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ddarker-dreams · 9 months

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Nexus II.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Descriptions of Blade's body regeneration ability, Blade is just kinda weird idk, some spoilers for his backstory. Word count: 6k.

Nexus index.

The LOTUS-EATER’s maximum capacity tops out at 124. This number takes current fire codes and oxygen generator parameters into account. There are eight Arbiters — including yourself — and fifteen other employees who work The Club floor on rotation. Additionally, some automatons assist with carrying refreshments to clients. Lucky for you, those fellas aren’t on the payroll.

The other twenty-two are, though.

Nona swings her legs back and forth while sitting on the main bar’s countertop, humming a song from an underground band she likes. She’s sent you a link to their discography enough times that you recognize the URL immediately and know not to tap on it.

“Hey, mom, dad, we’re on the news. ‘IPC Places Eris Under Temporary Travel Ban While Investigating Claims of Fraud’. Why didn’t anyone tell me we were doing fraud? Was I not invited to the group chat?” Nona hums.

You glance up from your account book, sigh, then glance back down.

Meanwhile, Lear carries a hefty wooden crate from the back and places it on the floor. The sound of muffled glass clinking together can be heard, along with liquid sloshing.

“You shouldn’t make jokes like that,” he frowns. He shoos her off the counter with a wet rag, to which she takes refuge behind you. He rolls his eyes at her shenanigans, ties up his sandy hair, then gets to cleaning. “People could get the wrong idea. It’d tarnish [First]’s reputation.”

Snickering, she replies, “And casually referring to Our-Lord-And-Savior-The-Exalted-One by her first name wouldn’t?”

He bristles. “You…!”

On instinct, he winds up his arm, wielding the now dirty rag as his ammunition. He pauses when Nona points at you. Seeing that there’s no way to hit his target without you joining the casualties, he huffs, and returns to shining glasses, using excessive force this time.

Nona sticks her tongue out at him. After celebrating her victory, she situates herself on a nearby barstool, stretching her arms out beside your workspace like a content cat preparing to nap.

“You’ve been staring at that silly book forever,” she notes, exasperation coloring her tone. “I know you aren’t reading it, either. Your eyes give you away. So, what’s up?”

You shuffle in your seat. This line of questioning was inevitable as the four moons that hang everlasting in the sky, taking in everything as impartial observers. During instances like this, you envy the marvelous masses, how they can exist peacefully without living. No one asks the moon troubling questions. Or, if they do, they have more pressing issues at hand than their spoken query.

“It’s nothing,” you dismiss.

She blows a tuft of hair from her face. “Hey, Lear.”

“Mm?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Well, yes, I’m only standing a few feet away.”

“Right, right. Let me ask a trickier question then, since that one was obviously way too easy for someone of your intellect. Do you believe her?”

“I…” he swallows thickly. “... Yes?”

Nona throws her arms up. “Gah! I’m surrounded by liars who can’t lie. That’s almost worse than liars who can lie— blegh, hey, did you actually throw a rag at me?”

The rag in question slides down the side of her head and hits the ground with a sad squelch.

“I’ll do it again too. You shouldn’t bother [First]—” Lear abruptly cuts himself off at the last syllable of your name, “The exalted one when she’s trying to concentrate.”

You raise your head and frown. “Lear, I told you. Call me by my name when it’s just us. It feels wrong if you don’t.”

“Seriously? That’s what gets your attention?” Nona laments.

You both elect to ignore her.

“I know, I know. It’s just… what if he comes back?”

Silence descends and clings to the three of you like the suffocating scent of smoke. It’s there again, the uncomfortable, skin-prickling sensation of eyes sticking to you. Amber and sapphire coalesce into one, unspoken plea, forming a disconcerting shade. Nona’s visage betrays nothing, whereas Lear’s concern would be obvious from galaxies away.

You square your shoulders and try to make yourself appear as decisive as you need to sound. “I’ll know when he’s back. He’ll text so I can let him in.”

The two exchange knowing looks. It’s Nona who tries her luck.

“That’s reassuring and all, but, I think the question Lear wanted to ask is why that man’s here in the first place.”

Magenta eyes, rosy iris’, words that drip like venom-coated honey.

When you asked how you should explain Blade’s presence to your staff, she told you she’d hate to abuse her authority, and that you’re free to decide those specifics yourself. You would’ve preferred some guidance or hint at her expectations in such a pivotal situation. It’s easier to avoid a landmine if you know how to best watch your step. The uncharacteristic lack of instructions goes on to birth unease.

“My answer hasn’t changed. He’s here to act as my bodyguard until some concerns are settled.”

Nona’s lips twist to the side. “You never wanted a bodyguard before.”

“I never needed one before.”

A glass shatters violently.

You and Nona snap your head toward the noise’s origin, finding Lear’s face wound tight in pain. You both jump the counter. The remains of crystal shards are strewn across the floor, catching and refracting light. Watching your step, you make your way over to Lear, who is muttering expletives under his breath.

No, that isn’t right, you realize. His lips aren’t moving.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tries waving off Nona, who is inspecting the hand that held the glass, “Just an accident, s’all.”

The private tumult boiling in his head threatens to overflow, stating loud and clear thoughts no one other than himself should be privy to. You grimace and focus on blocking the intrusive voice out. It’s so resounding, so sharp, that snippets penetrate through and spill their scathing secrets.

‘My fault — should’ve killed — now she’s — because of me…!’

Block it out, block it out, block it out, you chant the mantra incessantly.

Lear’s psyche wishes to illuminate itself to you in its entirety. The spotlights turn on one by one, focusing intently on the visible portion of the stage that any audience member can see. The overlapping beams penetrate the stage’s back curtain, revealing the silhouettes of the backstage crew.

You don’t want to witness these delicate inner workings. It isn’t for your eyes, his thoughts aren’t for your ears. Sins committed in days past grant you a front-row seat and sew your eyes wide open. You haven’t attended this theater in some time, so it brought the show to you.

It requires great effort to struggle against the needle and thread that wants to practice its stitches on you. This pain that feels like your skull is being crushed beneath an anchor could ease away if you were a good audience member who sat still and mute. You resist subservience at the cost of yourself. Eventually, the lights dim. The stage’s back curtain turns opaque. The actors shift their shouts into a normal speaking volume, a whisper, then finally, stop orating altogether.

Your mind’s dictation is decided by you — the ink of Lear’s thoughts expunged.

You’re aware of your physical surroundings again.

Presently, you’re crouching down on the floor. You move your foot back to maintain balance, and there’s a crunch, warning you to tread carefully. You inhale and exhale shakily. At this sign of lucidity, Nona and Lear crowd over you, repeating your name on a loop. You check twice to ensure their mouths are indeed moving and you aren’t hearing what you shouldn’t. Once you dispel your fears, relief embraces you.

This paroxysm has run its course.

Nona’s shoulders slump. “It’s okay, it’s over. She fixed it.”

They both hold their breath until you nod in agreement.

Lear extends his hand to help stand you up, to which Nona swats at it.

“No touching,” she reminds. Sternness doesn’t sound right in her cadence. He considers arguing, only to decide against it. His fingers twitch, go still, then recede.

You have to stand on your own strength.

Neither of them knows what to say in the immediate aftermath — it’s been so long that they’re out of practice. While they think over the best-sounding platitudes, you spare your phone a glance. Several messages mar the screen from an unknown sender. The most recent is time-stamped at five minutes ago.

You grumble a few choice words.

“Mr. Personality is back?” Nona asks.

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” you close your account book and fold it under your arm. “You both should head home, it’s late. Just let Loopy take care of the glass shards.”

Nona gives a mock salute. After a moment’s consideration, Lear nods.

And so the three of you part ways.

Your fingers blindly grope at the expanse beneath your desk. Finally, you come in contact with a protrusion, then press it. Electricity thrums then turns hushes. For peace of mind, you glide your hand through the air. A holographic keyboard flickers into existence and responds to your vigorous keystrokes. The monitor reads that your noise-canceling software is up to date. It prevents sound waves from escaping a perimeter you’ve set. It’s installed in every room on the second floor, which includes the private rooms in The Lounge, your office, and the bedroom attached to said office.

Ever since Kafka started slinking around, the software’s uptime has increased exponentially.

Unlike Kafka, Blade doesn’t sit across from you or relax on the couch against the silver-colored wall. He stands by the door that leads to the hallway like a statue. He hasn’t so much as uttered a word to you since you let him in, not that you put in much effort to rouse conversation. It isn’t as childish as him ignoring you, either, you swear his eyes haven’t left you for a millisecond.

The keyboard and monitor dissipate at the flick of your wrist.

“I know I said I didn’t have anything major scheduled this week, but the IPC’s new policy changes things,” you start. Still no reaction. Frowning, you continue, “I’ll have to break the house arrest you’ve imposed.”

He doesn’t so much as blink. You thought a little provocation might earn you some material to work with, but you thought wrong.

“Who will be there?” Blade asks.

Instead of experiencing relief that he’s broken his vow of silence, tension coils its barbed limbs around you. It refuses to squeeze or apply any pressure. No, it intentionally denies you that, for it knows pain precedes understanding. A motive, an intention. Any degree of emotion is better than an unknowable void. Frustration, you can soothe, doubt, you can dispel, but total apathy? That’s a nightmare crossed into reality.

“The other two leaders of the quadrants and myself.”

At long last, there's a sign he is indeed a sentient lifeform and not the latest android model. A flash passes over his eyes. Suspicion or disbelief, perhaps.

“Shouldn’t there be four leaders, if the city’s divided into quadrants?”

“That’s a fair assumption. As far back as our records date, the southwestmost quadrant, Arc, has rejected the idea of having any fixed governance. They act however they see fit. It’s where that man who attacked me a few cycles back was sent to, since we look down on involuntary confinement.”

“The prison planet without prisons,” Blade’s wry wording belies his flat tone.

It’s always been a divisive topic, earning scorn and acclaim alike. You’ve had the misfortune of listening to clients regurgitate talking points that were made digestible by popular media, who started the cycle by devouring journal articles they read one paragraph of. They repeat what’s been said thousands of times with the bravado of the original theorist. Normally, you’d consider it more agreeable to bash your head against a wall than speak on the exhausted topic.

So why is it a kindling of intrigue burns by a Stellaron Hunter’s offhand comment?

“What’s this? The wanted criminal isn’t a proponent of prison abolition?”

“Every decision comes at a price,” he says. “Sins should be punished.”

You blink. Sins? Punishment? Is this a textbook case of cognitive dissonance, or another beast entirely?

“What do you consider a sin?”

“Anything that defies the natural order.”

“Such as…?”

The maelstrom that envelops him is potent enough for you to feel it breathing down your neck. Your body prickles all over.

“Defying death.”

“Not inflicting it?”

“No,” Blade’s response is immediate, straight from the heart. “Taking life is permissible. It’s accelerating the inevitable.”

This callous sentiment should chill you — maybe it would, if you heeded the alarm bells ringing in your mind — but fascination triumphs over any deterrent. This isn’t a creed one stumbles into by happenstance, it’s a burden made to order. His preoccupation with death is personal. A necessity.

“Show me what it’s like to die.”

Is this request self-flagellation or redemption?

If you’re ever to fulfill the Synalink you promised, you’ll need to dig deeper.

“There are ‘sins’ committed with altruistic intentions, though.”

“Hah,” he barks out a bitter laugh. “Those… those are the worst kind.”

This is a personal slight he’s grappling with. The shards scattered around him like stardust condense, though the sight they create remains out of focus. It doesn’t have to be a sharp picture for you to discern its immense stature.

Each person’s psyche is distinct in its manifestation. This image is a culmination of everything that defines them. Their core values, history, relationships, culture, ambitions both met and not fully realized; these colors leave an indelible imprint. In truth, this detailed representation is but a single dot amidst an ocean of stars. The mind of a sentient being must be vast if it is capable of ascending to an Aeon’s status. Still, you need something to work with, even if it doesn’t encompass the full scope. A pianist cannot play their instrument if there are no keys.

This scale, this sheer magnitude that towers higher the more you crane your neck up, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever encountered.

“... You’re going to give me a run for my money, Mr. 8.13 billion,” you murmur. “Your head looks like a warzone.”

He leans against the wall with a hmph.

“With all your impending problems, that’s what you choose to focus on?”

“I can multitask.”

“Can you?” He challenges. Sensing your confusion, he elaborates. “You look awful.”

Blade must be irresistible across all genders with that nuanced level of word crafting.

“I appreciate your candidness,” you deadpan.

He shakes his head at your sarcasm. “Don’t act obtuse. Your complexion’s off, your eyes are bloodshot… everything was fine when I left. Must have something to do with your earlier delay, I take it?”

You underestimated his acumen. This would explain why he’s been sizing you up since you opened the door. His sword proficiency isn’t the only threat you should be wary of. You know to be mindful of your presentation when Kafka’s skulking about, you didn’t think he’d need to be treated with a similar caution.

“It’s nothing serious, just your typical mental overexertion. There’s a lot on my plate, you said so yourself.”

“Hm.”

Whether he believes you or not, the conversation is left at that.

Transportation on Eris functions differently than what’s commonly found in other worlds.

Traditional gas-based motors aren’t favored due to the frigid climate. Instead, a gemstone mined in the Nectary by vetted groups is the preferred resource. It contains special thermodynamic properties that can emit immense power under the correct conditions. The gemstones have been altered and assembled in such a way that they function as a railroad for insulated cabins to travel from one station to another. These paths were nicknamed 'nectar guides’ or ’guides’ by the first engineers to embed them in the ground. This is in reference to how the eight main paths lead to Perianth II’s center, built above the Nectary.

The design serves a dual purpose — it optimizes travel and the heat radiating from the ground produces light. The accommodations have outworlders in mind. Your species, the Nymphalians, have long undergone enough natural selection to survive the hostile conditions fine enough. Your species’ eyesight excels in the dark and your physiology resists the cold. Aside from that, your body functions identical to any other humanoid species. The lone visible difference is a thin white ring around most Nymphalians’ iris’. You and Lear display this quality, Nona does not.

The cabin you sit in has a quaint design. There are plush, brown loveseats lining the wall, glowing orange lights in the arched ceiling, and light refreshments atop wooden table stands. It’s split into a common area and a bedroom suite. More enchanting than any ornate embellishment are the expansive windows. You only get to see your quadrant in person during these trips to Perianth II’s center and back.

“You warm enough?” You call over to Blade, who is bundled in extra layers of clothes and wearing an especially dour expression.

He doesn’t dignify your quip with a verbal reply.

This brief jaunt has earned his ire. For someone who’d likely prefer to be anywhere else, he’s taking this guard assignment quite seriously. He explained that taking this straightforward travel route begs for people with nefarious intent to come slithering out. You could see his point, but the matter isn’t up for dispute. Recent cyberattacks have called electronic communication into question. What you’ll be discussing with the others — Chrysus of Ade and Caicias of Mele — is highly sensitive information. The IPC catching any sliver of it could prove disastrous.

“You shouldn’t be by the windows,” Blade eventually says.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a major buzzkill?”

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond.

With some reluctance, you pry yourself away from the glass granting access to the outside world.

“... Just a bit longer?” You try plucking a sympathetic cord he distinctly lacks.

“If you like it so much, why not experience it in the safety of your room where your head is a less visible target?”

“It isn’t possible to perform a Synalink on yourself.”

“Have an underling do it.”

The presumptions air to this suggestion eliminates any grace you may have extended.

“The only other Arbiter capable of performing Synalinks on me was my mother,” you say. “Note the past tense.”

You experience a phantasmal ripple with him as the epicenter. It’s the weakest emotion you’ve inadvertently picked up from him, so you assume it’s nothing of consequence.

“Passing blurs aren’t worth risking your life over.”

You rise to your feet.

“How do you know that?” You challenge, heat rushing to your cheeks. “These homes, these buildings, these streets… they’re either data on my screen or conveyed to me through someone who acts like they’re listing parts in a machine. I have to see it. I have to commit each ‘passing blur’ to memory. Otherwise…”

What have I sacrificed my freedom for?

Blade’s eyebrows furrow.

“Otherwise…” you shake your head. “Forget it.”

During the ensuing silence, your phone buzzes.

You had set it on do not disturb for the upcoming meeting. A few contacts were granted an exception, meaning that this message must be urgent if it went through. You swallow the lump growing in your throat. An exhausted part of yourself reasons that it can wait until the meeting’s conclusion. It wouldn’t do you any good to get worked up beforehand, would it? The message will still be there when it’s finished. Then you’ll be able to commit all your bandwidth to its contents. This reasoning is a tempting mistress cooing at you to come join her in bed. The momentary relief will be as sweet as the aftertaste is bitter.

Responsibility triumphs in the end. After inputting the necessary passcodes, a message four words long scrawls across your screen.

The product is ready.

A simple code had been devised between you and the alchemist entrusted with testing Kafka’s synthetic tonic. The product isn’t ready yet would mean the sly woman bluffed, or at the very least, exaggerated her 70% comparison claim. You’d gladly take either. She’s sewn deceit before, she’d have no trouble doing it again. In case the alternative was true, you prepared another code; the code you just received.

You reread it once. Twice, then thrice. You check if the message came from the right number. It did. You check again.

This frantic fixation consumes you to such a degree, you don’t register the cabin jerking aside. The delay from your reflexes throws your equilibrium off. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace yourself for an unceremonious rendezvous with the floor. Your right side does come into contact with a hard surface, except it’s sooner than you anticipated. Warmer, too.

This heat is different from what’s produced inside the Nectary’s gemstones. It’s personal, containing the distinct thrum of life. There’s also an aroma. Slightly floral, mostly spices you don’t recognize. Then there’s this steady sound — consistent enough to put a metronome to shame. A slow thump, thump, thump.

“How have you survived this long, clumsy as you are?”

Blade isn’t speaking any louder than he normally would, but you can hear him better.

“Hey, I’m… not… clumsy…?”

It’s only when you open your eyes that you’re able to piece together your current predicament.

Blade’s steadying you by your shoulders and your cheek is pressing against his chest. You always knew he was tall, but having him tower over you this close gives you a new perspective. As does the fact he doesn’t immediately shove you off after breaking your fall. Your body goes stiff enough to rival rigor mortis.

“Accident prone, then.”

This swipe has you desperate to reaffirm your authority. “You should’ve just… let me fall then! Maybe I wanted to, what do you know!”

(It sounded better in your head).

“Are you positive you’re over a century old?”

An equally snarky rebuttal blooms on your tongue, only to immediately wither, turning to ash that coats the ground.

There’s the sound of a dying star, a dirge announcing the end.

What one hears before their name is reduced to an epitaph or an alphabetized list neatly organizing the recently deceased. It’s loud, then it isn’t. Hideous, then hypnotizing. Yellows and oranges and reds swirling in a serpentine motion that mocks you for thinking you ever conquered it. Civilizations can temporarily subdue it, bend it to their will, but it’s not ever truly theirs. The sovereignty of flame is a dynasty everlasting. It may rise, it may fall, but it can’t ever be truly extinguished.

You’re sent flying back with enough power that the air is forced from your lungs. It’s as if an Aeon’s hand had pushed your body aside, dragging you to the edge of the universe. You’re released from the scorching maw and into an icy nothingness.

The planet itself is frozen for a time.

There’s no strength in your body. Your system has been injected with pure, raw adrenaline, causing your limbs to shake and ignore your commands. Your ears are ringing and your eyesight is blurry. Tears cleanse the pollutants from your eyes. A dark swath covers your body, its weight hindering your feeble attempts to move. Determination alone wills you to emerge from this shadowy cocoon.

The ringing fades and all is quiet, save for the crackling of fire.

Then the screaming begins.

You try identifying the source. You think you may have found it, then it starts elsewhere, a different pitch, a different soul lot in lament. Bloodcurdling shrieks rise alongside the thick smoke. You’re being a stretch of buildings that loom imposingly, obsidian spires reaching up to the night sky. The masonry required to maintain their reign basks in the flames. The unusual surplus of light unveils its secrets, from the cracks in the stone to the faded graffiti bored kids left behind.

The ground is uneven, unlike the glossy pavement found in the entertainment district. This dull, grayish-blue soil with the consistency of fine powder exhibits the true nature of Eris’ untreated exterior. It’s cool to the touch and takes pleasure at the chance to stain your fine clothes.

Your wandering mind is brought back upon hearing a sputter nearby. You’re not sure where you are, what you’re doing, or why you’re doing it; but you remember you weren’t alone.

“Blade…” The name comes out as a croak. “Where…?”

You can’t call out to him, it’s like cotton has been stuffed down your esophagus.

There’s movement in the corner of your eye.

You make the mistake of trying to stand. Your arms might’ve begun to heed your commands, but your legs do not. The worst insurrectionists are your ankles. The instant you try putting any weight on them, they collapse as if you were a newborn doe. Recognizing this strategy’s incompetence, you drag yourself over to where you saw movement instead. The coarse ground rubs at and scratches your skin.

Upon closer inspection, your heart stops.

The dark swath — that’s Blade.

He’s in a far worse state than you. His entire backside has been scorched, displaying angry red blisters and split skin just barely hanging on. His right arm is bent in an awkward position, most certainly broken. Then there’s his left arm, or lack of it. Clumps of limp sinew hang where his arm should be joined to his shoulder joint. The force of the impact must’ve blown it off or eviscerated it entirely.

He’s lying on his side, facing away from you. A pool of blood forms beneath him, mixing with the soil. The coupling results in a sickly mauve that creeps and seeps inch by inch.

The fire… it’s coming from the guides, you realize. The cabin has been torn to pieces!

This begs the question: how are you alive?

You should be covered in burns at the very least. Some of your clothes got charred, you think a rib or two might be broken, but you’re living and breathing. There’s a gap in your memory where the previous events should be. You try recalling whatever you can, no matter how seemingly insignificant. You were moved aside as the roaring got louder, and then there was the sound of glass shattering, heat to cold…

Blade must have intervened. Did he use the few seconds before the fire caught up to break the window and toss you out? That can’t be right; you’d have glass entrenched in your skin and burns on whichever side faced the explosion. Surely, with his inhuman reflexes, he could’ve come out relatively unscathed.

Unless he chose to shield you.

You don’t think, you just act. First, by tearing the hem of your long skirt, then second, pressing it against the gaping wound where his shoulder abruptly ends. Gushes of crimson spill through your first makeshift bandage. You throw it aside, rip at your garments again, repeating the process in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. A Stellaron Hunter must have a robust constitution, right? He was able to act faster than you could think. He can survive this — you just need to stop the bleeding until you can get help. Kafka has to have connections with advanced medical factions.

Tears stream down your face and you sniffle relentlessly. Your hands are caked in soot and blood, the scent of burnt skin and metal clings to your nostrils. Is he going to die? Is he already dead? You can’t bring yourself to check his pulse. How could he be willing to die for you in the short period of time you’ve known one another? He could’ve concocted any excuse for why he failed Kafka’s assignment, you’re certain he’s more indispensable to their cause than you are.

Blade stirs.

You think that it’s your imagination playing tricks on you. A cruel joke to remind you that you make your living off shaping reality for others, temporarily giving them what they want at the price of never truly having it.

Or so is your conviction until he moves again.

You’ve heard of muscles twitching after death to give the false impression of life. However, you’ve never witnessed the phenomenon yourself. Is this how it works? It isn’t sporadic, his right arm is sweeping over the ground, fingers flexing. Much to your astonishment, he pushes himself up with the arm that was contorted into a horrible shape a minute ago. The pain he’s experiencing must be excruciating and yet he merely grunts as he shifts into a sitting position.

“Stop moving,” you rasp out. With your most recent bandage in hand, you go to apply pressure to the left arm socket.

He responds to your fervent desperation in a low, gravelly voice.

“Don’t bother.”

Don’t bother? Is he in a coherent state of mind? If you don’t attend to his gushing wound, he’s at risk of bleeding out. You prepare to ignore his utterance when a strange sight freezes you in place.

A white structure emerges from his raw, mangled arm socket, descending like water pouring from a pitcher. It solidifies and takes the shape of a humerus. Once finished, it goes on to create the radius and ulna. Next are the carpals, metacarpals, then phalanges. Tendons join them together, fibrous muscles envelop the bones. Finally, in the blink of an eye, fresh layers of skin build atop one another in sheets. He clenches and unclenches his newly formed hand.

If defying death is a sin, he is laden in iniquity.

“What hurts?” Blade asks.

You’re too aghast to respond. His body just stitched itself back together without any medical treatment or esoteric healing techniques. Is it possible you’re hallucinating? Can a visual hallucination be this vivid?

He reaches out. Seconds prior to his hand coming into contact with your bare skin, you furiously shake your head, flailing backward and narrowingly avoiding him. His eyes bore down on you like molten magma. He retracts his hand after a drawn-out pause.

“If you can’t speak, point instead.”

Dazedly, you follow his instructions, focusing primarily on your ankles. They’ve swollen since you last checked. The flesh is tender and puffy.

“I’ll carry you,” he says. “Stay still.”

“Wait,” you manage to wheeze out. “This area… residential… have to help…!”

A coughing spell cuts your hoarse plea short.

“That explosion was meant for you. Whoever set it off will want to ensure their job’s success.”

Blade reaches out for you again. You duck to avoid his grasp, despite the pain throbbing in your chest cavity from the hasty movement. The adrenaline must be fading if your brain is doing inventory on the damage you’ve sustained, rather than focusing on survival. Hot waves test your resolution. You grit your teeth. If you make a show of your pain, he’s not going to change his decision.

He speaks your name in a low, warning tone.

Adamant in your refusal, you point to where the cries for help are the loudest.

“It’s not my priority,” he says.

He easily grabs you on his third try and you yelp. The sluggishness of his previous attempts must've been out of consideration for you. His right arm interlocks behind your knees while the left supports your back. You thrash to no avail, his grip remains ironclad. Your struggles amount to nothing but perspiration clinging to your skin and more aches.

The nearest medical unit to this street is at least thirty minutes away, now that the guides are out of order, you think. That isn’t fast enough…! Every second counts!

In your panic, a sacred vow made decades ago is desecrated.

You cup Blade’s face in your shaky hands and stare him straight in the eye.

The previously formed shards come into focus.

It’s monumental, this psyche you’ve barged into without permission. A violation of another’s autonomy. You know this, you condemn yourself for it, yet you press on nevertheless. The previously unknowable architecture that hulks over you is of Xianzhou design. It’s pieced together by bricks as infinite as the stars in the universe, though there is no magnificent shine, only matte stonework.

This structure… is it a garrison? You wonder. Was Blade a member of the… what’s the name of their military again… Cloud Knights?

You’ve had Cloud Knight clients before. Their psyches take the likeness of their favorite, scenic expanse on the Hexafleet, the area that they cared for enough to risk their life. The skies would be blue, clouds fluffy and prolific. A sense of duty and patriotism felt palpable. Occasionally, you’d be made privy to grief’s scent carried on a breeze, perhaps from a loved one’s passing or comrade’s untimely death in battle.

This is a riddle you need to solve swiftly. With a little tampering, you can form a link. It’s immoral, a blight to your personal code, but you’ll leverage enough influence for Blade to stay and help any survivors until help arrives. Whatever consequences arise can be dealt with later.

Even with the heightened mental sensitivity from making direct physical contact, this is proving a challenge. You can see his psyche but you can’t interact with it. It’s like running your hands through vapor. For you to successfully exert enough influence to change a decision he’s dead set on, you’ll need to go deeper. Inside this fortress sits the recesses of his mind, the bottom of an ocean you’re merely skimming the surface of. The intrusion’s necessity twists your gut as if your intenses were being kneaded.

Your incorporeal form flutters to the gates, standing solitary against a leaden backdrop.

The closer you get, you become increasingly aware of a malicious entity permeating behind the doors which strain to contain it. This is the same harrowing presence you felt when he protected you from Alister. Now that you’ve spent more time with Blade, you can discern its essence is different from his, although they’re forcibly intertwined like a rope. Blade emanates this unremittingly morose energy. It’s bleak, unconcentrated.

This substance oozes a need to satiate bottomless bloodlust. It wants to sink its teeth into flesh, lacerate muscles, and slice through bone. Mayhem and viscera are its highest raison d'être. There’s no sensibility, no reasoning with it, it acts in one way then shifts on a whim; chaos inside a splintering bottle.

How is Blade capable of functioning with this slumbering beast ready to wreak havoc at any second?

Steeling your resolve, you prepare to enter.

A seal halts your progress.

Impatience urges you to dispel it. Blade’s psyche is rejecting you, any further delays will give it ample opportunity to flush you out.

The kaleidoscopic seal thrums and wards off your efforts.

Someone put this here, you discern. It’s deliberate.

What perplexes you is that the seal prohibits entry yet does nothing to contain the miasma writhing behind it. Wouldn’t whoever created it intend to keep that salivating beast at bay? It’s well-crafted too, denying your every attempt to eliminate it. Kafka dabbles in mind-altering. Could she have left this here? You know what her aura feels like — calm, confident, cunning — this seal radiates none of her trademarks.

An invisible force hauls you back.

You took too long — Blade’s psyche is expelling the foreign invader.

You blink and you’re back in reality.

Blade is grimacing, the lines on his face highlighted by flickering flame. There’s a pallor to his complexion brought on by the aggressive expulsion his mind pulled off. An act such as that leeches off of one’s vitality. He takes a moment to recompose himself, as do you. Any subsequent attempts to form a link are going to be wrung from a desiccated source. You don’t know how many attempts you have left in you,

“A first offense, I could pardon,” Blade pants out, blood-red hues shining, “A recidivist like yourself, though… can’t go undisciplined.”

Your eyes widen. How did he know your intentions so quickly? You hadn’t so much as moved yet!

There’s a dull discomfort blooming from your nape.

Your eyelids feel heavy and your breathing slows. Black spots float around in your vision. They start small, appearing as if they were polka dots, then grow to be the size of black holes. Your muscles won’t move. The unconscious realm beckons. Its gravitational pull is irresistible, a tide you can’t swim against.

What is this? Your neck… did he strike a nerve…?

“You’ll be fine,” a distant, sonorous voice promises. “Just sleep.”

The sentence has been delivered.

You’re made prisoner to a dreamless slumber.

#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #nexus #my stuff

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tangledinink · 1 year

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Chapter Thirteen of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up! The gang journeys through the Hidden City to investigate the Battle Nexus. They journey through and investigate old memories on the way. Read it on ao3 or below the cut!

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"BARON DRAXUM!"

Everyone in the room winced, including Baron Draxum, who awoke with a start, sitting stark upright and snarling in response as he swayed.

"Jeez, Recruit... Love the enthusiasm, but tone it down a bit, maybe," Lieutenant bit out, rubbing his ears, still reeling from the volume of her wake-up call. Casey flushed just the tiniest bit.

"My apologies, sensei!" She cried, immediately falling into a bow, but privately she thought to herself it worked, didn't it? Nothing else that they had tried had even begun to stir the yokai, who they had found tied up and in an unconscious heap inside his own underground lab. They had arrived expecting to help transport the Hamato children to their main hideout, certain they would be, of course, apprehended neatly by Draxum by now... but evidently this was not the case.

"What in the world happened?" The Lieutenant voiced Casey's own thoughts aloud, holding his hands out exasperatedly. "You said you were going to get the Hamatos."

"Yes, well, things were a bit more complicated than I anticipated..." Draxum hissed, gritting his teeth.

"You said you could handle them on your own! We offered to send you back-up, but you didn't want to wait! Surely four children didn't overpower you--"

"They did not overpower me," Draxum snapped, turning to snarl as he dragged himself back up to his feet. "Some damned witch placed a protection spell on them," he seethed, absolutely bristling. "I can't touch them..." He grit his teeth. "... I will simply have to account for this in the future..."

Lieutenant and Brute seemed somewhat unimpressed, Cassandra noted, glancing at them from the corners of her eyes as the two exchanged looks.

"Yes, well," Lieutenant mused, his hands on his hips. "I'm sure there will be other opportunities to kidnap children in the future. However, the Dark Armor remains our priority. Come on. We've wasted enough time here, and we have a new lead to investigate..."

"Don't worry. You'll get 'em next time," Brute tried to encourage, patting Draxum's shoulders, to which he snarled and batted his hands away, grumbling to himself as he stalked off after them, discussing as they went.

Cassandra sighed softly, rolling her shoulders back and forth a few times before she trailed after her three superiors.

Yes.... The Dark Armor was the priority.

---

The collective shriek of their group was cut off by a loud thud, immediately followed by a chorus of groans. Okay, so, travel by teleportation was... a little disorientating. The fact that most of them currently sucked at staying on their own two damn feet didn't help matters. Some more than others.

"Sorry!" Raph immediately bit out, wriggling from atop the heap, an awkward chuckle escaping him.

"Raph, my wonderful brother," Leo grit out. "You know I love you dearly. But I'm really gonna need you to stop knocking us all over like bowling pins."

"Well, look, you try walkin' around with a giant tail you ain't used to! It's not as easy as it looks!" He defended, throwing his hands up. "I'm doin' my best over here!"

"Whoa!" Mikey effectively ended their squabble with his gasp, sitting up quickly in order to give a wild gesture. "Guys, look!"

And damn. Whoa was right.

Raph was a New Yorker, so he wasn't easy to impress. He wasn't immediately awed by big, sprawling cityscapes or towering skyscrapers, but this place was... something else. It looked somewhere between an actual city and some sort of mystic ruin, residing as 'neither' and 'both' all at the same time. The buildings themselves seemed to grow from the stone landscape, curving and sliding to match the terrain. Glowing mushrooms, crystals, and occasionally the eyes of massive statues provided brightly colored lighting, leaving the various neon signs and backlit advertisements of the city seeming pale in comparison. Street vendors, kiosks, and tents lined the bustling streets, and each and every creature making up the massive crowds was something completely alien that Raph had never seen nor imagined before. Yokai, he thought to himself. That's what April said they were called.

Rather than sharp, straight lines and confident corners, this place seemed built from jagged outlines and curving bends, looping and winding around itself as if the entire city were hanging on, clinging to itself, holding hands, nestled in between the hulking forms of unmoving stone creatures that Raph was unsure how to categorize. He didn't feel confident saying that they weren't alive after the day they had had, despite their frozen forms and their dead, unseeing eyes.

"This must be the Hidden City," Mikey said, and Leo let out a low whistle as the five of them took in the view.

"Good job, little guy. Knew you could get us here," April hummed, giving the little yellow creature they had rescued a squeeze. His tail wagged wildly in reply, snuggling up in her embrace.

"Alright, now we just gotta get to the Battle Nexus from here," Leo said with a sigh, shifting his weight onto one leg, hand on his hip as he glanced over at the yellow critter. "Any idea where that is?"

The creature chirred in response, nodding excitedly and scrambling down from April's arms in order to lead the way. Leo grinned.

"Okay, I take back all my earlier doubts and hesitations. Bringing this guy with us was a great idea," Leo declared as the group set off.

Though the acquisition of weapons, all tucked or stowed away in backpacks or belt loops or pockets, had helped a bit, Raph had still been, admittedly, pretty nervous about entering the city, a pool of anxiety swirling around in his gut. Given the day they had had so far, he couldn't help but imagine a hoard of devious yokai dogpiling him and his siblings the moment they set foot into unknown territory. But, to his quiet surprise, no one spared them even a second glance, all seeming far too occupied with their own errands and lives to glance over at their ragtag group.

Somehow, this made Raph feel a bit better. For several reasons. He supposed that, at the very least, they didn't seem to be freaks here.

"Don't worry, Dad, we're on our way," Mikey chirped, and despite his current relief, Raph still couldn't quite understand how his little brother could be so cheerful. Mikey always amazed him with his emotional resilience. Wished he had some of that.

"Eugh, is he even gonna recognize us when we get there?" Leo said with a wince, wrinkling up his face a bit. "We look, uh... a little different than when he last saw us."

"I'm pretty sure he knows, Leo," Donnie remarked. "He's the one who put the bracelets on us in the first place. He knows."

Raph glanced dimly down at the little golden bracelet still encircling his wrist, the red gem now seeming a bit duller somehow, and he frowned. So this little trinket was mystic all along, huh? Now that he knew, it seemed stupidly obvious. He wondered anxiously if they still worked anymore, or if they were broken forever.

"No wonder he didn't want us to take these things off," Leo muttered, looking over his own, holding his arm up to examine it. "Jeez. I can't believe he kept this a secret from us. How did we not know?"

Mikey gave a thoughtful hum. "Do you guys remember when we were really little? Before we moved? And we used to pretend we were turtles all the time?"

"Somehow I don't think that was pretend, Mikey," Donnie said with a roll of his eyes.

"That's what I'm saying!" Mikey insisted. "But you guys do remember that, right? I just... I always thought that that was just us playing a game or something, but it must have been real! So we knew at some point!"

"And then we forgot..." Donnie mumbled, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully, already obviously doing calculations in his head.

"You guys were pretty weird when you first moved here," April remarked.

"Oh come on. How do you just forget that you're a turtle?" Leo argued, glancing over his shoulder at the others. "That seems like the kind of thing that'd stick with you."

"I dunno," Mikey shrugged. "But obviously we did!"

"You're not implyin' that Dad did somethin', are ya?" Raph questioned, narrowing his eyes, and Leo immediately huffed.

"No! Of course not!" He frowned. "It's just... I dunno. It's weird, is all. It's crazy to think about how much stuff that we just... forgot."

"Well, what do you remember?" Donnie nudged. "Like, from before the move."

"Not much," Leo admitted, scrunching up his nose. "Everything from back then is fuzzy. I don't even know where we moved from."

"I think..." Donnie hesitated a moment. "I think we moved from there."

"Where. The Hidden City?" Mikey questioned.

"No, no, back there. I mean. The sewer we were in before," Donnie pressed. "Didn't it seem... kind of familiar to you guys?"

"Well..." Raph frowned.

"Mikey! Wait!" Raph laughed, stumbling as he chased after his littlest brother. He still didn't walk with a terrible amount of grace, but he crawled like a madman, and Raph took great joy in chasing him around. Mikey did, too, giggling maniacally as he attempted to dodge the other.

Raph could feel, reaching back into the memory, that the bottoms of his feet were cold. The ground was hard beneath them, like stone. Like concrete. He remembered worrying about Mikey's knees. And, thinking back on it now, he swore he could almost hear the sound of running water in the background.

"I go’chyu!" Raph declared, grabbing Mikey, who squealed in response, wriggling against him.

Everything from back then was blurred; cobbled together like pieces of glass glued into a mosaic, appearing in his mind’s eye as a series of blotted, wrinkled images. Were they turtles or people back then? He wasn't sure. Where were they?

"I remember it was dark..." He said. "And cold a lot. The ground was stone or somethin.’"

"I remember that, too!" Mikey gasped.

"Whoa, wait!" Mikey squirmed his way out of Raph's arms again, attempting an escape, and a flare of panic flashed through him for a moment. He dove for Mikey for real this time, not playing anymore, grabbing his brother before he could get too far.

"We can't go that way, Mikey. Daddy said 's not safe yet," he explained when his brother whined in complaint, hoisting him back the way they came, his footsteps clumsy while trying to drag his brother along. "We gotta stay in these tunnels."

"And... I think I remember there being… tunnels," he continued. "Or somethin' like that. It was really big, wherever we were, but we could only go into certain places. And the rest was off-limits, ‘cause Dad said he hadn’t checked them all to make sure they were okay yet. I remember keepin' Mikey from wanderin' off."

"I remember tunnels!" Mikey exclaimed. "I remember yelling into them when we were little and listening to them echo. I remember doing it until Leo made me stop!"

"I don't remember that," Leo protested, crossing his arms.

"You did!" Mikey insisted. "You said I had to play something else because it was bothering Donnie."

"That would be in character for you," April remarked with a tiny grin.

"Sounds like sewers to me," Donnie said with a shrug.

"Maybe," Leo conceded. "But why the hell would Dad keep us in the sewers?"

"There’s probably limited options when your kids are literally part-turtle," Raph reasoned with a grumble.

"Yeah, but abandoned sewers?" Leo pressed. "Come on. Was that really the only choice? Couldn't he have just... kept us inside or something?"

"I don't think so," Donnie said, frowning a bit, shaking his head. Leo sighed.

"Why not?"

"Leo, Dad has one of these bracelets, too," Donnie said. "Remember?"

---

The rest of their journey through the Hidden City went about the same way. One of the boys would bring up some old memory, and they'd discuss for a while, before the conversation would peter out and they'd walk in silence for a bit before the cycle started all over again. April pointed out that they had all regularly chirped and clicked and made other odd noises when she had first met them, but eventually, they grew out of it (mostly.) Raph discussed his memories of watching his younger brothers when they were very little, waiting somewhere dark and quiet for their dad to get back from wherever he was going. Donnie and Leo both remembered sleeping together as toddlers, somewhere very small and curled up, like a nest of some kind, both agreeing that it didn't quite seem like a crib or a bed. Mikey mentioned how many times he got in trouble for painting or drawing on walls when they first moved into the apartment, and how much it had upset and confused him in the beginning-- was that because their dad hadn't bothered to correct the behavior when they lived in the sewers?

"When we first started swim team," Donnie mused, tilting his head back to stare up at the sky. "I remember sometimes, we would have contests with the other kids to see how long we could hold our breaths."

"I remember that," Leo agreed. "And we'd always win!"

"Yes, but..." Donnie hummed. "I think we probably could have won by a lot more if we wanted."

"What do you mean?" Raph questioned.

"Well," Donnie explained. "I recall, or, at least, I think I do, that… that when we first started partaking in those contests, it was... it was easy. Everyone else would have already come up to breathe, but I'd feel completely fine. I'd only come up because I had won and the contest was over. But after a while, people started being weird about it," he frowned. "To be fair, people were weird about a lot of things I did. And I will admit I didn’t always catch on, but I noticed this one,” he said, laughing dryly and giving a wave of his hands. “And at the time, I just wrote it off as one of many! Just another thing that I did that made me different from my peers. But I started coming up earlier so I'd be more... normal," he confessed. "And I'd pretend like I was out of breath when I wasn't, so people would stop looking at me like that. Or, well. People stopped looking at me like that for that particular reason. And I guess eventually I just... I got so used to pretending that it just became second nature, and I didn’t even realize I was pretending anymore."

Leo nodded slowly, looking thoughtful, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds… that sounds right, actually…”

"I remember thinking the same thing!" Raph exclaimed, his eyes wide at the realization. "Except I felt bad that all the other kids kept losin' so bad! I started pretendin' 'cause I didn't want everyone else to get discouraged, and I just did it for so long...!"

"But you're the best swimmer, Dee," Leo remarked, nudging his twin slightly with a tiny smile. "So I wouldn't be surprised if you can hold your breath the longest, too. I mean, christ, you literally have webbed fingers now."

April glanced down at her brother’s hands, noting quietly to herself that it was true. If she was being totally honest with herself, it was a bit alien to look at, so she drew her eyes back away after a moment.

"That does make sense," April hummed. "And it'd explain why you guys are so good at swim meets and stuff, too."

The other three paused, and Leo frowned a bit. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean. If you're turtles, then... obviously you're gonna be good at swimming," she reasoned with a shrug. "It makes sense. Of course you’re gonna win!"

"Mikey doesn't swim," Donnie pointed out.

"Maybe he's a different kind of turtle who doesn't swim?"

"A terrestrial turtle..." Donnie hummed, resting his chin in his hand, brows furrowed. "Maybe a box turtle or something..."

"You think I'm a box turtle?!" Mikey gasped, his eyes lighting up.

"But obviously the rest of you would be good at swimming if you're, like, aquatic," she continued. "So I'm not surprised you all always kicked so much butt at swim meets and stuff!"

"... Yeah. I guess so," Raph said, but he seemed kind of... dejected, almost. Like he was upset. The conversation shifted shortly after, focus shifting to Mikey’s new identity as a box turtle, but April's mind lingered.

Why did she feel like she had just said something wrong?

---

“This is the Battle Nexus?!"

Raph gawked slightly, suddenly feeling a lot less confident. He could feel the various winces and mumbles around him. "It's a goddamn fortress! We're never gettin' in there!"

"Oh, come on. What were you expecting? To just walk in?" Leo scoffed. "It's not that bad!"

"Not that bad?!" Raph squawked, turning to gesture wildly to the massive walls, the towering, heavily guarded entrances, the watch towers perched on nearly every corner... Christ, was that a blimp overhead!? "Are you crazy?! There’s no way!!!"

"Well, not with that attitude," Leo said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah! We're basically ninjas, Raph, we got this!" Mikey cheered, ever optimistic.

"We’re not ninjas, Mikey. And there's no way in hell we're sneakin' in there. You two are out of your mind," Raph said with a scowl.

"We don't gotta sneak!" Leo insisted, waving away the other's concerns. "Don't worry! I'll talk us in there, no problem! Leon's got this. I'm an actor, remember? I just gotta charisma our way past one of those guards."

"You wanna talk your way in?" April questioned, raising a brow. "Leo, are you sure about this?"

"Of course I'm sure! This'll be a piece of cake. C'mon-- watch and be amazed!"

They were not amazed.

"Seriously, Leo?" Raph hissed, no more than five minutes later, the group slinking back into the same alley they had started from with a few new bumps and bruises and their metaphorical (literal?) tails between their legs. "Caravaggio? The awards show host? From the Bloodsporties?"

"I thought it'd work!" Leo cried, throwing up his hands. "Everyone likes to be flattered! People love it when you bring them awards!"

"Why do you need four assistants to drop off an award?" Donnie hissed.

"It's a very important award!" Leo insisted.

"That no one's ever heard of?!"

"Yet," Leo huffed. "Okay, look, it's fine. Leon's still got this. We just gotta switch over to plan B."

"Plan B had better not be at all similar to Plan A," Raph said, crossing his arms. "Or involve any of us being strong-armed off the premises by a massive yokai guard!"

"It won't, it won't, I promise!" Leo assured, getting to his feet again. "Okay. Watch and be amazed! Again!"

Leo shook out his limbs, straightening his posture, rolling his shoulders back, and setting his feet apart. And then, for just a moment, he was completely still. His chest didn't even twitch with a single breath. All at once, he inhaled sharply--

... And nothing happened.

"Wow. Amazing," Donnie said dryly.

"Well, just, gimme a minute! You're breaking my concentration!" Leo snapped, repeating the motion-- and then again, and then a few more times, until he was basically flailing in place, repeatedly thrashing in the same spot. "Come-- ON! Work already!"

"Leo, what the hell are you doin'?" Raph sighed. Leo groaned loudly in frustration.

"I am trying to use my mystic teleportation powers! Obviously!"

"Your what?" Donnie scoffed.

"I'm sorry, you mean the weird mystic things that we've been doin' completely against our will for the past two weeks and have absolutely zero control over? That one?" Raph grit out.

"Well, I'm starting to get the hang of the pattern..." Leo muttered.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me!!!"

"Well, maybe he can really do it!" Mikey chipped in with a bit of tentative encouragement.

"So, let me get this straight," Donnie said, rubbing his temples. "You are trying to teleport all six of us inside of the Battle Nexus... using your mind. Is that correct?"

Leo scowled. He shuffled his feet at the dirt, his lower lip poked out.

"It could happen," he huffed.

"You're an idiot."

"Leo, there's no way this is ever gonna work! We barely even know anything about these powers!" Raph insisted. "What if it's dangerous?!"

"I'm getting the hang of it!" Leo repeated. "I could do it! And how would you know, anyway? You don't even have any powers yet!"

"Guys!" April yelled over the chaos, and the rest of the group paused to glance over.

Scowling, she gestured wildly to the little yellow yokai creature that had led him here.

Oh, right. The one who teleported.

There was a long beat of silence.

"Yeah, that's probably a better plan," Leo reluctantly conceded, though he was still pouting.

"Thank you," April said, scooping the yokai up, who purred and waved his tail, seemingly happy to help. "Okay, come on guys, huddle up. And try not to fall over this time!"

The whole group obeyed, scrunching up around each other and grabbing onto various hands and elbows to make sure everyone would make it to where they needed to go. But something Leo had said nagged at the edges of Raph's mind, gnawing at him even as a bright flash of cyan light overtook them, the world going out from under their feet as they teleported once again.

Why didn't he have any powers yet?

---

Donatello wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting the inside of the Battle Nexus to look like, but it wasn’t ‘literal sports stadium.’

Though they stumbled a bit, they all managed to keep their footing this time once they teleported inside the halls of the Battle Nexus, thankfully in a quiet, unoccupied corner just outside of a stairwell. Perhaps it had been naive of him, but he hadn’t expected the inside of this place to so closely resemble the inside of a modern football arena.

“Nice job, little guy,” April whispered to the little yellow yokai, who looked just a bit more tired than he had before, Donnie noted, panting softly. “We’ll take it from here. You rest,” she instructed gently, tucking the critter into her jacket.

“Anyone have any idea where we’re going?” Leo questioned, looking around suspiciously.

“No,” Raph admitted. “But everyone stick close. And… act casual. This place has gotta be crawling with yokai!” Donnie concurred; he could hear the roars of the crowd from here. “If we don’t call any attention to ourselves, we can just blend in. Dad has be around here somewhere.”

“You got it, bossman,” Leo hummed. “Come on. I think the main stadium is over there. Let’s check that out first and see what the deal is.”

Now, Donnie may be a theater kid, but he was not exactly an actor the way Leo was, (or claimed to be, anyway,) and so ‘acting casual’ was a bit of a demand. He was very focused on trying to make his body language ‘casual,’ in keeping his muscles untensed and his expression neutral, to the extent that he was not especially paying that much attention to their surroundings as the group trailed after Leo. He followed his siblings’ lead into the main seating area of the arena, adjusting the settings of his headphones slightly as they moved to join the edges of the crowd, hoping to keep out the excited screams of the fans.

As a result, he was a bit taken aback when he did look up to take in the scene of the ring below them.

And oh. Oh my god.

This really was fucking bloodsport, huh?

“Jesus christ--”

He was vaguely aware of Raph’s hand hurriedly slapping over Mikey’s eyes before he could get a good look at the scene not just in the battle ring below, but also projected onto the massive jumbotron, and the younger immediately gave a yelp of protest.

“Hey! Raph--”

“Mikey, I know that you don’t wanna be babied and you’re gonna complain, but I really need you to just trust your big brother on this one,” Raph hissed out, his voice tight. “Don’t. Look.”

April had her hands over her mouth, and Leo bristled, mumbling a few curses. Donnie really, really didn’t want to be watching this, but he couldn’t quite take his eyes away. There was a wet, crunching noise, so loud that they could hear it even from up here in the balconies (were they mic’ed up? Sweet baby Galileo--) and the entire party winced around him as the crowds roared in delight.

“What happened?!” Mikey cried from behind Raph’s hands.

“Donnie?” April said, glancing over at him.

He swallowed hard, his stomach flipping. No, no, no. Come on. Keep it together, Vomitello. Not the time, not the place, not at all casual…!

Leo, to his credit, caught on pretty quickly, paling a bit at the realization and jumping forward to bodily whip Donnie away from the scene, beginning to herd the group away.

“Okay, well, Dad’s definitely not down there!” He bit out with a nervous laugh. “Thank fucking god… Look. Obviously, we’re up super high. Let’s find the stairs, start heading down, and see if we find anything on the way,” he said hurriedly, not slowing his pace until they were basically back out where they started, in the near-abandoned outside hallways.

“Sounds like a plan,” Raph said, finally releasing his grip on Mikey’s head. “Uh. Don…?”

“I’m good,” he squeaked out, leaning over slightly, his hands on his knees as he coughed a few times. “All good, no problem…! Just… gimme a second…!”

“Donald,” Leo said through gritted teeth, clapping his hands together decisively. “I am literally begging you not to puke right now.”

“I am doing my best, thank you!” Donnie snapped in response, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh my god, why was it so lumpy? It looked like cottage cheese!”

“What are you doing!? Stop thinking about it!” Leo cried.

“Think about something else instead! Like… the periodic table! You love that thing,” Mikey suggested brightly. “Like, uhhh, what’s the symbol for chlorine?”

“C-L,” Donnie bit out, flapping his hands a bit and letting out a slow breath through a clenched jaw. “Come on, Mikey, that’s way too easy.”

“Okay, uhhm, what’s the atomic number for iodine?”

“Fifty-three.”

“Yeah! And what’s the atomic mass of titanium?”

“Forty-seven-point-eight-six-seven.”

“Yep! And uranium?”

“Oh, uranium, my beloved, my white whale…! Two-hundred and thirty-eight-point-zero-two-eight-nine.”

“AHHH!” Mikey imitated a buzzer. “Wrong!”

Donnie’s head snapped up. “What?!”

“Just kidding!” Mikey chirped happily. “I don’t actually know the answer. You’re probably right.”

“Oh, you evil genius,” Donnie said, shaking his head. “I’m never helping you study for science class ever again.”

“Pshhhh, yeah you will. Plus you feel better now, don’t you?” Mikey pressed, grinning wide.

“Yes, okay, fine. I owe you one,” Donnie sighed deeply, offering just the smallest of smiles and rubbing the other’s head as though tousling hair, (not that he had any anymore. Ugh, don’t think about that, either,) eliciting a giggle from the other. At least the nausea had backed off now. “Okay. Come on. Leo’s right, shockingly enough. Let’s head downstairs and see if we can find anything.”

“Oh thank god,” Leo whispered, yanking the door to the stairwell open and gesturing to his siblings. “Okay, c’mon, let’s go! Vamanos!”

The trip down through the Battle Nexus was long and boring, but admittedly, calming. Donnie had always been a fan of repetitive actions, and so far, every new floor they investigated they found much of the same, not uncovering much save for more seating for screaming, cheering yokai along with the occasional food court or souvenir stand. Any guards they found they made sure to steer clear of, slowly working their way down through the stadium.

“This is going nowhere,” Raph hissed softly, leaning into Leo as they did a lap through yet another floor of stadium seating. Quite frankly, Donnie was beginning to wonder if all these floors were exactly the same. “Where the heck do you think they’re keepin’ Dad?”

“I don’t know! How would I know?” Leo questioned, bristling a bit.

“This was your plan!”

“Yeah, ‘cause no one else had a plan!” He bit back, scowling. “Look, we’ve just gotta… uh… we’ve gotta…” He looked around for a moment, floundering for just a second before he lit up, pointing.

“We’ve just gotta follow one of those guys!”

Everyone glanced over, and April frowned a bit.

“Follow one of the guards?”

“Yeah!” Leo nodded excitedly. “Look, if anyone’s gonna know how to get into the secret, spooky parts of the Nexus, it’ll be an employee! There’s no way Dad’s just in the stands somewhere or in any of the other public bits of this place. And we’re just walking in circles.” He said with a roll of his wrist. “But I bet if we tail one of those dudes, they’ll lead us straight to him! We just gotta be sneaky.”

“He does have a pretty good point,” Mikey reasoned.

“I dunno. It seems kinda dangerous,” April said, raising a brow.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any other ideas…” Raph said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The three of them glanced over at Donnie, and he sighed, tilting his head back and forth for a moment to do some rapid calculations.

“I do agree that the risk associated with this plan of action is… significant,” he said, frowning a bit. “Butttttt… just wandering around aimlessly isn’t going to get us anywhere. Following someone has a much higher probability of success.”

“That sounds good enough to me!” Raph said, giving a nod. “Alright. Let’s do this then. Everyone’s just gotta be ninja-level sneaky. Got it?”

“Got it,” the group agreed, giving a nod.

Would this go horribly wrong? Only one way to find out.

Finding their target was easy enough. This place was crawling with guards, quite frankly, they just had to pick one. After rejecting the first few targets, as they were all rather beefy, they settled on a slightly smaller, less-deadly-looking Nexus employee to follow.

“Okay,” Leo said. “We’ve just gotta tail him for a while and see where he goes. Everyone stick close, and be quiet.”

“Obviously! You don’t have to tell us to be quiet!” Donnie hissed back.

“Both of you shut up!” Raph whispered. “Look, come on, pay attention! He’s on the move. Mad Dogz, roll out! We can’t lose this guy.”

Donnie huffed and grumbled a bit, resisting the urge to hipcheck Leo as the group began picking their way through the halls, taking care to stick to the shadows. At first, Donnie thought that this was just another waste of their time, and they would end up doing even more laps around the stadium. He dared to get his hopes up, however, when the fox-like yokai paused in front of an unassuming wall. It looked about the same as any other portion of wall in this place, but once the Yokai placed his hand (paw?) to it, it lit up white, and suddenly, there was a door that wasn’t there before.

“Whoa! Lookit that!” Mikey gasped.

“We’re all already looking at it, Mikey, be quiet,” Donnie hissed.

“What’d Raph say!? Shut it! And come on! Quick and quiet, before the door closes!” Raph whispered with a hurried wave of his arm, and the five took off, closing the gap between themselves and the guard in order to slip inside the secret panel, quiet as ninjas-- just like Dad taught them. Even April was surprisingly quiet, and Donnie was privately impressed. It took them years of lessons with their dad (and ill-advised shenanigans that they wished not to face consequences for,) to get this good at sneaking.

All five of them made it in, and the guard was already halfway down the hall by the time they joined them, seemingly none the wiser. Donnie didn’t make a sound, but silently, he fucking whooped and cheered. Yes!!! He had been really fifty-fifty on whether or not this was going to work out.

At the end of the hall, the fox guard clicked a button on the wall, and about five seconds later, the wall opened up like an elevator.

The elevator had about eight other yokai inside. These yokai did not have their backs on them.

“HEY!” One of them immediately shouted, pointing at their group, as they had not yet managed to find a proper hiding space in the long, but sparse hallway. Every single other yokai snapped around to look at them. “What’re you doing in here!? This is employees only!”

Fuck.

“Uhhh…” A pained smile spread on Leo’s face. “We’re looking for the bathroom?”

“Sure,” the fox scoffed, turning to face them properly now, beginning to make his way back down the short hall to meet them. “Alright, lemme see your tickets. I’ll escort you back to your seats.”

“Our tickets? Uhhh… Sure…” Raph spluttered for a moment, laughing nervously. “Let’s see, uh, where did we put--”

April yanked her club from her backpack and promptly slammed it into the yokai’s head with a loud thunk.

“APRIL!” Raph screamed, jumping in surprise. “What the hell!?”

“Well, there’s nowhere to run!” She shouted in response, and, ah, welp, there she went. Full charge ahead, then? “Come on, we gotta get into that elevator!”

Donnie sighed deeply. Well, he had predicted fifty-fifty.

He set his jaw, rolling his shoulders a few times before whipping his bo staff from his back. “Alright, well. Here we go.”

“COWABUNGA!” Raph shouted as he charged forward, and Donnie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They were gonna have to work on battle formations and plans later.

But he was prepared this time. He wasn’t gonna freeze up and back down.

Yes, this was a fight. An actual, for real fight, which he had never been in before! But he hadn’t trained for nothing.

He got this. They’d be fine. They got this.

Leo laughed, sliding forward with quick, practiced ease, his odachi flashing forward to smack the blunt of the blade against the ankles of the nearest yokai and send them tumbling to the ground while he darted past them. April was right on his tail, beaning anyone who got too close and following her younger brother’s lead. “Come on, guys, keep up!”

“Right behind yah!” Mikey cheered, both him and Raph rushing forward at a matching pace. Despite the size difference, the two easily kept up with one another. Where Raph elbowed his opponents out of the way, clearing himself a path by bodily throwing their enemies to the side, Mikey darted and danced his way around them, a zig-zagged ballet to Raph’s straight, unyielding path. He whooped loudly as he went, always just out of reach with each step.

“Hot Soup!” Donnie noted their eldest brother howled out another battle cry (wasn’t that copyrighted?) Mikey’s kusari-fundo whipped about to fling him forward, tackling the largest of the guards to the ground and sending them both tumbling down the hall.

Like… Both of them tumbling.

Also, Mikey was in the mix too, still attached by the chains of his kusari-fundo.

Well, at least it was still forward momentum!

Donnie inhaled deeply, his muscles coiling.

Couldn’t get left behind.

He darted down the hallway, jumping over and dodging around anyone already on the ground. At one point, a hand flashed out, grabbing at his ankle, and Donnie bit out a series of curses. He wrenched himself out of their grip, stumbling slightly, and nearly ran straight into one of the other (quite large) yokai in the hallway. A rapid equation darted through his head, however, and he just barely managed to correct his footing at the last second, turning sharply on his heel to transfer the momentum into his staff. The weapon curled around to slam into the guard with a heavy, satisfying thawk, sending them sprawling to the ground, and the entire hallway shuddered at the impact.

Well, that was a close one. He hopped over their fallen form and surged ahead, reaching down to grab Mikey’s hand as he went, dragging both him and Raph to their feet behind him, “Come on!”

The two found their footing quickly with the assist, falling back into a sprint-- smacking and dodging enemies as they went with about a seventy-five-percent success rate. Jesus, had this hallway always been this long? It felt like it was taking a stupid amount of time to get to the other end of it! Out of the very corners of his eyes, Donnie just barely spotted one of the larger guards rising back up to their feet, lunging at him from behind-- only for a neon green club to come whipping out of nowhere at the very last second, colliding with the side of his assailant’s head and throwing him right back to the ground.

“Hey! Only I get to hit my little brothers!” April shrieked, her face set in a furious scowl. The guard, a huge, stocky, lion-like creature snarled in reply, lashing out with his legs to send her sprawling to the floor with a yelp.

“Oh, you did not just do that to our friend!” Mikey snapped, flashing forward to stand protectively in front of their sister, his kusari-fundo whizzing around them, filling the air with a barely-there whine. “Back off!”

He lashed out with the weapon, his arm whipping forward with the movement-- only to blink in surprise when physics failed to behave as expected. Which, uh, was pretty unusual for physics. Physics were typically pretty reliable. But the weight at the end of his weapon spun wildly in place, suspended in air for several long seconds, before it promptly lit up in a blazing flame.

“Ooh!” Mikey shrieked in delight. “Magic weapon! Guys, loo-- ACK!”

And there they were, Donnie thought dimly to himself.

The uncontrolled variables.

Donnie gasped, immediately ducking down and covering his head as his brother flew about the room like a deranged bird, still hanging onto his (seemingly demonic) mystic weapon. He all but pinballed off the walls, screaming the whole time. The lion just barely managed to leap out of the way before Mikey crashed into the wall, flopping down with a small squeak on impact, luckily seeming shaken but not injured.

“WHOA! Mikey! That was awesome!” Raph gaped, his eyes widening. “Dude, how did you do that?!”

“I dunno!” Mikey said, stumbling to his feet and kind of wavering a bit with dizziness. “I was just swinging my weapon around and it just-- did it!”

“Let me try!” Raph said, shaking his tonfas about like they were goddamn maracas. “Come on, magic weapon, magic weapon, magic weapon-- OOH!” He yelped in surprise as one of the remaining guards crashed into him, snarling as they all but whipped him from his feet. But Raph held his ground. “Okay, alright-- magic weapon tests later! Fight now!”

“Can’t wait to see what mine does!” Leo laughed as he leaped over the group, diving towards an oncoming yokai. He swung his blade forward, slicing through the air with a loud crackle of near-electric energy--

A bright blue circle of mystic energy promptly opened up beneath Leo, and he yelped in surprise as he went plunging downward.

And downward.

“Hm,” Donnie remarked. “I guess he can teleport.”

“GET! ME! OFF! THIS! RIDE!” Leo howled, flailing as he plummeted endlessly through the two parallel portals he had sliced through reality, one below his feet and the other up above his head, only picking up the pace the longer he fell.

Donnie sighed loudly. He was sure someone else would get him. Eventually. In the meantime, someone was gonna have to take care of the remaining yokai guards. Luckily, this one was suitably distracted by his twin brother’s infinite falling.

“And that’s why I like fighting the old-fashioned way,” Donnie hummed, slipping past the yokai’s side and into his blind spot, watching their eyes widen in surprise as he jabbed sharply at them with his bo staff. They were just barely able to dodge out of the way of Donnie’s attacks. “Though the portal does make for some quality entertainment, I must admit--”

They jumped out of Donnie’s range, swiping forward with a clawed arm, and Donnie’s body immediately, instinctively moved in response, his bo staff flashing upward to block the move and force them off-kilter. He hardly even had to think. His body already knew what to do when he needed it.

It’s just like a tournament. No different from a tournament. You’ve won thousands of fights. This is exactly the same thing. Just keep your head, do the math-- You’re good at this, remember?

Bouncing off the yokai’s arm, Donnie’s staff whipped back around to ricochet into the side of their head, earning him a frustrated and perhaps pained snarl in response. See? Donnie grinned, just for a second, ducking easily out of the way of the guard’s counterattack and leaping to the side, finding himself the space once more to adjust his stance and run rapid calculations. Numbers danced in front of his eyes, and he quickly zeroed in on the equation with the best probability of success, building his plan of action around that.

The yokai snarled, leaping after him-- exactly as he expected. Donnie’s entire body instantly snapped downward and out of their path in response, ducking away from their attack. At the same time, they pitched themselves to the left, whipping their bo staff around as they went to find their mark. The guard made a short, strangled noise of surprise as the weapon collided with their throat, sending them reeling in the opposite direction. They were almost immediately on their knees, choking and spluttering as Donnie darted away, just the tiniest bit breathless as he went.

“Just like I planned it--!” He had laughed, quietly delighted that it had, in fact, gone the way he planned it, and why had he been worried? He could do this, he knew how to do this!-- when his youngest sibling went flying into his side with a yelp.

The pair of them tumbled across the hallway before slamming into the wall, bringing their unexpected trip to a sudden and grinding halt. Donnie groaned softly, wincing as he slowly forced himself back up, stars all but dancing in front of his eyes, Mikey flopped over beside him and seeming just as dazed. Ow. Okay. That hadn’t been in his calculations.

He just barely caught sight of the lion yokai diving for them, catching on about half a second before the attack landed.

He didn’t run any numbers this time. He didn’t have the chance.

His muscles moved quicker than even his brain could, throwing himself bodily over top of his baby brother to shield him from the coming impact.

[ next ]

#sorrywhatnowau #sorrywhatnowau fic #rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt au #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #rottmnt human au #tmnt human au #fanfic #fidgetwing #fighting and potential injury #my beta reader has already informed me ill be hearing from their lawyer so don't worry abt it #also i make my best (and by that i mean dumbest) jokes in this chapter

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thegildedbee · 5 days

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Family/Laugh: May 12 & 13 Prompts from @calaisreno

The exterior nowheres that Sherlock inhabits can be charted by his footfalls as he wends his way through the precincts of temporary cities. The silent drift of assimilating interior nowheres, however, seems to leave no traces, even as he feels unseen changes taking hold. His suspension in the January North of a darkness that persists until late morning, and then quickly returns in the afternoon, intensifies his perception that he lives in a shadow-world, a lone dark figure extracted from the frozen rain that curtains his days.

The patterns he seeks to capture as he hunts amidst the ones and zeros of cyberspace are likewise intangible – extended solitary vigils as his fingers command the keyboard to winnow through the tangle of codes – as well as tangible, of meetings with the technological mix of people here at Tallinn’s crossroads: software developers seeking the leading edge at corporate labs, security experts at NATO’s Cyber Defence Centre of Excellence, the underground hackers who traverse the landscape of the digital realm’s hollow earth. Both the intangible and the tangible are intense efforts to spy glimpses of Moriarty’s covert presence in the spaces between the ones and zeros, summoning up the networks and nodes of the intersecting spheres of finance, and energy, and communications, as made manifest in trafficking, and counterfeiting, and hijacking, across the physical and human worlds.

He’s accumulated an abundance of leads, some he’s near-certain he understands, and others he’s yet to decipher – but it’s enough to reveal to him his next move on the chessboard: St. Petersburg. He’ll take the train from Tallinn, without needing to step out for border control, which is handled en route. He’ll be leaving Estonia under a new identity; he hopes to keep Lukas Sigerson in his back pocket for later uses, but it’s time to make his presence difficult to trace: it's time to step away from Mycroft’s grid. He’s left seemingly inadvertent clues to allow Mycrofts’s people to (think that they’re) following him, along a pathway that connects the nefarious doings of Mexican cartels involved in establishing meth labs in Nigeria for the Asian market. Their pursuit of him will be turned to good account in dismantling that nexus, even when they realize he is elsewhere.

St. Petersburg is a hive of hacking activity, the physical site of the infamous Russian Business Network, which catered to the needs of cyber criminals. It’s not surprising that it is the city where Vladimir Putin lived, received his education, and joined the KGB, as an agent in its foreign intelligence wing, before tunneling his way to Moscow. Sherlock doesn’t believe that there are many degrees of separation between Moriarty and the dark internet of Putin’s hellscape.

He arrives at the end of Tallinn’s usefulness on a Friday evening. As he packs up his kit in the office space he’s made homebase through a courtesy loan in deference to his Norwegian technology credentials, some of the younger workers have swept him up into their murmurating flock as they celebrate the coming weekend in search of alcohol, bar food, and music. In London, Sherlock would have begged off such a request, were anyone intrepid enough to suggest it, and he would have been unperturbed at whatever anyone might think. But he’s not Sherlock, he’s Lukas, at least for a short while longer, and although his persona is reserved, businesslike and uninclined to make small talk, Lukas possesses an average quantity of affability; and remaining unobtrusive is best accomplished by being amidst the motions of others, rather than making himself conspicuous by setting himself off from the norms of sociality.

He did not, however, anticipate the karaoke session, which is putting a severe strain on the bonhomie he is channeling to Lukas, as it’s clear that he’s going to need to accede to accepting a turn in the spotlight, lest he put a damper on the good spirits of his companions. He nevertheless protests with a smile, holding out his hands, but any input he might have been able to exert on the decision-making disappears, when two of his impromptu friends conspire to tug him toward the microphone, explaining that all three of them will venture forth together, with a song they insist is dead simple to sing, and that the well-lubricated crowd will be delighted to join in with them in belting out the familiar refrain. Which is how he finds himself being carried along within a punchy, melodic stream that turns out to be excruciating emotionally, as the verses unfurl. He listlessly despairs, marooned, a hollowed-out laugh echoing inside his head in response.

. . . When I'm lonely, well, I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you And when I'm dreamin', well, I know I'm gonna dream I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you. When I go out (when I go out), well, I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you And when I come home (when I come home), I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you I'm gonna be the man who's comin' home with you . . .

He’s exasperated at the universe conspiring to keep him unsettled, to deny him the solace of alone protecting him. He fears that he is fated to have any social contact whatsoever somehow conjure home and reminders of John. The song ends to raucous cheers, and the enthusiasm surges on, and he’s being importuned to name a new song of his own choice before being allowed to return to the table. He looks at the smiling faces helplessly, immobilized by the churning cacophony playing hide-and-seek inside his guts, incapable of conjuring up the simplest of answers. Undeterred, they jolly him along, prompting him to think of a film he’s recently seen, or club he’s been to, or a favorite television show. At the latter suggestion, his mind does slightly slip free, and there is John again, teasing Sherlock into watching another of his favorite shows, Sherlock pretending to be annoyed at being consigned to such a fate. He turns to the young people, and raises his voice to speak into the nearest person’s ear to be heard over the noisy crowd, and says with a question in his voice, Peaky Blinders? He seems to have pleased them, as they fiddle around to pull the selection, bouncing in high spirits and punching their fists into the air, as the music starts, a bell ringing out, and the slithering deep tones speaking of the edge of town, of secrets in the border fires, of a gathering storm -- and a tall handsome man, in a dusty black coat, with a red right hand.

As Sherlock listens to the song unspool, his mind wanders back to the show's themes, reminding him of a line of thought he’d been considering the last few days – that to focus singularly on Moriarty and faceless confederates is not quite the right way to conceptualize the dead man's web: that there must have also been family members in leading positions, positions of trust. One of the deep divides between himself and Mycroft originated in Sherlock’s refusal in uni to agree to work for SIS. Mycroft knew that he would never be able to trust completely any of the professionals who worked for him – after all they are spies working for money. To be sure, he wanted Sherlock to sign on to be able to appropriate his intelligence, but even more compelling was the fact that never having to question the loyalty of a brother would have made him an asset par excellence. Mycroft considers getting what he wants to be an inviolable law of the universe, and Sherlock doesn't think his brother will ever be able to truly forgive him for the rejection . . . especially given Sherlock's devotion to the inferior endeavors of dedicating himself to a life of metropolitan crime-solving. Family; family is what matters. A Moriarty is gone; but there are other Moriarties yet to be unearthed. ........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper @helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra @solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack

@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912 @dapetty

.............................................................................

#mayprompts2024 #calaisreno #sherlock bits and bobs #may prompts 2024 #johnlock

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the-ninjago-historian · 4 months

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Elemental Beasts Bios (Part 3: Neridya the Water Beast 🌊🌊🌊)

Prev/Next

Finally! She's here! The queen herself! Neridya the Water Dragon!🌊🌊🌊(In case her name is hard to pronounce, this is how you say it. Nair - EE - Da. Neridya!😁)

This one was a HUGE challenge for me. Especially with the water effects. I'm so happy it's finished! Text less version and bio below the cut! - ✒️🐉

Neridya The Water Beast.

Also known as the Dragon of Water, Neridya is ruler of The Lake of Reflection. And she controls all elements of Water.

Neridya is a mighty dragon. They would sometimes call her the lion of the seas because of her fearsome nature. She is capable of conjuring up the most destructive of tidal waves. But despite this, she can be as calm and gentle as the surface of a tropical lagoon. As long as you respect her, she will respect you. Neridya becomes Nya's mentor. What better teacher for a Water Master than a Water Dragon?

The Lake of Reflection is the largest of all the Deep Land's kingdoms. It sits right in the center of the underground world, providing water to all of the surrounding caverns. (The Lake of Reflection also provides the water for the Embarr Caverns hot springs!) The lake is also filled with sealife. Everything from fish, to sea turtles. Gemlike corals, sea anemones, and waving seaweed are everywhere. Seashells line the sandy bottom like jewels. And waterfalls from every direction cascade down into the crystal clear water.

(Tag List: @shatteredhope123 @nocturnal-nexu @dexter-the-dog)

Want to be added to the tag list? Just ask! That way you can stay updated on Ninjago: Into The Deep all the time!😁

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago lego #My art #ninjago ocs #Ninjago: Into The Deep #ink dragon #ninjago oc #ocs #ninjago fanseason #ninjago fanfiction #Fanart #ninjago fanart

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jadegretz · 3 months

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Cammy's Fierce Pride by Jade Gretz

The crimson sun dipped towards the horizon, painting the cobblestone plaza of Acheron's Gate in hues of bruised flesh and simmering dread. Neon signs, warped by otherworldly glyphs, flickered promises of oblivion above taverns reeking of sulfur and brimstone. In this nexus of shadows, where reality frayed at the edges, stood Cammy White, her scarlet beret a defiant beacon against the encroaching twilight.

Whispers of an underground tournament, the Harbinger's Gauntlet, had lured her to this forsaken corner of the world. A chance to test her mettle against the galaxy's elite, they had promised, a crucible to forge legend anew. But the air, acrid with unseen things, hummed with a dissonance that prickled the Delta Red operative's instincts. This was no ordinary spectacle; it was a dance with madness, a waltz with the abyss.

As the obsidian moon bled onto the sky, the plaza pulsated with a spectral luminescence. From the swirling shadows coalesced the combatants – a grotesque menagerie of flesh and artifice. A cyclopean behemoth with skin like cracked granite rumbled a guttural challenge. A woman, her alabaster limbs woven from moonlight, flicked a razor-sharp bone dagger. Even the air writhed, taking the form of a sentient storm, its whispers promising oblivion in a thousand voices.

Cammy's senses, honed by years of Delta Red training, screamed of wrongness. These weren't mere fighters; they were echoes of nightmare, nightmares given flesh and fury by the malignant energies that seeped from the very stones of Acheron's Gate. Yet, fear was a luxury she couldn't afford. She was Cammy White, Queen Bee of Delta Red, and she wouldn't back down from a challenge, even one that reeked of cosmic pestilence.

The first clash was a symphony of the uncanny. The cyclopean brute swung a fist capable of crushing mountains, but Cammy, anticipating the blow with preternatural grace, danced past the impact, her Spiral Arrow finding its mark on the behemoth's obsidian eye. The creature roared, a sound that shattered eardrums and cracked cobblestones, but its rage only fueled Cammy's precision.

The alabaster …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

#cammy #cammywhite #streetfigther #capcom #gamer #gamerart #videogames #arcade #ai #aiart #digitalart #jadegretz #fantasyart #fanart #beautifulgirl #aiartwork #aiartcommunity

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biteghost · 2 years

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Commission for Uzu of her character Anusha!

Patreon ✦ Commission Info

#commissions #waist up commission #not my characters #Nexus Underground #webcomics

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rogueuzu · 1 year

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Got a secret.

Can you keep it?

#nexus underground #rogueuzu #digital art #Anusha Nexus

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gummmy · 2 years

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Redesign of my version of leatherhead.

Mikey and LH met in the battle nexus or an underground fight ring. They r both forced to fight together and become close. It all comes to ahead when Mikey’s brother bust them out. LH is a big grumpy gus but who can blame him he’s a year younger then Mikey and has been fighting his whole life. LH is based on a flightless dragon’s his main form of fighting is breathing fire and smashing and slashing

#my art #rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #rottmnt mikey #sassy reptiles #rottmnt leatherhead #tmnt leatherhead #tmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #save rottmnt #au? kinda sorta

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sunflowhamato · 2 months

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ROTTMNT Curiosities Part.2

The turtles would take a while, but they would have ended up accepting Draxum into the family (Although Ron doesn't love the idea of thinking of him as a second father)

There are two lost sisters of the turtles, one of them is Gran Mama's assistant (Frida), and another (Camelle) is trapped in a different dimension. It was planned that the turtles would separate to rescue their sisters. Frida would have been manipulated by Big Mama since she was little. 6 turtles can be briefly seen in the episode “Goyles, goyles, goyles”

The sisters would be similar ages to the boys

Frida would have been a super serious and disciplined ninja (which would lead to funny moments), while Camelle could be a little eccentric

Frida likely joined the Resistance in the future

Pieblald would be like a sister and you would be able to interact with her more

The artists put cats in various places in different chapters (as a joke)

Those of the Council of Chiefs of the Hidden City are the leaders, although they do not have control over everything (Like with Big Mom)

The Weeping Titan may have been built by another race ancient to the Yokai A Krang spaceship crashed into the back of the Weeping Titan, and that was the source of the sludge (which was the ship's fuel). The Weeping Titan is the source of Empyrean, the nectar that gives Yokai their mystical energy.

The ship caused the other Krang to come to invade the earth

Yokai society roamed freely, happier, and more numerous, until humans arrived

The story of the Yokai driven underground arose centuries ago, Draxum witnessed it (It is something that would be told if the series returned)

After losing Shredder, Foot Shack closed and started selling cupcakes.

The original ending (when there was no cutback), in the Battle Nexus: New York chapter, the hotel was going to end up being absorbed back to the Hidden City, taking Big Mom and Shredder with it. The problem was that they were now trapped in the Hidden City. The Foot Clan would have fought to free Shredder

Cassandra's original arc was longer, her Splinter bond would have been key, although the reveal that she was Casey was just as important. She would have disappeared and appeared at the time they needed her most, it is possible that she would relapse into bad things (she is in constant conflict)

Cassandra chose the Foot Clan since she was little because she wanted to belong to something (The writers also made assumptions about her being an orphan)

CJ would be happy to see Cassandra young, surely finding her would be touching

CJ vaguely remembers Cassandra. Leo was the one who mainly raised him

The dynamic between Casey and Raph that has been seen in other series would have happened in Rise with Cassandra and Raph

Despite having information about the future, CJ would not be someone valuable to have information about, because many things have changed

The herbicide to harm the Krang works like it does on plants.

It was planned that they would travel to the Krang dimension, and to the prison dimension to free Karai

It was never discussed beyond the apocalyptic future (only what we saw in the movie), so it is not known what happened to Cassandra, Donnie, Raph, Splinter, Leo's arm, etc. The only thing we need to know is that everything was because of the Krang. How? We don't know. (The animators probably know more about this, although I'm not sure)

The wound on Leo's side from the future was the reason she didn't accompany Casey to the past (because she knew she would die)

Casey couldn't help but think of young Leo as a father figure, although it would be too weird for him since they are the same age

Mikey can open portals through space and time, while Leo's portals are over short distances.

In one of the first episodes of season 3, they would talk about how they obtained the other lair.

There could have been more episodes of Bone and Leo, these two are great friends (Although Bone does not admit it)

The names of the Purple Dragons were inspired by writers from the first season of the 2012 series. Their names would be Jeremy Schipp, Jase Ricci and Kendra Byerly

Karai would have had a longbow, but she can come back

The turtles honored Karai, and would talk to her whenever they needed guidance

#rottmnt leo #rottmnt #rottmnt casey jones #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt april #rottmnt cassandra jones #rottmnt draxum #rottmnt season 3 #rottmnt splinter

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idyat · 7 months

Text

Apologies for the large spaces, I was too lazy to remove them

Fanatics x reader

Down In The Dark Caves

Summary: When you got lost in the Nexus City sewers, you weren't expecting to find a bunch of new little friends.

WARNINGS: Madness: Project Nexus spoilers

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What a mess...what a mess you've gotten in...But honestly these sewers are built like an Ikea, can anyone really blame you for getting lost? Well, at least you have a gun and knife, so you'll be able to somewhat defend yourself if a mutated rat or whatever tries to jump you all of a sudden.

Searching for a semblance of what could be a path out, you analyse the area around you. You're in some sort of underground complex. It stinks. It's dark. Chunks of rock are often falling from higher up, and yet some people still find the courage...creativity...insanity? To live in this place. Well, according to what you've heard and to the corpses you've found on your way to search for an exit.

You expected more noises from this place to be honest. But right now it was just...quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were your own footsteps, it's almost creepy. At least you could be sharp on any incoming threat easily.

Yep...anything that would try to attack you...

...would get...

...

"...Weelcomee...intrude-"

BANG!

"EEK!"

You had quickly turned around and whipped out your gun at the strange duck mask wearing individual.

BANG BANG!

"H-HEY! CEASE THAT!"

BANG BANG BANG!

"I TOLD YOU TO-"

clic clic

You look down at your gun. No more ammo.

You looked up to the fanatic and had a quick staring context for a few seconds before you started to pull out your knife.

"Ah! Wait, wait! Stop! Have patience, I mean no harm!"

You stopped moving, still with your knife in hand and a fighting stance, glaring at the guy you just tried to kill and tilting your head quizzically at their claim.

"I-Indeed! Observe, I transport absolutely zero weapons on me!"

They open their arms wide to show you that they, in fact, have no weapons on them, which makes you losen up just a slight bit.

"...Besides, if I had wanted to attack you, wouldn't I have done it WITHOUT making my presence known...?"

...

"Alright, I give."

You put the knife back in your pocket, to which the stranger immediately sighs in relief and leans against a nearby wall to recover their breath and calm their heartbeat.

You're still extremely wary though, this random ass duck mask wearing guy just snuck up on you for a reason you haven't identified yet, and you know these kinds of people are just like everything in Nevada: violent dangerous assholes.

It takes a few moments of you staring at the masked fellow, analyzing their every movement and hovering your hand over your knife before you finally speak again.

"...Why did you "make your presence known" anyway?"

They silently turn their head towards you. It's hard to tell what their face is doing because of that mask. Hey, at least you've got the body language. And they still seem just as on edge as you. Maybe a little bit more, considering they almost just died.

"...So?"

"Um...."

You tilt your head to the side and raise a brow. Which is probably putting even more pressure on the strange stranger.

"I... uh..."

"Did you not have a reason?"

"Sure! You can tell yourself that!"

...Kind of a suspicious way to approve your theory...

"Okay."

Eh, you're not really in the mood to asks questions so you'll just roll with it.

You still keep an eye on the other as you look around, taking a few steps to check for any paths or perhaps a map.

...A map. Seriously? You're going to ask for a map in this place?

...

You slightly turn your head back to the masked fellow still taking deep breaths. They're probably one of the inhabitants of the cave.

You...would you? Would you dare? After trying to kill them?

"...Hey."

They raises their mask up frop the ground to you, tilting it.

Welp, you're a terrible person for this.

"Uh...sorry for the question...right after...tryingtokillyou but, do you by any chance know where the exit of this place is?"

You don't know what you were expecting, but it definimtely wasn't for the stranger to stare at you for a few seconds before completely changing their demeanor, going from limp and out of breath to very energetic and excentric in the matter of a second.

"You ask for an exit to our sanctuary? An escape??"

"Uh...yeah?" You take a step back at their suddenly booming voice and movements.

"Why, you humorous individual! I know no exit, for I NEED no exit!"

"...Excuse me what?"

They turn their back to you and raise their hands in the air.

"Few of us have retained the pathway back to the outdside world, for we have opened our eyes to the reality of this universe! Our happiness is here! The only ones who have kept it in mind are our highest prophets and our all buoyant lea-"

They suddenly stop, frozen in their precious position. Before they slouch down sadly, both their hands and their head now facing the ground.

"Uh...Are you okay?" Both your voice and your movements are slow as you reach a hand to their slumping back, not actually intending on touching it.

"Oh...our leader...our poor, poor leader..."

You are kinda shocked by how sad their voice sounds all of a sudden. Seems like they really cared about whoever their leader was.

"What...did something...happen to them?"

"Indeed..." They brought their hand up to their mask in a useless tear wiping motion. "He was crushed...murdered so suddenly by a higher mass we could never have possibly seen..."

"Was he crushed by the rocks?"

"No!" They turned and agrily pointed their finger at you. "He knew this entire sanctuary like the back of his buoyant mind! He would not have fallen to such an ordinary hazard!"

"Oh shit. Uh, sorry."

They cross their arms and face their body away from you, seemingly still annoyed, before their body language loosens up a bit and their tone goes back to melancholy, silence setting.

"..."

"So...I guess I'll just...seek myself out then...is that okay with you...?"

They turn their head to look at you.

"..."

"I'll...take that as a yes."

You slowly start to back away, before turning around and leaving this section of the cave, not minding the creepy stare. You just want to get out of here.

As you walk through the base, it's quiet. Too quiet. You start to hear a sounds behind you. You twist around, knife at the ready, but every time you think you're about to get attacked again you see nothing. Either you're going insane or something' following you.

...It's getting closer. You can tell.

...

...Fuck it.

"Hey! Whoever's here, show yourself!"

You whip around, yelling into the darkness.

"What the fuck do you want?! I'm just trying to get out of here!"

You haven't hear anything after you started speaking up.

"Do you want food or something?! Here! Take it!"

You impulsively throw the cereal bar you've been saving for yourself in case of strandings like this. You have to admit, it probably wasn't a good idea to throw away your only source of food, but your mind was too busy worrying about whatever cave stalker you had on your ass right now.

But as you glared at the tunnel before you, you start to see a figure step out of the shadows. You instinctively place your hand on your knife, ready to fight back in case it tries to attack you first, until you see a familiar mask reach down to the cereal bar.

"You!" You point at the fanatic, who jumps at your sudden shout.

"Eep!"

"Why are you following me?!" You take a step towards them, and they take a step back.

"Uh- I- Emh-"

They wave their hands in front of them as a sign of peace (one of them is holding the cereal bar) as you continue getting closer.

"This is the second time I've seen you sneak up on me!" Your voice and movements are a little more relaxed now since you've seen by now that they probably won't hurt you. In fact, they look quite scared.

"I apologize I apologize! I can explain everything I promise!"

You start to loosen up as you hear their claim.

"You better have a good explanation then. Because whatever you're doing is not inspiring any trust in anyone."

It's the fanatics turn to take a second breather, although they soon start to look more and more embarrassed as they realise they'll ACTUALLY have to explain themself.

"I....I..."

You're more patient with them this time surprisingly, letting them find the time to make up their words and muster their courage to barely whisper an answer to your question, not even able to look you in the face.

"I was...feeling lonely. And since a new face that wasn't trying to explode our sanctuary had arrived after so long...I..."

After taking a few seconds to process, you raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes, unintentionally loosening your grip on your weapon.

"Oh?"

The shameful fanatic try to shuffle farther from you, but that onky makes you come closer.

"That's it?"

There's a small pause before they slowly tilt their head towards you.

"...'That's it'?" They sound confused for some reason.

"I mean...yeah. It's not really that surprising to be lonely in Nevada..."

"...So you're not angered at me or about to attempt to murder me because of it?"

"Why would I be?"

When you clense their doubts, they seem to perk up, looking around with a clearly calmer head.

"So do you desire this back?" They hand the cereal bar towards you as you put your knife away.

"Huh? Oh, you can keep it. You looked hungry anyway, at least enough to pick it up in plain sight like that."

The fanatic raises their head up. Althought you can't see their eyes, you can tell they are probably wide as plates. But they didn't wait any longer to demolish that cereal bar, turning around so you don't see their maskless face before turning back and clasping their hands toghether, voice overwhelmed with joy.

"Thank you! I give you my deepest gratitudes you holy beast!"

"Ah, uh, it's nothing. No need to get so extreme about it..." You say, flinching a bit at how close they suddenly get.

"...Alrighty then! As you wish." They actually back away, hands behind their back.

"However, I still have a debt of at least one cereal bar towards you. Do not try to stop me, I'm not one to betray my oath."

As they finish talking, you nod, even smiling a little. They...actually seem like a pleasant fellow like that. How funny.

But a question still bugs you.

"Alright. Although if I may ask, are there not any other people like you in here? I've seen other seemingly inhabited places around, and you can't be the only member of your cult right?"

"Ah...right... Well, of course I'm not the only one here, we are quite numerous actually, however..."

A small shudder comes against them.

"On the night of our leader's death, us who were left surviving were scattered around quite a bit. At least in terms of morale. And it...simply is comforting in dark times, to gain a possible new acquaintance."

Oh. You feel bad for them honestly, whoever their cult leader was seemed really important to them.

"He was so great...he was our father..."0

You move your head back up to them when they speak in a saddened voice, closing their body language in on themself.

"Did you know he told us about his visions and prophecies every night before bedtime? (No you didn't...) The very last one he told us was about a new prophet who would descend down from another place..."

You're listen to their ramblings, attempting to nod in a comforting way.

"A beautiful one at that. He said fear would have been felt but all it'd take is one illumination to...*snif*...to guide us out of hell..."

"Wow. That's...pretty precise."

Shit. You're not sure if you should've talked at a moment like that.

"Very. It's only fitting that the one who began guiding us all to light has the brightest mind of all. He could even get as close as to say whoever they are would bring us nourishement."

They then start whispering to themself.

"A beautiful prophet...bringing us nourishement..."

You tilt your head to get a better look at the face they hid from you, before letting out a yelp when they suddenly move right in front of your face, analyzing it. How the hell did they move so fast?!

"WHAT THE F- What are you doing?"

They don't answer you, simply staring even harder.

"U-Uh, can I help you o-"

You're interrupted by a loud squeak coming from the fanatic.

"It's you! I have found you!"

"...Wha?"

They suddenly grab your shoulders and shake you around.

"Our prophet! It's you!"

"Augh- Wait what?!"

"A beautiful prophet! Beginning with fear! Who'd bring us nourishement! You've come down to us!"

You take one or two seconds to process what they just said as they keep rambling on, suddenly interrupting them when you realize what they mean.

"Waitwaitwait I'm not- I am NOT who you think I am! I'm just some randi who got stuck in the sew- wait did you call me beautiful?"

The fanatic finally get off you, but their gesture remains excited and inviting.

"Why don't be ridiculous now! You obviously are!"

You can't tell whether they're talking about you being a "prophet" or you being beautiful.

"No, I...I'm really not."

"Oh please! How about this then: have you been having 'strange' dreams coming to you lately? Or at all? Perhaps...dreaming of this very encounter?"

"Uh..." You raise an eyebrow at their weird question. You have had strange dreams that included sewers and weird cultists before, but you don't think they were as precise as to predict this very moment.

"I guess? But I don't think it's that uncommon with dissonance running everywhere arou-"

You don't have time to finish your sentence before they squeak again.

"Wait no-"

"I need to tell my comrades about this!"

"Didn't you say you were scrambled around or something?"

"Morally in majority! Besides, we know how to communicate, even in such complicated times!"

You raise an eyebrow as they turn around and pull out a funky looking walkie-talkie and whisper something into it.

"Ok?"

You're wondering whether you should say anything again, but after a few dozen seconds, your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of rumbling. Then by the feeling of rumbling.

"Huh? What is-"

The next thing to be interrupted is your question as dozens of the same mask wearing fanatics explode through the wall, running towards you like giant rats.

"HOLY SHIT!!"

You brace yourself, ready to either die or trip one of the swarming cultists to their possible death, but all of them stop right in front of you, bumping into you at most.

You slowly lower your arms when hearing whispers and the fanatic who called all of them here.

"My brothers! We have found a new savior! The one that was promised by our buoyant leader! The one who may guide us out of our psychological crat-"

"Hey hey hey! I think you got the wrong person my guy! I don't think I'm your savior or whatever!"

You try to make yourself seen and heard amongst the herd of whispers and giggles, but it seems that not anything you say could change the fanatics minds.

"Nonsense! You are obviously one of us!"

The fanatic who brought you into this whole mess then turned to the other and raised their arms.

"My brothers! Let them see our sacred, headquarters!"

You don't even have time to process those words before being picked up with a yelp by the cheering masses and transported to who knows where.

"Will you please listen?! I am not your prophet!"

"They are our prophet!!" The crowd of cultists chant as they run with your dismayed self over their heads.

It takes a few minutes during which you eventually accept your fate before you finally reach the so called "headquarters", and you are finally put down on a slightly elevated platform.

"...So...what am I supposed to do up here?"

You've had time to calm down and process things up a little on the way to this more open, less stinky chamber of the sewer, so you seem more aware of whatever's going on. The cult doesn't seem all that too dangerous anyways, especially with your newfound status among them.

"Oh! You may just enjoy and adjust to our brethren's lifestyle!"

Every fanatic seems to have brought or picked up a thing for you. Up on your """throne""", you can see all of them, clumping and looking at you with fascination. They seem way less numerous than what you originally felt like, maybe a little over 10 people. That's still quite a lot to have staring at and throwing offers to you.

"Uh..." Yeeaah, you're not really sure if you want to give everything up in a single day for cultists you don't even know.

"Can I...consider not taking the offer...? At least as an option...?"

The first fanatic you met climbs up on your level, albeit with a surprised voice.

"Wha- You do not desire to learn about our buoyant beliefs?"

"I...um...I guess, the problem's really just that I don't want to all of a sudden live wherever this is...at all."

The eyes of the masked people all around you seem to almost glow, and the offers of fresh rats, bird skulls, scented candles and old toys stop to let place for a small silence.

"...Oh well that's no bother! I had said "adjust to our lifestyle" earlier hadn't I? We'd all be delighted to help you get accustomed!"

"...Accustomed to wha-"

You cut yourself off to think about it.

Sure the place may look old and rundown, but it sure seemed to be safer than the overworld where everything wants to kill you. This area even has no rocks falling down, you just realised. And it's not like the people weren't nice, at least to you.

"...Can I go get my stuff from outside?"

"Of course! May a prophet knowing lf the path to the outside world lead our dear new savior to their personal promised land!" Woah, savior? That's a little strong of a word.

Someone raises their hand in the crowd, and walks up the hidden staircase of your platform to reveal a seemingly cleaner member of the cult, dressed in white and pink rather than the dark colors and green of the others.

They ask you to follow them and you do so, followed closely by all the other fanatics, whispering between eachother and you.

"What do you use to look so clean? Is it lotion?"

"Can we be friends?"

"Do you like Pokemon cards?"

"I have more rats!"

You can't help but giggle a bit at their antics, even starting a full-blown conversation with some of them.

But then, as you get closer to the exit according to the prophet, your attention is taken by a poke on your shoulder, turning around to see the first cultist you met, although this time they seemed more nervous than the others.

"Are you going to leave?"

The questions actually widen your eyes a bit. You take a few seconds to think before responding with your best attempt at a reassuring smile.

"I'll...uh...I'll be coming back soon. Promise."

They visibly perk up, walking faster out of joy.

"Wait! Can I come with you? At most to get a glance at the exterior of our home?"

This actually seems to shock the few others who heard your "friend", before most of them actually start to think about spending more time with you outside.

"Of course!"

They cheer under their breath, making you smile a little.

"Hey, what's your name by the way? It's gonna be a little hard to talk if we don't know how to adress eachother."

They raise their head back up to you as you tell them your own name, tilting it slightly.

"Well, before landing upon our buoyant group, the people I used to steal garbage from and eat called me Shithead!"

"Oh. Oh dear."

"Yeah! I even have some shotgun scars from them! I find it quite...how do thy say it nowadays...uh, cool. If you may!"

"Holy shit, are you okay?"

"Yes yes, I think it could be considered quite common in the outside world."

"Eh, I mean, yeah. I have a few scars myself. Can I make another name for you?"

"I don't know, can you? But yes, of course you may! If you are our new prophet then surely only good could come from this!"

"Alright let's see, uuh...Winston?"

"I love it! I am now Winston! God bless!"

You give them a thumbs up. You put absolutely no thought into that name whatsoever.

As you walk and talk, the prophet signals you that you have arrived at the exit, and the blood red and black sky almost looks blinding compared to the sewers.

"Do you require any assistance before heading back to your outside home?"

"No thank you, I know the way."

You can feel the dozens of stares on your back as you start walking away.

...

You turn back.

"...I'll be back right here soon!"

You point at the entrance grounds and the whole cult following you cheers as you smile and wave goodbye.

You re definitely seeing those guys later.

#madness combat x reader #madcom x reader #fanatic x reader #mc fanatic x reader #madness combat fanatic #madness project nexus fanatic #madness combat fanatic x reader

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