than that. It's just... a funny feeling."
They waited for five minutes. X picked up a thermoplastic pyramid that was some business award. Zero examined an abstract painting and a potted palm tree. Surely someone would return after a given amount of time. Security logs would record that the door had been opened and there were occupants in the reception room.
Zero tapped his communicator. "Ophi, are you picking up my location?"
"Loud and clear, Zero. You're at the IngeniVox building right now."
"What's the net traffic look like coming from my location?"
"One second." Zero's eyes darted around the room while the operator examined the input/output transmission at their location. "Seems normal. E-mails, phone calls, internet transmission, all within expected parameters."
"Hmm, okay." Zero shut off the comm. "There's still signals from the building, so people are here."
X didn't answer. He was listening. "Something doesn't seem right. I've never felt anything like it."
Zero again turned his eyes to the door. Authorized Personnel Only.
"X, your buster operational?" Zero asked.
"Yes, sir. It's not as powerful as yours, but..."
Zero waved him off. He approached the door, examined its structure. The electronic lock was a basic "prox" card reader with RFID and 512-bit RSA encryption. Nothing special. A coffee maker could have hacked it. Zero emitted a brute force attack via radio signal and the door opened.
Inside was a typical office building--dispersed cubicles, thin carpeting, uniform desks and chairs. The hum of running machines filled the air. But the lights were off--only the windows lit their way.
"There's people here somewhere," X said. "Maybe they're at a company-wide meeting?"
"I doubt it."
The cubicles occupied only a small area on the way to the manufacturing center. Secure labs, glass windows showing big boxy servers. X peeked in one of the conference rooms. A display screen shuffled through natural landscape photographs.
"Maybe everyone is sick?" X asked. "Or has the day off?"
Zero didn't dignify that with a response. They looked in break rooms, conference rooms, computer rooms, closed-off lab stations, and personal offices. No reploids, no robots, no humans. The only moving object they encountered was a motorized vacuum crossing the floor. It sensed them, avoided their feet, and rerouted to the other hallways.
They stopped and listened, but there was nothing to hear. Nothing but some sinister feeling they couldn't figure out.
"Hey!" Zero shouted. "Hey, anyone!"
"Look," X pointed to an open door. "They wouldn't leave a laboratory open like this. It's a sterile room. And that little box has the chemical symbol for ranmatine. That's highly corrosive."
Without meeting a soul, their sojourn was halted by the other end of the building. They descended the fire stairs one floor.
"Never quite had this feeling before," X said. "I think humans would call it the heebie-jeebies."
Zero smirked. "Leave that out of your report," he said. Assuming we live to see the end of this.
The next floor down was much like above, although missing some of the niceties and human touches. No conference rooms. Just a small reception area with wooden floors and an airlock into the manufacturing floor.
"I've seen abandoned buildings before, but not like this," X said. "Not one that seems so recent. Still full of life-"
"Hold it, X."
The two of them froze.
"Did you hear something?" X asked.
"Thought I heard a... something like crying. Human crying."
X cocked his head, listening for the phantom noise. They waited for the sound to come again.
"HEY!" Zero shouted, startling X. "Is there anybody here?!"
"Let's look in here. This looks like their outbound router."
Inside a closet, taking up all the space, rested a silver and ebony server rack brimming with red, orange, and green lights. The rack was chilled to the touch from the running coolant.
But what caught Zero's eye was a device on the floor--a six-inch black box with an upright cylinder. The top of the cylinder beeped softly every three seconds. A human might have missed it among the snaking wires and conversion boxes. But this didn't fit with the setup. Especially when Zero turned it over and found it had no bottom, just circuit boards and loose wires.
"What is that?" X muttered.
Zero was about to respond when his comm board lit up with an incoming signal. From Ophi. "Zero, can you read me? We analyzed the network traffic coming from the building. It's there, but it's garbage. Random strings and repeated requests. Electronic messages from three days ago sent over and over. Like it's sending mock signals to resemble a normal amount of communication."
Zero turned the device over in his hands. "That's what this is. It's a transponder. Sending simulated network traffic."
"Because if it all stopped, an alert would trigger from the service provider," X said.
"But why? You want to make it seem like humans are still at their desks working. What could-"
Zero's and X's eyes were still on the transponder when they turned from the closet. That was why they didn't see the two reploids standing in front of them. Zero recognized their designations--Phase Crane and Chain Buffalox--and that they were mavericks. But that was all his reaction time would allow.
Phase Crane held some kind of rocket launcher on his shoulder. He fired it as Zero and X raised their buster arms. Two globes of milk-colored glop flew out. The blobs made perfect impact with the apertures of their arm cannons, covering them in sticky biscuit dough.
Phase Crane shifted the launcher tube off his shoulders. "I don't recommend you try to shoot us. That's liquid ceratanium. Well… it was liquid. It hardens quickly."
X tried to pry it off with his fingers, but true to the maverick's word, it had already solidified. Ceramic titanium was the only substance that could repel plasma energy. And his arm cannon was clogged with it.
"If you fire now, the shot'll bounce back in. And probably blow your arm off." Phase Crane cackled. "But if you want to try, go ahead, by all means. I'd like to see that."
Zero's lip twitched as Phase Crane laughed. He reared his fist and ran forward, screaming. X followed a split-second behind. Phase Crane and Chain Buffalox didn't move.
Halfway there, Zero's and X's legs tripped a taut chain across their floor. Their bodies convulsed with violent electric current, paralyzed by bands of yellow energy. Then they collapsed on the ground.
###
Zero and X's systems rebooted from the catastrophic shutdown as their bodies were thrown on a concrete surface.
"Maverick Hunters..." someone said after their heads hit the floor.
They were in a lab or product storage room. The air radiated with energen.
Zero and X stood. They were surrounded by six mavericks in total--the two from before, plus Grabber Kangaroid, Grease Caribou, Bullet Frog, and one hulking gorilla-dog in the center: Drill Mongrell. Mongrell sat on a makeshift throne made of old chassis and plastic parts. His fists were the size of industrial pistons.
"Maverick Hunters… hey... hey, you're Zero," Mongrell pointed as if he had seen a celebrity. "This here is Zero."
"No, he isn't," said Bullet Frog.
"Sure he is. Red and white armor, blond hair. Only A-class in the hunters. The Elite Seventeenth, right?"
"That's right," Zero replied.
Drill Mongrell stepped forward. His fist embedded in Zero's torso, crackling with energy. Zero rocketed up and smashed into the ceiling. Gravel and gray dust rained down with him as he fell like rotten fruit.
"You barbarous-" X started forward. Five arm cannons leveled at him.
Zero struggled to one knee, his limbs trembling. "Enjoy that, Mongrell." Zero glowered from under his helmet. He grinned. "It won't happen again."
"We'll see, Zero… pride of the Maverick Hunters. But later." He turned to Grabber Kangaroid. "Put them with the others."
"With the humans?" she asked. "Why not just get rid of them? We could-"
"Not yet. They might help us out yet. Hostages and such," Mongrell said.
As Chain Buffalox grabbed X's arm, he turned to the other mavericks. "Imagine that. Maverick Hunters helping us."
"They'll be begging to help in no time," Drill Mongrell said.
Bullet Frog and Grease Caribou picked up Zero and half-carried, half-dragged him away. The other two marched X at cannon-point.
They were in a sub-sub-basement, deeper underground. The floors were made of smooth concrete and shiny plastic, like a garage. It was cool and dry, had few lights, and no decorations.
The four mavericks took X and Zero to a room with a mechanical hatch covering the floor. Blinking servers stood against one wall in glass cases. Bullet Frog typed some commands into the standing console at the corner of the hatch. It hummed and slid back like a pool cover.
Bright light spilled out from an in-ground vat. Inside was an ultra-clean server room, indicated by the grid of black computer boxes. And people. About fifty people standing within the illuminated walls. They looked up and began moaning and pleading to be let out.
The mavericks tossed X and Zero into the pit. They landed on their faces, clanging on the semi-metallic floor. The other humans surrounded them, helping them up, checking for damage. Women and men, ages from young twenties to eighties. Everyone spoke at once.
"Guess we found the people," X said. "Are you all here?"
"We think so," said one of the humans. All looked dressed for a day at the office--some with lab coats, some with collared shirts. Most were roughed up, but uninjured.
Drill Mongrell stepped up to the rim of the pit, his allies on either side. "Shut up! Shut up, all of you!"
The group hushed down, except for one woman in the back who couldn't stop sobbing. Phase Crane leveled his arm cannon at her. She cried like her atoms were breaking apart.
"Lady, I told you to keep quiet. Shut up or I'll shut you up."
A man came to comfort her, holding her around the arms while whispering "sh-sh-sh-sh-sh..."
"Zero..." X said.
"Quiet," Zero said.
"Now that we have some new guests here, maybe you'll be more willing to talk. I'm going to ask you again. Which one of you is responsible for that energen bomb?" Drill Mongrell asked.
The humans remained as disconnected and frightened as before, clammy skin and glistening eyes. No one said anything.
"You know what I'm talking about. Which one? All right. Maybe you know these two I just dropped in. They're Maverick Hunters. Zero, in particular. Finest hunter in the Seventeenth Elite Unit, headed by Sigma. What you do from here on out, any consequences that come to pass, he's accountable. That's his purpose anyway, to protect you from reploids like us. Ain't that right, Zero?"
Zero ground his teeth. "You could say that."
Drill Mongrell bent to one knee, addressing Zero. "One of these weaklings killed Terror Mongrell. Same model, same system software as me. You could call him my brother. I did. Someone killed him with an explosive energen capsule, right when his back was turned. I want to know which one of these flesh-bags did it, so I can treat them to the same fate. And until I find out, there's going to be more death coming. So you talk to them, Zero." Drill Mongrell stood. "You explain to them what's at stake. Take a couple minutes."
Drill Mongrell walked away. His maverick gang followed.
Without the sight of them, the IngeniVox employees closed in.
"You guys got to help us," a man said. "Please. You don't know what they can do."
"Is anyone hurt? Does anyone need first aid?" Zero asked. The people shook their heads.
"Are you really Maverick Hunters?" asked a woman.
"Yes. Mega Man X and Zero," X said. "We came to deliver some engineering data regarding energen capsule ports."
"Oh, that would be Hadleigh Wilkins." The man pointed to a nearby heavyset Black woman in a white lab coat. Her crispy hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked dumbfounded at being called out by name.
X took the little plastic nubbin from the storage compartment in his armor and handed it out. "Thanks, I guess," she said as it went into her pocket.
"Mister Zero, sir?" asked a scared looking blond boy with lean features. He touched Zero on the arm. "H-hi. I'm Ryan Shetler. I-I'm a software developer. L-listen, you've got to do something. Those mavericks are gonna-"
"All right, Shetler. Calm down. We'll-"
A woman with long pink hair approached. "We've got people who don't even belong to the company down here. Maintenance managers and even the coffee shop guy. We've got to do something before they come back. Evelyn wasn't even supposed to come in today. She just came to pick up-"
"We're going to handle it, all right?" Zero snapped.
"Hold on! Hold on!" X said as they crowded in.
"We've got to stop them!" the others shouted. "They're going to kill us!"
"If you try and attack, they'd kill you all, get it?" Zero shouted. "Humans are nothing to a maverick. Your lives--all your lives--are on a very thin thread right now."
Shetler interrupted again. "We were thinking if we all rushed... I mean, there's fifty of us. Some of us might get hurt, but all fifty at once-"
"You ever seen flesh against a plasma cannon?" Zero sneered. "It'd go through you like a bullet through a garbage bag."
That quieted them down. Except Shetler, who meekly said "But... we've got to do something."
"We will. But someone needs to explain to me what's going on," Zero asked.
The crowd shushed then. Hadleigh sighed and stepped up. "They came in this morning. Burst in, corralled us up. I think they were looking for energen. The kangaroo one broke into the lab where I was, pocketed everything I was working on."
"There were no signs of forced entry," X said.
Hadleigh nodded. "They might have come from underground. Or the roof. I don't think they were looking for a spectacle, just the energen. They searched the building top to bottom, waving their cannons around. Weren't paying much attention to us."
"What happened to Terror Mongrell? How was he killed?" Zero asked.
"Some of the team in R&D, they call themselves 'rogue squad'. I guess they rigged some of the energen capsules to reverse polarity and implode. Snuck up and threw them, then ran away. One of them picked it up. Exploded right in his face. Whole torso disintegrated. I guess it was the big one's twin."
"That's when the havoc started?" Zero asked.
Hadleigh nodded. "They pulled any of us they could find, using us for hostages. Human shields. Interrogated us. Found every last human in the building. It was easy. We all gave in--no one wanted to get hurt or see anyone hurt."
"And you've been trapped here ever since?"
Hadleigh nodded. "The 'rogue squad' is here too, but the mavericks don't know that."
"Why doesn't he just kill you all? Then he'd have his revenge," X asked.
Zero shrugged. "Because it's personal. He must want to do something special he can't get from indiscriminate killing. We aren't dealing with mavericks like we used to. They never used to roam around in gangs, terrorizing humans for pleasure. They used to fight alone, popping up here and there. I've learned never to hold any expectations for a maverick."
"Anyway, we've been trapped here since," Hadleigh said. "Mongrell keeps threatening us unless we give them up. Even the guys in rogue squad don't know which one of them did it."
A woman gasped and covered her mouth as her watery eyes flashed. Drill Mongrell had returned, along with his cronies.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen? What's it going to be?" When no one spoke, he eyed Zero. "You get any answers out of them? Did you tell them to do the right thing?"
"The right thing would be to accept that your brother got what he deserved."
"Not on account of some human cowards."
"He was a moron who broke in somewhere and picked up a strange energen capsule tossed his way. If you're dumb enough-"
Mongrel's arms lit up as bright as his eyes. "I'm not gonna take a lecture from a servile thug like you about right and wrong. Now give 'em up." Mongrell held up his barrel-sized fist and cocked it like a shotgun. A surge of ocher energy rippled through. "Who did it? If I have to wipe out every mealy-mouthed meatbag here, I'll find out. I will."
"You think that's going to bring Terror Mongrell back?" Zero sneered.
Drill Mongrell growled under his voicebox. "Grabber, take two of them. That one..." He pointed to a rotund Indian man with meaty jowls. "And that one..." He pointed to Shetler.
"No!" X shouted.
"Mongrell, when I get out of here I'm going to tear you apart. There won't be anything left of you but dust," Zero said, fighting the urge to raise his useless arm cannon.
"You gotta get out of there first," Mongrell said.
Grabber Kangaroid stepped up. Her belly split across the middle and a large claw emerged. The claw, attached by a chain, hurtled out and clamped around the first victim. The clamp yanked back so hard, his neck wrenched hard enough to snap. Kangaroid caught him and threw him to the side.
Three others clutched onto Shetler's body, but that didn't matter. He flew out of their hands and into the mavericks'.
"Well? Anybody got anything to say now?" Mongrell asked once the cries had settled. No one spoke. "All right then. You can live with your decision." Mongrell stepped back. The mavericks dragged the dazed humans out of view.
Everyone stood in hushed sobs, like trembling zombies. Zero and X could do no more than the same, staring at the space above.
There was no charging of cannon, no hum of a power surge, no voices, no crying or pleading. Just two shots, with no way to shut out the sound. Some weeped louder, but otherwise, the death chill had frozen everyone.
"We've got to do something," muttered Hadleigh.
"We will," Zero said.
###
The hatch advanced, becoming their ceiling and shutting them back in a vault. Bright light from the paneled walls and floors irritated their eyes like gnats. Zero didn't know why the mavericks didn't come back and capitalize on the fresh fear. Maybe Mongrell was more gutless than he let on.
X had gone to circulate among the others, maybe to gather information. That suited Zero fine--he could stand against the wall and contemplate the situation. Strategize. Six mavericks, once seven. Still too many to take on, even with a buster that worked.
X returned. "Did you ever send out a distress signal?" he asked Zero.
"Have been ever since they threw us in here," Zero said. "Signal's being blocked. I can't even connect to you. Something's mangling it. Probably whatever lines this room."
"Lead-corbosite," Hadleigh tossed in. "It scrambles all wireless signals, prevents external hacking. These servers are for data-processing. They're only ever supposed to talk to each other. That's why they put us in here. Easier than trying to grab everyone's phones, PDAs, whatever."
"I found the members of 'rogue squad'," X said. "That's just a nickname they gave themselves. They're the top engineers for the company, innovators. Two of them are willing to submit themselves, but two aren't."
"And they shouldn't," Zero said. "We don't deal in lives. We should be thinking about escape."
"Even if we do, we're useless without our busters," X said.
"I know," Zero said. "We're just arms and legs."
"There's some vorticular acetinol in my lab. It can dissolve ceratanium. If we can get out of here," Hadleigh said.
"Eventually we're going to register as missing, either us or the humans," X said. "Then they'll send reinforcements."
"Too much time passes, they're going to come back here and kill another one of us. Or we'll just start dropping," Hadleigh added. "Haviland has an implant that sends neurosignals from his heart to his lungs and it's not working in here. If we don't get out of here soon, he's going to drop dead."
"Reinforcements?" Zero turned to X. "We are the reinforcements."
X, Zero, and Hadleigh spent an hour brainstorming plans, huddled in a corner. Many began shivering from cold, walking around, rubbing their arms and legs together. The vault wasn't meant for human habitation.
"Do they always come in the same way? Stand in the same spots?" X asked.
"Yes, right there." She pointed.
"How many approach at a time? I figure Grabber Kangaroid will always be one of them."
"The only time there's more than two is when the big one is with, the leader."
X's eyes brightened. "Here's what we could do. Zero and I could press against the wall under where they stand. That hatch opens slow, so they'll be waiting. Probably not paying too much attention. We'll wait until we see them. Then we jump, drag them down. Once they're in, we swarm, all fifty of us."
Hadleigh drew back.
"Just long enough to keep them down and confused while Zero and I disable them," X said.
"What's to stop them from signaling from help?" Hadleigh asked.
"Same thing stopping us." X gestured to the illuminated corbosite all around them.
"You don't think they'll be on a higher alert now that we're here?" Zero asked.
"Not without our blasters." X held up his arm cannon, still covered in hardened goo. Zero nodded.
"It's risky," Hadleigh said.
"Life is risk," Zero said. "If we're to have any chance at all, we have to take one."
"You're telling me," X said. "If the heaviest reploids show up, we might be screwed. I don't think I can take that buffalo one down."
"Surprise will be on our side," said Zero. "We'll also need everyone's help. Every last body."
"I'll start telling the others." Hadleigh stood from her crouch and sauntered toward the others.
X and Zero assumed positions where the hatch opened, comparing data about where they would approach from. Then they pressed against the wall to stay out of peripheral vision. After that, all they had to do was wait.
"Gotta admit, X, you've got a mind for method," Zero whispered. "Me? My central strategy is to rush in and start shooting."
"That's why you're an A-class hunter. You never hesitate on the battlefield. You have the skill that keeps you alive," X said.
"Could also be luck. I may take action, but it's not always the right action. You figure out the right action. There might be a place for you in the tactical division."
X looked down. "I could get people killed."
"You can get people killed doing what I do," Zero said.
"No, I mean I... may not be ready... yet."
"Well, with some training-"
"No, you don't understand." X's voice trembled. "You know my story. When Dr. Cain found me, I was sealed inside a capsule. I was supposed to be there for thirty years so it could test out my neuropsychology. Run simulations and correct the AI network. Make sure I wouldn't pose a danger to humans."
"Right, so?"
"So when Dr. Cain analyzed the capsule's computer, he couldn't find the date I was sealed in. The data was either corrupted or erased or... something. So no one knows how long I was in there." X gave Zero a desperate look. "What if it was less than thirty years? What if every maverick is my fault because they're all based on me? Because I was disconnected too early. And they all have it, Zero. Every reploid has my faulty programming. And there are so many of them, we could never stop them all, and they keep making more every day-"
"X, X, calm down," Zero said. "It's not your fault. You didn't make anyone go maverick. Whether it's a virus or a design flaw, you didn't make any of this. Besides you're doing everything you can to stop them."
"I'm doing everything I can because it could all be my fault," X said in a low tone.
Zero grimaced and huffed, unsure what to say.
A loud thud sounded, followed by grinding metal. The hatch was opening.
###
X and Zero hunkered down as the ceiling's shadow slid across the floor. The humans couldn't hear, but X and Zero, with their ultra-sensitive audio receptors, picked up conversation. Mongrell wasn't one of them.
"What do you think?"
"About what?"
"Mongrell. His whole… thing. They were close, I guess?"
"I never saw it. How many should we grab?"
"I don't know. He said to take one or two."
"Well, which is it? One or two?"
"How should I know? They all look the same to me."
"Maybe he meant we take one big one or two little ones."
"I don't think that's how it works. Each human's an individual unit."
Around Zero and X, the people trembled like chickens in a hen house. Hadleigh made a V sign with her fingers. "Two," she mouthed.
"The bigger ones might be more valuable."
"But more of them means more loss. Humans have a higher reaction to large numbers of dead."
"That's true. Maybe we take one small one and one big one. Like that one standing over there, he looks big enough."
"Hey, you. Step forward. Are you important?"
The silhouettes of the reploids crept over the rim of the wall, shadowed by the overhead lights. Zero and X aligned themselves directly under each.
In perfect synchronicity, they leapt up, kicked off the wall, and bounded over the pit. With Zero and X floating before them, Grabber Kangaroid and Bullet Frog stood stunned.
Zero seized Grabber Kangaroid by the shoulders. X grabbed Bullet Frog's bulbous head. As they fell, they dragged the mavericks down with them. Everyone landed scattered from each other with loud clanging.
The humans mobbed the prone reploids. They held them down anywhere they could squeeze in and get a hand on some metal. The mavericks appeared dazed, making little effort to get up as they were overrun.
X and Zero sprang up, no time to spare. They scrambled toward the mavericks, each heading toward one.
"Voice box," Zero said. Simultaneously, X and Zero plunged their free arms into Bullet Frog's and Grabber Kangaroid's mouths. They clutched the biggest chunk of equipment they could find purchase on and ripped it out.
"Arm cannon," Zero said. The humans spread apart, giving access to each maverick's right hand. X and Zero tore them off with as much strength as they could muster. Grabber Kangaroid and Bitter Frog convulsed in pain and terror. Taking away a maverick's weapon was like ripping out their soul.
"There." Zero sat back. "Can you hold them like that for a while?"
The humans nodded, while the mavericks flailed beneath them. "All of us together, we can do it."
"All right, let's get out of here." Zero turned to Hadleigh. "Where is your lab?"
"I'm coming with you," she said. "You need my keycode to get in. And 'rogue squad' told me there are more of those rigged-up energen grenades in there."
Zero should have said no, but time was of the essence. "Fine."
"Get on my back." X hunched down.
Hadleigh wrapped her arms around X like a human backpack. The two wall-kicked and jumped out of the pit, landing on concrete floor. In a darkened corner, they saw the two bodies that had been shot. Holes torn through their chest cavities, crispy flesh bubbling around the edges.
Hadleigh let herself down. "My lab's on this floor. South wing. Come on."
As they headed south, Zero said to X, "I just sent a message to HQ, but they won't be here soon enough."
"There's still four of them and two of us," X said.
"But we know that and they don't."
Hadleigh led them to a laboratory with a darkened door window. She entered a code on the keypad. The hydraulic lock behind the door whooshed open.
The lab was a mess--equipment scattered on the floor with sparkling glass and instruments. Rubber stoppers, vials, blue stain, frayed wires, along with the strong smell of latex and ozone.
Hadleigh reached under a standing table, where towers of differently-sized canisters were stacked. She placed one on the table. It hissed as she unscrewed the top. "Crap," she said. "There's only enough for one."
"X, you take it," Zero said.
"But your buster is more powerful. Mine's only a Mark-17."
"I can handle myself. I didn't become a Class-A solely because of this." Zero held up his arm.
A light entered Hadleigh's eyes. "I think I know something you can use."
X poured out the canister on his arm and rubbed the viscous goo in. In a few seconds, the ceratanium began hissing and smoking, emitting a foul chemical odor. Meanwhile, Zero followed Hadleigh to the corner of the lab. She bent down to a chest. Inside was a palm-sized gold stick.
"Try this. Hold the hilt away from you and energize it."
Zero did so. A needle-thin ray of green light extended out three feet. It crackled a bit, then stabilized.
"It's a laser sword," Zero said.
"It's an irradiated plasma ray with a hydron blocker attached to an output impedance. And an extended amplitude regulator to control the length. But yes, it's a laser sword." She shrugged. "What can I say? We're nerds. Problem is, no one can use it, because we'd chop off our limbs. No human at least--we don't have the dexterity or control. But a reploid..."
Zero stood clear of any objects. He swooped the sword around, stabbing and slashing. Each swing made a vrrrp-sound that increased in timbre with velocity. He grinned.
"I could get used to this." His mind raced with ways to refine it for combat. The hilt was clunky. It could be longer and have an added guard. Maybe increase the blade width. Make it swing in a more fluid arc. And make it green. Or blue. Both? He couldn't decide.
"Zero?"
"Huh?"
"We're ready," X said. He brushed the remaining chunks of ceratanium off his arm cannon. It had a discolored stain, but nothing that couldn't be cleaned. Assuming they survived this.
"I'm ready." Hadleigh zipped up a squarish bag with a vendor's logo and shoulder strap. It was full of small round globes, each with a band of prismatic light around the center.
The three of them made their way to the grand conference room where X and Zero had woken up. Its windows were made of frosted glass and they could see the mavericks' silhouettes inside. They were talking, scheming, hoarding the energen, searching through computers for data.
Zero and X stood a ways from the room, out of sight. "If we could pick them off one by one, we'd be fine," X said.
"Don't think we're going to have that option," Zero said.
X's eyes traced a path along the ceiling. "Is there a maintenance shaft that cuts across that room?"
"I think so," Hadleigh said. "It's always cold in there."
"You thinking about sneaking in?" Zero asked.
"I'm thinking about a three-pronged assault. Surprise them. I can get through the vents--I'm lighter than I look. You bait them out the door. Hadleigh stands to the side and chucks her explosives at them."
"I don't know if we can take that chance-"
"I'm willing," Hadleigh said. "I think it's a good plan."
"We gotta do something now. They're going to get suspicious when those mavericks don't come back," X said.
"All right. I'll get their attention on me. You drop behind them. Then we all unleash hell."
X nodded. He climbed up some boxes to the ceiling, tore the grate out, and climbed in.
"We'll wait a bit for X to get into position. Let's get ourselves ready."
With quiet steps, Zero and Hadleigh approached the conference room door. Without lights, they wouldn't be seen, as long as no one looked too hard. Hadleigh stood on the other side of the door frame. She silently unzipped her bag. Zero stood a few feet from the entrance. From here, he could hear the dialogue inside.
"It's all about psychology," Phase Crane was saying. "You use fear to motivate them. Humans eat up fear. And you know what they fear the most?"
"Uh, snakes?" came one of the answers. "The dark? Squishy things?"
"No, no. The unknown. That's why I told Mongrell to put them in isolation. They don't know when we're coming. They don't know who's going to die. They don't know where we are. So they stew in their little gray brains for hours thinking of the worst case scenarios. Intimidating themselves. Building up their fear. They do the work for us."
There were murmurs of assent and approval.
"I don't care. I want them to pay for what they did to my brother," came Mongrell's voice. "Go find out where the other two are. Tell them to grab the two reploids, the Maverick Hunters. They're harmless now. Kill 'em outright. Let them know there's no one protecting them."
"Don't be so sure about that!" Zero shouted.
The chatter inside halted. Zero held his sword across his chest. Hadleigh shifted her feet.
The door burst open. Chain Buffalox stood there, steam emitting from his nostrils. Phase Crane behind him.
"Kill him!" Mongrell shouted.
Mega Man X dropped out of the ceiling behind them. Everyone but Buffalox turned around--he was rushing Zero. As soon as he cleared the door, Hadleigh started throwing metal balls of energy inside, one after the other. The room filled with explosions. The other mavericks darted around chaotically as X targeted them one by one.
Buffalox tried to punch Zero, but he side-stepped, severing the arm at the elbow. But that didn't faze the buffalo-reploid--a chain burst out of his arm cannon, embedding into Zero's chest. It lit up with an electric surge, stunning Zero, sending pain through him like red hot spikes. Chain Buffalox retracted the grapple. Zero held out the laser sword as he was brought into Buffalox's range. The green ray impaled the maverick through the chest. Sparks and smoke puffed into his face, and the maverick fell over.
Zero rushed toward the conference room. Smoke and screams and explosions saturated the area. Flames crackling and flashing, glass breaking, a gummy acrid smell that burned the nose. Zero pushed himself through the fog. "X?"
Zero's foot made contact with something outside the door. A body. He waved the smoke away. It was Hadleigh. Her eyes were closed, charred skin and blood above her left eye. Body covered in ash. Dead by explosion, not a stray plasma shot. Maybe one of those jerry-rigged capsules rolled back to her.
"X?" Zero shouted again.
"I'm here!" X said.
At Zero's feet, Drill Mongrell's shape crawled along the floor through the smog. Zero gripped under the maverick's chest armor and spun him on his back. Mongrell cried out. Zero stomped a foot on Mongrell's torso and held the sword to his chin.
"It's over, Drill," Zero shouted.
"Ain't nothing over. They killed my brother, I'll kill you too."
"There's been enough killing today."
Drill Mongrell stopped struggling. He grinned toothily. "All right, Zero. That's fine, then. I surrender."
Zero remembered what Commander Sigma had said. Those mavericks could have been rehabilitated. Reprogrammed. We need soldiers in this war, Zero.
He plunged his sword deep into Drill Mongrell's chest cavity, into the power core. Mongrell gasped as liquid plasma and oil eked out. "I'd rather become a maverick myself than have to work side-by-side with you, rehabilitated or not," Zero whispered.
When Drill Mongrell stopped twitching, Zero unsheathed the sword and turned it off.
"You okay, Zero?" X asked, getting closer.
"Just fine," Zero said.
###
And it was over.
Zero and X rushed back and disposed of the two mavericks held in the pit. The humans had held up their end of the bargain, so X and Zero held up theirs. Shortly thereafter, HQ sent in the cavalry. The humans were treated, the building locked down, and order restored.
X and Zero were standing in front of the doorway when the medical gurney slid out. A body lay under a shroud, carried by the anti-grav lifters.
"A human willing to sacrifice herself, so that us Maverick Hunters could live..." Zero muttered.
"I've learned never to hold any expectations for a human," X replied with a small smirk.
Zero took a breath. "I've always thought of humans as characters in the background. Like sheep that get in the way. I think... I think that must be how the mavericks think too." Zero began to walk away, back to the troop transport. "You know it could be more," he called back.
X turned to him. "Huh?"
"It could be more than thirty years… that you were in the capsule. If they don't know the date, you might have been in there the full duration and you're fine. You were tested fully and the reploids go maverick because of something else. Maybe they get ideas in their head or their programming gets hacked."
"I suppose," X said. Maybe not convinced, but less burdened. "I'm going to stick around, in case they need help with clean-up."
Zero nodded. "See you at headquarters, X." And he walked off.
#END#
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Zahnia, the brave
(Art by @9musesandanoldmind)
While Queen Viarra is the character from First Empress I talk most about, the second most important character is probably Zahnia, the young girl who later becomes the queen’s biographer/historian. Zahnia is a brave and resourceful young girl who tragically ends up trapped forever in her nine-year-old body by mad scientist/evil wizard types. While this means she can’t die from age-related complications, she has to come to terms with the fact that she’ll be physically nine years old for the rest of her life.
The following excerpts are one of my favorite examples of Zahnia’s courage and cleverness. Before joining Queen Viarra’s service, Zahnia and Pella, her four-armed friend, sail with a cargo convoy belonging to one of Queen Viarra’s allies, the Order of Dallorn. During the voyage, warships from the City-State of Aneth---allied to the Empire of Pellastor, one of Viarra’s rival nations---waylay the Order’s fleet. Upon discovering Pella’s extra arms, the warships impound the fleet and take Pella as a prisoner to their emperor. Unable to recover Pella and get their fleet freed, the priestess in charge of the fleet sends Zahnia with an SOS to Queen Viarra.
“Where’s Pella?” Zahnia pled as the guards escorted Priestess Inara back to their camp. “It’s been three days, what happened to Pella?”
“They’re idiots,” Inara fumed, angry and frustrated—more so than Zahnia had ever seen her. She could see the high priestess’s fists trembling at her sides. “Fucking idiots,” she repeated, plopping down on a log beside their fire.
Captain Argive’s soldiers had escorted the fleet to a derelict repair yard, making the Order’s people beach their ships and unload all of the cargo to be sorted by dumb soldiers who didn’t understand most of the materiel they were handling. Most of the buildings were more or less livable and the Order’s personnel were able to arrange living quarters in the old warehouses and repair sheds. There was a mostly intact palisade around the repair yard with hoplites guarding the entrances while warships patrolled the bay and surrounding sea.
“What happened?” Nimus asked, clutching Zahnia on her lap.
“Pella is on her way to the Emperor of Pellastor,” Priestess Inara informed them, pulling the cork on her wineskin and taking a long swig. “The whole discussion with their Archons was a bullshit circus. Several Archons wanted to burn Pella at the stake as a demon, several others wanted to burn all of us as heretics and demon-worshipers, yet others wanted to dissect Pella and study her. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise—anytime I got the floor, I’d get booed and threatened to silence by the idiot rabble who were there to watch the spectacle. Democracy is such bullshit.”
“What’s democracy?” Zahnia asked.
“Democracy is an idiotic form of government where the aristocrats hold popularity contests to decide who gets to be in charge this year,” Inara explained, shaking her head irritably. “Finally the emissary from the Emperor spoke up and took control of the situation, demanding they send Pella to the capitol and let the Emperor decide what to do with her—which is a better outcome than could have been. I got the feeling their emissary has a lot of practice at dealing with this drama and bullshit.”
“So what happens now?” Brother Inro asked from his log beside one of the lay sisters.
“That depends on how heroic our Zahnia is feeling,” the high priestess replied.
“What do you mean?” Nimus asked cautiously. “You don’t expect her to run off and rescue Pella by herself, do you?”
“Not directly, anyway,” Inara assured her. “A couple of Queen Viarraluca’s ambassadors to the City of Aneth were at the meeting with the Archons. They called for further investigation into the matter, but they didn’t really know what was going on, so they weren’t much help. But I think they could be a lot of help if they were properly apprised of the situation.”
“How do we do that?” Inro asked, glancing at the hoplite guardsmen bullshitting near the gate.
“Zahnia has proven herself a first-rate messenger by escaping Doctor Irvid and bringing Professor Ellid’s letter to the Order,” the priestess explained, keeping her tone low but casual, in case the guards were trying to listen in. “I’m going to write a letter to her majesty’s ambassadors, apprising them of the situation, Zahnia. I want you to deliver it to their embassy, with a copy of our contract with Queen Viarraluca. I want you to urge them to take you to Queen Viarraluca with all haste to try to get this situation resolved.”
“Why Zahnia?” Nimus asked protectively.
“She’s the only one who speaks fluent Tollesian and can fit through any of the gaps in the palisade,” Inara answered. “In fact, I think she even shares the local accent. Plus she’s clever and resourceful and has shown herself effective at reading people and assessing situations.”
“How will I get there?” Zahnia asked, liking the idea of being a hero but scared of being on her own.
“I checked out the palisade and buildings pretty thoroughly after we arrived here,” Inara confided. “There’s a gap in the palisade behind that dilapidated quartermaster’s office near the cesspool. We’re not using that building, and no one goes over there except to shit. Plus the gap is in the shadows away from our fires, so no one will see you. Tonight after everyone’s in bed, Zahnia, I want you to sneak over behind the building and slip through the gap. Once outside, follow the wall until you find the road. Find a place nearby to hide and get some rest until daylight. When morning comes, follow the road to the main highway. Turn right on the highway and after a couple miles it will take you to the City of Aneth. Once you’re in the city, find a city guardsman or someone official-looking and ask them how to get to Queen Viarraluca’s embassy. When you get there, show the ambassadors the letter and contract, and urge them to send a courier ship to alert Queen Viarraluca what’s going on. Understand all that?”
“I… think so,” Zahnia replied, feeling her stomach flutter at the responsibility.
“You’ll do fine, sweetie,” Priestess Inara smiled. “And we can go over it again before you leave. I promise.”
“You’re going to do great, sweetie,” Priestess Inara whispered one last time, crouching by the door to the warehouse they’d camped in. “Just wander over to the cesspit like normal, and then don’t wander back.”
Zahnia took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then gave the priestess a quick hug as thanks. Shouldering her pouch containing the letter and contract and a couple bread-rolls, Zahnia strode from the warehouse, trying to look like she needed to poop really bad. She did need to pee a little, but it was probably due to the nervousness. The three hoplite guards milling about didn’t seem to pay much mind as she walked across the compound to the nasty, stinky cesspit.
Fighting to not gag, she skirted the pit and slipped around the darkened corner of the abandoned quartermaster office. Once in the shadows, she slipped over to the palisade, quickly locating the gap in the wall. It wasn’t really a breach so much as a place where one of the logs had bowed outward enough to allow a small, skinny child to squeeze through. From where she crouched, Zahnia saw several other easier places to slip through the palisade, but all of these were in the open where the guards might see.
Leaning into the curve of the bowed log, Zahnia slipped her head through the gap and looked around. The firelight illuminated the nearby hillside above the shadows from the palisade, but beyond that she couldn’t see much for the darkness.
Slipping her arms through the gap, Zahnia eased her shoulders through, then pulled the rest of her body through. The rough logs scraped up her arms and legs a little, but she’d been hurt far worse during her escape from those evil experimenters.
She was better prepared for her escape this time, Zahnia reflected as she gathered herself. Back in that jungle, she was weak, sick, malnourished, barefoot, and dressed in ragged sackcloth. This time she was stronger, healthier, better fed, and wore proper sandals and a knee-length linen tunic.
Pella had saved her life many times that day. It was Zahnia’s chance to return the favor.
Double-checking her pouch, Zahnia headed toward the road, eyes out for some place to hide and sleep.
(Continued in part 2)
#my writing#my novel#First Empress#Zahnia the Chronicler#High Priestess Inara#Professor Nimus#excerpts#fury of the small
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