#while being a goon and powerless at least for the moment
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i need that bruce and arkham essay plz
I’ll answer this tomorrow I told you almost two and a half hours ago and yet here I am. At almost 4 am so bear with me folks.
WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS DISCUSSION OF TROUBLING ACTIONS, SERIOUS MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES, AND VIOLENCE
So, what really starts me in on discussions around Bruce and Arkham, and something I feel like a lot of people either don’t know, conveniently ignore, or forget is that Bruce was in his youth, an Arkham patient. Specifically Alfred sent Bruce to an Arkham boy’s’ rehabilitation facility upstate. Against his will. Because he was obsessed with the idea of shooting and killing his parent’s murderer and had almost attempted suicide. This rehabilitation facility is where Bruce meets and befriends Harvey Dent. But this is just the tip of the iceberg.
Following his stint at the rehabilitation facility- Bruce exhibits even more troubling behavior, which suggests that his time at an Arkham facility did not teach him healthy coping mechanisms or do much to help him learn to process his emotions. While still a young man (18 or under) Bruce:
Responded to a question a teacher asked in class by burning it into their front yard
Hired a homeless man to pretend to be Alfred to sign paperwork that would authorize the erasure of his memories via electroshock therapy (he ultimately did not go through with the procedure)
Used the Irish mob to track the location of Joe Chill and then interrogated him
Now I understand that despite having a certification in mental health first aid, and having PTSD, that I am by no means an expert in human psychology. But I feel comfortable saying that the Arkham system failed Bruce Wayne and that Bruce Wayne does not have healthy coping mechanisms.
Bruce ultimately did not commit suicide because he believed it would not be what his parents wanted for him, and vowed instead to dedicate his life to stopping crime - from that moment until he finds Joe Chill and learns that the motivation behind his parents death was simply that Chill needed a quick buck and that his parents death, to quote the fandom wiki had “no deeper meaning,” Bruce’s quest for vengeance and stopping crime is based around a conspiracy surrounding his parent’s murder that he has concocted in his own mind. One might think that after learning that the motivation behind the murder of his parents was money, and Bruce Wayne being a billionaire that he might have stopped to consider that perhaps crime is motivated by poverty, but alas, world’s greatest detective my ass.
Bruce, now fueled by the loss of his parents and the anger that his parents death has been reduced to the need for a quick buck begins his multi- year training montage. During this montage, while he’s ignoring Alfred’s attempts to contact him, Bruce let’s an assassin into the home of one of the men training him, and the man’s dying breath warns him that death would come of fostering close personal relationships, and Bruce sure didn’t listen to therapy, but he does take that message to heart. As a way to formally end his training, Bruce then climbed to the top of Wayne Tower and jumped off.
These are not the decisions of a man who is mentally healthy.
From pretty much the get go we see Bruce go from a child who was powerless in a situation where his parents were taken from him, into a damaged young man who was failed by a mental health facility and then spent seven years training to beat the absolute shit out of criminals after finding out that his parents were killed for a quick buck. The Joker at one point has to stop Bruce from stabbing the Riddler in the face. And of course we’ve all seen Bruce almost beating criminals to death and beating the shit out of his kids, and forming plans on how to take down other superheroes. These are not healthy behaviors.
But how does Arkham tie into this beyond Bruce being a former patient? What I’ve tried to do is establish a few things.
Bruce Wayne was failed by the Arkham system (a system that, at the time of her death, his mother was desperately trying to reform)
Bruce Wayne has control issues (both in that he has issues regulating his emotional responses and those responses lean towards extreme and violent behavior, and that he wants to be in control and he wants to be right all the time)
Bruce has not made an attempt to seek professional help since Alfred sent him to the rehabilitation facility (or as I said in another post of mine “Bruce refuses to get therapy and make that everyone else’s problem.”)
Bruce has self destructive tendencies
Arkham is a system that Bruce cannot control. He couldn’t control it when he was a patient, and he wouldn’t be able to control it as a major donor seeking to fix the broken system that failed him and carry on his mother’s legacy. What medical professionals in a mental health facility do are outside of his control.
Furthermore while punching a criminal to the point of near death or disfigurement, or dropping an unconscious goon at the police station will typically stop a run of the mill mugger, thief, etc, from committing more crimes at least for a while (assuming of course that they can even make an arrest when the chain of custody on any evidence has been broken), more high profile criminals the ones we see as recurring members of the Rogues Gallery who seem to be motivated by something other than poverty are typically found unsuited for trial and would thus be sent to a rehabilitation facility, like Arkham.
These high profile villains offer more of a fight than a mugger who hasn’t had a proper meal in the last two days, and as such they can usually injure Bruce while he’s in the Batsuit. This feeds into two of Bruce’s things- his self destructive behavior, and his history of violent behavior. But- is Arkham worked, if the rogues really were to be rehabilitated the opportunity for the catharsis brought on by the violence both towards and from them would be gone, Bruce would not be in control of their recovery, and as we’ve seen, Arkham has failed Bruce, and imo it’s unclear if he thinks Arkham can actually help people.
Bruce doesnt fix Arkham because that would mean admitting that it failed him, that it needs fixing because he is not mentally well, he does not want to admit that he is not in control of himself or that he is in some way “damaged.” Fixing Arkham would also stop the revolving door of break ins/outs that provide him with the catharsis brought on by violence- if it ceases to be real life monopoly jail the frequency of these encounters would dwindle and as many of us know, bad coping mechanisms often become a habit and Bruce would become twitchier.
Furthermore, handling all of the Arkham break outs gives Bruce a sense of accomplishment on his self assigned mission to squash crime- he’s handling all of these big name villains, on a rotating basis means that he is busy with at least one of the rogues pretty much all the time. This sense of accomplishment is important, after all, it’s not like he’s doing anything to stop crime at the source, and without a sense of accomplishment how could he ever hope to moralize at other heroes and hold them to an impossible standard that he himself is not even meeting?
Bruce’s time in the Arkham system is something that is often overlooked but does quite a bit in shaping Bruce’s perspective and decision making. And they’re not good decisions or good perspectives.
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devil hit his second stride // self para (pt 1)
summary: In Hell, Robbie runs into a familiar face who convinces him to stop wallowing in self pity and make a move to stop his uncle from ripping his life to shreds.
trigger warnings: hell, death, mentions of violence
featuring: robbie reyes, phil coulson, mentions of elias morrow, gabriel reyes, daisy johnson ( @daisyquakes ), and jessica jones ( @goddamndumbass )
word count: 4320 no one SAY ANYTHING
There were a lot of metaphors about Hell, a lot of famous quotes invoking the word. Robbie had read up on them after his death and subsequent resurrection, studied them as if they might somehow hold answers to what happened to him. Churchill famously instructed those who were going through Hell to keep going. Twain once quipped that one should go to Heaven for the climate, but Hell for the company. Sartre claimed that Hell was other people. Robbie had gathered a whole collection of quips and quotes, a whole world of things writers and politicians and activists said were Hell, because he’d known the deal he’d made to save his own life only had one end result and he’d wanted to be prepared. He’d been an idiot, in that regard.
There was no preparing for Hell.
There was no making it easier. You couldn’t “keep going,” no matter how easy Churchill made it sound. You didn’t enjoy the company the way Twain joked that you might. The other people Sartre had feared were just as lost, just as tortured, just as absorbed in the terribleness of it all as you were. No metaphor Robbie had come across had managed to do justice to the real thing. Hell was Hell. There was no other way of describing it, no way of putting it into terms the average person would understand. You either knew it or you didn’t. You’d either been there or you couldn’t possibly imagine it. And Robbie could imagine it well.
It was different, this time around. The last time (the last two times, rather), he’d at least gone out on his own terms. He’d chosen to exit stage left with Eli’s shoulders gripped in his hands. He decided to take the Darkhold back to where it belonged even if that meant he’d wind up where he belonged, too. And the people he’d cared about hadn’t been left in the best positions, but at least he’d known they’d be okay. He’d known Daisy would look out for Gabe, had known that Coulson would keep an eye on the SHIELD agents he’d begrudgingly come to tolerate. There hadn’t been an awful lot to fear.
This time was different.
With Eli running around in Robbie’s skin, there was no overselling the shitstorm that was waiting for the people he cared for. Daisy, who’d taken up residence on his couch the last few months, would be a burden Eli wouldn’t want to put up with. Jessica, who was almost a friend as much as someone you’d once nearly plowed over with your car could hope to be, would be an inconvenience his uncle wouldn’t want to deal with. And Gabe… It was too much to hope that Eli would leave Gabe out of things. It was too much to wish that his brother might remain blissfully ignorant in L.A. while their uncle wreaked havoc in New York. Whatever Eli had planned, Gabe would undoubtedly be caught in the crossfire the same way he had the night of that street race, when the Fifth Street gang saw Eli’s car and open fired with no regard for who was actually inside. And Robbie was powerless to stop any of it.
Shit, he was worse than powerless. The last time he’d been in Hell, he’d at least had the limited protection of the Rider keeping him out of the worst of it. It meant giving up control more often than not, but it made him relatively difficult to harm. Just like on Earth, the Rider had protected Robbie from damage in Hell. He’d made sure Robbie won most of the fights he got into, ensured that anyone who fucked with them had a generally bad day. Eli made sure Robbie was without that protection this go around, and that must have been intentional in more ways than one. His uncle had wanted the power of the Ghost Rider, beyond shadow of a doubt… but he’d also wanted to make sure Robbie was without it. And he’d absolutely succeeded in that.
You couldn’t die in Hell. Robbie figured that out his very first day, when he’d looked down at his chest to see a blade sticking out of it, rusted and bloody. You felt every ounce of pain dealt out to you, felt the way your heart tore itself to shreds as it beat around metal, felt your lungs fill up with blood and dust until there was no room left to breathe, but you couldn’t die. It was like one of the shitty video games Gabe used to play --- you bled, you ached, you faded away, and you popped back up someplace else to do it all again. Death would have been far easier. Anything would have been easier. Everyone there knew it.
It was why he’d also learned another important lesson his first Rider-less day in Hell. He’d learned about a rumor, a legend that desperate souls accepted as truth because there had to be some kind of end to all of this. It was a Fifth Street goon who’d blurted it out to him, a man terrified of Robbie who’d never even met the Rider. (Robbie had taken care of plenty of gang members without the Devil making an appearance at all, in the early days. There had been so much anger and nowhere to put it. It was inevitable.)
‘There’s a story,’ the man had said, practically blubbering at the mere sight of the man who had taken his life. ‘If you take out the guy who killed you down here, you get out. You get to move on.’
‘Move on to what?’ Robbie had demanded, but the man hadn’t known. All he had known, all he had heard was that removing the person responsible for your presence in Hell from its depths meant a ticket to someplace else. And everyone figured that nothing could possibly be worse than this.
So they fought. They beat each other to death only to yield no result when the person they were trying so desperately to remove appeared again out of their reach, breathing oxygenless through deceased lungs. It was utterly pointless and they knew it, but it was the only thing they knew how to do. It was the Fifth Street member who’d told him the legend that taught Robbie what happened when you died in Hell, putting a sword through his back the moment he turned away and shrugging unapologetically when Robbie turned back to him. ‘I just had to try it,’ the man said, ‘just once.’ And the expression on his face made it clear that whatever he’d hoped would happen wasn’t happening and Robbie had died and come back for what wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Robbie didn’t know if the legend had a grain of truth to it. For him, he didn’t guess it mattered much either way. He couldn’t get rid of the person responsible for sending him to Hell, and it wasn’t because his uncle was out of reach. No, Robbie couldn’t get rid of the guy responsible for his current predicament because it wasn’t Eli at all. The only person Robbie had to blame for his presence in the underworld was Robbie. He was the one who sold his soul to the Devil for a prize he’d already won. He was the one who’d been clueless to the fact that his uncle was being driven mad right in front of his eyes. He was the one arrogant enough to believe he could make a quick day trip to Hell and pluck a soul from damnation without facing any kind of consequence. The worst person in Robbie’s life, the one responsible for every goddamn shitshow he was a part of, had always lived in the fucking mirror. He’d always known that.
And so, with no way of knowing what was going on up above and no hope of finding his way out of Hell any time soon, he focused on survival. He focused on dying as little as possible, on staying away from the Fifth Street gang members he’d gifted with all-expense-paid tickets to Hell and avoiding Lucy Bauer and her gaggle of scientists whose ghosts he’d torn from their places on Earth and keeping distance between himself and all the trash he’d taken out since the Rider brought him back from the dead. Some days, he did okay. Some days, he bled out a hundred times an hour. It was a matter of luck more than anything else.
Today, he was doing all right. The safe spot he’d found would be burned by tomorrow --- news of people’s whereabouts traveled quickly in Hell, especially when the person in question was one that large groups of souls were seeking out --- but for the moment, his feet were on solid ground and his blood wasn’t spilling from his veins. He didn’t know how long he’d been here. Time moved differently in Hell, crawled by one moment and sped up the next. His first go-round, he’d tried to keep count. He’d tallied up what he’d thought might have been days in his head, counted them into months and years. By his count, he’d been in Hell nearly a hundred years then, but when he got back to Earth he’d found only months had passed. He hadn’t bothered counting when he brought the Darkhold back. His high school teachers might have frequently assigned him the title of slow learner, but he could take a lesson when it was obvious and this one was. Time in Hell was relative.
And there was no sense counting it up when you knew it wasn’t going to end.
It was a realization he’d come to rather quickly, after Eli tossed him out. He went from fighting a battle in the back of his own mind to staring out at all-too-familiar fiery slopes, and he’d known in an instant that this was how things would be for him now. No one could be lucky enough to escape Hell three times, especially now that he didn’t have Ghost Rider’s powers to fall back on. This time, Robbie figured, he was here to stay.
So he focused on the moment in front of him. He focused on the fact that, today, he wasn’t fighting off old enemies, wasn’t killing the same people over and over again or dying so many times that he barely had enough time to draw breath between one slaughter and the next. And he was wound tight and jumping at the slightest sound, but so was everyone. That was a side effect of Hell, and there was no shot at ever avoiding it.
It was lucky, he supposed, that he stopped to look before putting the blade he’d stolen off an old New York City gang member through the chest of the person who walked up behind him. Most days, Robbie wouldn’t have bothered. After so long in Hell, he’d lost any hope that anyone he met wouldn’t strike him down where he stood. But this time… This time, the familiar face that greeted him wasn’t one of the gang members he’d taken out in New York or L.A. It wasn’t the ghost of some scientist who’d worked with his uncle, wasn’t a wannabe supervillain with a justified grudge. It was, perhaps, a man whose death Robbie was still responsible for, but not one who would kill him for it.
Robbie’s shoulders dropped at the sight of him, grip slackening on the switchblade he’d been white-knuckling. He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing thickly before letting them slide back open to reveal that the figure was still there, still watching him with inquisitive eyes. They stayed like that for a moment, a pair of ghosts staring into eyes they’d thought they’d seen the last of, each waiting on the other to make the first move. Finally, Robbie shifted enough to make room for another body to sit on the ground beside him, and his newfound companion moved forward to take the silent invitation.
“I’d heard you were back,” Coulson said quietly. “Didn’t want to believe it.”
“Yeah, well,” Robbie sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face, “seems like I’ve got a hard time staying away.”
“Haven’t heard anything about the other guy popping back up,” Coulson prodded, and Robbie tasted bile in the back of his throat, which was stupid. There was no bile in his stomach, no food that could threaten to make its way back up. He hadn’t eaten since a slice of cold pizza Daisy left on the counter just a few hours before Eli made his presence known, and while he hadn’t been keeping track of the hours he knew there were a hell of a lot of them between now and then.
“It’s just me this time,” he said, tasting ash in his mouth with the words, because Coulson would want to know why. He would want to know how, and if he asked, Robbie was going to tell him. Robbie would blurt out everything, everything, and while Coulson might not hold what happened to him after he let the Rider into his head against Robbie, he knew the man would never forgive him if anything happened to Daisy. And right now, in this moment? Robbie couldn’t promise that she was okay.
“Is it like what happened before?” Coulson pressed, because, in spite of his unassuming outward appearance, he was still a spy. He was still one of the best agents SHIELD had ever had, and Robbie was still a fairly shitty liar. “It went into someone else, like it did with Mack?”
Robbie couldn’t look at him. He kept his eyes down on his hands, on the stolen switchblade with blood rusting the metal. He couldn’t remember now if the blood was there when he got it or if he’d put it there himself. He didn’t think it made much of a difference. “Not exactly,” he replied after a long pause, because Coulson would read a silence just as easily as a lie.
Another silence stretched between them, a canyon of stillness as Coulson looked at Robbie and Robbie looked anywhere else. “Robbie,” Coulson said, his voice somehow firm and gentle at the same time, and Robbie had never been the sort of person who held his heart on his sleeve but fuck, it took every ounce of strength in him not to cry.
Coulson, he realized with the smallest ounce of hysteria in his thoughts, sounded like what he’d always figured a father might sound like. He was nothing like Alberto Reyes, who’d walked out long before Robbie had a clear picture of his face saved into memory. He was nothing like Elias Morrow, who’d been more than willing to send Robbie to Hell for his own selfish gain. Coulson was the closest thing Robbie had seen in his life to a decent goddamn father figure, and what had Robbie shown him in return? He’d gotten him sent to Hell.
He’d probably gotten Daisy killed.
Robbie felt very cold all of a sudden, a shiver going down his spine. Eli said once that there was meaning to that, joked about it when Robbie was a child getting used to having an uncle where he’d once had a mother and father. That means someone is walking over the place where you’ll be buried, he’d said, feigning seriousness until Robbie’s eyes widened and he couldn’t hold back a laugh. Robbie always wondered if it was true. He wondered what his grave would look like now, if he’d have one. Was a grave yours if the body in it hadn’t belonged to you, in the end? Were you still a person if someone else was walking around in your skin? At what point did a man become a ghost?
“It was Eli,” he said, so sudden it surprised even himself. “It was… When you saw us, before, me and Daisy, Eli followed us out somehow. He hitched a ride inside my head. Rode around up there for months until he had the strength to…” Robbie trailed off, that phantom nausea tugging at his gut again, compelling him to expel food he hadn’t eaten from a body he didn’t have. “He kicked me out. He’s running around up there in my skin, with my face, with --- With the Rider in my head with him. And I don’t, I don’t know how to stop him. I don’t think I can stop him.”
The sea of information settled between them, and Robbie could swear he saw the words floating in the air, fading in and out of existence as Coulson processed it all. He didn’t know if the shock on the agent’s face was because of the tale he’d spun, the fact that it was more words than he’d probably ever heard Robbie say in one sitting, or some mixture of the two. The silence was a heavy one, a weight on his chest that he didn’t know how to breathe around. And he didn’t need to breathe down here, not when he was already dead, but he still felt as if he was suffocating. When he tore his eyes from the switchblade to risk a glance in Coulson’s direction, the man was looking at him with an unreadable expression and Robbie wondered if he might break his day-long streak of not being covered in his own blood. And god, he would have let him. If Coulson tried to take the knife from his hand and drive it through his fucking skull in that moment, Robbie would have let him.
Finally, Coulson shifted, breaking the silence with the question Robbie had known was coming. “Does Daisy know?” And even though he’d known Coulson would ask, it was a punch to the goddamn gut. Robbie closed his eyes again, letting his head drop. He would have preferred the knife to the skull, he thought. He would have preferred anything else.
“I don’t know,” he replied, so quiet he wasn’t sure Coulson would be able to hear it. He wasn’t sure he wanted Coulson to hear it, wasn’t sure he wanted the other man to know. Robbie had failed Daisy, and he didn’t even know how deep that failure went. He didn’t even know if she was alive right now, didn’t know if Eli would try to fool her or if he’d kill her the moment she walked into the apartment. At one point, he might have liked to think he knew his uncle well enough to predict his next move, but now? Now, Robbie wasn’t sure he’d ever known Eli at all. He’d never taken Eli for a murderer, but he was one. He’d never taken Eli for a narcissist, but he’d nearly gotten his entire fucking family killed in order to pursue his own selfish goals.
He’d never believed Eli was capable of hurting him, but he’d sent him to Hell without a hint of hesitation.
There was a sound off to the side, a quiet click of Coulson’s tongue as he mulled the new information over, and Robbie wondered if this was the part where the knife would slip from his hand to Coulson’s, if this was where he’d die and respawn someplace else, ready to die again. He braced for a blow that didn’t come, prepared for an imaginary hit. Instead, Coulson sighed. Robbie opened his eyes, glanced over at the man cautiously. Coulson was staring at him, studying him intently as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, deep in thought. Finally, he broke the silence with a question: “So what are you going to do about it?”
Robbie blinked, eyes wide as the words settled into his head. He opened his mouth and closed it. Once, twice, three times. Finally, he spoke, and the confusion was clear in his tone. “What?”
“What are you going to do about it?” Coulson repeated, and the words made just as little sense this time as they had before because what? Robbie was in Hell. He had no access to Earth, no way of knowing what was happening there, and certainly no way to stop it. He didn’t have a plan because he had no options.
“What can I do about it?” He asked, incredulous.
Coulson quirked a brow, looking so utterly unimpressed that Robbie had to run through his story again in his head, had to look for the parts he’d missed in his situation that made Coulson believe he had anything resembling options here. He came up short, again and again. If he had choices, he had no idea what they were. And still, Coulson looked like he was missing something obvious.
Finally, the agent seemed to take pity on Robbie with a sigh, shaking his head. “Robbie,” he said patiently, sounding very much like a man preparing to explain something simple to a particularly stupid toddler, “your body is still your body. Isn’t it?”
“I… guess so?” Robbie wasn’t sure what he was getting at, didn’t know what this had to do with anything. His body was still his body, but it wasn’t accessible. It was up on Earth and he was down in Hell and it wasn’t like there was an express train he could take to get back to it.
“And it’s still alive,” Coulson pushed, and Robbie tilted his head to the side, still not understanding the relevance.
“I don’t think it would do Eli much good to kill it,” he allowed, because that would really defeat the purpose of whatever Eli had planned. Besides, Robbie didn’t think the Rider would let his body die, even if Robbie wasn’t in it. The guy needed something to hitch a ride in, didn’t he?
“So your body is alive,” Coulson continued slowly, “and your soul is alive.”
“Is that what we are?” Robbie questioned. “Souls?” He’d never given it much thought before and, given Coulson’s expression, it wasn’t a conversation they had time for now, either.
“I don’t think you understand the point,” Coulson said which, fair. Robbie definitely didn’t understand the point of whatever it was Coulson was getting at, but whose fault was that? Coulson was the one being a cryptic old bastard, as if SHIELD and its shitty secrecy was an important thing in Hell. Robbie sighed, shaking his head and motioning for Coulson to just come out and say whatever obvious thing he was missing. “If your soul is alive and your body is alive,” Coulson said, finally taking enough pity on Robbie to spell the damn thing out, “that means you’re alive, Robbie. You aren’t dead. You’re just lost.”
“I’m not lost,” Robbie argued, because he was nothing if not contrary. “I know exactly where I am. I’m in Hell, Coulson. What’s it matter if my body’s alive if I can’t get to it.”
“Have you tried?” Coulson sounded angry now and Robbie remembered that, while he sounded fatherly in the way none of the men in Robbie’s life ever had, he wasn’t Robbie’s father. He was a guy who’d found Robbie at a strange time in his life and offered him guidance he hadn’t known he’d needed, but he wasn’t his father. If Coulson was a father figure to anyone, it was the person up on Earth with the body he was demanding he try to find a way back to. Fathers, when they were decent, protected the people they cared for. And right now, for Coulson, that wasn’t Robbie.
It was Daisy.
And Robbie got it. He really did. If it had been Gabe in trouble, he’d be angry too. He’d be chastising whoever he was with and demanding they do something, but what was there to be done? “People don’t just walk out of Hell, Coulson,” he snapped.
“Didn’t you do that?” Coulson retorted. “Multiple times?”
“Yeah, with a demon in my head and a chain that could open portals to other dimensions. You see either of those things laying around now?”
“What if I had a way?”
Robbie’s head snapped up, and he searched Coulson’s face for any hint of humor and came up short. “You got a way out of Hell,” he repeated slowly, “and you… What? Waited ‘til now to bring it up?”
“I have a rumor,” Coulson amended, and that made more sense. Rumors were like currency down here. They passed from person to person, gained value where they went. Everyone was looking for an out of some kind or another, but no one had ever found one.
“Rumors are usually bullshit,” Robbie pointed out, looking back down to his switchblade and twirling it in his fingers absently. “Plenty of rumors about ways out, but I never heard of anybody actually making it. You know why that is?” He paused, though not long enough for Coulson to answer before he provided the answer all his own: “Because the rumors are fucking horseshit.”
“Or because the wrong people are trying,” Coulson countered. “Look, this rumor says it’s a door. The only people who can pass through it are people who shouldn’t be here. Like, for example, someone living?”
“Or a good man who didn’t earn his spot,” Robbie replied, the realization springing on him all at once. “Shit, Coulson, if this thing’s real…”
“We could both get out,” Coulson confirmed with a nod. Robbie sucked in a breath through his teeth, weighing their options. If it were just him with a shot to get out of Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d take it. The thought of getting his hopes up just to have them dashes was somehow worse than the idea of never trying at all. But if this could mean a second chance for Coulson, too…
Robbie looked up, a newfound determination in his eyes. “Well, shit,” he sighed, shaking his head. “What do we have to lose?”
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new girl in town (buffy au)
day 1 of ladies of rnm week: first impressions
ao3
“Oh, so there are female Watchers?”
Liz eyed Mimi skeptically, circling her and taking in all the signs she could. Her previous Watcher, Jim Valenti, had died nearly a year ago and she hadn’t heard shit from the council. Why was she just supposed to believe that this woman was who she said she was?
“Jimmy really didn’t tell you women could be Watchers? Did he tell you anything? That man, I swear,” Mimi chuckled, seeming awfully fond of the man who had never spoken of her existence.
Liz’s eyes moved to Maria. It made sense. Maria was new, she’d just started going to Roswell High at the beginning of the week and she’d seemed to be following Liz everywhere. Maybe her mother sent her to check out the Slayer. She’s lucky she hadn’t gotten followed right back.
“I didn’t know Watchers were allowed to have lives outside of being a Watcher,” Liz commented. She knew Valenti had Kyle, but he was a relatively hands-off father. Watcher first, father second. Mimi, however, seemed to mix the two.
“We aren’t priests,” Mimi snorted. Liz raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Besides, aren’t Slayers supposed to keep their identity a secret?” Mimi inquired, cocking an eyebrow as she gesture behind Liz. She glanced over her shoulder to see both Alex and Kyle, her self appointed lackeys, smiling through mouthfuls of their lunch they’d decided to share. She took a slow breath before turning to look back at Mimi.
“Happenstance.”
Mimi smiled. “Mhm.”
There was some extra silence before it started getting awkward. She hadn’t anticipated being assigned a new Watcher, they did just fine on their own. She and Kyle trained together and, while he wasn’t much of a challenge in the strength department, he was a skilled fighter and quick on his feet. Alex was a tech god and did all the research in stride, slowly building his own private library on the creatures they handled. They did fine.
She didn’t need some adult dictating them.
“You do realize you don’t exactly get a choice in the matter, don’t you?” Liz narrowed her at the self-aggrandizing woman.
“I honestly wasn’t a fan of the council back with Jim, they gave me a lot of shit and I feel like we’ve done pretty well without a Watcher. Besides, I am the Slayer. I think I get a choice,” Liz pointed out smugly. Maria took a step towards her before her mother could even open her mouth.
“With all due respect, Slayer, don’t think of it as having another Watcher being sent to babysit you, think of it as two more people on your side. We know you fight as a group, but your group is a Slayer and two inexperienced, powerless teenage boys.” Maria ignored the boys' whines of protest. Liz tilted her head back; she was listening. “We’ve both spent our lives in the world of the supernatural, learning about the scary things that hide in the dark. We know it, we live it, we survive it. How many times have you lost someone or almost lost someone?”
No one wanted to answer. There were more casualties than she wanted to admit and, just two months prior, Alex had ended up in the hospital with internal bleeding and a punctured lung. Maybe they could use the backup.
“Exactly so, factor in two people who know what’s going on before it happens. Or, at least before it gets too lethal. Besides, Mom isn’t a big fan of the council either,” Maria added. Mimi was watching her with a level of pride Liz envied.
“Understatement of the century,” she huffed, but she still smiled none the less. She picked up her bag. “We own the magic shop on 4th Street. Come over when you decide it’s a good idea.”
“Consider it,” Maria said, smiling just as sweetly before following her mother outside of the library. Liz waited until they were completely out of sight before going to sit across from her goons. They simultaneously wiped their mouths with the back of their hands.
“So, what do you think we should do?” she asked. After Jim died, Liz had realized it was crucial to make decisions as a group and to be on the same page at all times. Yes, she was the Slayer, but they were risking their lives for fun. They deserved a say.
“She seems nice,” Alex noted. Liz turned her attention to Kyle.
“I mean, we could do with the extra help,” Kyle agreed, “We’d just have to make sure she understands she’s not in charge. Like, she can help. Just… not dictate us.”
“Yeah, obviously, that’s what I want too,” Liz agreed, nodding. Alex grabbed a spinach leaf from the boys’ shared salad, popping it into his mouth.
“Yeah, but what about Max?” he said.
Liz leaned back as she remembered Max. She hadn’t seen him in a few nights, but he was definitely on the list of people to consider when accepting someone new into the gang. Especially a new Watcher. Recruiting vampire hunters was a challenge whenever you, you know, fought beside a vampire.
“I’ll call him,” Liz sighed, going to fish for her phone. She wished he could’ve just been here to meet her. She wasn’t really in the mood to wait until nightfall for them to meet. Maybe he could be all stealthy and stay in the dark all the way to the magic shop.
“Hate that guy,” Kyle grumbled the moment she pulled out her phone. She gave him a sweet smile as she flipped him off. He smiled right back.
“Liz,” Max breathed when he answered. He had a bad habit of saying her name like it reminded him how to breathe. It made her feel a little lightheaded every time.
“So, I have some news,” she said, laying back in her chair. Kyle turned his attention to Alex so he didn’t have to listen to Max, well, existing. Liz rolled her eyes as he basically melded his cheek against the other boys’ shoulder. “Remember that girl I told you that I thought was following me?”
“Yeah, what is she? Demon?” Max asked. Liz managed a smile, shaking her head.
“Worse. Daughter of my new Watcher apparently,” she said. Max was silent, clearly trying to find something to say. There wasn’t much. “She seems pretty determined. What do you want me to tell her about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean, do you trust her?”
“I didn’t trust Valenti,” Max pointed out and she heard him sigh dramatically on the other end of the line, “We need to test her, I guess. I just… I don’t know how.”
Liz thought about it for a moment, but she soon got an idea. The smile she got on her face at her own idea was apparently enough to get confused looks from Alex and Kyle. She heard Max say her name a little warily as well. Still, it was a good idea.
“I think I know exactly what to do.”
-
Max watched hesitantly from afar as Liz walked inside the magic shop with Alex and Kyle. It was one of those moments where he wished he was slightly less whipped if only so he wouldn’t feel so compelled to go along with her ideas.
“You won’t get killed,” Liz had said with her charming smile, “I’ll protect you. There are benefits to dating the Slayer, you know.” And how could he tell her no?
He couldn’t. That was the problem. Every time he considered it, she would bat those eyelashes and smile that smile and be so tiny yet so fucking powerful that it was just too much for him to handle. Soul or not, she was too easy to love.
“You better be right, Liz,” he grumbled under his breath before he slowly started making his way towards the magic shop and changed his face. He made sure to put his cowboy hat through the window of her car first just in case it got messy.
With another heavy breath, he walked inside.
“Slayer,” Max announced and hoped he didn’t sound too much like a shitty Bond villain, “You’re just far too easy to find.”
Liz, her two humans, and the two unknown women in the room all turned to face him. He bared his fangs in the most menacing way he could manage. She gave him a little encouraging smile before immediately going into a fighting stance.
“What can I say? Sometimes a girl just wants to be found.”
Max really should’ve prepared more.
He ducked when punches were thrown, but he did make sure she got a few in. Most of his fighting back consisted of blocking and a few childish shoves that made her scrunch her nose up, making it that much harder to try and hit her. He hated fighting with her, even if it was for a good reason and if she was kicking the shit out of him first.
Liz got a really good kick in the face in, sending him to the floor. He swept his leg against her ankles and brought her down to the floor with him. In true Slayer fashion, she landed elegantly on his chest and used this position to deck him in the jaw. Max pushed her off before he could think too much about how close her thighs were to his face and jumped to his feet, ready to continue.
Just when he was beginning to question why the Watcher wasn’t showing her stuff, he froze. Literally. His entire body was captured in some sort of invisible hold and panic started building in his system as he wondered what the hell was happening. Liz stumbled back at the realization, concern etching its way onto her face as Alex steadied her.
Then the new Watcher stepped forward, a condescending smirk on her face. Behind her, on the floor, sat the girl that Liz must’ve been talking about, her eyes closed in complete focus with a candle in front of her. Oh. She was doing this.
“Maxwell the Demented. I never thought I’d meet one of the legends in person,” the Watcher said. Max tried to respond, but nothing came out so he looked back to Liz for help.
She did say she’d protect him.
“What did you do to him, Mimi?” she demanded, stepping forward. Mimi’s smile never faltered as she shook her head.
“This is your pet vampire? I’d heard you had one, but Maxwell the Demented? You managed to tame him?” Max might’ve been annoyed with how impressed she sounded if she didn’t have him in a hold.
“No taming necessary. This isn’t necessary, let him go,” Liz demanded.
“Maria,” Mimi said softly. The moment the girl opened her eyes, Max was let free. He collapsed on the floor and while part of him wished Liz had rushed to his side, he felt an unmatched level of pride at the way she stood her ground. “So, did we pass your test?”
Alex snorted and was immediately elbowed by Kyle to shut up, but Liz never broke eye contact with the Watcher. Her daughter slowly stood to her feet, careful to adjust back to reality as she did so. Max wondered just how powerful she actually was.
“So, are you Watchers or witches?” Liz asked, eying both women. She seemed a little impressed, but she also seemed hesitant. Which was understandable. Their last encounter with witches involved one too many people turning into hive mind robots for a day.
“Let’s say both,” Mimi answered confidently. Liz nodded slowly. “We’re safe with our craft, we come from a long line of witches. We were born in it, we didn’t learn it. It’s safe.”
“And you have full control? You can capture demons like that?” Kyle asked. Mimi nodded.
“And you aren’t going to kill me?” Max asked softly as he regained enough strength to sit up.
“As long as you pose no threat, no harm will come to you,” Maria answered simply enough.
The room fell silent as everyone took in the genuinely impressive women. With the ability to freeze something like that, it would make it so much easier to avoid getting hurt. And, god, did he want to make sure Liz didn’t get hurt or lose anyone else. Losing Valenti was hard enough. While this would be an uncomfortable arrangement for a while, Max thought it was a good idea. A safe idea. Regardless of how horrible their first encounter had gone.
“Okay,” Liz said, “You can be my Watcher.” And Mimi smiled.
“I can’t wait.”
#ladiesofrnmweek2019#lofrnmweek2019#echo fic#echo#liz ortecho#liz ortecho fic#mimi deluca#mimi deluca fic#max evans#max evans fic#roswell new mexico#roswell new mexico fic#rnm#rnm fic#2k word#my fic
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Best Friend. (Endeavor x Male reader)
"Enji Todorki. Why're you always so mad? You always look so grumpy."
The red haired Male turned to face you. Unsurprisingly he looked less than happy.
"If I look grumpy that means I don't like you. So I'd suggest you leave me alone."
You shook your head side to side. Not like you expected this conversation to go any better.
"For a guy who uses flames. You're pretty cold. I'm not here to be your enemy or get in your way. You're very powerful and more smart than you let on. I wanted to be your ally. Maybe a friend?"
He gave you a very questioning look. Before he snickered and turned away. His back facing you now.
"When I'm number 1, I won't need friends or allies. Glad you realize my potential though. That means I'm making myself known. The man who will become the number 1 hero is me, Enji Todoroki. Don't you forget it."
"Yeah yeah. I don't need the monologue. Look an important part of being a hero is being able to work and communicate with other heroes. You'd have a much better chance if you knew any social skills at all. If you'd like I can show you sometime."
Flames reared up around his neck and face. He turned back to you with a bloodshot eye staring directly at you.
"Why are you still here. I told you to leave. Even after all I've said you still wish to befriend me?"
"Well yeah. Thought that was obvious. I don't think you're a bad guy. You just need some people skills. Luckily for you I got those. Whaddya say, partners?"
His flames died down and he turned away once more. Heading down the hall.
"Once we graduate from U.A I begin my mission to become the greatest. You can follow me until then. After that we're no longer 'friends' got it?"
"Hah. I'm sure in the meantime you'll grow to love me! You'll be begging me to join your agency."
"I already regret indulging you as much as I have."
"Well get used to it. Now then let's work on some social interaction. You can't just ignore and monologue to everyone forever...."
Your eyes opened. Another dream about him. Endeavor. The Number 2 hero. He was true to his word. After you both graduated U.A it was impossible to get in touch with him. Even though he was always so focused and angry. You knew deep down he was a good guy who got misguided somewhere along the way. You knew for certain when you'd first seem him. His aura was so calm and alluring. Sure his personality wasn't the same, but he didn't show any sign of malevolence.
Your quirk when activated was just that. To see the auras of people you make eye contact with. Their aura was the closest thing to a soul that anyone could see. It's that gut feeling you get whenever you lay eyes on them the first time. Your quirk definitely wasn't battle effective, and you've known that from a young age. That feeling of powerlessness was bestowed upon you from your parents. Constant abuse and neglect left you with an empty husk of a boy you once knew. When you were 18 they threw you out and U.A was the only hope you'd had all your life. Somewhere away from them, so you could begin to mend what was broken. After taking the entrance exam you made it to U.A and caught wind of some of the highest potential people one of them was an inspiring pro hero by the name of Endeavor, you tried to befriend Endeavor, he looked like he had a lot of anger and malice, and nobody seemed to hang around him or make any kind of contact with him.
You wanted to show him that it's okay to open up and have friends to lean on. Break down his shell so he could have an easier time in the future. Arguably a valuable asset to becoming a hero is making faux partnerships when the need arises. Whether that be a large scale villain group or a well planned heist.
Whether he payed you any mind or not is up for debate but regardless you did what you could.
There was one event in particular that let you see past his anger. This is what made letting go of him after graduating so difficult and confusing.
One day you were just leaving the building after class when some jockey looking students started calling out to you from behind.
"Hey, it's the know it all from general studies. Top of the class my ass, doesn't even have a good quirk. What was yours again? I cant even remember it it's so lame."
You turned to face them and gave a deadpan stare.
"Can I help you? I usually charge for tutoring lessons you know."
The 'leader' of the group took a few more steps closer.
"Hey, watch your tongue little man. You don't know what you're getting into."
"Oh please. I might not be combat oriented but I don't need a quirk to beat someone like you. You might as well quirkless."
This made him angry as he let out a growl and charged forward with a left hook.
In today's society heroes are always around to stop villains from hurting the innocent. You knew that wasn't true, but on the off chance they were you would gladly take their help.
On the other hand if they weren't you had to fend for yourself. Especially against your parents. You'd only gotten into one physical altercation with them, and that's why you were kicked out at 18. It was on your birthday. Dad was drunk and didn't like what you had to say about it. In his rage he lunged at you and hit you multiple times.
After that you took several self defense classes for a few months. While not being combat built you are combat effective, knowing how to control the ebb and flow of the battle to your advantage.
Dodging the hook you used your right hand to grab at his wrist and put all your weight into a shove into his torso. Using your left hand to support it as well. It wasn't enough to knock him over, but he did stumble. That opening was all you needed. In a swift movement you did a low sweep to his legs and knocked him over.
Taking a quick jump back you readied yourself once more.
"Tch, not bad but let me show you how outclassed you are."
The air around you began to chill until it solidified into a block of ice. Beginning to shiver you get low to ground unsure of how to get out of this ice cube.
"See? Quirks are quite the equalizer aren't they? I can freeze the moisture in the air around me or someone else. You're quick on your feet, but when you can't move you're not that good are you?"
Go figure. You had the upper hand, but here you were eating your words.
It was easy to miss, but in a bright flash of red the jock who used his quirk to freeze you erupted into an explosion and was knocked on his ass.
The two other goons quickly scurried off.
Enji walked past the one on the ground and came to the block of ice.
"I was going to let you handle it, but it seems like you couldn't."
Salt to the wound was all it felt like.
"Yeah.. I guess not."
The look on his face changed with that response. It was out of character. Normally you'd have something quippy to say, but right now that wasn't possible.
Placing his hand on the ice he melted it and you quickly ran from the steam.
"Thanks, Enji."
He studied you without saying a word. Then turned back to the kid on the ground.
"Leave, now."
Without hesitation he did so.
"You had good moves, I didn't expect to see that from you. You always seemed feeble."
"I might as well be. I've always been this way, and I was stupid for thinking I could change."
He went silent again. Just staring at you.
"Follow me."
You followed him off school grounds and went into an alley way. Had you not been able to see he wasn't a malicious person you would definitely be suspicious.
"Why am I following you exactly?"
"I wanted to talk. It's not like you to be so hard on yourself. Why is that?"
Instantly the memories of your childhood came rushing back to you and instinctively you tensed up.
"I'm hard on myself because of my past. I've never been strong enough, and I never will be. To protect myself of the ones I care about. I've never been able to."
If you knew him it would take a moment for him to resp-
"You can be strong enough. You took on that guy without a quirk. You have the potential to be strong. So don't let one bump in the road bring you down. Besides. When I'm a pro hero you wont need to worry, there wont be anyone brave enough to commit a crime anyway."
You stood there for a moment. Baffled by what just came out of his mouth. The sharp tongued, angry Enji Todoroki just gave you advice and positive reinforcement.
"You've opened my eyes to a lot, (Y/N), I suppose I owe you at least this much."
"You don't owe me anything. I don't want you to think I've been your friend for all this time because I want you to repay me for it. It's because I-"
You paused for a moment and looked down at the ground.
"You seemed lonely when I first saw you, and I know how that feels."
He turned to face you and scoffed.
"I told you before, I don't need friends where I'm going. When I'm a pro they'll only get in my way and want some of my success. People are greedy, so I suggest you do the same. Stay solo for your best interest. I still stand by what I said when you first approached me. That will never change, but you're not a bad guy. So take my advice."
There was a tight knot in your chest as he spoke. Is that what he thought of you? That you just wanted to get close to him and mooch off him? Graduation wasn't that far away, and now you knew he was serious with what he said the first time you spoke to him. He doesn't want a friend, and most of all he didn't want to be involved with you.
"Is.. Is that what you think of me? That I'm going to use you? You should know better by now that I'm not that kind of person, but you know what? It doesn't matter Todoroki. If you think that lowly of me you're no better than anyone else on this damn planet, because it seems everyone does!"
In a fit of rage you quickly ran off and kept going until you were in a park surrounded by trees. Alone with nothing but yourself and the trees. All this time you thought you could have opened his eyes at least a little bit, yet here you were. Alone again, and your only 'friend' turning out to not care for you and still remaining adamant he doesn't need anyone. Whatever. Deep down you knew you were fighting a losing battle, and there wasn't anything you could you do about it. You sat below a tree and brought your legs to your chin and wrapped your arms around yourself.
"Why can't I just feel accepted, am I really that much of a burden on everyone? All I wanted was someone I could turn to when I fall and someone who felt they could do the same.. a best friend."
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Blue Skies (Winteriron). Chapter 2
Link to Chapter 1
Tagging @tardisoftheshire @6gotosleep9 @averagemarvelbitch @bookwermthings @giulisetta @tonystark5ever @lo-anlurui @pubzie
Am I missing anyone in the tags? 😬
Chapter 2
He paces. Intent and furious like a caged tiger, his body vibrating with tension. Twenty steps from the door of the OR to the window – a sharp turn – thirty more steps past the clock on the wall to the opposite side of the hallway – another turn – ten steps back to the door of the OR – pause – start all over again. The only sounds accompanying his incessant motion are the annoyingly loud squelching of his wet boots on the linoleum floor and the relentless ticking of the clock, ruthlessly timing the agony of his wait.
6:15 am
One hour and seventeen minutes since he burst into the hospital reception area with Tony in his arms, dripping wet and roaring at someone to help, fucking help me!!! Because Tony had lost consciousness too long ago, and he felt too cold in Bucky’s arms, and that slow thready beat of Tony’s heart that Bucky had clung to for reassurance as he plowed his way through flooded streets had become too faint to be heard over the frantic thump of his own.
One hour and seventeen minutes since Tony was whisked away from him with urgency that was less than reassuring.
One hour and seventeen minutes since he had nothing to focus on but his own thoughts, which kept bringing him back to the bungalow, to the damn nightmare that started it all.
It was a clap of thunder that had awoken him – a deafening bang that reverberated across the room shaking the windows and coinciding perfectly with the harsh report of a gun in his dream. He jackknifed in bed, wide nightmare-clouded eyes darting over to the window, to the wind-whipped shadows moving against the dark panes. Black uniforms was what he saw. Black uniforms with a red octopus symbol on the sleeve. HYDRA! Closing in on his location.
He needed a weapon.
He slipped out of bed, pulling on his boots. Made his way stealthily across the room, his ears attuned to the slightest noise, the faintest rustle. HYDRA would be breaching the perimeter any moment now. He needed to be prepared.
He crept silently along the walls, heading for the kitchen. Knives. There were knives there, he remembered. Remembered seeing a big wooden knife block on the counter by the fridge. A knife wasn’t ideal, but he didn’t have his gun, and he would have to make do. At least until he could lift something more substantial from one of the HYDRA goons.
He heard a voice call out to him, distorted by the angry howl of the wind outside. Heard footsteps, soft and bare, muffled by the lashing of the rain against the windows. They were here. Creeping up behind him.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer…
His fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife, his body tensing in preparation as he felt a hand press with an odd kind of hesitance against his shoulder.
And then he spun, thrusting his weapon into the pliant flesh in one sharp unforgiving move.
He stumbles, pausing his furious pacing to brace himself against the windowsill. Stares unseeing at the slowly brightening skyline as his mind spins and churns, assaulting him with a nauseating deluge of images.
Tony’s face – pale and wide-eyed, mouth open on a gasp of pain.
The fingers of Tony’s hand clenching convulsively on Bucky’s shoulder as his knees begin to buckle.
The weight of Tony’s body as he sags against Bucky with a soft moan.
The sound of the knife clattering to the floor as Bucky’s horror-numbed brain finally snaps into action and he grabs for Tony, breaking his inexorable descent to the floor.
His trembling hands on Tony’s stomach, pressing down, even as red spills between his fingers, coating his skin.
Tony’s voice, strained and breathy, as he tells Bucky over and over that it’s okay, it’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.
He had been about to strike again. God help him, he had been about to strike again before he finally registered who stood before him. He could have killed Tony right then and there. Could have been left standing over Tony’s body with nothing to show for his miserable excuse for existence but the blood on his hands, the blood of the one person who had come to mean the world to him.
Maybe he had. Maybe Tony was already dead by the time they put him on the operating table, bled out before help could reach him. Maybe that’s why nobody’s coming out to talk to him. Maybe all of this – all of his desperate attempts to save him – was for nothing.
He shakes his head, willing the sinister thoughts away. Clenches his jaw with teeth-shattering desperation, glancing over his shoulder at the resolutely closed doors of the OR.
He needs so desperately to know what’s happening behind them. Needs to see Tony. Needs to watch those damn doctors because he still doesn’t trust anybody in a medical garb, and it’s only because Tony was dying and Bucky didn’t have a fucking choice that he managed to walk in here, to hand Tony over to these people despite the fact that his whole being rebelled against the idea, that the urge to take Tony back from them and run was almost overwhelming. But Tony was dying, and Bucky was powerless to help him. So he forced himself to let Tony go, to let the doctors take him away.
It felt worse than getting his arm ripped off.
He feels lost. Cast adrift without an anchor. And useless, completely, utterly useless.
When he was taking Tony here, as scared, as devastated as he was, he had a purpose, a mission. He was trying to keep Tony alive. He was helping. He was useful. And now? Now he’s reduced to marching up and down the hallway like a restless wind-up toy. Idle, ineffective.
A failure.
He looks up at the clock again, at the minute hand that’s inching closer to the half-hour point. He can’t do this anymore. Can’t stand the wait. It’s been… it’s been too long.
He clenches the fingers of his metal hand into a fist, takes off at a determined stride toward the OR doors, intent on plowing his way through.
And near-skids to a halt as the doors open suddenly before him, a weary-looking surgeon stepping out.
“Mr. Barnes?” he calls, tired pale-gray eyes coming to rest on Bucky.
He nods numbly, not trusting himself to speak. Stands there on legs that are too rubbery all of a sudden for him to attempt any forward motion, his eyes glued to the patches of red staining the surgeon’s scrubs. Blood. Tony’s blood. Tony’s blood.
The surgeon is talking, his face creased with fatigue and concern, but Bucky can’t hear a word he says past the roar of blood in his ears and the crescendoing thoughts of “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead” pulsating in his mind.
He must have swayed, his body too numb, his legs too unsteady, because the surgeon was suddenly right there before him, hands on Bucky’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him back toward the wall, forcing him to slide down. Bucky doesn’t resist, pliant like he hasn’t been since HYDRA. Lets the man guide him to the floor. Because what does it matter anymore? What does anything matter anymore now that Tony’s gone?
“He’s gonna be okay.”
The surgeon is crouching before him now, one hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky blinks at him, bewildered, as the words finally, finally filter through the haze.
“Wh…what?”
“Your husband,” the surgeon repeats patiently, a soft reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “The surgery went well.”
“My h…” He shakes his head, willing for his scrambled, scattered thoughts to splice themselves into some semblance of order.
Husband, right. He’d put Tony down as his husband on the admission paperwork so they wouldn’t bother him with the next-of-kin questions. It wasn’t all that preposterous an idea either. He was gonna propose to Tony this weekend. Had the ring in his pocket and everything. Had the whole day planned out for them… until it all went to hell.
He swallows convulsively against the memories. Tries again. “He’s alive?”
His voice is barely more than a pathetic croak, but the surgeon hears him just fine. Nods at Bucky, his smile growing warmer, understanding. “He’s alive, yes. They are just getting ready to move him to the recovery room. He won’t be awake yet, but you’ll be able to sit with him there a bit.”
Bucky feels something unclench in his chest – a cold, stifling vise that had clamped around his ribcage the moment he jabbed that knife into Tony’s body – has finally snapped open, and he can breathe again. So he does. Frantically, rapidly. Feeling like his heart is about to burst through the freshly opened hole in the ice.
The hand on his shoulder tightens, the surgeon tilting his head slightly to capture Bucky’s wild gaze. “Easy,” he tells him, “easy.” Pushes down when Bucky makes an awkward attempt to get his feet back under him. “Stay here,” he instructs, “sit, breathe. Someone will come get you when your husband’s ready.”
Bucky manages a nod.
***
A nurse comes for him a short while later, and he feels steady enough to stand up and follow. Feels steady enough to walk after her into the room, where Tony lies, swathed in a blanket that rivals the waxen color of his skin. Steady enough to pull up a chair, careful to avoid the machines that are crowding beside Tony’s bed, staring warily up at the heart monitor that beeps a steady rhythm above Tony’s head.
“He’s doing good,” the nurse reassures from behind him. “His heart was having a bit of trouble handling the blood loss, like the doctor told you, but he is stable now. The monitor is just for us to keep an eye on him.”
And, just like that, the steady feeling goes away, and, boy, is he glad he’s already sitting down, because he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to remain standing. Not with the way his whole body grows abruptly, utterly numb.
“His… his heart stopped?” he manages, hand reaching shakily for Tony’s (cold but alive, alive!). Grips it with all the desperation of a drowning man, as the room spins wildly around him, his vision tunneling dangerously.
The nurse continues to speak behind him – something about the surgeon’s explanations and severe blood loss and how Tony got lucky and everything is okay now and he is weak but recovering nicely….
Bucky nods as if he understands. He doesn’t. Not really. He doesn’t remember the surgeon saying any of those things. Couldn’t really hear the man. Can’t really hear much now.
But he does understand one thing very clearly. He killed him. He killed Tony. Tony died on that operating table, and it was all Bucky’s fault.
He wants to vomit.
The nurse finishes writing down something in her notes and leaves the room, telling Bucky she’ll be back to check on Tony in a little while. He nods again, curt, automatic, hand clenching convulsively around Tony’s.
He can’t stay here. Can’t bear to be by Tony’s side knowing what he’s done. How can he? He vowed to himself that he would protect Tony, keep him safe. And Tony can’t be safe with him around. He got lucky this time, like the nurse said. Lucky. But there’s no way he’s gonna tempt his luck again. Not with Tony’s life as the stake.
He gets up from his chair, steps closer to the head of the bed. Leans down to press a gentle, lingering kiss on Tony’s forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, the words grating, choking him as they make their way past his throat. Presses a trembling hand against Tony’s cheek, blinking against the tears that blur his vision, washing out the familiar features. “I love you. I’m sorry.”
And then he tears himself away – ripping the Bandaid off violently and all at once, walks to the door, pulling out his phone as he goes. “I need you to come,” he says gruffly the moment the call connects, not letting the other person get a word in edgewise. “I’ll explain everything when you get here. I’ll text you the address.”
And he walks out, forcing himself not to look back.
#winteriron#tony stark#bucky barnes#angst#hurt/comfort#not much comfort here yet#but there will be#i hope#somethingjustsouthofbrilliance writes
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shut up about your clearly brilliant plan and kiss me already
part of the Oli & Melv Regency AU
"Twenty-five pounds, or their first offer, right?" Olivia paced back and forth in front of the door, where Melvina stood, watching, hand on the doorknob, as it had been for the last few minutes. "No more than fifty probably and certainly not more than a hundred for the both of us, unless it's really all just a scam and we're being taken for -"
"Liv, please. Calm down." Melvina opened the door. "We've been over all this. It'll be fine. I won't be gone for long."
"Right, I know, sorry." Olivia stopped pacing and rubbed at her face with her hands. "You remember we talked about what you should do if you notice someone following you?"
"Bye," Melv called, closing the door maybe a little too firmly as she left. She understood that Olivia was stressed. Of course she was stressed - they were both stressed. So if it felt like Liv wasn't trusting her with this totally manageable task, she had to acknowledge where the other was coming from. Liv was cooped up in their crappy little rented room and had been for days, unable to go out because of the price on her head (significantly greater than the reward offered for Melvina) and the government agents searching for them. There was nothing Liv wanted more than to go out and make these arrangements herself; but it was too dangerous, so Melvina went alone. That was also tough for Olivia, the thought that something could happen to Melv while she was out, while Liv was powerless to help. Melvina understood this not this because they'd talked about it - because they hadn't - but rather from the way Olivia clung to her at night on the rickety little bed, from the way that she herself felt the same cold worry every time she left Liv in the room to purchase food or run some other errand like this. The thought that - maybe the last time she'd gone out she had been followed back, and the agents were waiting for her to leave so they could get Liv on her own. Capture her, maybe kill her, since they didn't need her alive. And then Melvina would return to an ambush and a dead body -
She shivered. It was wet outside, spitting rain, which made it easier for Melv to make her way through the city and down to the docks inconspicuously. She was searching for the captain of the Kilduroy, which ship had, according to the schedule she had found the last time she'd searched, come into the city last night. The very ship that Lady Braintree had recommended to them before they'd fled her estate, the little cargo ship that would hopefully, if all went well, secret them away across the Atlantic, far away from the dangers they were facing here in England.
The Kilduroy. There it was. It did not look like a particularly trustworthy vessel, but she'd seen worse. The anonymity was to their advantage. After a bit of asking around and, to her dismay, a few curious looks, she found the captain, a middle-aged, disinterested man who immediately perked up upon presentation of Lady Braintree's letter of introduction.
"We're setting out again in six days," he said, "and we can easily accommodate you, and keep it quiet. Every last man on this ship is trustworthy, they know sometimes we carry sensitive cargo. It's going to be -"
"Two," Melvina said. "There are two."
"Oh, all right," said the captain. "What'd you say your name was, lady?"
She hadn't. "J-ane. I'm Jane. And, uh, Catherine."
"Well, Jane. It'll be forty pounds for the both of you, and you can pull your weight on board as well. I'll take half the fare now and half when we set out."
"Okay," Melv said, pulling out the money. Forty was not the twenty-five Liv had been hoping for, but they couldn't exactly be picky.
"Good," said the captain, pocketing the payment. "Six days from now. Be here at dawn."
It was an exceptionally tense six days. Melv didn't really know how they got through it. Olivia was increasingly antsy and would get frustrated at the littlest things. By the last day she had taken to lying on the bed for hours in a miserable daze, staring at the ceiling, unfortunate because that's exactly what Melv wanted to do, and there wasn't room for both of them up there, not when they could barely stand each other.
Purgatory ended on a Wednesday. They brought themselves and their meager baggage to the dock at five in the morning, far earlier than any of the crew actually showed up - and now it was eight-thirty, and they should have pushed away from land at least half an hour ago. In order to stay hidden until they actually did leave, Melvina and Olivia were sitting against against the least dirty wall of the most deserted corridor outside the cluttered crew's quarters where they were to be staying along with everyone else. For forty pounds Melvina might have expected better accommodations, but - mostly she was just upset that she and Liv would not be getting a moment alone for at least a month, or however long this godforsaken journey took them. They couldn't risk their position on the ship, so they had to be on their absolute best sisterly behavior.
At least the others couldn't understand what they were saying to each other. Probably. Surely no one else spoke their language?
"I want to know what's taking so long," Liv muttered. Melvina turned to her curiously. "It seems harmless but if the ship's paperwork is not in order, the dock authorities might perform an inspection of some sort."
Oh. She was right.
"I should go up to check with the captain," Melvina said, standing. "And you should stay here."
Liv looked like she was going to protest, but ultimately she just gave a small nod, quickly squeezed the other's hand, and let her go.
Melvina rounded the corner, coming to the part of the level that was an exposed walkway, and stood standing for a few moments, listening. Hearing nothing unusual - but it was hard to hear anything, with the din of work going on nearby - she proceeded up the stairs to the top deck, where she was greeted by the sight of not only the captain and some recognizable members of the crew, but also the the very uniforms they had been desperately trying to avoid. And everyone was staring at her.
Her hand immediately flew to her hip, where her sword was - not, it wasn't there, it was down with Liv and the rest of the baggage. Oh, god, she couldn't take on this many men anyway. She had half a mind to turn and flee down the stairs but when large hands closed around her shoulders - where had those two men come from? - she realized that she couldn't. That this was it. That they'd finally gotten her, and she wasn't getting away.
"Good morning, gentlemen," she said, fairly loudly, hoping Olivia would hear and get the right idea. "Can I help you?"
"You're under arrest, Utkin," barked the uniform in charge, a lieutenant. "Search the rest of the ship."
Fuck. No. They'd gotten her but they couldn't get Liv, they couldn't.
"Gentlemen, please," said the captain, pale and distressed. "I only have one passenger aboard, and it's this woman."
"Your lies are becoming tiresome," the lieutenant said, condescending. "That's not what your first mate told me when he came to collect his reward."
The captain cursed. At least the man hadn't betrayed them on purpose, right? She supposed it didn't really matter who had done it. All that mattered now was that they didn't find her.
"There's no one down here, sir," said a man from the bottom of the stairs, and it took all of Melvina's self-restraint not to smile or show her relief.
"You keep looking," said the lieutenant. "Return in half an hour if you find nothing. I'm bringing this one in now."
Still being firmly restrained by the lieutenant's goons, Melvina was brought off the ship, down the busy dock, and into a waiting carriage, inconspicuously black and plain. She didn't bother resisting, didn't acknowledge or even notice the curious looks she was getting, instead scanning the sea of faces and bodies for some shape that she would recognize, some discreet, anonymous figure among the crowd that would confirm her hopes that Liv had escaped. Maybe she was the person with their back turned and their legs dangling off of the walkway. Maybe she was hidden among the walkers she could barely make out on the beach. Maybe she was still on the ship, and she was hidden so well they wouldn't find her. Maybe she was in the process of swimming to the shore. Maybe they'd spotted her from the ship. Maybe they'd shot at her. Would they miss? Would she drown? Alone in the cold, dirty water -
"I've heard about you," said the lieutenant, snapping Melvina's attention back to the immediate. "Not a lot, but some. A real troublemaker, huh. I bet you thought it was fun, going around in revolutionary circles, right? We'll see who's having fun when you're serving fifty years hard labor for sedition."
Melv didn't respond, stubbornly looking down at her lap instead of at the smug man sitting across from her in the carriage. Unsatisfied, the lieutenant kept going. "You seem smart enough. You're clearly a woman of ideas. What I want to know is why you've been attaching yourself to that Hvorstovsky. Do you understand?" Melvina gave no acknowledgement. "You aren't a problem for us if you aren't in the country. You become insignificant. There are plenty of rabble-rousers back at home we could make examples of. It's Hvorstovsky we're after. You've made yourself a bonus."
Melvina understood the question, and understood the lieutenant's curiosity. But she had never doubted her decision to stick with Olivia, not when they'd fled the Braintree estate with the agents' dogs at their heels, not even during the past week stuck in that awful little room. They were stronger, more capable, when they were together. And then there was the whole issue of them maybe being a little in love or whatever.
"Not going to talk?" the lieutenant said after a minute. "That's fine. We don't need you to."
The rest of the ride proceeded in silence. Melv didn't know where they were going, but she wasn't surprised when they ended up at the embassy. It was a large, gated structure, heavily guarded, and the lieutenant had to get out and show his badge to the men out front before they were let in.
Once inside, they passed through the public area of the embassy, where an array of men and women waited to have requests and documents processed by officials, and through another security point into the private part, whereupon, after the lieutenant had all of the information processed regarding the arrest, Melv was finally released by the goons.
"I'll have someone show you around," the lieutenant said. "One of my men will accompany you at all times." He held up a warning finger. "If you cause any sort of trouble there will be consequences for you and your friend. I know how to make your stay here as unpleasant as possible. All right?"
She nodded to show that she understood. And so her captivity began.
In a different situation, she would have found her stay at the embassy pleasant, almost enjoyable. Despite the various silent men following her around and watching her every move, she was given a private room far nicer than that in which she'd last stayed, and she was permitted to move about the building freely, a privilege which she fully exercised. For two days she spent much of her time in the back corner of the embassy library, burning through its the supply of books and documents which were in languages she could actually read. Keeping herself distracted.
She was consoled by two things: one, that she was still alone, which she took to mean that the agents hadn't yet managed to capture Olivia; and two, that she was still being kept here, because surely (maybe?) if Olivia was dead, they'd be on their way back home already.
(Then again, if the agents brought her back without Liv and without telling her otherwise, she'd just assume Olivia had managed to escape. Wouldn't he? She'd assume Olivia had managed to get on a ship and leave. She'd assume it as a kindness to herself.)
That didn't stop her from giving every other morbid possibility its fair share of consideration.
It was the night of her second full day at the embassy and, predictably, she couldn't sleep. Tired of imagining all the different ways she might never see Olivia again, she'd instead taken up an amorphous, permeating sense of dread which may have been just as hard on her heart but was at least not as taxing on her brain. She didn't expect anything to break her from her trance, and certainly did not expect anything - or anyone - to literally break into her room.
"Utkin, get up," the man hissed. Melv recognized that voice - it was the lieutenant who had arrested her.
"What?" she asked groggily, her eyes adjusting to the light from the hallway. "Has something happened?"
"Shut up," said the lieutenant. He held out a long black coat and a large-rimmed hat. "I need you to put these on."
Melv did as she was told. She wasn't sure what was going on but it didn't seem entirely... legitimate. She bit off a yelp of surprise as the lieutenant grabbed her by the front of the coat and tugged her into the (empty? weren't there supposed to be men posted outside her door at night?) hallway.
Something must have happened. Had they found Olivia? Had they killed her? Had they decided Melvina wasn't worth the trouble of keeping her around, or alive? She was pulled through the rest of the strangely deserted building, and outside. As they approached the main gate the lieutenant turned to grip both sides of the coat and pull Melvina's face up to his.
"Breathe a word of this to anyone and you're dead, got it?" Melv gulped and nodded, and the lieutenant let her go, instead walking beside her the rest of the way up to the gate.
The guards on the other side of the fence didn't give much acknowledgement to the odd pair, only muttering a "Good night, sir," as the lieutenant passed.
They walked together for another block, Melv too confused to do anything other than follow the other as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Then, as soon as they turned the corner out of the embassy guards' line of sight, the lieutenant turned to her and held out his hand.
"I need those back," he said. Melvina took off the coat and hat and handed them over. Shouldn't she be running? Wouldn't this be a good opportunity to get away? But she stood and watched the lieutenant put the items on.
"You're free to go," the lieutenant continued. "And when you see Hvorstovsky tell her I said she's a real asshole."
"W-will do," Melv replied, a little shocked. And just like that, the lieutenant turned and left.
What? That was it? She'd just been freed like that - while, based on the lieutenant's comments, Olivia was still out there? Was this some mind game - was she going to be followed?
But there was nobody around. She made her way back to the building in which she and Liv had been staying - it was the only place in the city she could think of to go. She took a circuitous, confusing path, partially intentional so as to lose anyone who was following her and partially because she didn't entirely know where she was.
Eventually, after an hour or so, she arrived. She didn't actually have a plan, but she realized that because of the possible change in occupancy it might be a bad idea to go barging back into their old room. Luckily, she noted that the housekeeper had a light on visible through her window, so she didn't feel to bad about knocking.
"Oh, it's you," the housekeeper noted immediately upon opening the door, not waiting for her to explain herself. "I was told to give you an address. Let me get it." She left briefly, then returned with a blank envelope, which she handed to her.
"Thank you, ma'am. Do you remember, um, when this was... given?" A more advanced English sentence than she was accustomed to delivering.
"Wednesday night, I believe," she replied. "Now, excuse me, good night."
So Olivia had escaped from the ship after all. "G-good night!" The landlady shut the door, and she tore open the envelope. Inside was a slip of paper with an address she knew to be in the north part of the city in a script she knew to be Olivia's.
Thank god.
She got herself to the address as quickly as she could, almost running. The morning was lightening and people were appearing on the street and in just a few minutes, she'd be with Olivia again, Liv would be there, or she wouldn't... she would or she wouldn't, just a few minutes, she would or she wouldn't, and in this way she arrived at the correct street, then the correct block, then -
She heard a shout from the other side of the street, and then a slightly smaller person was colliding with her and it just felt so right, after what felt like an impossibly long time, that she was choking back unexpected tears.
"Melvina. Melv," Olivia looked up, unburying her face from Melvina's shirt. "I can't believe it worked."
"Liv," Melvina croaked. "I can't believe you're okay."
"Are you okay?" Liv removed her arms from around Melv's waist, gripping her face and moving it back and forth, inspecting. She then took a step back and looked her up and down. Melv laughed.
"I'm great. I'm excellent," she said, allowing Liv to pull her by the hand towards a door, using the other to wipe at her wet face.
"That can never happen again," Liv said, entering the building and starting up the stairs, Melv still in tow. "I only got our bags back by freak luck and it took most of the rest of our money to get them to let you go, and I had to feed them so many lies about which of their secrets I'd told to whom, and even then..." They arrived at a room which Liv unlocked and entered, shutting the door behind them. "I had no control over the situation, I didn't know if they were actually going to do what I asked or if they were just going to keep the money and laugh at me, I -"
She broke off her train of thought and let go of Melv's hand, beginning to pace around the room as she launched into her next slightly manic tirade. "And then, clearly the plan we were given didn't work out, it's not like we can go back and ask for more help, we're completely on our own and in a way that's fine, I got us tickets for the ferry to Dublin today, even though I didn't know if you'd make it, I figured I could sell them if -"
Melvina caught her arm as she passed. "Liv, please," she asked softly. "Will you shut up about your clearly brilliant plan and kiss me already?"
"Oh," Liv said, looking up at her, eyes widening. "Yeah, okay."
[And she did, cradling Melvina's face in her hands like a sacred object and trying to give and give and give what Melvina needed - heartbreakingly sweet and earnest and Melv thought she was going to start crying again - until they were both breathless.]
"Now what was that you said," Melvina panted, "about ferry tickets to Dublin?"
#my writing#olivia#melvina#oli and melv#regency au#general's orders#hell yeah bitches#angst with a happy ending#there are a lot of hashtag just hvorstovsky things in this tbh#almost 3.5k here#wrote it in two days#but mostly today#pls tell me what u think uwu uwu uwu
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Fortitude [an all-new Reveal ficlet]
(AKA the reveal fic that no one asked for but wouldn’t leave me alone and so here it is. tagging @ohhsoadorkable and @storyiicharacter because I’m pretty sure you two like this sort of thing??)
They grabbed her in the carpark. Lena was tired, and rushed, and either of those would be excuse enough for letting her guard down. But truth be told, she'd gotten complacent. She simply hadn't thought to be on edge.
So she didn't expect the hands that grabbed her from behind, and had no defense against the prick of a needle against her neck, or the darkness that swiftly followed.
She woke in a pale room, wearing clothes that weren't her own. Her arms were locked over her head, held in place by heavy manacles sealed to the wall she rested against. Sitting as she was, she had full view of the room before her-- and the pair of men grinning down at her.
"What do you want?" Her voice remained steady. This part was familiar at least.
"Information," came the gruff response.
Lena eyed him, unafraid of the unspoken threat of how he intended to get that information. "L-Corp doesn't negotiate for information. Money, we can talk. Anything else, you're wasting your time."
The man smirked, and crouched beside her, leaning in to peer eerily into her eyes. Lena pulled back, until the back of her head smacked the wall behind her.
"Relax, beautiful." Rough fingers chucked her under the chin. "You're not the target."
Suddenly, the room plunged into an unnatural red glow. A door opened in the far wall and two new men entered, dragging a third body between them. Lena's heart lifted to her throat when she saw the cape and boots and long blonde hair of Supergirl.
Manacles matching Lena's already adorned the hero's wrists. All the goons had to do was press them against the wall until they beeped, and there they stayed, leaving Supergirl slumped against the wall, as pinned as Lena.
Lena stared, her hope dwindling as the unconscious hero, red light, and her own presence came together to form one chilling picture.
"You're leverage."
Kara came to slowly. When she finally had the strength to raise her head, she made out blurry figures on the far side of the room-- two men, one beefy and muscled, the other wearing a cruel smile. A third figure sat shackled to the wall between them, and with a jolt Kara realized it was Lena.
Long banks of lamps sat deep in a ceiling high overhead, bathing them all in a sickening red glow.
Kara focused on the smirking man across the room. "Let her go."
"No," he replied. His smirk grew.
"What do you want?"
"The location of the Fortress of Solitude."
Kara's mouth ran dry. The Fortress-- her people's entire knowledge. Their culture. Their technology. Its location was secret not just to remain a refuge for her and Kal, but also to keep Krypton's science out of the hands of those who would abuse it.
She looked to Lena, who shook her head in warning.
Silence hung between them, eerie in the red light of the lamps. When no answer was forthcoming, the man broke into a full smile.
"I was hoping that would be your answer."
With a snap of his fingers, his muscle man withdrew a hinged hoop of metal. Crouching next to Lena, he snapped it around her neck and once closed, it flashed with a slow pulsing light where the connection was made.
"Your friend's new necklace is going to cause her a great deal of pain," the man said. He lifted a remote, and waggled it tauntingly as he held Kara's gaze. "It won't kill her, though. Not yet. So I'll be back in the morning to see if you've changed your mind."
He pushed to his feet, and the two men on Kara's side of the room filed out.
The man who had spoken before pressed a button on the remote he held. There was a beep, and Lena's wrists were free, and she surged to her feet. Before she could take a single step, the man tapped the remote a second time.
The pulsing light at Lena's throat flashed bright and solid. Lena dropped like a rock, every muscle snapping tight as her entire body seemed to spasm at once.
"LENA!"
"We'll be back in the morning," the man sneered, passing Lena's seizing form without a second glance. "Enjoy the show."
The three men exited through a door in the opposite wall, while the two still hovering near Kara silently filed out through another. A soft beep sounded once the doors closed, releasing the magnetic seal between her cuffs and the wall. With manacles still latched around her wrists, Kara darted across the room towards Lena, only to bounce off a pane of reinforced glass at the halfway point.
"No, no, no!" Kara pawed at the partition, looking for a seam, a weakness she could use to break it. But the red light had already dampened her powers: her arms felt leaden, her legs like wood. Driving her shoulder against the window did nothing but hurt her.
"Lena!" she called. Lena didn't, couldn't, respond. With her eyes squeezed shut and fingers twisted into tight fists, her body arched against the floor involuntarily, and the only sound Kara could hear was the shallow, strained breaths of a woman in agony.
"Lena, I'm here. I'm right here," Kara promised, struggling to keep the tears from her voice. "It's going to be okay. I promise, I'm right here with you. I’m right here..."
What felt like hours later, the solid light of Lena's collar flicked off and resumed a lazy pulse. In an instant, Lena slumped, gasping as the torment abruptly eased. Kara straightened from where she'd been leaning against the pane between them, and pressed her palm against the glass.
"Lena? Can you hear me?"
After a long moment, Lena's eyes opened blearily. When they finally focused on Kara, her face twisted into a grimace. Clumsy fingers reached for the collar around her neck, seeking to break the seal and remove it, but it remained locked no matter how she pried and pulled.
Kara watched helplessly, until Lena gave up.
"Lena, I'm so sorry..."
"Don't you dare give them anything," Lena ground out, her voice rough.
"Lena--"
"The second you give them what they want, they'll kill me and try to kill you. Or sell you to Cadmus." With a grunt, Lena managed to roll herself over and push herself to all fours. Her arms shook with the strain, and her head hung low, the effort to lift it too great. "They can't get their hands on whatever you keep there."
Kara stared at her, desperate to protest but unable to ignore the truth of Lena’s words. In the silence, Lena managed to sit herself up and lean one shoulder against the glass, not unlike Kara had done. Bloodshot green eyes met hers through the partition.
"Promise me."
Duty settled heavily on Kara's shoulders, its mantle greased by Lena's resolute acceptance of whatever fate awaited her.
"I promise."
"Will you tell Kara what happened?"
"You can tell her yourself," Supergirl retorted.
Lena tried to smile, but the muscles in her face didn't want to respond. As confident as Supergirl sounded, as much as she vowed she had people looking for her, people who would find them, Lena knew she couldn't afford to be naive.
Not when her hands shook, and every new session left her muscles tight and twitching longer and longer, even after the hum of electrical current went silent.
After four days, Lena barely had the strength to hold her head up. In the sickly red glow, she was sure she looked a sight, but couldn’t bring herself to care. An open bottle of water sat clutched in both hands. On Supergirl's side of the glass, two sandwiches sat on a paper plate beside her knee.
That was the way of things here, apparently. Lena received only water, every other session, and Supergirl received only peanut butter sandwiches. Lena's stomach growled at the sight of food, but the thought of eating only added to the nausea that had taken hold after the first round of spasms.
As it was, she could barely bring the water to her mouth to sip. The cuffs still locked around her wrists were solid, and heavy, adding extra pounds for her to lift. Sometimes they were activated when the collar was, but more often than not they left her unrestrained. Somehow, that was worse. When the collar clicked on, Lena's own body became her prison, and through it all Supergirl remained just out of reach.
Supergirl looked about as rough as Lena felt. Haggard and drawn, her features only hardened with every round of pain. But she was always there when Lena opened her eyes, pressed as close as she could get through the glass that separated them.
Looking at her now, Lena swallowed against the lump that rose to her throat. "Will you tell her I'm sorry?"
"No."
Lena almost laughed.
When the man with the remote returned, he tore the untouched bottle from her weak grasp, and backhanded her across the face.
"Stop!" Supergirl commanded, rising to her feet.
"The location!"
Lena didn't see what happened next. All she knew was the pain the swallowed her a moment later. As her muscles locked tight around her bones, contorting her spine and limbs, relief mingled with agony.
Supergirl had kept her promise.
Kara stared at Lena through the glass. The light at her throat had returned to a placid pulse nearly two hours ago, but her limbs still remained locked in rictus. The last session, one arm had refused to unclench, leaving the limb curled tight against her shoulder in a macabre spasm.
Tears glistened at the corners of Lena's eyes, slowly trailing down to get lost in long, tangled hair.
Kara had never felt so powerless. Not when she'd solar-flared, not even on Slaver's Moon. Nothing compared to the helplessness of seeing Lena in so much pain, and being unable to even touch her. She had to give them something-- anything to give Lena more time to recover, for Alex to find them, to escape.
"Su--supergirl..."
Her name came grunting from Lena's grimacing lips, ground out behind clenched teeth.
"I'm here! Lena, I'm here..."
"Y-you-- pr'mised."
A sour taste curdled Kara's already dry tongue. This wasn’t the first time she’d considered giving in. Every time their eyes met through the glass, when the man returned with remote in hand, Kara had to fight to keep from spilling her entire life story. Each time, Lena somehow collected the strength that drained from Kara and shared it back. With only a glance Lena reminded Kara of the vow she’d made.
Before Kara could respond, a pained groan worked its way out of Lena, sharp with agony. But at the end of it, the spasms released. Lena lay there, trembling, gasping for breath. A sob of relief pulled from her chest, mingling with the gasps that returned air to tortured lungs.
"You promised."
This time, Lena made no move to sit up, or maneuver herself closer to the barrier. She simply lay there. Tremors traveled through her, and her hands clenched and unclenched as the aftershocks continued to work their way through her nervous system.
"You asked me to apologize to Kara Danvers," she said, pulling Lena's teary gaze to hers. "Why?"
For a long moment, Lena said nothing. Her eyes pressed shut, but from pain or regret, Kara didn't know.
"She's already lost so much," Lena rasped. She blinked, dislodging more tears to course down her temple as she turned her gaze to the ceiling.
"I never wanted to join the list of her dead."
Kara lost track of the days. All she marked was Lena's decline, as her friend grew weaker. Now, the spasms barely ended before the man came back for the next round. Their conversation dwindled to nothing, and Kara could barely manage to catch her eye between Lena's agony and the unconsciousness that now chased on the heels of the convulsions.
"She lasted longer than the boss said she would," the man said, as Lena writhed at his feet. He met Kara's gaze. "But her body will give out, and soon. I give it another day."
"Let her go," Kara spat from the far side of the glass. "Use that thing on me."
"You're willing to die for your secret, and maybe your friend is too. But are you willing to let her die?"
He flashed her a disarming grin.
"See you tomorrow. Same time?"
He disappeared with the hiss and click of the door locking behind him.
Kara's night passed slowly, as she counted each and every ragged breath that strained against her locked jaw. Painful whimpers escaped with every shallow exhalation, stabbing Kara's ears and scraping the inside of her chest.
She only found some margin of relief when Lena's body finally went slack, long after the solid light at the base of her throat had returned to a slow and steady blink.
Their peace didn't last long.
Barely five minutes later, the cuff on Lena's left wrist beeped loudly, then shot towards the wall, dragging Lena with it. Lena cried out when it slammed into the wall, then slid upwards, pulling her to the tips of her toes.
"Lena!" Kara pounded against the glass, kicking and clawing at the barrier as alarm crawled up her throat. A beep was the only warning she received when her own cuffs activated, slamming her against the far wall and pinning her there as the door to Lena's cell opened.
"LENA!!"
Lena tugged weakly at the manacle with her free hand, only to fall limp when the man with the remote twisted his fist in her shirt and pressed her sharply against the wall.
"Last chance," he called over his shoulder, turning his chin. "The location of your Fortress!"
He lifted the remote. Lena's gaze followed the device for a long moment, then slid across the room to lock with Kara's. Kara stared at her, heart lurching when she saw weary acceptance in her glassy eyes. This was it, and Lena knew it.
The man waited another moment, then shrugged. "Fine with me."
His thumb lifted over the button, and--
"WAIT!"
The call pulled from Kara's throat almost unbidden. Once it started, she couldn't stop.
"I'll tell you. I'll tell you where it is, please, just stop. Don't hurt her. I'll tell you."
"Supergirl, no..." Lena groaned. She reached for the man's hand, as though to press the button herself, but he dropped her, leaving her to sag against the wall unsupported.
He crossed to the partition, taking a pen and notepad from his pocket. "The coordinates?"
Kara froze. "I-- I don't know."
She didn't use coordinates. She found her way by landmarks, and the sun and her keen eyesight. She never had to know the coordinates. She never learned them.
The man sighed in irritation, flipping the notepad shut. He rose, turning back to Lena.
"No!" Kara cried. "Please I don't know! I can show you. I'll take you there myself--!"
"You’re not going anywhere near the sun," the man cut her off sharply. "Either you give us coordinates, or you both get to sit through another round."
"I don't know the coordinates! Please, leave her alone, she didn't do anything!!"
"Supergirl..." Lena met her gaze, blinking heavily. "It's ok--”
Lena's head snapped back the second his thumb tapped the button. Her spine arched against the wall, her free arm locked tight in spasm. Her entire body strained against the single point of restraint in gruesome contortion.
"LENA!! NO!" Kara bellowed and thrashed against her bonds. She called on every ounce of strength still in her, straining to break free. But the locks held, and she could do more than watch as blood slowly trickled from Lena's nose, and her eyes rolled back in her head.
Kara roared, straining with all her might. The room went silent as fear and rage washed over her, and her vision narrowed to Lena and Lena alone.
Suddenly, Kara's cell erupted into chaos. For a split second, she thought her heat vision had momentarily sparked, but no-- the sudden explosion of debris and smoke came from the new hole where the door had been, admitting a flood of bodies clad in familiar DEO-black.
She caught sight of J'onn and almost sobbed right then and there. "Help Lena!"
The strike team fired at the glass, only for the bullets to bounce off ineffectually. That didn't stop J'onn. Without hesitation he phased through the barrier and engaged the men on the other side. Agents converged on Kara, pulling on the cuffs locking her in place, but even their combined strength couldn't budge them.
"Oh, for fuck’s sake."
Alex's mutter sounded low in Kara's ear. She pulled back, and plucked a grenade off her belt.
"Eyes!"
The agents instantly recoiled, throwing an arm across their eyes as Alex pulled the pin and lobbed the grenade at Kara's feet. A brief flash of synthetic yellow sunlight filled the room, and flooded Kara with strength.
She snapped her cuffs before the agents could blink the stars from their eyes. Freed, she dove at the pane of glass and punched through like it was tissue paper. As J'onn restrained the last of the men, Kara snatched up the abandoned remote deactivating both the collar and Lena's restraints.
Kara caught her when the cuffs went dormant, and gently lowered her to the floor. Lena jerked and strained in her arms, as Kara held her as tightly as she dared.
"Lena, it's okay. You're going to be okay..." Kara told her, her voice high and stuttering. With a shaking hand she cupped Lena’s cheek, smoothing long hair away from sweatstained skin. When the spasms didn’t ease, Kara lifted her head, searching for her sister. "Alex!"
"I'm here."
Alex knelt beside her, clasping Lena's rigid wrist to feel for a pulse. Kara looked up at J'onn, already feeling her returned strength dwindling once more.
"She needs to get to the DEO, he-- he said it'll kill her. This time... she won't survive it. Please, I can’t--"
"I'll take her," he promised. He scooped Lena into his arms, and phased them both straight up through the ceiling to the sky beyond.
Kara gasped as Alex's arms wrapped around her, and she was suddenly aware that tears were pouring from her eyes and her chest heaved with sobs.
"It's okay," Alex promised, holding her close. "She'll be okay."
"They wanted the Fortress," Kara told her. She couldn’t stop. "I would have given it to them. I tried-- they wanted the coordinates, and I d-didn't know, Alex! I didn't know the coordinates..."
Alex simply held her tight. It wasn't until the tears ran out and Alex helped her to stand on shaking legs that Kara realized the strike team had already evacuated. Kara sat next to her sister in the back of the van, taking the long way back to National City. Halfway there, Alex received a short phone call.
"Lena's heart stopped before J'onn made it back to the DEO," she told Kara after she'd ended the call. Her voice was soft, but Kara was numb. She simply sat, and waited for the news that was sure to follow.
Lena was gone.
"They got her back. She's going to make it."
Kara didn’t have the strength to smile. She didn’t feel relieved. She felt nothing at all.
Kara recovered faster than Lena. The first day back on her feet, she sat at Lena's bedside as her friend slept. Holding her hand was enough, after so long being able to only watch, but on the second day she couldn't sit still, couldn't watch Lena one more second even with the benefit of physical contact.
"They were working for someone," Kara told J'onn that morning. "We need to find out who."
"We’ve interrogated the prisoners at length,," he told her. "None of them knew the identity of their employer, but I was able to pull a meeting location from one of their minds. We're already preparing a strike team."
"I'm going with them."
"Are you sure?" Alex asked, watching her carefully. "Lena should be waking up soon."
Kara swallowed against the sudden sharp ache in her throat. She couldn't stand to be there, with the real culprit still at large. She couldn't stand to be there period.
"I'm sure."
J'onn and Alex exchanged a look, before J'onn nodded. "Okay. We're rolling out within the hour."
Supergirl could have traversed the distance in a matter of minutes, but instead traveled with the strike team. Just to get there took nearly twenty four hours, only for the warehouse in question to be completely empty. They waited several days, just to see if anyone showed up, but no one did. It was a dead end.
She traveled back with the strike team as well. By the time Kara returned, Lena's bed in the infirmary was empty.
"She went home yesterday," Winn told her. He swallowed, clearly uncomfortable with whatever expression he found on Kara's features. "She asked for you."
"I know."
Kara turned and walked away. She headed for the sparring room, but when she found herself facing a motionless concrete block, she didn’t have the energy to strike. It stood as silent witness as her tears started to fall.
As much as Kara couldn't be there when Lena woke up, she couldn't stay away for long. After her third night back without sleep, Kara flew across the city, and pulled to a stop when she spotted a familiar figure on the L-Corp balcony.
She set down on the opposite end of the platform, wrapping her arms around herself. Lena had to have heard her, but she didn't look up from where she stared at her hands. It was a long moment before Kara realized they were trembling.
"They won't stop shaking," Lena said, her voice low. "Never imagined I’d be one to pray for shellshock, but when the alternative is nerve damage..."
The city was quiet tonight. No sirens, no calls for help. Kara’s senses buzzed with the sounds of low conversations, placid with mundanity. Laughter and television and low, gentle music all tickled the periphery of her awareness.
"I'm sorry." It was all Kara could think to say. All she’d wanted to say since waking up in that room, all she’d wanted to say since escaping it, and upon finally saying it she knew it wasn’t enough.
"What for?" Lena finally straightened, turning to face her. "Breaking your promise? Or avoiding me?"
Kara didn't answer.
Lena shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I understand Supergirl can't have friends, so the distance wasn’t unexpected. As for your promise... well, it worked itself out, I guess."
Kara's throat locked. Her vision fogged as tears filled her eyes. In the dark, Lena's features were heavy and expressionless. Kara recognized the same weariness that had stared at her over the remote, just before their captor had pressed the button for the final time.
Before she knew what she was doing, Kara surged towards Lena, and wrapped her arms around her. The gesture surprised Lena, as it always did, but then she relaxed into the embrace, as she always did. Kara tightened her arms, then, as she always did.
Lena stiffened. "Kara?"
Kara froze. Lena pulled away sharply, leaving Kara's arms cold with her sudden absence.
"Lena, I--"
"All this time..." Lena's lips screwed up as tears filled her eyes, but held on to her composure. "You're Supergirl. Oh my god."
One hand came up to cover her mouth, as Lena turned away, facing the rail instead of Kara. A tightness gathered in Kara's chest, and she struggled to speak around the lump in her throat.
"I should have told you a long time ago," she ground out, wiping her eyes. "I'm so sorr--"
"Kara, what I said--" Lena choked, tears spilling down her cheeks as she turned to face Kara once more. "In that room, I-- I never meant for you to hear that. I'm so, so sorry!"
Kara reached for her, seeking a hand, or a wrist, but Lena threw her arms around her, and clung to her as the sobs started coming.
"I'm sorry..." Lena murmured, over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Holding Lena tight, Kara couldn't find the words to respond. Her own tears tracked down her cheeks, getting lost in Lena's hair. When she ran out of steam, Lena pulled back wiping her eyes.
"I would never have asked you to make that promise, if I’d known-- Kara, I am so sorry..."
"Please, stop apologizing," Kara hiccuped. "I should have-- I shouldn't have let it go so far. I would have given them anything to save you, and now... all I can think is that I should have given them what they wanted sooner."
Lena sniffled, her eyes bright with a fresh round of tears. "Kara--"
"I love you, Lena," Kara blurted. The words poured out of her, and though she hadn't meant to say them tonight, she didn't want to take them back. "When he pressed that button, before the DEO came, it felt like I was watching my world end for the second time. I can't-- I can't do that again," she confessed.
This time, when Lena embraced her, her arms were gentle, and it was Kara who clutched at her.
"I couldn't lose you too."
Lena nodded against her in quiet understanding. They stood together for long minutes, until Kara felt Lena fighting a yawn. She pulled away, only to reach out and dry the tears still damp on Lena's cheek. Now that the truth was out, Kara couldn't keep her hands to herself. She craved the contact, the proof that Lena was okay.
"Have you been sleeping?"
It’s a question she doesn't need answering. Even in the shadows, she can see the exhaustion.
Lena shook her head. "No," she said, cracking a wry grin. "Turns out it's just not the same when I don't have a Super watching me sleep from the other side of the glass."
A bark of laughter bubbled out of Kara, and Lena smiled to match it. "I think I can help with that." She held out her arms. "Care for a lift?"
Lena paused only long enough to smile softly before stepping into her embrace. Kara closed her arms around Lena, pulling her close. She hesitated before lifting off, frozen by a sudden jolt of apprehension.
"Do you trust me?" Kara asked.
Lena’s lips brushed the side of her neck, her breath a feather’s touch as she spoke. "Always."
#i wrote dis#read more#reveal fic#fortitude#supercorp#i might write a morning after sequel#might post this on ao3#after a clean up#wrote this shit entirely on my phone at work#all mistakes are mine#awkward metaphors and all#but hey#it wanted to be written#its written#maybe now I can have a long break from reveal fics#thanks#lena luthor#kara danvers#supergirl#tw torture#tw abduction
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R&R
After a long and tiring mission, Gabriel is struggling to keep it together. He Rushes over to his and Jack's shared quarters hoping to find the only man who can calm the Reaper down when it gets this bad.
~4k words
Also on (ao3)
At that moment he hated the fact that the door to his quarters slid open and closed automatically. He hated everything right now, but that was besides the point. A regular door he could have slammed, would have slammed. It may have seemed petty or childish to other people, but it would have been something relatively non destructive that would have helped him calm down even if only a little. Instead the door closed calmly behind him and he simply stalked through it overly dramatically.
His thoughts shifted away from his hatred of the door, to the silence of the room. He had expected to find Jack here, on the couch, watching some stupid thing or another. That was normally what had happened when he came back from a mission that they were not on together. He was supposed to slam the damn door closed, storm over to the couch and be teased and then cuddle with the only person who could soothe his temper when it got this bad. He hated having to search for the man. His temper flared even higher when his search of their shared quarters revealed no sign of the asshole. He was about to storm back out into the base when he heard the door open softly.
“Musta been one helluva bad day,” The deep voice calmed him almost instantly. So much so that he briefly forgot his irritation at not being able to find the man speaking immediately upon his return. That burning anger faded even further when he met those blue eyes. Jack’s eyes still sparkled when he smiled and Gabriel was still practically powerless against them.
“I’m surrounded by idiots,” Reaper snarled, the heat behind his words already cooling under Jack’s influence. The silver haired fox approached him confidently, unafraid of the smoke billowing off him or the fury in his voice. Those rough, scarred hands reached up to his face and slowly grasped the mask that it hid behind.
“You don’t need that here Gabe,” If anyone else had tried this, anyone, they would have been dead before they even laid a hand on him or his mask. Jack though, he could touch him like this without consequence. “There we go,” Jack hummed as their eyes met. “You really shouldn’t hide your handsome face,”
He opened his mouth to reply, to tell Jack to shut up. The words never left his mouth; Jack closed the distance and kissed him instead. He probably should have pushed the old soldier away and said what was on his mind. Instead, he leaned into the annoying man, deepening the kiss. Before he knew it, Jack had led the two of them to across the room and Gabriel found himself lying on the couch, another man on top of him, staring down at him adoringly. He allowed himself to relax into the cushions.
The holoscreen turned on at some point. Reaper wasn’t paying attention at the moment, too busy making out like he was a damned teenager. Another time and he might have let his pride push the man on top of him away right now, but he needed this and no amount of worrying about keeping up his image mattered right now. It was not like Jack was intimidated by the Reaper anyway. His pride would have just gotten in the way. He would much rather relax on a couch with Jack and what he eventually identified as a Laker game that had been turned on in the background.
The next few minutes passed in a soothing blur that ended with him lying down, his head in Jack’s lap, watching a basketball game while his lover stroked his curls soothingly. Gabriel watched the game while Jack pretended to be interested, stealing glances at the spectre’s messed up face and kisses on occasion. The smile that Jack wore, the one reserved only for Gabriel, was infectious and he smiled back, despite himself, whenever their eyes met.
His form had mostly stabilized by the end of the game, his body no longer billowing smoke. It didn’t even matter that his team had lost, the time spent just watching it with Jack was more important than the damn Lakers. He could have simply fallen asleep then and there if he hadn’t noticed a spot of dried blood on the other man’s face.
“What happened to your face?” Gabriel asked, choking back the rising anger and concern he felt in equal measure at the thought of what might have occurred.
“What's wrong with my face?” He replied somewhere between confused and amused, feeling around to see if anything was amiss.
“Blood,” Gabriel gently wiped it away with his thumb.
“Oh, it’s not mine at least,”Jack replied simply, suddenly lost in thought. “Probably from one of your little grunts getting in my way earlier.”
“Jackieee,” His reprimand was somewhere between exasperated and amused.
“What?” The little shit replied, face innocent, clearly hiding a grin. “They’re alive and will be out of the infirmary in, like, a week,”
“How many times have I told you to stop taking our people out of commision,” Gabriel sighed, knowing that it was not likely to sink in the thousandth time anymore than it had before.
“They’ve gotten better about not making themselves targets, but some of them just won’t learn to stay out of my way,” Jack nuzzled into his neck, ignoring the irritation on his face.
“They only get in your way when you're doing something you shouldn't be doing,” He tried his best to sound put upon, while Jack merely shrugged.
“As if those goons could stop me from doing anything Gabe,”
“That's not the point Jack,”
“It's not your point,” Jack corrected. “It remains my point.”
Gabriel rubbed his temples slowly. He was about to say something when the door to their quarters buzzed and stole his attention. He turned towards the door, ready to storm over to it and rip whoever was bothering them in half, but Jack motioned for him to relax and moved to handle it himself. Despite Jack running interference, Gabriel replaced his mask, uncomfortable with the thought of anyone else seeing his face. Reaper glided behind Jack as the grunt was handing the man a box, towering above them as a menacing smoking figure. Gabriel would give him points for mostly maintaining his composure, though the young man’s eyes betrayed the fear he felt.
“Everything is intact right?” Jack ignored Gabriel’s dramatics and asked in a voice that seemed to scare the man more than the Reaper did.
“Yes sir,” The man stammered out quickly. Gabriel wasn’t really sure how to take that exchange. Jack held no official rank here, yet was being treated like he was in charge. He wondered if this was a widespread phenomenon and if he should worry about it or not. “They were very careful checking for anything dangerous before handing it to me,”
“I would hope so. I know who was involved,” The man gulped, his heartbeat increasing. Apparently he really was more afraid of angering Jack than Gabriel and that was interesting. Upon opening and inspecting the contents, without allowing Gabe to see them, Morrison nodded approvingly and the agent, who still hadn’t left, let out a sigh of relief.
“Anything else you need sir?” Reaper was about to respond, to send the agent away, before he realized that the question, and the salute that accompanied it, were aimed at Jack again.
“Yeah,” Jack replied, reaching into his jacket for a relatively small glass bottle. “This is for Cortez. I want you to deliver it to her,” The grunt nodded, grabbing the proffered bottle. “I also brought something else with me and I want it brought up here immediately,”
“Umm,” The man was suddenly extremely worried again. “That’s highly unorthodox…” The words died in his throat under Jack’s glare.
“Just tell them that I will come down for it personally if it’s not here real soon,” The grunt nodded in recognition and retreated quickly, before the old soldier could make things more difficult on him.
“You’re being saluted now?” Gabriel asked as soon as they were alone, his tone painfully neutral.
“Its very easy to train your men,” Jack replied with a shrug. “They’re used to being made to avoid punishment. Just needed a little time to condition them to understand that I am another dangerous person to placate,” Gabriel let out a put upon sigh, while Jack just laughed, removing his mask and kissing him again.
“What’s in the box?” He asked instead of continuing a line of questioning that was sure to stress him out more. Jack smiled, that wonderful brilliant smile of his.
“It was going to be a surprise,” Jack walked back towards the kitchen. “But, I’m making food for a proper date night.”
“So, like our one day honeymoon on base?”
“Yeah that one,” Jack replied with a pained smile. “Thought you needed something nice to eat and drink. Plus, we deserve a real date,”
“Not really in a good state for that right now Jackie,” Gabriel gestured to the smoke still slowly billowing off of him, despite having calmed down considerably since he had returned.
“Brooks should bring something for that relatively soon,” Jack replied, unpacking his supplies around the kitchen. Jack began preparing to cook a rather large and somewhat complicated meal, undeterred by Gabriel’s unstable state.
“Brooks?”
“Yeah, the agent that brought this up here,” Jack explained without shifting his attention from the work in the kitchen. “He was assigned to deal with me as some kind of punishment a few months ago,”
“Must’ve really pissed people off,” Jack turned to face him, the most overly dramatic pout Gabriel had ever seen on his face. He managed to maintain the expression long enough to pull a chuckle from Gabriel.
“It worked out for everyone. I can deal with him and people rarely get hurt this way,”
“He has to deal with you though,” He teased the soldier with a smirk.
“Yeah,” Jack conceded. “But he also has avoided any active battle zones since he started this gig,”
“Really?” Gabriel asked, slightly incredulous.
“Yeah. Apparently dealing with me without incident is more important than any active mission that comes this way,” Jack replied with a chuckle.
“Dealing with your grouchy ass is more dangerous than most the people we face Jackie,” Gabriel Joked.
“I checked the casualty count and while not true, it’s not too far off,”
“Should I even ask how you got a hold of that information?”
“Physical access to the system makes pretty much all your security precautions moot,” Jack kept working on food while he spoke. Gabriel collapsed back onto the couch, absentmindedly watching what remained of the post game show.
“I am going to have to have a strict review of proper physical security protocols for the entire base aren’t I?”
“Or you could just grant me access and I wouldn’t have to break into it,”Jack replied simply. Honestly, Gabriel wasn’t really opposed to that, though it would look bad and he wasn’t willing to deal with that right now. Jack would just have to keep breaking in to get any useful information.
“So who’s Cortez?” He asked, changing the subject again.
“Head of requisitions. Always nice to know the people who handle equipment Gabe,” Jack informed him, answering his follow up question immediately.
“And the bottle?”
“250 year old Cognac. Good stuff. Expensive.”
“And you just gave it away?” Gabriel called out dramatically. “That would have gone well with this whole date night thing,”
“Got something better for us,” Jack replied, catching Gabriel’s attention. “Check my jacket!” Gabriel groaned as he stood, moving over to where Jack had stripped his heavy combat clothing earlier. A search of the large inner pocket inside his Jacket revealed a padded package that upon opening revealed a strange looking crimson and silver bottle he did not recognize.
“What is this?” He called out, eyeing the peculiar bottle and label curiously.
“World’s rarest and most expensive bottle of Scotch. Only three of them left in the world,”
“And we are going to drink one tonight?”
“Yep!” Jack called back, oddly happily. “A ten million dollar or so evening,”
“And where did you get that kind of money Jackie?”
“Grabbed it from the president of Lumerico earlier this week,” That caught Gabriel’s attention.
“What were you doing there?” Gabriel made his way into the kitchen, placing the bottle on the counter while Jack finished mincing some garlic.
“I had some unfinished business and figured it was a better use of my time than waiting around for you to get back,”
“So you assassinated the head of a major international corporation?” Jack laughed, he stared at the soldier, unamused.
“Nah. Just broke into a secure network, planted a nice rootkit and bugged a few buildings.”
“And stole a ten million dollar bottle of liquor,” Gabriel added.
“Yep. It would just be wasted on scum like that,”
Jack was not wrong about that, though many years ago the boyscout would never have stolen, even from someone like that. The man was absolute scum, but it was still jarring sometimes, dealing with Soldier: 76 instead of Jack Morrison. That big heart of his was one of the reasons he had loved Jack, but things had changed in the last few years. 76 managed to walk a line somewhere in between caring too much and being utterly ruthless that struck a nerve with Reaper in all the right places.
A buzz from the front door interrupted his thoughts and he stalked over to it, replacing his mask for the second time in under an hour in order to answer the door. Brooks apparently, had returned dragging, of all things, a person, bound in chains, with a bag over their head and from the sound of it, also gagged.
“Who is this?” The agent saluted Reaper this time, body tense. It was genuinely difficult to tell who the man was more afraid of, him or Jack.
“We don’t know,” Brooks admitted, voice surprisingly calm. “The soldier brought him in. He hasn't been interrogated or identified yet,”
“And why is he here?”
“The soldier requested he be brought here,” Jack had demanded it really, but that was besides the point. The grunt knew nothing so Reaper waved him off, allowing him to retreat.
“Jack!” He called out to the kitchen as he dragged the prisoner through their quarters. “Who is this?”
“Remember that mission in Hyderabad last month?” Jack asked without looking up from what he was measuring.
“Yes. What about it?”
“A Vishkar goon hit you with one of their weird beam guns and you were complaining about lingering pain for a week,” Gabriel briefly wondered why the hell Jack was bringing all of this up before realization dawned on him.
“I'm not even sure I want to know how you found out who shot me,”
“Simple. I asked, then hurt some people and asked again,” Jack replied nonchalantly.
“Why would you go through all that trouble?”
“Someone shot you,” He replied simply, as if it was the only natural response to the situation. “Besides,” Jack continued after a moment’s silence. “I wanted to make sure those little machines of yours had something to eat so that you could enjoy the date night with me,”
Again, the ruthlessness that Jack managed to show nowadays never failed to send a shiver of excitement down his spine. He smiled as he dragged the man across the small hallway towards his interrogation room.
“Wait,” Gabriel called out, halfway down the hall. “How the hell did you manage a kidnapping in India and stealing from Lumerico in the week I was gone?”
“Oh, I just took an Orca,” Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.
“Should I ask how you got access to one?”
“Probably not,” Gabriel could hear the grin in his voice even though he couldn’t see it. He didn’t press the matter. They would deal with it later, or at least he would tell Jack not to do it and the man would ignore him. There was no point ruining a nice evening with it right now. “You worried about it?”
“I have to deal with other people questioning your motivation,”
“I’m on your side Gabe. You should know that,” Jack replied simply, not skipping a beat in his cooking. Reaper had no real way to respond to that. He trusted that Jack was being honest, but he knew the man was most dangerous when he was using words. Jack had the amazing ability to speak nothing but the truth, but still pull one over on everyone involved. Jack seemed to take his silence as some sort of agreement because he changed the subject. “Make sure to have your fill in your little dungeon. I don’t want the husk disrupting our evening.”
“Yes dear,” Gabriel called back, rolling his eyes even though Jack couldn’t see him. He would worry about what Jack’s goals were later. Right now he had a date to get ready for.
The man’s death was quick and even relatively painless as Gabriel absentmindedly allowed his nanites to feast on the poor schmuck. It only took a few minutes to drain the man until he was nothing but a dessicated husk. By the time he was finished he really did feel better, more in control. Gabriel managed a very human and stable form now that he was calm and had gorged a little. The date might have been a good idea afterall.
His various senses had practically returned to normal, along with his solid body. He could smell what Jack was cooking now. The scent of spices fills the air, a wonderful scent that would no doubt be wonderful to eat as well. Without really thinking about what he was doing, Gabriel wandered into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his soldier, refusing to let go, forcing Jack to drag him around the kitchen to get things done. The man complained but made no real move to push him away, just griped about him being difficult.
Gabriel only disentangled himself from the man when Jack gestured for him to set the table. Setting everything that they needed up took only several moments really: plates, silverware, and napkins. Still waiting for Jack to bring the food over, Gabriel reached for his own little surprise. A nice romantic set-up of candles that he had saved for just such an occasion, though he had intended to spring a surprise date on Jack at some point, but this seemed as good a time as any.
“Oooh candles,” Jack commented with a smile, as he began to serve the two of them.
“I know how much you love that sappy shit,” He finished lighting the last of the four of them and sat himself down, awaiting Jack to sit down so they could eat together.
“And I know you love yourself some red pozole, just the way your abuela always makes it,”
“I still can’t believe she shared her secret family recipes with you,” Gabriel said, taking a deep whiff of the food. It smelled just right and hopefully tasted just as good.
“We got married and you sure as shit weren’t going to be able to do anything with them,” Jack finally finished bringing everything to the table and sat down across from him. “We decided together to never allow you within 5 feet of a stove.”
“Hey, I make amazing macarons,” Gabriel defended himself.
“Yes, you’re allowed near the oven as long as you are supervised,” Jack snorted while Gabriel pouted in response.
He decided against rising to the man’s teasing anymore than he already had. He was having the nicest time he could remember in years and he was not going to let his temper ruin that and getting into an argument over his bad luck in the kitchen was definitely not something he wanted to deal with at the moment. So, instead he grabbed for the bottle of scotch that Jack had stolen.
“Wait,” The soldier interrupted before Gabriel could pour himself a glass. “I've got just the thing for that,” Jack practically bounded all the way to their freezer, returning and dropping something into his empty glass. A trio of small plastic owls stared up at him, his confusion must have shown on his face. “They keep your drink cold without watering it down,”
“Cartoon owls though?”
“Yeah. Adorable little barn owls. They reminded me of you,” Coming from anyone else he might have taken that as an insult, but the smile on Jack’s face was so earnest he knew there was no way it could be one. He poured himself a drink without complaint, the little owls doing their job of being fake ice cubes surprisingly well.
“It’s pretty good,” He responded after a moment, inspecting the glass he had just emptied.
“10 million good?” Jack asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Nah, but pretty good nonetheless,” He replied, pouring Jack one and himself another.
“I think it was more than worth ten million dollars of someone else’s money,” They shared a soft laugh at the idea as Gabriel refilled Jack’s now empty one. Neither of them were going to get drunk from just one bottle, even with how strong this stuff was, but it was a nice accompaniment to a good meal.
He lost himself in the food and conversation. Nothing important, talk about the game, what had happened on Reaper’s mission. He could open up to Jack, but the man also managed to pull him into easy conversation in a way no one else has ever managed. By the time they are both stuffed, Gabriel could hardly recall the anger that had led him here. Instead, he interrupted Jack clearing the table and dragged the man with him to their bed.
“Someone’s eager,” Jack’s voice was sultry, succeeding in exciting Gabriel and getting him to overlook the absolutely smug grin that the man wore at the moment.
“Don’t tell me you weren’t looking forward to this all night,” Reaper practically growled back, dragging his willing partner back onto their bed.
“I can’t wait to take care of you the way you deserve Gabi…” A loud buzzing interrupted them before things could go even further, the communicator in his coat was calling him. He groaned when Jack managed grabbed the communicator before Gabriel could.
“Unless the base is burning to the ground I am personally going to shoot whoever called and interrupted us after I made it abundantly clear not to, I don’t care who it is,” The line was silent for a moment, as if the person on the other end was gauging how serious the threat was. “And yes that includes you Sombra,” He added to the silence. The line went dead shortly afterwards.
“Do you have to cause a scene Jackie?” Gabriel mock chided.
“It’s fun,” He replied with a shrug.
“Yeah, but I have to deal with everyone complaining about your shenanigans,” Gabriel couldn’t find it in himself to whine at the moment, but that didn’t stop him from complaining in general.
“It's a small price to pay,” Jack bragged, a grin on his face as he leaned back down to kiss Gabriel, before retaking his place on the bed.
“Sometimes I wonder,” Gabriel teased back with his own smirk.
“Oh?” The silver fox replied in mock surprise. “Do I need to work even harder to show my worth?” Jack’s grin was downright devilish.
“Why don’t we see what you can do.” He allowed himself to be tackled back into the bed.
“I’m sure you’ll approve of my plans for the night,” Gabriel wasn’t going to disagree with that.
#reaper76#r76#jack morrison#Gabriel reyes#overwatch#ao3#fanfic#a bit random#but its some surprisingly domestic fluff#cute#implied violence and death
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Wandering Souls
Day 1 KLAROLINEAUWEEK : Fusions & Crossovers
OUTLANDER AU.
K&c don’t interact with Claire and Jamie. They’re also not really Claire and Jamie, but there are some similitudes with a strong Klaroline twist. Also, Randalls became Lockwoods. Not really Outlander canon either, just Outlander Universe.
Angst. Violence. Language.
Although it was originally intended as a one-shot, and I ended it in a way so that it can still be read as that, I’m feeling inspired, and like it needs a continuation, so, if you like it, stay tuned for a second part! After Klarolineauweek ends most probably.
PART 2 - PART 3
Enjoy !
« Eerie, isn’t it ? » a distinctly male voice abruptly brought her out of her contemplation.
Caroline threw a quick glance towards the man walking up to her, then looked back down, from her perch on the balcony, at the dancing, joyous pairs moving through the castle’s Great Room, the fires in the various hearths scattered in all the corners of the space to combat the wet cold winter seemingly never ending here in the Highlands, the unfamiliar smells of food and beverages that wouldn’t even be remembered centuries from now, the swirls of the tent-like skirts women were forced to wear below the excruciating tightness of their corsets, and the swirls of the kilts around the men’s knees proudly displaying the loyalty to their clan, their allegiance to their Laird.
And, she supposed, it really was eerie. Although, she guessed the man now standing next to her didn’t find it so for the same reasons she did. At least not from her perspective as a 26 years old woman from the 21st century that suddenly traveled through time and landed in the 18th century, right in the middle of Scotland.
So, she only nodded, not willing to show or say to much.
Even if she hadn't quickly glanced back when he interrupted her musings, his voice would have betrayed his identity immediately. Such a raspy, smooth, velvet was recognizable amongst thousands, but, it was his accent, so different from everyone else’s around here that truly differentiated him from the other people in Castle Leoch.
She had heard he was a traveler, and had been a warrior for some Lord in another land some time ago, his prowess with a sword was rumored to be extraordinary. (Clearly, only nice terms to say sell-sword, she scoffed, internally.)
She supposed he had his reasons as to why he divulged no details about his past. (She couldn't really hold that against him since she hadn't really been that forthcoming herself…)
Perhaps he had done things that would take away the good grace the Mackenzies had towards him?
Maybe it was shame that ate him up from the inside? (Although Klaus didn't strike her as one that would care about such unprofitable and unusable emotions…)
Or, most probably, his past was too painful, still too raw to share… she understood that.
Those were different times, where people didn’t always have the luxury of circumstances or even the rights to choose a path for themselves. Sometimes, to survive, one must do things they didn’t like. Things they wished to never remember again.
Objectively, she had known in a vague sort of way, that all those were indisputable facts. That free will and freedom were what dreams were made off. However she had never truly comprehended it, grasped the whole spectrum of that fact, understood how it affected people to be choice-less, powerless, voice-less, not until mere months ago. Now, she did. Unfortunately.
Caroline looked back at him again. Observed him standing quite rigidly, especially compared to his usual falsely laid-back attitude. Watched as he took notice of every nook, cranny, and corner present in the Great Room, never letting down his guard. His already paranoid streak seemingly accrued by the tension right before the battle that will take place only hours from now.
When she met him initially, his aura of violence and aloofness perturbed her. Frustrated her. Unbalanced her. She wasn't equipped to deal with men who dealt everyday with violence and non-ending wars, as real individuals, with their own set of traumas and real experiences. People who lived through the consequences of spilled blood. They were just a story, something passed almost as anecdotes when political machinations and tales of bloody battlefields were taught in class as more important than the measly life of a no-name Scot, until they stood in front of her, threatening her, thinking she was a spy for the English that persecuted them.
Now, with hindsight and experience on her mind, she guessed his attitude had its benefits. Even though he was capable of angering her like no one before in her life (both time frames included), he was also the one that protected her like nobody ever did before, even at his own expense.
She would remember until her last breaths those wretched moments when he took a hit, or a bullet in her stead. When he defended her honor by sullying his. When he sacrificed his comfort so that she could feel better. And he did it without ever bragging, which was actually quite surprising and commendable for someone with such a propensity for teasing and showing off.
Klaus had sometimes been such an antagonistic bastard during her three months in this time that she in some stances (after an arduous battle with herself) could force her mind to forget how handsome and charming he was. Yet, here, standing next to her, with an indescribable expression stretched on his fair and strong features, her breath was taken away.
The warmth exuding from his arm to hers was much more effective than the fires in chasing away the chill from her bones, she noted absently.
This time, when his voice interrupted her from her musings, about how hot he was, she was grateful. She couldn’t allow herself to fantasize about men she didn’t plan on seeing for much longer. She had to get back to Tyler. Her, maybe not as sweet nor devoted as she would like, husband of two years, waiting for her, generations away. So she only focused on his words and not on the divine mouth uttering them.
“I find it quite eerie to see such joy on their faces. They know that the dawn will bring nothing good, that most of them could be dead come sundown. They know that Lockwood and his brutish British goons are better funded, better equipped, and have higher numbers. And yet, here are those Highlanders, dancing, laughing, drinking and fucking… Is that the most stupid or most intelligent thing on this world, I wonder?”
She pondered his question a few moments. Never truly finding a concrete answer but still giving away her piece of mind.
“I don’t really know, to be perfectly honest with you… It is stupid. They are drinking themselves to a stupor they won’t really exit out of even on the battlefield; they are using all the energy they could save for the fight by fucking women they wouldn’t even acknowledge any other day; they are burning up every resource they have that could feed their people in the coming months…”
(She hushed the words “if survival is theirs” for both their sakes.)
“And yet, there is something undeniably awe-inspiring and truly…beautiful, seeing them like this, focusing only on the present time, not worrying about the events of the morrow, enjoying everything about living at least one last night… One can only envy such lust for life.”
Klaus looked at her in silence, contemplating her (and her words), a small smile etched on his sinful lips, as if he was amused by the rhetoric of her answer, or as if he was pleased she shared her mind so openly with him after weeks of avoiding real conversations with him, instead giving back only defensive, short and concise words.
They stood side to side, in silence for a long while, pondering the events to come, the forced joy and drunkenness being displayed in front of their eyes, as if a scene from a historical action movie. Appreciating each other's warmth, knowing fully well it may be the last time they ever could. Quietly, secretly, throwing quick glances that when caught would case an embarrassed smile to bloom on their otherwise stony faces.
As per usual, it was Klaus that breached through the wall of silence between them.
“I, am no Scot, my fair lady, and I do not plan on giving away the fight before it has even begun. I intend to broaden significantly my list of slain English bastards. Therefore, I must bid you a good night and take leave to retire to my own chambers. (Where you are always welcome if you so wish)”
He smirked a little, by habit, but the usual heat and innuendo were not present this time.
“As my people say Wake early if you want another man’s life or land. No lamb for the lazy wolf. No battles won in bed… If I come back from the battlefield tomorrow, it will be my pleasure to see those beautiful eyes again my lady Caroline. If not, it was my greatest pleasure to have gazed upon such beauty. May your journey be easy and prosperous.”
Watching his form slowly inserting itself into the crowd made of rowdy highlanders, Caroline hoped with everything she had in her that those parting words would be useless and that his famed prowess with a sword was as true as it was told to be.
Caroline went to bed shortly after. But sleep wasn’t destined for her.
His parting words resonated in her. Ringed something distant in her mind. A memory she couldn't quite grasp, of a knowledge she felt even into her bones was important. Something that would help her unravel the mystery that was Klaus.
Well, the saying of “his people” did that. The others, the last, more personal ones, she didn't want to think about. (She failed. It may or may not have provoked tingling, fire and constricting of the heart. Caroline wouldn't even admit it under duress.)
She had spent the entire night fretting over all the possibilities the morrow would bring. Contemplated each person’s probability to die on that clearing. Admonished herself for even wishing that some would make it back.
She knew the Scots would lose. She knew it was the beginning of the end for the Highland culture and way of life. She knew that in the times to come, even speaking one’s mother tongue could get yours to be separated from the rest of your mouth. She knew it was the landmark for oppression.
She had gone to fucking Scotland, visited and observed every ruin, studied every book and stood upon Craigh Na Dun, because her entire career as an anthropologist would depend on how she started it, would depend on her thesis about the history and culture of these lands. The way people had lived and developed in a region not known for its welcoming nature.
And yet, she still hoped against hope.
So, she mourned for all the lives that would be lost. She cried for all the lives that wouldn’t be, but will live under torture and agony. She wept for all the women left behind waiting for any news that their loved ones survived, for the children that will become orphans in the coming hours.
Just before dawn and its daunting sun rays came, she heard the stirring of horses led to the gates of the castle. The bustle of men hurrying for armors, swords, food.
Caroline stood up, engulfed herself into her giant woolen shawl looking for every scrap of warmth and comfort she could find, and went hesitatingly to the small window in her room. Watched the heaviness slowly etch itself into each pair of shoulders. Observed them trying to joke and laugh as they usually would no matter the context, but without their hearts in it. As if they knew, that this time it would be something else entirely.
Her eyes strayed by themselves on the imposing figure Klaus presented, standing stoically against the archway, waiting for the signal to go. She felt his eyes rest on her too, and without thinking, her hand rose, and he nodded instead.
She watched, paradoxically unaware and simultaneously much too cognizant of the time trickling by. The final moments coming too fast, but the preparations for it endless.
“May we meet again” she whispered, almost unknowingly, as she watched them leave.
Seconds, minutes hours meshed together, passed away without anyone noticing. Time stretched itself into a continuous agony of not knowing. The haze of waiting seemed unending.
And yet, when the main door of the castle caved under the might of His Majesty's troops, every child, woman, elder that had been huddled together in the Great Room as they waited, jumped as if broken out of a short nap.
Screams and wails, of despair and realization that they had lost, breaking into a symphony of pain and misery.
Their people were doomed. Their families broken. Their loved ones most probably lying amidst bowels, mud and piss, their blood fertilizing the soil they had fought for until their last breaths.
Surrounded by the cacophony of cries, grunts and orders to knee in front of His Majesty's power, Caroline stood rigid, devoid of any expression, numb.
Some would perhaps say she didn't feel affected by the outcome of the battle, that these weren't her people, that she had only been an unsolicited guest in this time and in this clan. Others would simply rationalize that her forehand knowledge of the loss had prepared her sufficiently to not break in front of the menacing soldiers.
However, Caroline knew that neither of these options were right.
She wasn't catatonic, but her mind had stopped. The blow of the truth too hard, to powerful to digest immediately. She would do what she did best in situations where everyone succumbed. She would hold the ship and bear stoically every hit, up until the moment when she would relax and everything would just engulf her. It was okay, she would handle it when the time comes, as she always did.
For now, she had to be strong.
Especially since the man bearing the same name and features her husband had centuries from now, sauntered proud as a peacock in the Great Room. Laughing at the misery etched onto the faces of every Scot present. Enjoying the defeat creeping into their eyes. Thrilled to see the proud people that defied him at every turn kneel weakly in front of his power.
Caroline would not kneel. So he sent two of his apes at her.
One soldier of his Majesty dead, lying in a pool of his own blood at her feet, the other holding his side while grabbing her hair at the same time, holding her in place, she watched as Theodore Lockwood, her husband’s ancestor, and doppelganger, the King's most infamous Lieutenant, walked proudly towards her.
She glowered at the man that tried to rape her, that tortured her, that gave her the status of criminal.
He came to her, as closely as possible, smirked as he towered over her now that she was kneeling against her will at his feet, and replaced the hand in her hair with his own mighty grip.
Her attention went for a small moment to the man standing behind her, and the knife she had used to kill his compatriot moments away that he now pushed relentlessly against her spine. Dumb rookie mistake Caroline.
Suddenly, she felt her head move under the force of his pull, her hair being torn out of her scalp. She felt him rubbing his groin on her entire face, particularly her mouth, while holding her still.
While Tyler's main attribute and reason as to why they had tried so hard for so long to make it work, was his anatomy and their incredible alchemy in bed, the mere thought of being in contact with her husband's cock elder twin awoke in her a repulsion she didn't even know she could feel.
And the smells certainly did not help: his putrid penis, the piss he didn't wipe away, and the aromas of death and blood from the field hit her all at once. The repulsion she felt needed a physical outlet. She couldn't stop the gag in her throat, and managed barely to contain the vomit that wanted to get out of her lips.
He laughed at her struggling and as he heard the present people objecting but not nearly loud enough to count as worthy protestation. Still shaken with their grief and pain and helplessness, they couldn't put up a real fight.
He enjoyed seeing mothers shielding the eyes of the young and elders being drawn to tears as they witnessed the glorious spectacle he gave them.
He looked back down at her, obviously thrilled and satisfied with his stage. She felt him get even harder against her lips. Her stomach went up to her throat again.
“If memory serves me well, and trust me, I never forget any slight, you had previously sworn that you would never kneel to, I quote, “a scumbag” like me… Hmm, I wonder what you are doing right now? Not that proud anymore, Miss Forbes, are we?”
She only glared. Her lips remained stubbornly sealed, she would not give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait, nor would she give him the opportunity to shove that gross bulge in her mouth… even if the perspective of biting that particular appendage to blood was thrilling.
His victorious grin changed to a glower as her eyes remained without tears and ever challenging.
“Don't expect your protector to come help save the day as usual either, I saw him lying motionless surrounded by a pile of shit next to another one of your little band of criminals. I must admit, it was quite the pleasuring sight, quite arousing too, pity I had to come here so fast, I would have enjoyed tremendously finally fucking that dirty asshole that deserved much needed punishment, defiling his body and showing that even in death I could make him suffer... Mmmh, quite the waste really. I'm only sorry it wasn't me that ended his miserable worthless life.” he taunted.
Anger shone in her eyes even amidst the pain. Disgust written plainly on her features.
And as she felt herself succumb a little to despair and pain as it hit her in the chest, for reasons she had never truly admitted to her herself until then, she forced herself in a state of unbending steel. One of coldness reining in the darkness growing at the prospect of never seeing Klaus again. She could not afford to lose her composure and resistance right now. Otherwise he would achieve his goal of putting her down.
It angered him, clearly.
She felt him distance his breeches covered cock away from her face, and just as she exhaled, glad to be out of contact with that thing, with the tight grip he had on her hair, he abruptly threw her down to the worn, gray, dirty stone of the ground.
The knife of the unaware soldier lacerated her deeply into her left side. Pain erupted in her body at once. Her blood ran profusely from her forehead where her skull hit the floor with force, forming around her head a halo of red.
Still, even battered and bloody, Caroline refused to let him win. So she grasped every ounce of force present in her and slowly lifted herself up on her hands, then knees, and lastly feet. She pressed a hand on her wound, trying to slow the flow of blood oozing out of her chest.
During the entire, without a doubt long process of her getting to her feet, filled with moans and grunts of pain, he watched as one might study sadistically a weaker animal slowly get devoured by a mightier predator.
In that exact moment, as she saw the gleeful triumph he regarded her with, Caroline swore she would kill him. She promised it to herself.
Whatever she had to do to reach her goal, she would. However much time she had to stay in this timeline in order to rid the world of scum like him, she would spend it, without even a consideration to the man with the same voice, the same face and the same initials as him waiting for her.
She would kill. She would avenge all the people that suffered or died because of him. She would kill him for Klaus, so that his death wouldn't be vain.
She would end his life just as he ended every possible future she could have had with him, every opportunity that would never happen where she would have finally come to realize how much Klaus meant. She would end him because he ended her.
And he will suffer, that she swore.
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Episode 5: The Kastrop Rebellion
796/487. Maximilian Kastrop, a spoiled noble/apparent Caligula fanboy, rebels against the Empire. The members of Reinhard’s new admiralty (Wahlen, Lutz, Kempf, Bittenfeld, Mecklinger, Mittermeyer, Reuental, and—of course—Kircheis) are revealed to us. In order to help Kircheis get some military accomplishments under his belt, so to speak, Reinhard assigns the quelling of the rebellion to him. Bergengrun drunkenly hazes Kircheis, who succeeds at defeating Kastrop and getting promoted to Vice Admiral. Meanwhile, Reinhard and Kircheis make moon-eyes at each other, Annerose gazes sadly into a bouquet of flowers over a balcony, and Reuental and Mittermeyer go on a date.
Reinhard and Kircheis
Kircheis is his own person—who has chosen to make everything in his life revolve around Reinhard.
Episode 5 is all about Kircheis, but specifically in the context of his... working relationship with Reinhard. So far, though we (and Reinhard) know that Kircheis is a tactical genius in his own right, his reason for rising up in the ranks so swiftly has been that he’s tied to Reinhard. Now that Reinhard’s position is as close to the top as he can get for awhile, he shifts his attention to helping Kircheis gain some credibility more legitimate than “where Reinhard goes, I go.” The Kastrop Rebellion is the perfect opportunity for this: If Kircheis is able to stop it successfully, he’ll be promoted to Vice Admiral on his own merit and potential accusations of cronyism will lose traction.
I love how intimate this exchange of nods becomes just because of how tight the shots are. And also because of the look in Kircheis’s eyes.
This decision is outlandish enough that literally everyone notices what Reinhard is actually up to—Reuental and Mittermeyer are first to alert us to Reinhard’s strategy, when they’re lightweight offended at not having been chosen themselves, followed by Lichtenlade and one of his goons discussing Kircheis’s unique “confidante” status. Then, when Kircheis succeeds at his mission, we get a very interesting moment with Rubinsky and his aide, over on Phezzan—the central, Empire-controlled merchant planet with a fair amount of galactic power and sway in its own right.
Awhile back, I said we would talk about usage of the word “friends” to describe the relationship between Reinhard and Kircheis, and you may have noticed when watching the above scene that the language around “best friends” seems a bit strange. In fact (thank you Rebecca!), a more accurate translation would go something like this:
Rubinsky: He seems content to serve under Count Lohengramm.
[So far so good! -Eliz]
Aide: Well they are childhood best friends or something./Maybe they're childhood best friends or something.
[It could be either one of these.]
Rubinsky: Best friends, huh? Whatever the case, we should find out more. If it's true it will prove useful.
Rubinsky and his aide here are not talking about the fact that Reinhard and Kircheis are friends; they’re speculating (unambiguously) about the ambiguity of Reinhard and Kircheis's relationship. What are they? Are they childhood best friends? Is it something different that we're not allowed to say on this anime that was made in the 80s? Hm. Let's look into it.
The different ways in which people around Reinhard and Kircheis refer to their relationship, and how Reinhard and Kircheis refer to it themselves are, like with everything else in LoGH, about more than just the words used—pay attention to related facial expressions and the general tenor of conversation as well or you’ll miss a lot. But the words, even ones as small as “toka” (the one that means “or something”) can also totally change the meaning of a scene. These aren't usually the sorts of changes that affect the sweeping political drama that LoGH is known for, but in a show that's so clearly committed to telling the stories of individual people against the backdrop of large scale politics, I'd argue these blink-or-you-might-miss-them nuances are actually more important to the work as a whole.
As is obvious from the cinematography, this is a very soft moment. The Japanese here (yasashii na) also makes it obvious—it feels a lot closer to “You’re sweet” than something as formal as “You’re a good man.”
...and Annerose
You’ll recall that we spent the majority of episode 4 in a lengthy flashback triggered by Reinhard and Kircheis’s visit to Annerose, but we didn’t get to see the actual visit. Well, now we do! Or at least, Kircheis remembers a specific scene from their visit, during which he has some interesting interactions with the two siblings.
Why is Reinhard teasing Kircheis about Annerose here? The best we can come up with is that Reinhard literally can’t fathom Annerose not being happy for them—after all, that’s how he would feel if Kircheis and Annerose were together.
This whole scene is uncomfortable as hell, and not all the reasons for that are clear yet at this point in the narrative, but eventually you’ll come back to it and be like “Oooooh, wow! I see what they were doing.” Before that time comes, however, I want to talk about what Annerose says to Kircheis here, and generally how she acts after Reinhard leaves.
Okay but it’s impossible not to mention this moment, at which Kircheis can’t stand to be alone with Annerose for even one fraction of a second. Just... I’ll come back to this. Much later. Put a pin in it.
Remember when I talked about how Reinhard, Kircheis, and Annerose all work together to pretend she has agency that she clearly lacks? The conversation between Annerose and Kircheis in this scene is the perfect example of her playing at exercising power that she doesn’t actually have.
Their conversation is frankly bizarre from beginning to end. It feels scripted; Annerose has been telling Kircheis to “take good care of” Reinhard literally since they met, and this is just another instance of that well-rehearsed exchange. That the relationship between Reinhard and Kircheis has changed and grown in the meantime—and independent of Annerose’s presence and influence—doesn’t matter to her at all, and when it seems like that fact might affect the course of conversation, she steamrolls right over it.
Annerose decisively shuts down Kircheis’s own assessment of his relationship with Reinhard because it doesn’t align with how she understands it, or how she wants it to be. Kircheis doesn’t protest.
Kircheis plays along verbally with Annerose’s sweeping and often incorrect declarations, but we can see clearly on his face that he’s aware of the layers of artifice at work here. His role, however, is not to contradict Annerose, but to respond to her in the very practiced, deferential way that he’s been deploying toward her ever since he was a child.
Kircheis’s little sideways glance here could have a couple meanings. One is “Does she know I’m dating her brother?” Another is more of a vague discomfort with and awareness of the level of playacting intrinsic to this conversation.
Annerose, meanwhile, “compliments” Kircheis in ways that double as veiled insults to Reinhard, and are clearly intended to put distance between Reinhard and Kircheis, while creating a sense of conspiratorial closeness between Kircheis and Annerose. Reinhard and Kircheis have quite literally left Annerose behind—she’s been stuck in the same tragic, stagnant situation for the last decade, while they’ve gone off to attempt galactic domination together. That they’re doing it ostensibly for her sake doesn’t change the fact that she is, again, powerless herself.
Annerose praises Kircheis’s maturity, but only at the expense of Reinhard’s. She is threatened by the idea of Reinhard and Kircheis being on equal footing with one another, because it shuts her out.
But Kircheis seems to know by now to take Annerose’s “compliments” and “wisdom” with about an ocean’s worth of salt. He’s empathic and probably has an instinctive understanding of why it’s important for Annerose to feel like she still has a role in his and Reinhard’s lives beyond being a damsel who needs saving; he probably also understands why it’s important to Reinhard that they continue to treat Annerose this way. After all, Annerose isn’t totally wrong about Reinhard: He is naïve, and one of his major points of immaturity is his idolization of Annerose. (Kircheis, of course, at the ripe old age of 20, is also naïve, and not somehow “more of an adult” than Reinhard.)
A better translation here for “talk to him” is “scold him”—Annerose is again trying to instill distance between Reinhard and Kircheis, and as you can see on his face, Kircheis isn't having it.
Whether her concerns are genuine or just a way to try and assert power is up for interpretation, but Annerose certainly acts like she has very little faith in Reinhard. Kircheis, on the other hand, has built his life around an ironclad, unwavering faith in Reinhard. And he’s not totally right either, of course: Reinhard is, like everyone in this show, deeply flawed and fallible. But here you can see that Kircheis disagrees with Annerose—he disagrees with her takes on Reinhard, and he disagrees with her takes on his relationship with Reinhard. Outwardly, though, he humors her, and at little expense to himself: What she asks him to do, to take good care of Reinhard, is what he’s already committed to doing.
Hilda
On a happier note, we finally get to meet LoGH’s very best space lesbian! Hildegard von Mariendorf aka Hilda, who appears in episode 5 for a hot second, is my top favorite character in this show that is chock full of favorite characters. I adore her, and I can’t wait for us to spend more time with her so I can talk your ears off about how extremely good she is. Stay tuned.
Stray Tidbits
These two background characters finally get names of their very own! Aw, how sweet.
The LoGH anime team included these two seconds of footage to make sure you know for sure that yes, Reuental and Mittermeyer did go on a date to celebrate Kircheis’s victory.
Did you fall asleep and wake up watching a different show? No! Kastrop and his cronies really are this hilariously awful.
Well, maybe the women aren’t so bad.
I didn’t talk about Bergengrun and Buro in this post because their role is mostly to show how Kircheis is viewed by his subordinates, and that may be important, but it’s not central to the themes I’m laser-focused on. However! They will be back, and they are interesting, so don’t write them off as Background Randos like I did the first time I watched.
A translation/worldbuilding note: If you’re watching the official subs, the cool explosive particles that Kircheis uses to destroy Kastrop’s Artemis Necklace (a ring of defensive satellites) are called Seffle particles. In the books, they’re translated as Seffl. In the fansubs that have been around since the early 90s, they’re called Zephyr particles. Seffl/e is the most “correct” translation, because in-universe they were named after the guy who discovered them, Karl Seffl/e. Neat!
#Legend of Galactic Heroes#Legend of the Galactic Heroes#author: Elizabeth#Reinhard#Kircheis#Annerose#Hilda#language#quote unquote friends#queerness
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Happiness Overload Chapter Nine
There stood a lady in a lab coat watching someone being disintegrated. Metal claws retracted back into the floor and ceiling. Electricity ran wild, and I wasn't too sure what I was being exposed to. Before I could turn away, she looked up, her gaze locked into my own.
″Um, don't mind me. Just passing through,″ I put my arm behind my head and shuffled my feet. I already knew I wasn't in the best of situations. You didn't have to tell me that. In fact, I would have at least fared a little better if I kept that stupid armor on.
″No, you're right where you should be,″ she uttered.
Footsteps. Their sounds cluttered on both ends of the hall. I was surrounded. Those goons with guns were going to shoot me down. I knew I shouldn't be here, but I could never find the exit. This lady had me trapped and she knew it. I ran into the room. It was the only thing I could think to do.
She smiled a smile that seemed to grow wider a mile a minute.
″You're still going to die, you know,″ she told me, relishing in such a fact.
″Well, fuck!″ I complained, tears welling up. ″What was I supposed to do? You had me in a corner!″
I could no longer see the body of whoever that was.
″Say, who was that?″ I pointed down, figuring if I was going to die, I may as well ask a quick question.
″Don't you know? That was you.″
″Oh, right. That makes sense.″
″What the hell was that?!″ I stood hunched over in disbelief. Conrad just stood beside me shaking his head, not giving much of a reaction otherwise.
″Damn, the feed cut out,″ he muttered.
″Really? That's what you're going to complain about? Of course it cut out! Your friend is dead!″
″It was to be expected,″ he responded with nonchalance. ″At least Blanc was useful while they were around. I finally got to see the inside of their base of operations. Or at least one of them.″
″I can't believe you right now.″
We were both in my ship at this point and Conrad had pulled out a PDA that displayed the whereabouts of Blanc through the underground maze.
″I placed a camera on Blanc when we were hanging out. It was so small that they had no way of ever noticing,″ he explained as we stepped into the ship. It was quite the ordeal getting there, but we were heading out now and venturing off to find a new place to hide out and lay low.
He tuned in just in time to see Blanc dying in front of the scientist known as Dr. Etna (or Professor, she seemed to go back and forth between titles). He gritted his teeth and hit rewind until we were at the beginning. We watched the fight with Chester, a.k.a Albacore (why the psycho chose that name I'll never know, but he's dead now and I feel no sympathy for him) as well as what ensued with the guards in the hallway. Neither of us could explain how Blanc was fighting any of them, but we had to accept that they were and there was nothing else to it. It wasn't until the thing about Ecstasy that Blanc and Etna talked about that it all clicked. It didn't really click, but Conrad explained it nonetheless.
″Damn it! They had no need to melt the body! They must have known what I did!″ He complained.
″I thought you guys were best friends, but here you are talking like they were an asset, a tool!″ I had no attachment to Blanc, myself; my first impression of them wasn't all that great and I never saw what the big deal was about how supposedly great they were. All I know is that if I had a best friend just die, I would react a little more in grief and shock. Here I am instead shocked that after Conrad had acted like Blanc was someone he'd do anything for, he went and did nothing and used Blanc for such a small gain.
″You have to understand. There was nothing I could have done. Blanc would have gone in there regardless and I wouldn't have been able to do anything to stop them. I at least had to take advantage of the situation so it wouldn't be completely in vain.″
″There was nothing you could have done? You didn't even try!″
″We had more pressing matters, anyway,″ he passed off, pulling on the strings of his hoodie. ″We were trying to escape, remember?″
″Ugh! Missing the point 101!″ I raised my fists and paced around the ship.
True, we were trying to escape, and that was my bad (as well as Kelly Roger's. Don't forget, not all of the blame can be placed on me), but Conrad knew beforehand what was going to happen. Or at least it seemed that way. There should have been something, anything other than this whole ″oh well″.
Conrad sighed and glanced my way.
″Look, you think I'm not troubled by this?″
I nodded. That was exactly what I thought.
″That's not it. I've seen this happen before. It's not the first time Blanc died. There were different circumstances. We worked together and actually came close to defeating the entire Flashbulb organization, at least in this timeline. There was no 'Ecstasy' or anything like that. I simply saved Blanc from ever riding that elevator and figured out a plan to take them apart. Their base wasn't originally underground and things were a little different. Ugh! I can't remember all the details anymore!″
″What the hell are you rambling on about?″ I raised my eyebrows.
″Time has become so muddied. I shouldn't be able to remember any of this, since it never happened, at least, not this time. We were close but they still found us out and went back in time before we had even worked together. I was powerless to stop Blanc from riding the elevator. It was like a different Blanc entirely, even before going to the station. It's like the moth effect. Even the smallest thing changes how things play out.
″You mean 'butterfly effect'?″
″It used to be moth...″ he muttered.
I shook my head.
″Whatever. So you just give up? You watch them, but you don't do anything? What's the point in gathering all this information if you're not going to do anything with it?″
″We have to be careful. It's not that I don't want to do anything, but we have to make sure we can do something before we do it.″
I laughed, but it was one of defeat. ″They're already aware of our existence. What can we do?″
″I don't know. It's a wonder they haven't already changed how things again. If they haven't already. It's so hard to tell.″
I continued pacing. The ship was on autopilot, passing through solids and camouflaging itself to avoid detection. I recalled the cameras, how we were monitoring Blanc, up until their death. That was when I remembered: there were multiple Blancs.
″You want to do something?″ I asked, feeling like I was taking charge.
″Like what?″
″We can still save Blanc.″
″Are you kidding? We're already in the next city! By the time we get there --″
″I'm the pilot, aren't I? I say we turn this around and save your best friend.″
″They're not even the same person!″ Conrad protested.
″That doesn't matter! We're doing this!″ I yelled, shoving Conrad aside and sitting in the pilot's chair.
Euphoria was singing a wordless tune that to anyone else would sound grating, but to me, it was soothing. It was a comfort to know that she was by my side. Even still, there was a miniscule part of me that was just a little uneasy.
″I guess I should have figured beforehand, but it's not exactly 'normal' to float along and make objects 'happy'. Whatever that even means,″ I mentioned.
She grinned. ″EVERYTHING WANTS TO BE HAPPY!″
″Yeah, I guess so. I guess I was also just too caught up in the moment to think about such things like what's 'normal' and what's 'not.' I also guess you're not really human, are you?″
″I'M YOUR GUARDIAN ANGEL!″ She confirmed.
″Uh-huh. And what does a 'guardian angel' look like? Go ahead, show your true form. I can take it.″
I turned around and a mass of tentacles with teeth hanging around in odd corners and a giant brain hanging on top, pulsating and pieces falling off, only for a tongue on the side to continuously lick off the brain matter.
″That's not what you look like,″ I shook my head. ″That's only what I imagined you looking like.″
Euphoria changed back into the image of the girl in the angel outfit.
″EUPHORIA'S ONLY FORM IS THE FORM OF HAPPINESS!″ She cheered.
″So appearance means nothing, huh?″ That was disappointing. Such a pointless reveal.
We strode through the hall. I stopped to take off the armor I was wearing.
″I'm tired of this thing, to be honest. We haven't seen any guards in quite some time and I'm sure we're close to the exit now.″ After stripping off of the armor, I was back to feeling free in my usual clothes.
″Ah, that's so much better.″ I put my hands on my hips. ″So, anything else you can tell me?″ I asked.
″I CAN TELL YOU ANYTHING IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY!″
″Can you tell me the truth?″ I asked that, but I didn't really know what 'truth' I wanted to know.
″WILL THE TRUTH MAKE YOU HAPPY?″
I had to ponder that. ″Maybe not, but...″
″WOULD IT MAKE YOU HAPPY TO KNOW?″
″I s'ppose so.″
″Do you know what 'truth' I want to know?″
She nodded with a great fury.
She entered the chamber, this unexpected guest. My database had no information on her but that didn't last long. It only took a second before I had a basic knowledge on just what she was capable of. The flow of information was a constant, ever changing asset.
″Greetings, creature,″ I beckoned. She flitted about before bellowing.
″THE ROOM WOULD BE HAPPIER WITH LESS LIGHTS ON!″
Any light source no longer mattered; the area was already dim as it was, but the air within changed to that of pitch blackness.
″Is that so?″
″I CAN ALREADY FEEL THE HAPPINESS LEVELS RISING!″
″I see. It seems we may have similar goals.″
″GOALS? WHAT ARE THOSE?″
″Wants. Desires.″
No response.
″What we desire is to make this world happier.″
″OH MY GOD! THAT'S SO WONDERFUL!″
″Do you desire it too?″
″I CAN MAKE IT HAPPEN!″
I already knew that. Which is why it was so important to have her in our disposal.
″Good. Tell us, do you have a name?″
″NAME? WHAT'S THAT?″
She must have known what names were. There were names for objects. Names for places. Names for people. Everyone and everything had a name, even if names differed between those giving and telling it.
″Very well. From henceforth, you shall be named Euphemism. If anyone asks what to call you, however, you are to address yourself as Euphoria. Understood?″
″My...name...is...Euphoria?″ She repeated, not giving her usual shout. From what could be gathered, she did not understand, but I had little patience for drilling it into her head. It was enough to know that I could call upon her.
If we were to gather even a small sample of whatever matter made up what she was, we could create many wonders. That much was clear.
Soldiers surrounded the door, guns loaded. I didn't have any special powers or anything. I wasn't a superhero, supervillain, otherworldly being, bitten by radioactive whatever, magician, etc. I never ate a magic fruit. I was just some lazy college student with nothing to lose. I wouldn't stand a chance against a dozen assault rifles, firing at once.
I knew all this, but I also have seen quite a few movies involving villains and it was clear that I was in the lair of one. I didn't have an exact clue what I was up against, but I knew what I could do.
″Hey, I'm going to die anyway. Why don't we talk for a bit?″ I asked.
″Very well,″ the lady in the lab coat agreed. ″Prinnies, hold your fire.″
I held in a chuckle. Out of all things to call a group of fearsome supersoldiers and they get called ″Prinnies″.
″So...uh...″ This wasn't good. I was granted a chance to stall and I couldn't even figure out what to start stalling with. ″What is this place?″
″Nothing you were meant to see.″
″Oh, I get that. 'Top Secret', right? Like Area 51 or some shit? That's why I can't be allowed to live, right? I've seen too much?″
″A valid answer. For anyone else, that would be true. For you, it is because you are a mistaken. An accident. You were never meant to be.″
″Hey! That's not very nice!″ I retorted. ″I'm sure my mom weighed the pros and cons about having a baby!″
″For all intents and purposes, I am your mother,″ she answered. I pictured her wearing a Darth Vader helmet. Otherwise, her revelation didn't really have a lasting effect on me. She was probably saying that to be dramatic. Which I totally get. Gotta play up that angle. ″You are a clone.″
″Yeah, I know,″ I replied, and gave a fake yawn for added measure. ″I'm a copy of a copy of a copy. Whatever.″
″You are aware? How?″
″Well, I kinda figured. Seeing another me will do that to ya, y'know?″
″Then you know why you must die. You are a loose end. There should never exist more than one of someone.″
″I guess I see where you're coming from, but just so ya know, you're wrong. I don't see a problem with there being more than one of someone, from a moral standpoint or otherwise.″
″You are inferior. You cannot match to the original.″
″So what? Maybe that's true, maybe I can be an exact replica and still different. Doesn't mean I'm not good in my own right. Think of it like an MP3 or pirating a copy of something. Sure, the quality may go down with each copy, but it can still be enjoyed throughout by many and most of the time the lower quality is so small that it doesn't even make a difference.″
″Why would you attribute yourself to a piece of software?″
″Why not? They say the mind is like a computer.″ I may not have been much, but I was nothing if not a bullshitter. Had to be in order to stay in college.
″Enough! I've grown tired of your stalling! A filibuster may work in a senate hearing, but such tactics are of no use here! Prinnies, open fire!″
Well, shit, I thought.
The sound of gunfire pierced through my eardrums. I covered both ears and got to my knees, but when the gunfire stopped I looked behind me and noticed something: I was still alive.
″What gives? Where's the earth shattering ka-boom? There's supposed to be an earth shattering ka-boom!″ I joked, knowing full well what went on.
Euphoria charged past the mercenaries, shoving them aside and causing them to fire their guns at the walls making up the doorway. The bullets ricocheted off the wall and fired back at each of their heads, the impact somehow strong enough to decapitate each and every one of them in perfect succession. While it seemed awfully improbable, I wasn't about to question it.
″HAPPINESS TO THE RESCUE!″ She cheered, waving her hands about and jumping at me.
″Euphy, right on cue,″ I smiled and stood proud.
″Ah, so you've met our creation, Euphemism, also known as the ETNA project.″
My face went blank. ″The what now?″
″E.T.N.A., stands for Euphoric Transdimensional Nature Alterer. Or you can think of her as Euphemism, a term for when a not so savory thing is giving a more appealing name.″
I sighed. I should have figured.
″That's not true and you know it,″ I told the lady, shaking my head in disappointment. ″Euphy has no true name, and she's not a project! Euphy is Euphy!″
Blanc had escaped within a hair of their life. There were now two Blancs roaming about. We couldn't allow such a thing, but there were already provisions in place to ensure things would continue as they should. Ecstasy, an experiment created from a trace amount of the creature that came to visit us and linked to my essence was already inhabiting the Blanc who had escaped. All that was left was to wait and the rest would fall into place.
Bad news: we just saw the second Blanc, Ecstasy and I saw with the same eyes, and yet she felt the same need to tell me, as if she was telling Blanc. Sometimes it was a burden knowing my system was still plagued with imperfections.
″Fear not,″ I informed her. ″Nothing is hindered.″
Only a short time later, we were wrong. As much as Ecstasy would lead Blanc to the same fate sooner or later, we still couldn't completely control their thoughts and actions. Blanc had the ″brilliant″ idea of telling their replica to try throwing a paper ball into the elevator. We already knew why; they thought it would save the replica as well as reveal the truth of what makes up the inside of the elevator. The unfortunate truth was that Blanc did not foresee a third Blanc being created, whereas we did. We could not allow such a thing to happen.
The creature, if she could even be called such a thing, was already in our chambers.
″Euphemism, go forth and act as the guardian angel of the one who goes by Blanc Slait.″
″AYE-AYE!″ She complied and vanished. We knew it would not be immediate, but all that was left to do at that point was wait and put our faith in this being which had already proved to be a valuable asset for us.
″So that's how it is, then?″ I whispered. I would say my heart sank at the reveal, but that wouldn't have been the right way to phrase things. It felt like the feeling in your body when someone tells you they're breaking up with you or that you failed a test. A bit of a cold feeling followed by tremors and a tightening of the senses. Your heart beats felt neither slower or faster, but rather more pronounced. Your face in a position as if you had a moderate dose of Botox. Your eyes in a state where you were at the beginning of your high after eating a couple of pot brownies.
″I feel like I've lived a whole life, but my life's just begun. All of these memories, they were made by someone else who I look like, whose name I share,″ I spoke up just a bit, but each word spilled were gasps for air. I was in a state where I both felt like I could burst into tears and break down yet also felt too numb to be able to conjure any up. I know it sounds dramatic, but it was a dramatic feeling. At least before I concluded.
″It really did make me happy to find out,″ I told Euphy.
″I'M GLAD!″ She replied, and even though it was her usual grin that she wore, there was something on her face that hinted at concern.
″I guess I should have figured. There were signs all over the place, but I was always open to other possibilities. That's how I've always been...when something comes out about government corruption I would always tell myself that they still have our best interests at heart and there was a good reason for what they did.″
I stopped. Euphoria hugged me, though she probably would have evn if I wasn't talking to the void over what she had revealed to me. I gave a little laugh. It was fake, but I probably would have still laughed even if I didn't feel like I had to force it.
″I say 'always'. I guess that's not really the case. I've only had these thoughts since I was born. Though, really, what's the difference?″
There was an increased confidence; something stirred in me that may have been brought on by the truth which I pressed her so hard for.
″Come on, Euphy!″ I took a step forward, after standing still for the past few minutes. ″We have to find the exit!″ My body was still shaking and each step was met with a heavy heartbeat. It didn't help matters that her embrace made it harder to walk and I wasn't used to someone hugging me, let alone someone with an indescribable nature.
Most of my so-called 'life' I hadn't really experienced, but that didn't mean I couldn't form any memories of my own. Besides, many people share the same name and are totally different people. Maybe I could be the same way.
″What gives?″ I asked. ″Why'd you stop?″
We had been crawling along with slow movements, still trying to get to the hanger where my ship was kept.
″We reached the vent,″ Conrad muttered. ″But I can see guards lurking about.″
Just my luck. Emphasis on my, of course. My life's been a string of ″just my luck's″ with a healthy dose of ″you've got to be kidding me″ sprinkled on top.
″Any bright ideas?″ I snickered, knowing full well that Conrad had none. I didn't know why I felt the need to rub it in when I was out of ideas, myself.
″I've got a laser pointer,″ he mentioned.
″C'mon, I wanna get on my ship, already!″ I fumed.
From what I could see, the guards had no idea there even was a ship, since the ship was cloaked at the moment and appeared invisible to the naked eye. Actually, even if they were to bump into it, they probably wouldn't notice since the ship can just pass through matter when cloaked.
Conrad fumbled through his pocket. I noticed the red light of the laser pointer and I could tell that he was about to shine it. I didn't know if I could classify whatever he was about to do as a ″brilliant plan″, but if we were thinking literally, it was a ″bright″ idea.
″What are you doing? You trying to get us both killed?″
He shushed me and I was about to push him (and probably be the cause of his death) when I heard gunfire and screams of pain.
″I can't believe it...″ he whispered.
″What?″
″I just made that guy shoot the other guy. I didn't think it would work,″ he remarked.
I gotta say: Conrad's 'pointing a laser pointer at the guard's head' idea was stupid, but the guard was stupider for falling for it. Now we just had to see if it would work for the rest of them.
Her expression changed to that of disgust.
″Who's side are you on?″ She demanded.
″THE SIDE OF HAPPINESS!″ Euphoria cheered.
″That's our side!″
I took the opportunity to try running up to her and punching her smack dab in her jaw. My fist was all ready to go and I took the leap, only to find myself going right through her and crashing to the floor.
″What the...″
I stared up. She turned around and flashed a smile that grew wider and wider. Static flickered through her body and part of her faded in and out.
″You're a hologram!″ I exclaimed.
″I am but an AI, the manifestation of the computer system known as ETNA,″ she explained.
″So what you're saying is that you're full of yourself?″
She frowned. So much for that smug look on her face. I couldn't help myself but laugh.
″Euphy, it would make me really happy if I could punch her right now!″ I called out.
″HAPPINESSS AWAITS YOU!″ Euphoria sang while skipping across the room.
I leaped to my feet and hit Etna, the not-so-hologram across the cheek.
″Wow, I can't believe that worked,″ I remarked.
She turned her head, her face a deep grimace. She pressed her palm against my stomach and I felt a surge of electricity push their way through me, working my blood and sending me flying. I could only imagine what my hair looked like at the moment. I guess I was fortunate enough to be alive, even if a bit crispy.
″You have quite the guile ,″ she complimented.
″No,″ I said with a smile, still on my back, and having difficulties getting up. ″I'm just dumb.″
″Alas, it is time for your existence to end,″ she announced as metal claws flew out from the floor and ceiling and shot toward me.
No! That would not make me happy! I thought. What would have made me happy is if I was able to call Life Alert, but I wasn't about to think that with Euphoria in the room.
I could still hear the claws whizzing toward me. Maybe Euphoria wasn't going to save me this time. Maybe she was on the side of this evil computer scientist. I held my hand over my face and looked away. I didn't want to face whatever was going to crush, strangle, or smash me. I wanted to see nothing at the time of my death. So close now. I could feel the wind from the claws brushing my short, black hair. The same hair that was probably standing up from the electric shock.
And then...nothing.
I pulled my arm away and looked up.
The metal claws were moving about every which way. Euphoria was floathing in midair, as she did, her arms outstretched as she seemed to command the claws with her very presence.
″Good job, Euphy!″ I called out to her.
″YAY! BLANC IS HAPPY!″
More claws shot out and started moving in conjunction with the previous claws. If they weren't away from me, I would have been in a deep fear. Instead, I just kept smiling and shaking my head.
″Those weren't there before!″ Etna cried.
″THE CLAWS WERE LONELY WITHOUT A DANCING PARTNER, BUT THEY'RE HAPPY NOW!″
″I've had enough of this nonsense! Prinnies, come to the control room at once!″
Shit. Of course there would be more of them.
Within just a moment, more guards entered the room, but instead of opening fire, they dropped their weapons and started dancing around.
″YAY! EVERYBODY DANCE!″
Etna watched in disbelief, helpless at her mercenaries not following her orders. She turned around and stared back at me.
″There are still ways,″ she growled, and pressed her foot against my stomach.
″Ech! Ech!″ I squirmed and struggled to breathe.
Before she could squish the life out of me, one of the claws grabbed her and carried her off toward the ceiling.
″IT WANTS YOU TO DANCE WITH THE REST OF US!″
I gasped for air. It took quite a bit of strength, but I leaned up and saw Etna being the one to squirm around.
″This is madness!″ Etna shouted, furious as ever.
I had an opportunity. I was going to seize it.
″No. This! Is! Euphoria!″
I then leaned my head back down and went hysterical. All of this unfolding before my eyes. It was like I was a kid at a party and the bouncy castle was just a few feet away.
I looked up and Euphoria was staring right at me, her bug-eyes reflecting my messy face. She wore a cuter smile then any I could have imagined.
″CAN I GET A PAT ON MY HEAD?″ She asked.
She leaned down and I reached my hand up, somehow our respective actions meeting somewhere in the middle and I was able to give her a little pat.
″YAY!″ She jumped off.
The tiles on the floor started bouncing up and down as if it really were one big, metallic, bouncy castle all along. The monitors all turned on and spelled out the word ″happy″ over and over. The ceiling made waves. The doors opened and closed on their own.
I shook my head, unable to break away from the smile I had on my face.
Etna, on the other hand, seemed to not be enjoying her new life.
″I want to be a hologram again,″ she whimpered.
Euphoria must have figured that would make Etna happy as without any hint of transition, Etna phased through the claw and brought herself down to the floor. From what I gathered, Euphoria did not have a sense of pity or sympathy, only a sense of what would make someone happy or unhappy.
She straightened her glasses and fixed her face until it was back to wearing a stone cold expression.
″The previous one was so much easier...″ she muttered.
I pulled myself to my feet. ″I guess I won't be able to punch you again,″ I sighed.
″Indeed,″ she agreed. ″This is goodbye for now.″ She, or rather, her image, disappeared. The monitors that previously displayed the word ″happy″ across every screen now showed nothing. In fact, there was no hum to be heard. No lights on on the monitors or the computers that accompanied them.
The floor was still. There were no claws. The prinny squad (as I figured I would call them) were writhing on the floor, giggling ceaselessly. Their laughs harmonized and through the helmets I thought I could hear the voices of demons reaching out from the pits of hell.
Arms found their way around me and squeezed me from behind.
″DID I DO A GOOD JOB?″ Euphy asked.
I nodded. ″Yes, very good.″
″YAY!″ She cheered, rubbing her head against my back.
Before I had a chance to step forward and examine the computers, a flight of stairs appeared.
It was only a few steps of stairs, and they didn't seem to lead anywhere.
″I dunno...what if it kills me?″ I reflected, recalling the imagery of the elevator. Sure, I remember riding it once before, but that was a lie. Someone else entered. Someone else who was me, but who isn't me now. ″What do you think, Euphy? Should I risk it?″
I turned around and she was nowhere to be found. I should have noticed that there wasn't anything pressed against me, but I was lost in thought and it seemed just like her to come and go without any hint of leaving.
I gulped. It could have been a trap, but nevertheless, I took the first step. Actually, that was a stupid thought. Since when has anything horrific ever happened involving stairs leading nowhere? I was almost there, and no spinning blades nor any other phenomenon. It was actually kinda disappointing.
On the very last step, I was about to walk back down, but just as I turned around, a hand reached out and grabbed me.
I fell onto the floor. But not the same floor that I had already fallen on twice. This looked to be a different room entirely.
Did I die? Is this a new body? Have I been teleported somewhere?
″Ugh, I can't believe I had to pull you in,″ a voice complained.
I turned around behind me. Nope. The voice wasn't coming from behind me. I did notice the stairs folding up, though.
I looked in front of me and was met by a pair of legs. I looked up further and was relieved to find that the pair of legs were attached to someone: a red head wearing some spy outfit or at least what I imagine a spy would wear.
″Stop staring at my legs and get up. It's making me a little uncomfortable,″ she commanded.
I picked myself up off my feet. ″Sorry. It's just one of those things where you're not sure if you're dreaming or just having quite the day,″ I tried to explain.
″You could have just said 'sorry' or 'sorry, I've just had a batshit day',″ she corrected.
″Uh, right. So, uh, where am I?″
″You're aboard my ship. We're rescuing you.″
My eyes widened. ″That's so cool!″
″Yeah, I guess it is. Though the charm'll wear off after a while.″
″Don't mind Velvet, she just loves to complain!″ Came another voice calling out.
″I do not!″ She complained.
I looked behind Velvet and saw a figure in a hoodie slouched in a chair.
″Who's the skeleton?″ I asked Velvet.
″That's Conrad.″
I looked back at the figure, then back at Velvet.
″So that's what he looks like underneath the hood and glasses?″
She snickered. ″You hear that, Conrad? You've got a fan!″
I ran over to where Conrad was sitting just as he was pulling his hood back up. My heart was beating at an unusual rate, though given the thrills I've experienced all in one day, it shouldn't have been all that unusual.
″I feel like I've known you most my life, and yet this is only my second time meeting you,″ I began. ″Even then, I feel like that other time doesn't count. I didn't know who I was then.″
″But you know now?″ He asked.
″Well, I know what I am, I've still gotta learn the rest.″ I wiped my face. There were tears that I didn't even feel forming, yet they trickled down my face. ″I feel like my life's just beginning.″
Velvet interrupted my little introduction and shoved me aside before taking a seat.
″If you two are done, we've gotta get a move on.″
I looked at the pilot's controls and then looked out the window, displaying the room we were in. Not much about the ship made sense to me. I shook my head and looked at her.
″Where are we going?″
″Egypt.″
I mouthed ″whoa″ before bracing myself, holding tight to the seats Conrad and Velvet occupied.
Even with a new adventure awaiting me, I felt Euphoria's absence. I wondered if she would ever reappear and if so, in what form. I took a deep breath and sighed.
I knew I wasn't yet happy.
#happiness overload#writing#epwrites#prinny#etna#writers on tumblr#euphoria#happiness#good vibes#clones#conspiracies#scifi
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Can Hell be Heaven?
Note: So remember when I asked about if I should split something or not? Well I didn’t split it, but this just Chapter 1. It has some tecnical bits I’m 90% sure are accurate but if the 10% happens, please do bare with me. Hope you enjoy it.
Synopsis: Against Oliver’s express request Felicity uses her hacker skills to help him and gets caught. As Prometheus plan for Felicity and Oliver unfoils it becomes clear how twisted and evil they really are.
Part 2
The cling echoed inside her head, a spark that spikes the wave of panic to surmount her self-control. Standing with the sheets, a pillow and an ragged blanked she took a deep breath before facing her roommate. The dark haired woman sent her a single glance and kept on ignoring her, laying still on the top bunk.
“Hi.”
An answering cold look, a mocking glance, no other acknowledgement. Felicity knew this was going to be hard, still nothing had prepared her for this. The undressing, the washing, being nothing more than a number; being stripped from anything that made her a person.
Laying on her bed Felicity reminisces on how she got here. Could she had avoid it?
She knew the answer was yes, but then Oliver would be the one in an orange jumpsuit; Oliver would be the one with his life wrecked. He had worked hard to get a life for himself, she would never allow it to be destroyed, not when it was in her power to prevent it.
Oliver’s demand for her not to ruin her life sounded has hollow now as it did when she heard it the first time. To have a life being ruined she had to have a life and she didn’t, not anymore. Still it was painful to recall Oliver’s harsh words, he didn’t want her to do it, he didn’t want her taking the risk, she could be caught; he was right, still their last talk was a fight and she wished it wasn’t. She wished she would recall Oliver, if not smiling, at least, not antagonizing her.
“Prisoner 3851”
It takes a moment to register that it's her new “name”. She stands while the door lock chimes every twist and turn of the key ominously.
Felicity takes a step out the door and waits still for the guard to close the door again. The sight isn’t much better out here, in front of her a row of gray metal doors that she knows mirror the ones behind her.
“Let’s go. You have a visitor.”
She both wishes and dreads it’s Oliver. Felicity can’t handle another fight, not now.
But it's not Oliver and her heart tightens; she was wrong, she wanted it to be Oliver, still a sad smile forms at the sight of Diggle.
Diggle strong stance doesn’t quite fit the sadness in his eyes.
“Digg.”
“How are you, Felicity?”
“As well as could be expect.”
She can tell he's fighting the tears.
“We’ll get you out.”
Felicity feels the smile coming back to her slowly.
“No, Digg. I’ll face my charges.”
“You will be convicted, Felicity.”
She nods as the word fails her.
“We won’t have it, Felicity. You can’t stay here.”
Diggle knew how it was inside, and he was a man not many convicts dare messed with, but Felicity, his Felicity, was far from being that powerful.
“I have to, Digg.”
“Why, Felicity? Why did you do it? Oliver would have made it.”
“Oliver would be killed the moment Prometheus goons had him. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“You think he’s better off now? Knowing you are in here. Because of him?”
Panic drained her face.
“Digg, please, don’t let him do anything foolish.”
“Like breaking you out? I won’t just let him I will help him.”
Tears she was holding since she walked into her cell threaten to flow.
“Please, Digg. I’m in here to keep him safe. You need…”
“I don’t need to do anything, Felicity."
But he sees it, he see the watery eyes, the struggle to keep the tears from running free on Felicity's face, pain over pain, pain Diggle can't take.
"But I will. For you I will.”
“Thank you.”
The guard opens the door, Felicity stands, taking a deep breath before turning to the door. The door closes on the only friendly face she's going to see for a long time.
She walks almost side by side to the guard. A portentous woman with a bossiness about her that Felicity is beginning to think every guard has. Like the one now facing her, nodding in silence to her colleague. Felicity senses the first guard leaving.
Must be the change of shift.
This woman is tall and stiff, her blond hair tangled in a tight bun. Felicity follows her steps, all corridors look alike to her, gray metal door, after gray metal door. The guard opens a door at the end of the corridor.
Something is off, her cell isn't at the end of a corridor. Felicity stands still as the sunlight spreads on the floor.
"Walk."
The voice is cold, unattached. But something is wrong and Felicity freezes in confusion. The sight of the gun barrel point at her head, snaps Felicity awake.
"Walk"
It's not the first time Felicity has a gun pointed at her but it's the first time she feels powerless to do anything about it. Holding her hands in the air Felicity steps outside, the sunlight is blinding for a second. A white van waits there. The guard opens the back door and forces her in.
"Where...?"
It's too late, the door is already close and the sunlight turns to darkness. Slowly Felicity's eyes adjust and she distinguishes bags of clothes. The van speeds off and she grapples the first two bags begging for her life, only to stop abruptly a few meters ahead.
Felicity takes the opportunity to tuck herself in the best way she can before the van speeds off again. Just in time.
The drive takes hours, at least that's what it feels. As the van stops the door opens; there's too much light, Felicity never sees it coming, the slight pinch and she falls into oblivion.
It's dark when she wakes, the ground is solid but not the texture she would expect. Pulling her hands to her face there's a barrier, the softness of fabric on her fingertips, a blindfold she hastily takes off to watch her surroundings.
The shock is not wavy as she always thought it's a brick hall. Felicity finds despair is not only for the weak as the useless need to scream overcomes her.
"How is she?"
Oliver asks as soon as Diggle walks into the bunker.
"As well as we would expect."
"We need to get her out, John."
"She doesn't want us to."
That's what made it worse.
"Felicity can't expect we will stay here quietly watching has she's condemn to a life in prison."
"That's exactly what she asked."
It was insane, how could Felicity ever thought he would allow her to stay in jail.
"I promissed her, Oliver."
"Maybe you did but I didn't..."
Oliver falls into Felicity's chair when he registers Diggle's torned face.
"What exactly did you promise her, John?"
"I promised I wouldn't let you do anything to break her out."
Oliver just gasps, words fail him. How could Digg promise her that.
"That's not exactly accurate, I promised I wouldn't let you do anything foolish."
If Felicity situation wasn't this serious Oliver would have laugh. As it was he knew Diggle wouldn't help him. He sighs.
"I knew I should have been the one going."
"You know that wasn't a good idea. She's in there to protect you but no one can prove that, that's what she's counting on to leave you out of it."
"I can't, John. I can't stay out of it. It's Felicity."
His Felicity. Against his request to stay low, she had taken the risk going deeper into her criminal connections and activities, ones he didn't even understand the extend of, to help him, to protect him. Now Felicity was in jail for a crime she had committed, for him.
"I know, Oliver, I know."
Dinah runs in alarming them both.
"We have a problem. Digg after you left the County Jail where did you go?"
"I stopped by my house and then came here."
"Oliver, 5 pm where were you?"
"A meeting at City Hall."
One he had to run by Thea for he couldn't remember a word of what was said.
"What happen?"
"We have a manhunt going, or better a woman hunt."
Oliver jumps off the chair stopping short of Dinah.
"Felicity?"
"Yes. No one knows how she got out. She was there but a few hours. SCPD is working under the assumption she had external and internal help."
"Digg?"
His brain was in turmoil, he couldn't think straight, nothing fitted with anything Diggle told him.
"She didn't want to get out. She was very clear on that. She was planning on staying put and facing the charges."
Then she had to have been forced. There was no other explanation.
"Prometheus."
"Oliver, there's no way to be sure. It could have been Helix." Diggle voice the thought unconvincingly "Dinah, you said internal help. Any idea who?"
"We are working that angle but so far nothing."
"Go back to SCPD. Try to find out what you can."
"SCPD is going to want to talk to you both. They are on their way to City Hall, and your home Digg, as we speak."
"Oliver our best chance lays with SCPD at the moment, we can't go inside County while they are there questioning everybody. We better talk to them."
Days went by and the sketch of what had happen was complete but it gave little to no clues. The plan was cleverly outline by someone that the SCPD was certain wasn't Felicity.
The image for Felicity going into the van at gun point made it clear to everyone and gave Oliver nightmares.
The woman that forced Felicity into the van had been identify but it was only and alias. Posing as a transferred supervisor, Ms Gant, and been working on County Jail for a week. Her file turned out to be bogus but weaved so perfectly it was hard for anyone to spot.
"Ollie, you have to sleep. You can't go on like this."
"I can't, Thea. Every time I close my eyes I see..."
"You can't do anything to help her if you're beat."
Thea hold off the fact City Hall, the all Star City, was starting to wonder where was their Mayor.
"It seems I can't do anything to help her period, Thea. And it's driving me insane."
The alarm chimes calling all attention to the computer system. Oliver jumps straight to Green Arrow suit
"What? What happen?"
"Prometheus."
Thea runs close and grabs her brother's arm.
"Where are you going?"
"Get him."
"You can't go alone, Ollie. You know that."
"Call Diggle. He can meet me there."
"No... Ollie."
It's too late Oliver's already out the door. He knows Prometheus had Felicity taken. He can feel it. He knows he's being lured into a trap but he can't stop himself he needs to know.
"I was expecting you."
"Where is she?"
"Your friend? I would guess she's safe, safe from you."
He would have lunge but that wasn't enough information, he needed more.
"Where? Where did you take her?"
"You wouldn't believe it if I told you. I expect she didn't believe it neither."
It was useless, pointless, Prometheus wasn't going to tell him.
"And you brought me here for what? Kill me?"
"Death is too good for you."
"Then what?"
"You know what."
Without another word he jumps into the night. Diggles voice echoes Oliver's head.
"I'm on my way."
"He's gone. Meet you back at the bunker."
"Well? What happen?"
Thea is eager to get news on Felicity, it breaks Oliver's heart that he has none.
"He took her."
"Where?"
"He didn't say."
Diggle walks in silently attentive on their conversation.
"Then how do you know?"
"Trust me I now."
"Oliver, what did he say? Exactly."
Diggle needs the detail run down, the details often have clues.
"He said he guessed Felicity was safe from me. And that I wouldn't believe it if he told me where she was. He added he expect Felicity didn't believe it neither."
"So somewhere far away, where you can't get to her easily, or locate her easily. Somewhere Felicity will be surprise to be, so she knows where she is."
"If she knows where she is she will be able to contact us." Thea adds hopefully.
"If that was possible Felicity would have done it already, Speedy. She can contact anyone from anywhere."
"So somewhere isolated, without communications, far away, where you can't get to or locate her easily. But somewhere Felicity knows."
"I have no idea." Thea ventures with a tinge of dismay.
"You better make a list of all the places you have taken Felicity the other Summer. I'll ask Lyla to help with the search"
Oliver nodded, oblivious to Diggle leaving with Thea. From all the places he had been happy with Felicity there wasn't one that she was cut off. The only one he thought he managed that he was later proved wrong. From all the places he knew Felicity had been there was only one he knew she would be unable to make contact. And he couldn't believe Prometheus would have done that. But the more he considered it the more it rang true.
This place is so familiar and so strange at the same time. She heard about it time and time again, it's horrors, yet, after the first wave of despair she finds some solace in the fact this place brings her closer to Oliver.
Still she knows it’s going to be hard. She’s a survivor, yes, but not in this environment. Looking around, trying to find some recognizable markings from the last time she was here, but whoever brought her, left her on a different area. The tree line is a few meters ahead. She needs water, something to eat, some shelter. It’s time to find out for herself what mysteries Lian Yu hold for her.
The trails inside exist but Felicity is careful to avoid them. Oliver isn't here to save her from land mines.
Some of the plants have what looks like fruit but Felicity recalls the danger it is eating anything she doesn't recognize. Problem is she doesn't recognize anything, and not even coconuts exist, no wonder Oliver didn't offer them the other time.
Felicity looks for familiar ground, some reference she recalls from before. She has no idea what Oliver left behind but she was pretty sure that, to have some chance of survival, she has to reach the plane wreck. But the Island is big, she knows it is, much bigger than she had imagine it when Oliver first told her about it almost 5 years ago. She recalled her shock when she saw it herself as she fell from the sky with Diggle.
She spots a trail coming from her left, it’s more clear and walked on, even if the grass is already covering it slightly, and it heads deep inside the Island. Maybe she was lucky, maybe she would find some place where she could protect herself.
But no clearing cames up, no familiar sight cames up. After what Felicity thinks it’s hours she’s parched and way pass feeling hunger as the slipping headache, she knew so well, sets in. She wills herself to walk on, she’s dead either she stops or either she doesn't find any water and something to eat, anything, better to keep searching. Still the darkness turns heavier, as the daylight starts to fade, and she’s still found nothing, had to physical pain adds the awareness that she’s lost. Exhausted Felicity considers taking the path, maybe one of Oliver's traps would kill her and end the suffering.
The sound of running water echoes like an illusion, just like the small stream looks like one. Is it safe to drink? Felicity isn't sure but at this point she doesn't care. She drink considering the options are either survive and live a few hours more or died earlier than that, a win win of sorts.
She doesn't die. With a new hope Felicity keeps going. Up front it looks clearer. The trees give way to a clearing, bigger than she expected. In front of her some kind of Camp. The buildings are in ruins, some kind of tower had fallen to the ground, it looks deserted.
The center building had taken the largest hit but a small one a few meters from it had fallen only partially. Inside Felicity find enough protection to stay as safe as possible. A quick search an she manages to find some remains of eating can's.
"ARGUS" the inscription is still recognizable.
The memory of Lyla makes her smile. Somewhere on this Island there’s an ARGUS prison, one Felicity fully intendes to locate, there would be a guard there, he would have some way to communicate with Lyla.
But for today night is closing fast and, protecting herself the best she can, Felicity tries to get comfortable enough and get herself unnotice.
She hardly sleeps the sounds outside kept waking her up. Strange animal sounds. Sounds she has no idea if they are natural or not, she wills herself to think so.
At the first signs of dawn everything turns quiet, she’s alone as far as she can tell. But the rain is falling heavily. There’s no way to go out and walk into the forest searching for the Beach where the hydroplane had landed when they came here to drop Slade.
Keeping herself dry becomes a priority as making any kind of fire in this weather and without dry wood is impossible. She’s not even sure if she can make fire.
Felicity assess what to do, the rest of the can and rainwater insure her she can survive another day.
The next day the Sun cames up radiant and bright. The water dripping from roofs and trees adds to the saturated ground making it hard to walk. It’s safe to drink water from the rain, Felicity knows that much, but food is becoming a problem. The cans she gathered are her safety net, she rather not use them.
The woods didn't feel safe but she’s out of options. She walks in carefully, watching for animals. She’s a bit frighten but she needs them to appear, her life depends on it.
The sound of dragging makes her stop. It's a continuous dragging sound coming a few meters to her left. There's no one there, nothing she can see, but the dragging keeps going. The small rodent startles her and Felicity holds the scream, but the next vision makes it necessary for her hands to stop the scream from coming out.
The huge snake isn't has fast as the rodent but she's fast enough, considering her size. Felicity keeps still, frozen to the ground, out of fear and necessity. The snake moves on away from her. Felicity waits for the dragging sound to become just a whisper in the distance.
She catches her breath, pulling her head to her knees, for a few moments, until her heart stops trying to break out of her chest and her breathing becomes regular. It's then she hears it, birds. She follows their flight, they are coming down picking something from a nearby bush.
Felicity walks over, all birds scattering in alarm.
"Sorry. You will surely have other food sources, I do not."
She picks the berries carefully. If birds eat them she’s pretty sure they won't kill her.
A walk further on to get water and she’s soon back at the abandon buildings. She still has to explore a little more. She knows, from Oliver's stories, that some of the Island "residents" had radios, with a radio she could get in touch with ARGUS guard much easier, as it is she has no idea where to go, where to start.
A run down of the camp and she manages to understand where she is. She recalls Oliver talking about him and Slade attacking a camp with and airstrip. The airstrip is unusable, the tower is down, still there must have been a radio. Inside she finds the remains of the radio but it’s shattered, no way to make it work ever again.
The bigger building was totally destroyd, like something had blown it up. Knowing Oliver that was probably what did happen.
Near it, two vehicles, in bad shape but still recognizable. One of them even seems to have at least part of the motor intact. As she checks under to hood she has to laugh. There is some kind of motor alright but a lot of the parts are gone, surprisingly not the battery, and the oil deposit had also survived, somehow. Felicity takes the battery, being it looks disconnected chances are it still has enough juice to send some spark, at least enough for her set some fire on.
Taking two wires, Felicity connects them to the battery, the small spark made her laugh. She had fire, she had oil, she had seen some fabric somewhere, she has all the makings for a light.
Felicity spends the rest of the afternoon setting it up, night is closing fast but in the safeness of the little flame that lights her new lair, she feels safe.
Next morning she will go and try to reach the beach, another beach, maybe she’ll get lucky. But that night she can sleep at ease.
Oliver knew Diggle wouldn't forgive him but where he was going he needed to go alone. Even taking the first flight out and spending no time between flights, it had taken him almost two days to getting here.
Renting the hydroplane wasn't easy, but money was a non issue, not when Felicity's was in his definition of Hell by herself. The thought brought him so many nightmares. Almost a week, it had been almost a week and Felicity still wasn't safe. Oliver presses on the hydroplane motors. She has to be there, it’s his worst nightmare but she has to be there.
He shades himself from the question of how he would find her. The Island’s big, she can be anywhere. Oliver doesn't have one clue.
Well, that’s not exactly right, Felicity is smart, she would look for water, food and shelter. On his last contact with Diggle, incredibly upset and angry Diggle, he told him Lyla hadn’t heard from her agent on Lyan Yu which meant Felicity wasn't on that side of the Island. That gave him some places to start the search.
The shape of Lian Yu grows out from the Ocean. The sight would have been unpleasant if it wasn't for Oliver's relief that he was finally arriving, getting closer to Felicity, closer to having her safe. This is the only place Felicity had ever been where all connections to the outside world were non-existent, of that he was sure.
The hydroplane runs smoothly over the almost still water of the small bay, until it stops, drifting softly against the Amazo. From the air the hydroplane looks just like another piece of the ship wreck. The Amazo would provide both protection and camouflage. If Prometheus send Felicity here he has a plan, the hydroplane is their only way out of the Island and he will do anything to protect it.
Sitting on the cockpit, Oliver breaths deeply taking out the old map. Never in his life did he thought he would need it again, but here he is thankful he didn't destroyed it.
His first stop is going to be the plane wreck, his old home. Felicity was with him there, briefly but she was. Maybe she found her way back. He stops his brain from thinking further about the dangers the forest held, some of them his doing.
On the beach there are no tracks, no clues. The tide had been high that night, all traces, if they existed, would have been cleaned and turned into smooth wet sand.
Oliver keeps himself out of the trails, they are unsafe. He hopes Felicity hasn't forgotten the landmines. The memory flashes in his mind and makes him smile, she wouldn't have forgotten that, just like he would never forget it neither.
The plane wreck’s empty, no sign of anyone being inside lately, no tracks on the surrounding ground.
Taking an energy bar Oliver checks the map for the next sheltering possibility. Shadowspire camp. It’s the closest and the buildings are probably in fair conditions. With no time to waste, after a sip of water, he reenters the dangerous forest that he knows so well.
Even if it was the closest, daylight is almost gone when Oliver gets to Shadowspire camp. The buildings are almost intact, which is both good and motive for caution, anyone could be lurking inside. Silently Oliver checks every building. All empty. Felicity isn't here, no sign of she ever did.
Darkness engulfes everything leaving him no choice but get ready to spend the night. The wet surroundings make the task of making fire a difficult one, but he manages, and soon the fire is warming him up.
The thought flashes in an instant, could Felicity make a fire? As risky as it was it was also the best way to keep safe from wild animals. Oliver fought the panic wave that came flooding in as the thought of Felicity dead came into perspective. The thought of having to dig another grave in this Island, was daunting
He searches the sky for any sign of fire but it’s impossible, the trees are too high.
Oliver tries to get comfortable, he tries to sleep but he can't, not when all he see when he closes his eyes is Felicity calling out for help, his help, and the feelling of powerlessness, the ending struggle and despair to reach her.
The first shades of dawn don't came soon enough and Oliver is already moving, There is only one other place on his list, then finding her will be close to impossible, but he will do it. A vow he takes as he walks torward ARGUS Camp, and Fyers airstrip.
The Sun’s shining high above when Oliver gets to the wrecked buildings. No fire remnants, no signs of anyone. His hope starts to fail as he searches the buildings one by one and no signs of life. The smell of burnt oil make his senses react, it’s unexpected, doesn’t fit.
With renew hope Oliver follows the trace in to a small support building, there are tracks going in and out, light footprints. Inside a small fabric wick sits ligthed over a big can of oil. Only one person in this Island could have been this ingenious.
"Felicity" the name came out as a light breath of pure relief and awe.
"FELICITY" his calling echoes the nearby mountain silencing all animals in the vicinity; "FELICITY" only the echo gaves him an answer.
Maybe Prometheus is listening, maybe he’s rejoicing with his desperation, Oliver doesn't care, in this moment he doesn't care for anything except finding her.
"FELI..." the sound of running, cuts the calling short, it came from the trees on his left. Oliver gets an arrow ready.
"Oliver... OLIVER."
Dropping everything he runs to the trees just in time to catch Felicity in his arms. She feels cold, thinner but otherwise, his Felicity.
Felicity doesn't even care how this miracle happen, she just holds on tight and wishes she could never let go.
But Oliver needs to see her, to watch her eyes, to reassure himself she’s safe.
"I'm okay, Oliver."
She feel all the tension leaving Oliver's body with a shiver as he holds her even harder. Close to crushing her but she welcomes it until it starts to hurt
"Oliver... Oliver..."
"Sorry."
He lets go. The tension fading away into a heartfelt smile.
"It's okay. I'm so glad you're here."
Wrapping her arms around his neck she tiptoes to get the height needed for her shin to fit perfectly on the creviss of his neck. And she’s home.
After a week Oliver feels that all his finally right in the world. He looks back at the forest behind her with a smile.
"Where were you going?"
"I was trying to get to the ARGUS prison, I know there's a guard there."
And she was going the wrong way, but that didn't matter, she was safe and in his arms again.
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So,
Recovery is a bitch.
When I first crash-landed on the coast at the beginning of December, wearing my Shambhala tights and violently monologuing to whoever would listen, I couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t involve rage — and it was exhausting me, making me feel disgusting and anti-social.
Really, deep down, I was sad.
It’s one thing to know about a certain type of injustice, to intellectually engage with the idea of censorship, but it was something else altogether to experience firsthand. While I thought I was working on the most important journalism of my life, the powers that be had decided I was more trouble than I was worth — taking away both my journalism and my bouncer jobs within two weeks.
I didn’t understand. How could people just stand by and watch?
One smart move I made on my way out of the Kootenays was to leave my computer and my phone behind with my roommate. I’d been receiving death threats on my phone, while my computer had three years’ worth of memories waiting to drag me back into the blackness. I was better off going tech-free. I took all my creative energy and funnelled it into painting.
My parents accompanied me to Vancouver General Hospital the first day I got back, and sat in while doctors told me what I needed: to cut out citalopram, my antidepressant of four years, as well as cannabis. To replace them I was given new drugs, lorazepam and zopiclone among them, and I was told to take it as easy as possible. I was scared of withdrawal, but the new regimen worked nicely.
I did a lot of sleeping, and had a good Christmas.
Then came the New Year. By that point I’d levelled out for nearly a month, and I was starting to take social calls. But my head was still in the Kootenays, and I found myself processing my feelings with my series “Anatomy of a Mental Breakdown” — some of the rawest shit I’ve ever written, and cathartic too. But as my psychologist pointed out, I was purposefully throwing “petrol on the fire”.
Then Mike Spry wrote his piece “No Names, Only Monsters” , hosting it on a website called CanLit Accountable. He was busting his own glass house so he could throw some stones. Suddenly my feminist classmates, who had been engaged in a multi-year battle with UBC about the Steven Galloway situation, had a new reason to throw truth-grenades on Twitter. While I sat at home, bored, my friends were engaged in social media warfare.
So of course I joined in.
Looking back now, I’m embarrassed by how clumsy and ridiculous I must’ve appeared to everyone else online. While thoughtful women like Chelsea Rooney and Alicia Elliot put forward nuanced arguments, I was making everyone uncomfortable by tweeting outrageous shit at Galloway, using YouTube clips from The Wire and The Sopranos.
“Sorry I’m late,” I wrote to Chelsea.
For me, the situation came down to tribal loyalties. And the fact was I’d spent years feeling guilty for not speaking up, for not backing up my friend Sierra Gemma. I’d been paralyzed by fear of saying the wrong thing, or messing up my employment opportunities, but suddenly I was free to say whatever the fuck I wanted. I felt like I’d unleashed a feral version of myself, like I’d transitioned from being Will Johnson into a snarling attack dog otherwise known as the Kootenay Goon.
By this point, I wasn’t sleeping again. When I started disturbing my siblings, I decided that the best course of action was to chain-smoke while driving all over the Lower Mainland in the early hours of the morning — from Surrey to Vancouver to Richmond and back. I was spending a lot of time crying, sorting through my Nelson memories, and worrying about what was going to happen next in my life.
“You need to stop looking into the past, and start looking into the future,” my Dad said. “Nelson is just making you angry.”
Along with my brother Cody, he brought me back to Nelson to pack up my stuff in mid-January. I still wasn’t sleeping properly, so around 4 a.m. I woke up Cody and drove around, ultimately leaving five of my paintings for friends I cared about — at the Hume, Vienna Cafe, Windsor Barber, Finley’s and Power By You. We went out to the bridge where bank robber Andrew Stevenson was arrested after jumping over the side.
Then, later that morning, I saw a tweet from Jacob Mooney where he noted that UVic teacher Lee Henderson (a good friend of Galloway) had taken his name off the UBC Accountable letter. It was a huge moment, being applauded all over Twitter, and in celebration I drove across town to see my friend Syd. I took a photo I posted with a provocative caption calling out a local asshole, and though I told my Dad not to answer his phone within half an hour we’d gotten frantic calls.
“Let’s just get the fuck out of here,” I told him.
Once I was safely back in Tsawwassen, I returned to Twitter to check if anything else had happened. Apparently the teachers Mike Spry called out at Concordia were no longer teaching their classes, and there was a sense that shit was happening right here, right now. With new access to my photo archives, I shared pictures from SD8 and noted that former Superintendent Jeff Jones was the first person to ask me about Galloway — which is true.
One night, buoyed by everything happening online, I drove out to UBC at 3:30 a.m. to hold my own “peaceful protest”. Different women had chastised me for “taking up too much space” in the dialogue on Twitter, so I decided to leave my RAV parked diagonally in front of the UBC sign and walk off with the music blaring. Somewhere deep down I understood that nobody was going to come, but in my mind I pictured my friends hosting a raging protest around my car.
Instead, they put me in the psych ward.
When I was doing the intake, the doctor was a muscular black man who resembled Dr. Dre. I told him I’d been watching “I Need a Doctor” by Dr. Dre repeatedly, along with a bunch of Eminem tracks, and I felt like I’d been screaming that sentiment for weeks: I need a doctor! Now, finally, I was getting some help!
As it turns out, the psych ward was a blast. I met a bunch of amazing people, had daily meetings with psychiatrists who were introducing me to new meds, and my journalist brain was carefully recording everything that happened around me. If nothing else, this was a good story. When I walked out 7 days later, shaking hands with Dr. Hutnyk, I thought for sure I now had the resources and support to scamper off into the world.
For a while, I was right. The following month was low-key and productive, as I found a new mental health team and started taking lithium. At times it was frustrating, like when my Dad and I drove out to Surrey to have a 20 minute conversation that could’ve easily been done over the phone, but I had the sense that people were mobilizing on my behalf and things were about to level out. No more drama!
But I hadn’t finished processing what had happened in Nelson, and I was still furious every day. I’d spent a lot of time contemplating anger, and the unhealthy ways I’d expressed it online up to that point. It was clear that controversial shit didn’t belong on Facebook, so I started funnelling my content more carefully through Twitter and Tumblr while I built my new friend base. I’d started a new Facebook to ensure that my friends were actually my friends.
Then I wrote a post, on a Monday morning, that would cost me more than I’d anticipated. Because of the way I’d worded it, the person I was angrily addressing misread my sentiments. I was threatening to release information — which I ultimately did — but he took it as a death threat and reported me to police. At first it seemed so funny I couldn’t believe it, but a few days later I was in the segregation wing of the Surrey jail, wondering how the system could fail so profoundly.
While I was inside, I met with a psychologist named Dr. Worth twice. The first time I was wrapped in a Velcro smock, the second time in the red sweat-suits worn by all the other inmates. We discussed my actions at length, and talked about what I would do next. I told him I was planning to turn my experiences into blog posts at the very least, but maybe even a book.
“You’re definitely going to have a rich experience here,” he said.
Four days later I was back in Tsawwassen, dealing with the bullshit around finding myself a lawyer, but I actually felt better than I had in months — I’d successfully thrown a truth-grenade that had a legitimate impact. I was told my boss didn’t leave his house for three days, and I was thrilled that I’d successfully fucked up his world. I’d gone from feeling powerless to powerful — I’d successfully established my moral dominance over him, and called him out for legit wrong-doing.
But again, my head was still in Nelson. And it would have to be for a while, because I had to ride-share back there for a court appearance a few weeks later. Luckily this visit, in March, went better than the one before. I was doggy-piled by love and moral support, saw a bunch of my favourite people in the world, and left town again feeling like a conquering hero.
That being said, I was still bored and jobless. There was the legitimate fear that these court proceedings could result in me having a criminal record — again, something so ludicrous I can only call it funny. I was vindicated by the fact that the local school district hadn’t considered me a threat, probably because they knew me better than my absentee boss, and I happily tweeted with them as soon as I was free.
Now here we are: I’ve got three weeks ahead of me in the “low-stimulus environment” of Tsawwassen my psychiatrist recommended, and I’m trying to lose some of the weight I’ve gained while living at my parents’ house by joining a Master’s swim team and jogging up to Fred Gingell Park. I’ve signed up for whitewater rafting school and the biggest thing I have to battle in the meantime is boredom.
Does that mean I’m recovered? No, probably not. But I’ve got faith that I’m getting there.
The Kootenay Goon
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Pokemon Sun
It’s good. You should play it. It’s a Pokemon main series game and they’ve been pretty decent with each new addition since coming to the 3DS. The boost in power and interest makes them pretty accessible, fuller versions of Pokemon Colosseum the series has always wanted to be. 3D fights, enjoyable mechanics and enough here that mixes things up to make Sun/Moon worth picking up.
It’s accessible while still being a challenge. Wonderful! But how does it pull it off? Well...
The first thing that comes to mind is that Pokemon, as a series, seems to be desperately trying to grow a personality. In games gone by, things such as stories or characterisation or even dialogue was costly. If you put in a diatribe about man’s inhumanity to man and pokemon alike, you might have to cut out a boss encounter. Give villagers too much to say and you may have to replace an entire town with it as there wasn’t enough on the cartridge. Pokemon lasted as a pretty basic looking RPG for many a generation while stuff like Golden Sun or Megaman Battle Network looked gorgeous in comparison. That pokemon database takes up a lot of space! Modern flash cartridges seem to have an acre of room for all the 3D rendered models and the lush looking environments. It seems there’s room for storytime with Uncle Pokemon.
And you know he has an epic tale to tell! So grab an eevee and listen.
The story told is the one they’ve been telling for years now. Blah blah, you just arrived in town, blah blah, you’re a natural trainer, blah blah, go become a Pokemon Master. The difference is in the flavouring. Not-Hawaii location of the Alola Islands do offer a new lease on life for a tired plotline for your mute-ten year old to run through in the form of The Island Challenge. Instead of battles upon battles, sometimes you have to best a dungeon or photograph ghosts or find then defeat a powerful Totem pokemon. This is neat. While I don’t bemoan the older games too much for their reliance on the gym system, which made each a house where the boss lived while occasionally having a small fetch quest. Usually a fetch quest you need to do in order to face them at all!
Here though, Challenge Captains and Kahunas interact with the world. They ingratiate themselves with the islands, which helps sell their supposed knowledge and skill naturally. Previously, Gym Leaders would have to have special quests and things to prove that they did more than just stand in a big house behind some elaborate set of traps.Challenge Captains and Kahunas are part of the community. They run shops or perform for tourists. They’re active in the world, meaning you’ll likely bump into them as you meander around. It works so much better to make them at least a little intimidating when you have to face them yourself.
Weirdly, not everyone gets rich off of unregulated betting on battles with random strangers. Which seems strange to think about but then again, it’s you, the rando wondering around aimlessly with money to burn, that they sell to.
The other thing about the story is that there’s more characters. Somewhat like Pokemon Black/White you begin the game meeting with your new friends. They’re what replaces the ‘Rival’ of older games as they’ll challenge you to battles regularly like a surprise pop quiz. Hau is the trainer that tries to stack himself against you and he’s not bad. He throws regular challenges at you while also being an all right character. I like him but I also feel like he floats around the story at large without any major impact. He’s appealing enough; a hopeful, enthusiastic son of a Kahuna that likes to stuff his face and battle. Fair enough. He doesn’t get in the way but also does make you want to punch him, unlike Blue or N.
He, and almost all of the game, is overshadowed by the adventures of Lillie, however, Lillie is positioned as something of an anomaly within this world: someone that abstains from Pokemon Battles. I mean, you assume they’re out there somewhere but it does appear to bite her in the arse regularly. I get the motivation of not wanting to see Pokemon hurt but in a world where the wildlife can, and frequently does, attack at random, you’d think she’d figure out that battles likely arose out of a need to protect herself. She’s fine not to want to take part in battles but we’ve seen time and time again that people should have a pokemon for protection at all times! Oak wouldn’t stand for it, Burch presented a lovely example of why you’d need one and Lille of this game gets attacked by a Spearow flock that she is powerless to fight off or flee from.
Then take one of my pokemon and go get him then! I have running around in circles to do until my pokemon are all level 20! Vital, important work here!
In short, she’s kind of an idiot that can never go anywhere unaccompanied. On the plus side, I can report that she’s quite a sweet person. Her care for Pokemon and everyone around her is genuine, making her somewhat endearing. This marvel was created because Pokemon’s writing has improved considerably. For once, they’re attempting jokes and jabs at things. Hau is a doofus but it plays into his character. Lillie is selfless and that plays into her character too. Their defined, distinct and decently memorable. I wouldn’t call them stellar or fascinating but I didn’t mind meeting them.
This writing buff has permeated everything else, teamed with the 3D presentation to make a greater scope than I thought possible before. Pokemon Sun actually attempts to have ideas greater than ‘bad guys find sleeping monster and fail to control it’. I always found the attempted return of Team Rocket fascinating but Sun throws around the idea of Pokemon from other dimensions, Pokemon gangs, loyalty to family members and when you cross the line as a parent into being a child yourself.
I’m not joking.
While I will not say that this entirely works, I will say that it’s pretty out there for what I was expecting but I am so onboard for more. There’s elements that seem neutered or maybe didn’t connect as it should because it’s all still textboxes on a screen but there were clearly places where I was supposed to care but honestly didn’t.
The game is trying though. You can give it that much.
I can identity one major weakness with it’s story: it’s not mine, it’s Lillie’s. Lillie is the one that grows, goes through an arc and learns the magic of Pokemon Battles, if I might spoil that for just one moment. You are the silent protagonist that has a completely different story happening outside of the conflict between Lillie and the Ultra Beasts. Say what you like but older games placed you at the center of the story. You fought Team Rocket when you tangled with them and they declared you an enemy. You fought Team Aqua or Magma and put and end to their accidental damage to the weather they caused. You changed N’s mind and stopped Team Plasma.
But it’s Lillie that has the final say that puts the bad guys in their place after she sicks you on them. Sun has two stories that meet up then part ways at regular intervals. Do some island challenges, then go fight some story-related goons, then back to the thing you care about because it’s your story. Lillie’s little journey is fine but it feels like something I have little investment in because I don’t get the benefit of advancing there, Lillie does. My reward is being allowed to go back to doing what I want to do; catch pokemon and win challenges. The game will handhold and corral you into their straight path regularly just so that Lille gets her time in the spotlight.
If you could play as Lillie or fight your way through her story, then that would be something. But otherwise, I’m just her powerful trainer friend that she asks to solve her problems for her. And I ain’t that attached to her. A big problem when I’m a character that has no personality at all outside of my clothes.
That deep, unwavering stare forwards as if paralysed in the brain and only capable of that mild, cheery smile. Enjoy that for most of the game.
I love Team Skull though. The jokes and their personality was wonderful. Loved them! Keep them around.
Gameplay wise, it’s mostly the same. There’s a long list of tweaks and changes from previous titles that matter but ultimately don’t bother me so let’s focus on the major changes.
The pokemon here are a good selection of old and new that draws on the Hawaiian tie to spirituality and it’s tropical climate. Ghost pokemon have a real spotlight in this place, making it likely they’ll appear in most teams this time around, even giving a welcome return to Phantump and Gastly, two pokemon I had to go find when I heard they were in the game. I like Toxepex, a poisonous anemone that can withstand a beating, and I like Sandigast, a possessed sandcastle that eats life energy. Yes, that’s a thing.
There are also regional versions of old pokemon, mostly in an attempt to make them a touch more appealing. Mostly, they’ve given dark typing to Raticate, Grimer and Meowth. Which is fine to me. I got a lot of use out of the new Grimer as it’s second typing allowed for more varied and interesting tactics. Dark works decently with Poison, I reckon. The other two are fine but are now fatter in design than before..��
Pokemon seems to be trying to make it’s new additions stand out more though. And their method this time round is to make their lives a little more miserable. There’s pokemon that feast on others, there’s pokemon said to possess horrid powers but the breakout star for me is Mimikyu. Not only is this pokemon a wonderful Physical Sweeper, it’s appearance is a point of self-awareness. It’s lonely and jealous of Pikachu’s popularity. As such, it wants some of that attention so dresses as Pikachu to garner some love. Aww...Makes me want to hug it till the horrible phantom inside claws my soul.
Who’s my little hellspawn? You are! You are! Who sweeped half the opponent’s team?! You did! Good widdle snookums!
You see? Pokemon is trying to grow a personality. Some of it works.
Gameplay is also trying to aid in this: Pokemon may now call for help. At first, this sounds fine. More pokemon to fight means bigger payouts and you can always throw out a second pokemon to even things up, right?
No! If a pokemon does this, you’re now outnumbered two to one. You cannot capture anything while the other pokemon is present. You also have a high chance that if you defeat one of the pokemon, the remaining one will attempt to call for further backup. Some pokemon have a high likelihood of receive help, giving the impression of fighting a pack that’s happy to wait in line for it’s turn. A good mechanic in theory but it drags out fights that you don’t want if it happens. It seems to have been implemented to allow for a new way of finding pokemon (Toxepex can only be found through coming to another pokemon’s aid) and to help make the relatively compact islands feel like their encounters have just as much impact as previous games as patches of long grass are often small with a clear path you can use instead. You have to want to go looking for pokemon to find them, usually, rather than having to wade through long grass that had overgrown paths you needed to cross to get somewhere.
If you can’t force more random encounters, then give them the chance to increase in magnitude instead. Doesn’t entirely work.
You must be the most popular Pokemon in the world if they’re still coming whenever you use ‘Call for Family’! Are you royalty or something?!
What I am in full favour for is Z-Moves. These are special moves that act as an alternative to a Mega Evolution. Personally, I think they’re superior. Yes, having a big, nasty pokemon that boosted it’s stats and became more powerful when you needed it is cathartic. However, it’s limited to select pokemon and does nothing but change the pokemon’s capabilities. Z-Moves can be applied to any pokemon and any ability. While some pokemon have unique Z-Moves, all pokemon are capable of using them.
The reason this kicks so much arse is obvious: more powerful move that’s based on the type of z-crystal you give and which move you decide to turn into a decisive finisher. Where this gets interesting is that it can apply to status moves too. Performing Z-Status moves often grants additional effects to the move, such as some moves doubling the effect it has on a pokemon’s stats. Heck, a Z-Move Splash increases that pokemon’s attack by three stages. Not insignificant. So, your choice is now a powerful slam or a tactical edge but you can only choose one per battle. I think this is a lovely idea that means that any pokemon can become worth something, rather than hoping they’ll be given a Mega Evolution.
I like a game that can hand you a new tool to fiddle with and flip what you knew on it’s head.
It helps that they’re all kind of bonkers.
Oh! And there’s this thing where you can pet and feed your pokemon jellybeans. It is adorable. I’m not fully aware of how it benefits you but it’s cute to pet a Genga then feed him his favourite bean to make hearts appear. Bonus points from me.
So, yeah. Get this. It’s a little more self-aware and ambitious than usual. Either they had a change in design team or they wanted to make Sun stand above it’s competition, which appears to just be Yokai-Watch right now. If you enjoy pokemon or you enjoy a relaxing and simple RPG, this is worth picking up.
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