#And just gets the hail of bullets. They keep pinging off him and he keeps stalking forward and goes all red eyes and booming voice

[alouiadina]

I need more Curt x Dickie in my life, that's not written by me so here's an idea!

Curt keeping Dickie awake well landing the plane by telling him how much he loves him and that he needs to keep fighting, maybe there's some heartfelt yelling in there as well.

Also bonus thought to this.

Dickie after being in and out of conscience as he's healing going: "So you love me?"

And Curt who thought he wouldn't remember shit just starts panicking.

Have fun with this!

Marz

Title: Crash Confession

Word count: 2,828

Note- This isn't beta read, so if it comes off a bit off or if there are any errors of any kind, I do apologize. I will also be posting this on my AO3, lawsarethreats

--

Through the cockpit windows, the sky was a chaotic canvas of destruction. Enemy fighters darted by in blurs of motion, their guns unleashing fiery streams as they streaked past. Tracer rounds sliced through the air, painting deadly patterns and leaving behind a trail of smoke. The constant barrage of flak created explosions that sent shrapnel pinging off the bomber's hull like hail on a tin roof.

Curt gritted his teeth as he maneuvered the B-17 through the onslaught, each impact sending jolts of turbulence through the aircraft. And then suddenly, a deep, shuddering thud reverberated through the entire plane. It was different from the usual bumps and near-misses—this one was more severe, more personal. For a split second, time seemed to slow as Curt realized what had just happened: they had been hit by enemy fire. Panic rose in his chest but he pushed it down, focusing on keeping the plane steady.

"Pressure's dropping everywhere, all systems," Dickie reported. But Curt couldn't focus on the words, his hands clenched tightly around the controls as he desperately tried to keep their ship from falling apart."We're losing her," Dickie's voice trembled with fear and desperation.

"No we're not," Curt responds with determination, though his hands are gripping the controls so tightly that they ache. 

Suddenly, a deafening barrage of bullets tore through the cockpit, shattering glass and sending shards flying in all directions. Curt's heart pounded in his chest as he watched in horror as Dickie slumped forward, blood gushing from a gaping wound on his face and staining his neck crimson.

"No," Curt's voice caught in his throat as he reached out to grab Dickie's shoulder, trying desperately to pull him back. "Dickie," His voice cracked with fear and desperation. "Dickie, no." But it was no use. As he looked at him now, slumped over the controls, he looked dead, lifeless. Curt could barely keep his eyes off the gaping wound.

Frantically, he calls out for Best to come help. "Best! Get down here now!" With trembling hands, Best appears over his shoulders and begins to pull Dickie back. "He's on the controls. Get him. off." Best begins to pull him back. "Get him back."

Once Dickie is back, Best reaches for Dickie's controls to help steady the plane. Curt couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of dread that threatened to consume him. He could feel his hands trembling as he tried to focus on keeping the plane stable.

"How is he?" Curt asked hoarsely, stealing a glance at Dickie's motionless form.

"I think he's dead." Best's words hit him like a bullet, knocking the air out of his lungs. The color drained from Curt's face as he stared at his best friend, unable to believe what he was hearing.

He struggled to process Best's desperate attempts to revive Dickie, but his mind was consumed with a primal urge to scream, cry, throw up. To punch something. Crash the plane into the ground. Anything, so that he doesn't have to sit here, helplessly watching his best friend, the man he loved, die.

Amidst the chaos and deafening roar of the plane's engines, Best's voice cut through with a sense of urgency. "She's not going to make it," he yelled, his face etched with fear.

"We gotta get out." Curt said, thankful that he could keep his voice mostly level, as he flipped the switch, the bail signal to ring. "Pilot to crew, bail out. Bail out."

Frantically, Best retrieved Curt's parachute while Curt's stomach clenched with an overwhelming sense of dread. The thought of leaving Dickie behind made him want to pretend that his seat strap was stuck in order to stay with Dickie, but he knew that Best would try to assist him.

Just when he thought all hope was lost, he heard a faint labored breathing over the intercom. His heart leapt with joy as he caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look at Dickie, tears stinging his eyes.

His friend's eyes were barely open as he weakly shifted in his seat, blood seeping from under his oxygen mask.

In a blur of motion, Best shot between them and checked on Dickie's condition.

"He's breathing, sir," Best yelled over the roar of the failing engines.

"Dickie, stay with me." Curt begged, frantically trying to think of a way to save them all. "I'm gonna get you down safely. You hear me?"

"You can't land this thing--"

"Yes, I can," Curt interrupted, his voice firm with determination. He knew that Dickie wouldn't survive if they jumped out, and there was no way he was going to let him die today. Not when he still had a chance to do something about it. "If we drop him, he'll die."

"Drop him. It's his best chance." Best argues. "He's gonna die anyway, Lieutenant."

"No he's not." Curt insisted stubbornly. Best doesn't know what he's talking about. The two of them could make it out together, as long as he could keep the plane flying long enough.

But then the plane started to dip, and Best's panic turned into terror. 

"We have to bail. Come on."

"Go. I'll be right behind you," Curt lied through gritted teeth, his focus solely on keeping the plane level. "Go!"

"Promise me?" Best pleaded, fear etched on his face.

"I'll be behind you." Curt nodded firmly, trying to ignore the nagging doubt in the back of his mind. "I'ma keep her level until everyone gets out. Go!"

After some more convincing from Curt, Best finally leaves, leaving Curt alone with a wounded and barely conscious Dickie in the cockpit. As he removes his mask and focuses on keeping the plane steady, Curt can't help but steal glances at Dickie's chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Despite the blood clotting around the wound, it is still clearly visible, causing a knot of fear to form in Curt's stomach. Dickie groans.

Curt's hands tremble as he grips the controls, his mind racing with worry. "I'm getting us down, Dick," he says calmly, though the fear in his heart threatens to overwhelm him. He scans the horizon frantically for any sign of a safe landing spot, his eyes shifting from instrument panel to window and back again. After what feels like an eternity, he spots a small clearing in the distance.

"Right over there, you see it?" he asks Dickie, hoping that his voice doesn't betray the terror he's feeling inside. He catches a glimpse of blood on Dickie's face and his gut tightens even more.

"That long field, huh?" Curt says. 

Dickie looks dazed and barely conscious, but manages to tilt his head slightly in acknowledgment. 

"Dickie, stay with me," Curt pleads in a trembling voice, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He swallows hard, refusing to let his emotions overwhelm him. This is not the time for tears, he reminds himself sternly. "Don't fall asleep," Curt urges, his tone switching from gentle to firm. "Look at the field, Dickie." 

But Dickie's head lolls forward, his eyes closed and his body limp. A surge of panic ripples through Curt's veins like an electric shock.

"Come on, stay with me," he begs, his throat tightening up. "Look at me, please."

But Dickie remains unresponsive. Curt tries shaking him gently at first, but then more urgently when there's still no reaction.

"Please," he implores, his voice cracking. "Stay awake, Dick." 

A moment of tense silence passes between them and Curt's heart sinks as he fears the worst. His tears now streaming down his cheeks, he chokes out, "Please, don't leave me." It feels like he is begging for his life to be spared. "I love you, okay?" It's the first time he has ever said those words aloud and they hang in the air like a heavy weight. But at the same time, it feels like a weight lifted off his chest. Like finally taking a deep breath after holding it for so long.

"I’m in love with you. Have been ever since..." He gets the wheels of the plane down. "Since basic training. I was a nervous wreck the whole time, but you made me feel like... like I could do anything." He turns to look at Dickie, lying still and unconscious next to him. "You've always believed in me, and I need you to stay awake, and keep breathing," he begs, his voice cracking. "Please..." 

The silence weighs heavily on Curt as he anxiously awaits any sign of life from Dickie. His heart hammers in his chest, each second feeling more suffocating than the last. He repeats the words "I love you" over and over, hoping that somehow Dickie can hear him and know how much he means to him. But there is no response, only the subtle rise and fall of Dickie's chest, a small flicker of hope in the midst of despair.

"Please," he pleads once more, desperation creeping into his voice. 

Another long stretch of silence follows, causing Curt to fear the worst - that Dickie is truly gone. The wheels of the plane touchdown on the ground, jostling the fort violently. Curt closes his eyes, clutching onto the hope that this isn't the end.

Finally, the plane comes to a stop and Curt releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He quickly unbuckles his seat belt and leans over to look at Dickie's still form.

"I'm sorry," Tears glisten on his cheeks as he whispers his apology, his voice choked with emotion. His trembling hand gently brushes against Dickie's pale cheek, leaving a trail of tears in its wake. He leans in to press his lips against Dickie's forehead, but stops when he notices his eyelashes fluttering. With a shuddering breath, Dickie slowly opens his eyes, unfocused and disoriented. Curt removes the mask from his bruised face and carefully studies him. He's alive, and that's all that matters.

Despite the relief flooding through him, Curt can't help but notice the severity of Dickie's injuries. The wound on his face still looks raw and bloody, but at least the bleeding has stopped. Dickie attempts to speak, but winces in pain before any words can escape his lips. Curt places a gentle hand on his shoulder, urging him to stay quiet.

"Don't strain yourself," Curt says softly. "Just focus on breathing." He reassures him with a small smile, grateful beyond words that they are finally safe. "The plane has landed and we'll find someone to help you soon."

Curt unclipped his seat belt, and pulled Dickie to his feet. 

"It's okay, you're okay," he repeats, guiding him towards the exit of the plane. But even with Curt's support, Dickie stumbles against him and his breath hitches in pain. With every step, Curt can see the strain etched on Dickie's face, and he does his best to keep him upright.

Slowly but surely, they make their way off the plane and onto solid ground. The grass beneath their feet feels like a soft carpet compared to the harsh metal floors of the plane. Curt takes a deep breath of fresh air and exhales with a sigh of relief.

"We did it, Dick," he says with a grin on his face. "We're alive."

--

Despite crashing in Germany, Curt had managed to find those in support of America, and they were escorted out of Germany under the guise of sickness and injury. Dickie was in and out of consciousness for the better part of their journey home, and when he was conscious, he was still delirious and not entirely lucid. Curt kept an eye on him the whole time, never letting him out of his sight.

Their escort had some medical training, but it was clear that Dickie would need proper care upon reaching England. Curt's nerves were on edge, praying the whole time that he'd be able to hold out until then. Along the way, they unexpectedly ran into Quinn and Bailey, also fleeing from danger in Belgium.

Upon arriving in England, Curt accompanied Dickie to a hospital where he would receive the care he needed.

"I want to be here when he wakes up," Curt insisted to the nurses. "He'll need a familiar face."

With the nurses' approval, he was allowed to wait in Dickie's room. The stark white curtains were drawn back, allowing a soft stream of sunlight to filter in through the large window. The scent of disinfectant hung in the air, mixing with the smell of fresh flowers brought by the nurses.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dickie opened his eyes. His gaze immediately fell upon Curt and a flicker of recognition crossed his features before confusion set in. His voice was weak from disuse as he croaked out, "Curt?"

Curt leaned forward in his chair, a comforting hand placed on Dickie's arm. "Hey," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"My face hurts," Dickie replied weakly, reaching up to gently touch the bandages covering his injured face.

"The doc says you're going to make a full recovery." Curt assured him, smiling. "You were out for a while."

A look came over Dickie's face, his brows furrowing.

"Did I...did I die?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he looked up at Curt, but avoided his gaze.

Curt swallowed.

"Almost." He said quietly. "The plane crashed, and you were unconscious, and you were bleeding, and..." His throat tightened as his voice trailed off. "But, no. You didn't die."

Dickie's eyes grew distant as he processed this information.

"Oh." His voice was barely audible.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Curt fidgeted with the sleeve of his clothes, trying to think of something to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Dickie spoke.

"So you love me?" His tone was unsure, his eyes searching Curt's face for an answer.

Curt's heart skipped a beat and he froze, feeling as if time had stopped in that moment.

"What?"

"On the plane." Dickie's voice was distant, as if he were recalling a dream. "I remember hearing you tell me that you loved me. You said you loved me since basic training."

Curt's mouth went dry and his stomach dropped like a lead weight.

"Oh."

As the realization hit him, Curt couldn't help but feel like he was drowning. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst through his chest, his palms became slick with sweat, and a heavy sense of dread settled over him. At that moment, he couldn't imagine a more terrifying feeling. His mouth went dry, and his hands shook uncontrollably as he tried to process the gravity of what had just happened. Surviving Nazi Germany had been a miracle in itself, but now he was faced with the consequences of his actions. He had to come to terms with the fact that he was no longer hiding his sexuality.

Curt couldn't bring himself to look at Dickie, afraid of what he might see reflected in his eyes. Disgust? Hatred? Repulsion? The thought alone made his stomach churn.

"Dickie," he managed to choke out, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"

"Curt," Dickie said softly, his own voice trembling. Curt looked up at him, his eyes wide and vulnerable.

"'s why I thought I died." Dickie muttered, his gaze dropping to the blanket in front of him. "Thought it was heaven, hearing you say that. Never thought you'd... never thought you'd feel the same."

Curt's heart skipped a beat as he took in Dickie's words. Shock, disbelief, and relief flooded through him all at once, making his head spin. His hands shook and he could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"What?"

"Knew I wasn't brave enough to say it," Dickie continued, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Didn't know all I had to do was almost die to know that you liked me back."

Curt's heart raced, a flurry of emotions swirling within him as he processed the words that had just left Dickie's lips. He had longed for this moment, dreaming of it countless times, but never dared to believe that Dickie felt the same way. With a quick glance around the room to make sure they were alone, Curt closed the distance between them, their faces now mere inches apart. The air felt charged with anticipation as their lips finally met in a tender and passionate kiss. Dickie's hand came up to cradle the back of Curt's head, pulling him closer as if never wanting to let go. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as they savored each other's embrace, their hearts beating in unison. It was everything he had ever wanted and more - a euphoric rush of emotions that overwhelmed him in the best possible way.

"I love you," he whispered against Dickie's lips, their foreheads touching.

"Love you too." Dickie whispered, his eyes bright.

[simplykaren]

Had another weird dream last night, this one some unholy mix of sci-fi and horror.

It starts off with a crew exploring deep space and stumbling upon a city ship/station, but far larger than any they'd seen before and a model they didn't recognize. It looked like someone had taken a city, encased it within a dome, and launched it into space wholesale. Except...the dome (partially retracted, not broken) was open, and the city sat dark and drifting. No response when they hailed, no distress beacon or signs of life when they run their scanners, no signs of struggle or damage when they circle the vessel.

Of course, they send a party to investigate. The buildings were all sealed. After following the "outdoor" pathways for a time, the party decided to split up. One team stayed on the surface, and the other went into the maintenance tunnels to see about restoring power.

Through dream logic, the underground team finds a flooded section of tunnels, and their space suits are apparently rated for diving too (again, dream logic), so they go in. They manage to restart the city's power after finding a flooded room with a lot of controls, but they also activated a defense turret. They do not have clearance to be down there, so they end up dodging bullets. Thankfully, the turret doesn't seem as smooth and quick as it should be.

Meanwhile, the aboveground team takes advantage of the restored power to enter what looks like a medical center. Once the airlock door closed behind them, their suits pinged with an alert that the atmosphere was breathable. Sick of breathing recycled air, they take their helmets off. They're in the pediatric ward when people start appearing: nurses, receptionists, patients, all walking around as if they've always been there, and the away team's presence isn't anything out of the ordinary. One woman (non-human species, but somehow they know she's a she) approaches them and asks if they're lost. In perfectly understandable English.

Back with the underground team, one of the bullet dodgers surfaces, looking for some sort of controls to turn off the turret that works underwater. Upon getting the "breathable atmosphere" alert, the man pops their helmet to better see. Something in the water had grimed up the helmet's visor. As he's scrambling to figure out the foreign control system, a person walks soundlessly up behind him and asks him if he can be of assistance (again non-human and again totally understandable). The man yells/explains about his team being shot at, and the alien points out which screen and command will deactivate the security turret. The turret shuts down, and the rest of the underground team surface and take their helmets off. No major injuries, thankfully.

The two teams reconvene at the engineer and nurse's home (the teams managed to run into two halves of the same couple) and talk with their hosts. This was a colony ship, meant to carry tens of thousands, now abandoned, mostly. The male alien mentioned that there were other ships in their fleet, but this one was the biggest and the most expensive to keep operational. There is some old grudge there about certain people wanting the ship decommissioned due to the cost. It was finally abandoned when an illness broke out. No treatments worked to slow the progression, and a large number of the ship's inhabitants died. Since they couldn't find a cause or cure, the dead were cremated and vented into space. Those infected were left behind in quarantine to die while the healthy evacuated to other ships. The rest of the fleet left them behind.

Somehow, the majority of those left behind recovered.

Something went wrong with the ship's power about the time the last sick person recovered, and everything just shut down. They hadn't been able to fix it (no one left behind knew how), until the away party did something that caused the system to reboot.

The away party hailed their ship to land inside the still-open dome, so everyone else could get a break from their own ship's recycled air too. The aliens' air system seemed far superior, and while the "outdoors" was still a vacuum, inside the buildings was perfectly safe.

They even brought the 2 ship's cats to let them stretch their legs and explore.

Things start taking a turn when they get to asking about the mysterious disease that hit the colony. It seemed to start respiratory then startlingly quickly become a systemic infection. What the infectious agent was, they never did find out. Cultures didn't grow anything by the time the entire colony was compromised. The male alien grumbled about the "disease" being set loose on purpose to push for the ship's abandonment.

At some point one of the away team bumps into one of the aliens...and passes right through them. They quickly come to the realization there weren't truly any survivors. Conversation shifts to other topics including wondering why they stayed as ghosts when their daughter (one of the earliest to die) and so many others didn't.

The cats by this point are comfortable to make nuisances of themselves, so I (I think I was in the aboveground team, but I perspective hopped a few times) closed them in the alien couple's daughter's room. As soon as put them in the room, Meili has a sneezing fit and bolted further into the room. Paisli just looked back at me and meowed. That didn't get them out of their banishment.

I walked back into the central room of the house to the female alien describing their daughter's symptoms. Now, while alien biology was undoubtedly different, the description they gave was eerily similar to some I'd heard before. Fungal infections. The dread set in as I recalled Meili sneezing in the daughter's room, the daughter who died first of the family. Then Meili came trotting into the room and hopped onto the alien male's lap to demand pets.

The door to the daughter's room was still shut.

And then I woke up.

[full-of-mercy]

The crashed vessel is a house of cards waiting to fold, its shape supported by sheer stubbornness and the flicker-fading power still thrumming through its sundered conduits. The vultures take its size for strength and its stability for granted, and while the sniper holds his perch and searches for his target in the settling dust cloud and disturbed coils of frigid vapor, he is not alone.

Not as the groaning injured struggle to unearth themselves from warped, fallen steel, not as a compassionate few set aside panic to get one another out of the line of fire. Not as the brass of a bullet casing ejects, falls, pings clarion on graphite. The carbide barrel is steady, the hands wielding it steadier, all at an angle to the Stampede, sight broken with the hexagonal cover. He knows where he struck. It is his job to keep the spike-haired man pinned.

Keen senses can hear it over the dross, the decisive clack-click of reloading, of a bolt sliding back into place.

Glowstick-grounder whistles shrill and sharp between bony fingers, pointing his automatic where Vash's shadow disappeared. There are more of them, most more interested in the target in their midst than the threat they pose to their own. Collateral damage is just that: collateral.

Fewer heads, greater shares.

Their motivation is clear when the Cheshire grin howls out a whipcrack, "Light him up! Typhoon bounty's dead or alive, boys!"

His aim is imperfect.

Their aim is altogether imperfect, but if they do enough damage, they might flush him out. They might get lucky. It might be their big break.

Another hail of gunfire pocks the floor, splashes the walls, denting and perforating facade panels, dirty spots of gunpowder black and grey on what would have been glittering white and silver. Minutes of it, unrelenting, autos and semi-autos rattling slugs without remorse.

A shunk-thump belches past the pit. A mechanical scream splits the fracas along the trajectory of a pressure-launched grenade. It arcs high, slams meteoric above the entry hall and detonates, ripping through the compromised structure. Shrapnel and debris rain, scaffolds collapsing with their bulkhead support into a smoldering mass. Hoses rupture, cryonic coolant spewing to the sky as the child sun finally slips below the horizon like a knife plunging into flesh.

Ablaze.

Not in fire but in ice. The arena is lit with the reflected radiance of encroaching night. The shock of cold clashes with the ripple of dispersing desert heat, all condensing into a shimmering, shivery fog. Shouts of alarm echo back and forth, marked here and there with muzzle flash fired in random directions.

There, another sound. A fleshy crunch, a chilly clatter. The rifle falls, bounces hard enough to tumble to a stop in the gritty dust caking the honeycomb barrier.

A shape drops down from above, close. Closer, closing in with a grate of shoes on rubble, growl-grunt-hiss. Lost in the fog. Difficult to see, except shadows, voids.

Gunfire ricochets off of the dark slab interposed at Vash's flank, braced, shielding.

Cursing.

"Goddammit, really?!"

Most of the damage has likely been done long before the scavengers ever got here. Corpses that have yet to putrefy under the weight of the sun, not with the blanket of rime ice swathing bodies and their sundered parts. His vision blurs, and for a moment, the valley of corpses resembles more a field of snow and red flowers. 

But snow is a foreign thing in No Man’s Land, and nothing in the desert remains frozen against the sands of time. 

Bullet song fills the air, and Vash continues to mourn, unmoving before this portal to hell until a shard of metal cuts a thin red line across his cheek. Lead buries itself into the panels around his head, peppering black holes into pristine white like parasites seeking to burrow into flesh and bone. Pain finally seems to rouse the Stampede, and Vash glares at the ugly cheshire smile splitting the ground man’s face. 

Time feels so limited. Those who never felt the warmth of the twin suns for themselves must be interred before he can move on, and even then, the vultures gathered here must be driven away. 

Selfishly, he worries. The longer he stays here, the larger the distance between them grows. 

Vash ducks the next round that cracks through the air from the other side of the ship’s bowels. The bottle he carries is precious in its own way, a promise that he must keep intact for the duration of this journey, however long that may be. He keeps it protected, tucked close to his chest as he weaves behind crumpled panels, over fallen consoles and their nest of broken cables, through the open maw of split bulkheads. 

Spent casings fall like rain in the advent of a thundering storm, and Vash dances.

His remaining hand is still free of a weapon. He does not need a gun to dismantle their operations from below and address immediate threats. A hard yank or a swift kick with the heel of his boot through exposed walls buckles the weakened studs behind. 

The welders turned gunmen standing on the floor above do not recognize the growing crescendo of groaning alloys and graphite until it is too late. 

Gone, the ground beneath their feet. 

Buckets of tools, annealed plates, torches, scavengers and their weapons collapse in a cloud of panicked yelps and screams, aluminum dust, and sparking wires. 

The tails of his coat catch against his legs when Vash comes to an abrupt halt to assess the damage. Groans of pain rise into the air, and those that can rise to their feet while feebly clutching broken limbs. 

He tries for reason, to entreat anyone who might listen as the dust settles. 

“Leave now and no one else has to get hurt! I just–” 

He is forced to lunge for cover when the sniper across the way fires again. Vash does not expect, however, for his assailant to be quite so good at leading his next shot. Leaving behind little but a trail of vapor in the air, the bullet tears through his outer thigh just as he disappears behind the corner of one of the cracked honeycomb panels.

“Damn it…”

[casimania]

Chlaze + Piercifer AU where Chloe is already involved with Maze and knows the whole Divinity thing is real but the time Pierce strolls in the precinct but... No one tells her who he is once they find out.

Maze doesn't trust him and her priority is keeping Chloe and Trixie safe now and it's better if he doesn't think she may know any of his secrets. And Lucifer is just still worried the more she’s involved in these things the more she's in danger, especially if he himself is the one involving her (cause he's still convinced he ruins everything he touches) and when he just made a pact to defy his Dad (who could retailate hurting people close to him, in his Genius brain the only option is keeping everyone completely in the dark about as many things as possible). So he keeps his mouth shut initially and just tells Maze after she starts sniffing around, cause for her now Chloe and Trixie’s safety has a higher priority than even Lucifer’s and he can trust her to protect them both if Pierce ends up being more dangerous than he lets on.

Also Maze discovers how Marcus tried to get himself killed by almost getting Chloe shot too. And she turns him into a pincushion. She just stabs him and goes "This is for Chloe" then stabs him again and goes "This is for Chloe too" then stabs him another time and goes again "Still for Chloe" and she just goes on and on and he’s not even trying to defend himself anymore cause she gotta get tired at some point, right? Right?? Or she pulls a Charlotte and corners him in the precinct  after she’s dropped off a bounty, puts a hand on his chest and pushes him all the way into his office and there's not much he can do because Demon Stenght, and then she pushes him down on his chair and keeps a hand on his shoulder with enough strength he can't get up. And just starts treathening him. She goes on for like, 10 minutes at least. Until Chloe walks in like "Hey Lt. I have the- Maze! :D" and Maze goes "Chloe! :D" and gets sidetracked so when Chloe walks out she does too like, skipping steps. Pierce is left in his office sort of thinking "What the fuck just happened".

But fast forward some time and the people closest to Lucifer can tell something is going on with him and the Lieutenant but they can’t figure it out, knowing Lucifer it’s something weird. And then then Pierce has weird mood swings too and there’s just something off. But he doesn’t really get buddy buddy with anyone so they can’t figure him out either. This time not even Maze know what’s going on, but she doesn’t care as long as it doesn’t involve her or Chloe, Trixie and Linda. Amenadiel went after Cain of his own volition and can deal with the consequences and Lucifer went after him to the extent he’s the reason the guy didn’t leave LA in the first place. She’s not gonna monitor those two featherbrains 24/7. Linda is actually the one that knows Lucifer and Marcus’ relationship started getting some romantic undertones they deal with in egregiously bad ways.

And then there's some big case and shit goes ass up and Lucifer has to pop out his wings in front of Chloe and Marcus to shield them or something. And Chloe sees Marcus isn’t phased, and thinks Lucifer already revealed himself so she's like "Lucifer why does our boss know about you?? But at least it's another good ol' regolar human in the know." and Marcus is like "Uh. Right, she doesn't know." and she fucking freezes. Cause oh no, who the fuck is this now? And Lucifer just spits out "He'sCainfromtheBiblewhomImayhavefallenalittleinlovewithinbetweentryingtokillhimtoendhisinfinitemisery." and there’s a moment of silence where Chloe’s brain is just processing and Lucifer and Marcus both silently panic because Lucifer rused the L word and gave them both a little jolt of... happyness? Dan gets to the scene and just sees Chloe pummeling Lucifer. No more secrets they said! Keeping people at least marginally updated is the best course to make them aware of potential dangers and able to defend themselves better they said! And he didn't even tell her he had a boyfriend, she just had to guess like everyone else and then discover it like this. And then Marcus pipes up like "... I'm hardly a boy." and then regrets it because she just turns around glares at him and doesn't say anything just because she finally noticed Dan who's like "wtf??" (but she has so many words for him too, she's tired of this Miracle thing and people targeting her for it). Later that night at home she starts throwing pillows at Maze too cause "You knew too!! And didn't tell me anything!!"

They all end up having a heart to heart together. A general update of what’s going on. Marcus looks like he'd prefer to be anywhere else (he kinda looks like he swallowed a lemon, and the more everyone gets emotional the more he looks slightly horrified) , Lucifer holds his hand the whole time (Marcus still looks mildly horrified at everyone Emotioning around him but when Lucifer squeezes his hand he immediately squeezes back), Maze is still glaring at him and basically keeps Chloe almost in her lap the whole time. Chloe tries not to pull her hair out while Lucifer is recounting their shenanigans because they both made so many messes (and she suddenly understands that when they both started being unbearable and their moods were all over the place it was just them realizing they caught the Feels and reacting as well as two emotionally stunted immortals could). She pummels Lucifer some more because they're supposed to be friends and she deserves to know about things that concern her safety and he, no matter how much he believes, doesn't poison everything he touches and deserves to have a friendly shoulder to rely on, and she wants to be that, they're friends and she might be just a mortal but he has to trust her judgment and that she is able to not put herself in unnecessary danger while also supporting him. It's ok if he doesn't tell her everything all the time, some things are just for yourself. But she wants to be there for him and if the only thing that's holding him back is being afraid he'll ruin her well, he won't- and if she could she'd deck not only God and Goddess but also all the angels who made him believe that. And he's like "I'm not crying" while totally crying. Marcus starts with an awkward back pat because he hasn't comforted anyone in ages but then he gets into it and they're full on hugging and Lucifer is still clinging to him by the time they part ways with Chloe and Maze. He tries to act though and detatched through it all but he's also seconds away from just pulling Lucifer in his lap and cradling him in his arms but it's one of those things it's still hard to be spontaneous about, he has the impulse but always stops midway and does something smaller unless Lucifer coaxes it out of him. He still hovers tho. And Lucifer's like "I'm fine!" while almost bawling his eyes out. And he tries to, awkwardly hug Chloe while also not letting go of Marcus and while Maze is still holding onto Chloe.

Later Chloe and Lucifer can finally both talk about Maze and Marcus and, it's nice having Chloe to talk with cause Maze's advice seems to be always "Dump him. Stab him. Stab him and then dump him." and while Linda is helpful a therapy session is way different than just a night out with a friend. And also finally Chloe doesn't alway feel out of the loop and like something bad is going to happen any moment because Maze, Lucifer or Amenadiel are acting strange but everyone is being very vague but also nervous and tense. And also now Lucifer can show up at Chloe and Maze’s place in the middle of the night looking sad as a saggy bowl of cereals and Chloe listens to him mope about Marcus over a tub of ice cream and a romcom and then gives him advice. Maze sometimes walks by, steals some ice cream and mocks him. Or depending waht’s going on with Marcus offers to stab him some more.

[rubysunnday]

crashing down

Summary: When a heist goes horribly wrong, Jesper and Y/N are trapped underneath the rubble.

`A/N: looks like i’m writing for my murder children now. I have zero regrets

Jesper Fahey x platonic!reader

In hindsight, they probably shouldn’t have hung around to steal the brooch. And they probably shouldn’t have even decided to rob the place in the first instance but, hey, when someone brags about the treasures they own and tell you exactly where in their tiny, second house they were hidden, they were practically asking you to steal them.

And besides, Jesper loved a good old fashioned shoot out too much to simply run away from one. And Y/N loved her friend too much to leave him to fight on his own.

Jesper ducked behind the pillar as another bullet whizzed past his head, imbedding itself in the wall behind Y/N.

“I’m blaming you entirely, Jesper,” Y/N muttered, handing him a load pistol in exchange for his empty one. “It was your idea.”

“You’re the one who spotted the damn thing,” Jesper replied, leaning around the pillar and firing three shots, all hitting their targets. “You’re like a bloody magpie.”

“Just because I went ‘ooo, shiny item,’ doesn’t mean you have to steal it!” Y/N hissed. “Now, because of you, Kaz is probably wondering where we are and will likely murder both of us for ruining the plan.”

Something exploded from outside, the orange flames lighting up the corridor as they billowed into the sky. The men attacking them all yelled as they realised that Y/N and Jesper weren’t alone in the building. More footsteps echoed on the stairs in front of them as the rest of the guards ran outside to see what was happening. 

Jesper and Y/N shared a look. “Wylan.”

“Well, good to know that part of the plan is going to... well, plan,” Y/N replied. She looked down at the pouch of bullets she had and swore. It was empty. “Jesper,” Y/N said, hitting his leg to attract his attention, “Jesper, we’re out.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, ah.” Y/N threw the pouch and looked at him. “What do we do? There’s no way we’re getting out of here with them blocking the door.”

As if proving her point, the guards began shooting again. The hail of bullets pinged around them and Y/N dove into Jesper, both of them ducking down and shielding the other. The bullets stopped for a second and Jesper moved quickly, grabbing his pistols and putting them back in their holster and yanking Y/N to her feet, pulling her around the corner and towards the back of the building.

Y/N gripped Jesper’s hand tightly as they ran down the corridor and into a side room full of crates. Jesper slammed the door shut behind them and shoved a crate up against it to block anyone trying to break in.

There was a small window high up on the wall with metal bars running across it, far too small for either one of them to be able to squeeze through.

“What plan is this? Run and hide?” Y/N exclaimed as Jesper began ripping open crates.

“Yes but hiding in the room that, hopefully, has bullets,” He muttered, tossing the paper that was protecting the contents out the crate dramatically. “HA!”

Y/N turned around and saw Jesper brandishing an open box of bullets with a huge grin on his face. She felt herself smiling too, despite the life threatening situation they were currently in.

Jesper gently handed one of his treasured pistols to Y/N, his eyes staring at her intently. She gently took the handle of it and looked up at Jesper, looking into his eyes.

“I know,” she said, nodding as she moved the pistol to her other hand and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “I know.”

It was likely the next few minutes would be their last. They were outnumbered and on their own with limited gunfire. Even if by some saintforsaken chance Inej or Nina or even Matthias turned up to rescue them, they’d probably both be riddled with bullet holes before they got to them.

“No mourners,” Jesper said softly as he let go of Y/N’s hand and spun his pistol around his finger.

“No funerals,” she replied, gripping the handle of her pistol tightly.

Jesper pushed the crate blocking the door out of the way and swung open the door, pistol drawn. 

No one was waiting for them.

Y/N matched Jesper’s frown and slowly stepped out into the corridor behind him suspicious. There was a good quiet and then there was a bad quiet.

And this was a bad quiet.

“Where -”

Y/N’s question was cut off as a large explosion rocked the entire building. She reached out and grabbed Jesper’s arm as she lost her balance and Jesper steadied her as best he could. Dust and chunks of plaster rained down around them and several paintings and expensive vases smashed onto the floor.

“That wasn’t Wylan!” Y/N exclaimed as the building stopped shaking for a moment.

“Come on!” Jesper yelled, grabbing Y/N’s hand and pulling her down the corridor towards their exit. 

Something was wrong, the entire building was empty and there was no one around. Jesper and Y/N skidded around the corner and spied the door that was their exit and put on a sudden burst of speed.

The door suddenly blew in, a cloud of dust following after it. The explosion threw Jesper and Y/N back into a wall. Y/N felt her head smack the wall and suddenly everything felt odd.

She opened her eyes and saw Jesper yelling at her but couldn’t hear him. Her eyes were ringing and everything felt distorted - like she’d had too many Kerch whiskeys. Jesper pulled her to her feet and she stumbled into him, her legs wobbling and shaking and unable to support her weight. Before either one of them could hobble out the door, another explosion occurred and the entire building began to crumble down around them.

Windows smashed, beams came crashing down and pipes burst as the building collapsed in on itself.

Y/N vaguely registered Jesper wrap his arms around her and pull her down to the ground as the building buried them alive.

Kaz checked his pocket watch again. “They’re late.”

“Yes, but Jesper’s always late,” Nina replied, trying to hide her nerves. She’d been frantically looking to the street near the house every second, waiting and hoping for Y/N’s figure to come running up to them, a flustered and excited Jesper chasing after her.

“Not when he’s with Y/N,” Inej muttered, looking behind her at the building they’d escaped from.

Kaz looked down at his watch and then up at the house again. He wasn’t about to betray just how nervous and concerned he was. But it wasn’t usual for Y/N to be running late - even if Jesper did his usual thing of causing complete and utter chaos. 

Wylan was sitting on the edge of a wall, fidgeting with a dummy bomb, his leg bouncing up and down nervously.

“They’ll be fine,” Nina said, looking at Matthias. “They’ll be fine.”

As she uttered the words, an almighty explosion rocked the alleyway they had convened in. Smoke billowed up from the building Jesper and Y/N were inside as bricks, beams and glass all crashed down on top of another in a messy symphony. The walls collapsed down like a house of cards and a nearby flock of pigeons flapped away from the chaos.

The five remaining Crows stared in silence.

Kaz felt as if he might keel over. He stared at the pile of rubble, gripping his cane tightly, the beak of the crow’s head digging into his hand through his gloves. Jesper. Y/N. Both of them were under the rubble that had once been a merchant’s second home. Someone had blown them up. 

Somehow, Matthias snapped into action first, grabbing Nina’s arm and pulling her with him, towards the pile of rubble. Wylan scrambled after them, determined to find his friends.

“Kaz, come on,” Inej said softly, hovering beside him. “We need to go look for them.”

Kaz nodded once, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenched it, swallowing his emotions down. He limped after the rest of his gang, his cane clicking loudly on the cobblestones, breaking the eerie, deathly silence that had descended upon the street.

Matthias and Wylan had begun removing beams and chunks of brick from the pile, trying to find a way to get inside. Kaz wanted to help, but couldn’t bring himself to be so close to anyone, so he resorted to stay out the way, watching out for any of the Stadwatch.

Nina was trying her best to locate Jesper and Y/N but the pile of rubble was muffling any sound of their heartbeats. Well, that’s what she was telling herself. She didn’t want to even think about the other reality.

Jesper groaned loudly as he suddenly awoke. His head was pounding and he was being crushed by something heavy and wide. He blinked and the world came into view again and he realised what had happened.

A large, wooden beam was lying across his chest and he was sprawled awkwardly across piles of bricks. He could move, however. The rubble had formed a small pocket around them, the beams that had supported the roof supporting a ton of rubble above them.

Jesper carefully slid out from underneath the beam, trying not to nudge it or move it incase he took the entire thing out and crushed himself to death. He somehow slid down the rubble and further into the pocket and let out a heavy exhale as he caught his breath.

He looked around and froze as he spotted the familiar sight of Y/N’s hair and jacket from underneath what was once a door.

“Y/N!” Jesper exclaimed, clambering over bricks, keeping his head down and folding in on himself as he squeezed through a gap to get to her. “Y/N?”

Y/N lay scarily still, blood trickling down the side of her head, a splintered, heavy oak door lying across her bottom half. Her arm was flung across the bricks and her skin was littered with cuts.

Jesper shoved the door off her with a grunt, his eyes running up and down her body to see if anything was broken. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. He crawled closer and grabbed her hand, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and waiting.

For a moment, a long, painful moment, he felt nothing. His heart dropped and he genuinely felt as if he might be sick. She couldn’t be dead. She wasn’t allowed to die. She couldn’t die.

But then he felt a slight beat, followed by another and then another. It was slow, slower than it should be, but it was still going which meant Y/N was still alive.

Jesper forced himself to pause and breathe. They were trapped under a pile of rubble which could collapse at any moment. Y/N was unconscious and potentially dying which meant Jesper had to find a way out to safety and to the rest of the Crows. He glanced down at Y/N again, his fingers were still wrapped around her wrist, the feeling of her slow, sluggish pulse helping calm him down. She was still alive. 

Dust rained down on Jesper as he nudged a pile of bricks, seeking out the gap in the rubble that was letting the light in. There was a single ray of light shining through from somewhere - it was orange like the street lamps that dotted the streets of Ketterdam and its mere colour filled Jesper with a bizarre sense of hope. 

If the light could get in, then they could get out. 

He began by carefully moving bricks, stopping each time to make sure the beams keeping the worst of the rubble above them weren’t about to collapse. The broken glass cut into his hands and every movement sent sharp, searing pain through his head. 

But he kept going.

Jesper took a risk and moved a large piece of a door. Above him the beams groaned and buckled and a shower of dust rained down as bricks and rubble fell down. Jesper dove across Y/N, shielding her from the falling debris. 

Bricks and stones fell down but the beams stayed up, supporting the majority of the rubble and keeping their little pocket safe.

Jesper lifted himself of Y/N and grabbed her wrist, checking her pulse again and making sure her chest was still rising and falling. He reached out a hand and gently brushed off the dust and tiny pieces of debris on her face and sighed.

“Well, at least we’re both still alive,” Jesper muttered, trying to think of something positive. It’s what Y/N would do, she was always positive even if the situation was anything but positive. It drove Kaz insane.

“You could sound a little happier about that, Jes.”

Jesper jumped as Y/N’s voice, croaky and barely more than a whisper, broke his internal monologue of doom. She was looking up at him with the faintest hint of a smile on her pale, dust streaked face. 

“Thank the Saints,” Jesper muttered, dropping his head on to the top of Y/N’s head, his shoulders slumping. “I thought you were...”

Jesper trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence. Y/N, who seemed capable of reading the minds of everyone, even Kaz, grabbed his hand and squeezed it weakly.

“I feel like shit but I’m alive, Jesper,” Y/N said quietly, coughing slightly. “Now, how do we get out of here?”

Jesper looked around again, hoping the new found relief he felt at Y/N having woken up would clear his head. All he could see were wooden beams, pipes, bricks and smashed glass and no exit.

“We’re stuck, then,” Y/N said softly, noticing her friends silence. She winced as she shifted on the floor, trying to move so that she could lean against the large piece of wall behind her. Jesper noticed and came back to her side, grabbing her hand and guiding her up until she felt the wall against her back. 

“You good?” Jesper asked, his eyes full of concern, his hands clinging on to Y/N.

She nodded, her eyes shut as she felt the overwhelming wave of pain. She opened her eyes again and looked up. “If the street light is getting in,” she began turning her head with a grunt, “then there has to be a way out.”

“That’s what I thought but I can’t find a way to shift anything without risking bringing the entire building down on us.”

Y/N exhaled softly, slowly turning her head to look at the other end of the pocket they were in. They were well and truly trapped.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N frowned and turned back to face Jesper. “Why?”

“If we hadn’t gone back for that brooch and if I hadn’t -”

“Jesper.”

“ - been so determined to show off and -”

“Jesper.”

“ - we would have been at the rendezvous point in time and we wouldn’t -”

Y/N frowned as she heard the rubble shift above them. She tried to focus on the noise and her frown deepened as she realised that there were voices above them.

“Jesper, shut up a minute,” Y/N snapped, hitting him on the arm to cut off his rambling. “Listen.”

Jesper’s hurt expression at being told to be quiet quickly changed into a defensive one as he heard the rubble shifting and the indistinct sound of voices. He picked up his pistols from the ground and slowly clicked the safety off.

“Good or bad?” Y/N asked, wincing as she shifted herself onto her knees and moved behind Jesper.

“Either,” Jesper replied, his face hardening as the voices got closer. He aimed one pistol at the gap in the rubble where the sound was coming from, his other hand moving to rest on Y/N’s arm, reminding himself that she wasn’t dead, but alive.

Neither one spoke as they watched the rubble intently, bracing themselves for whoever appeared.

A head appeared in the gap and the person elegantly slid into their pocket, feet landing so silently that it could only be one person.

“Oh, Saints, Inej,” Jesper muttered, holstering his pistols and instantly relaxing. 

Y/N felt her energy and resolve disappear at the reassuring sight of Inej, all the pain and exhaustion she was feeling return. She fell to the side, barely catching herself before she smacked her head on the floor.

“Saints, Y/N,” Inej said, climbing over to her as Jesper sat Y/N up against a broken piece of concrete.

“I’m good,” she said softly, wincing. 

“And I’m a sun summoner,” Jesper replied sarcastically, disbelief written on his face at how much Y/N was playing off her injuries. 

“Can you move?” Inej asked. “It’s not far to go until you’re outside.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah.”

She pushed herself up to her knees, gripping a wooden beam for support. The wooden beam held her weight for a moment before it collapsed to the side.

“Shit,” Jesper muttered as the entire building above them groaned loudly. 

“Go,” Inej exclaimed, guiding Y/N up and inside the gap and then shoving Jesper after her as the building came crashing down into what had been their pocket. 

Y/N kept crawling and began to panic as the darkness began to feel claustrophobic and tight and she was scared she was going to collapse in the tunnel, her vision coming and going in waves, her heart pounding.

But then someone grabbed her hand and gently pulled her out the rubble and into the open, catching her as her limbs decided to stop working, sending her crashing to the ground

“Hey, hey, you’re alright,” Matthias said, holding her up against him as she clung to his jacket, her entire body shaking.

“Thank Saints,” Y/N whispered, dropping her head onto Matthias shoulder, ignoring the way he stiffened at the sudden, unexpected close contact. He’d never admit it but he had a soft spot for the girl and, after a moment of surprise, gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Y/N!” Nina exclaimed, rushing over to her as Inej and Jesper emerged from within the tunnel. “Jesper, are you two alright?”

“Well, we’re alive,” Y/N replied, smiling tiredly. “Much to Jesper’s disappointment.”

“I’m not disappointed that we’re alive,” Jesper retorted.

“You sounded disappointed,” Y/N countered back. “We survive being crushed to death by an entire building and he’s disappointed.”

“Again, I wasn’t disappointed,” Jesper grumbled.

Wylan looked between Jesper and Y/N. “Are they concussed?” He asked, genuine concern for them clear on his face.

“No. Unfortunately, that’s normal Y/N and Jesper behaviour,” Kaz replied, his cane clicking on the cobbles as he walked up to them. He looked Jesper up and down and then Y/N, his eyes running over them both. 

“We’re fine, boss,” Jesper replied, sensing Kaz’s unspoken question.

“Good,” Kaz said, nodding. “Come on, we need to move we’re behind schedule.”

And with that he limped off down the street.

Y/N let out a scoff of laughter. She was still holding onto Matthias as Nina grabbed her hand softly and began healing her. “Jesper’s the reason we’re behind.”

Jesper gasped loudly, hand flying to his chest as his mouth opened in mock horror. “How dare you! I found that brooch for you!”

“Just because I see something sparkly and go ‘ooo’ doesn’t mean you have to pick it up!” Y/N exclaimed. “You’re not a magpie!”

“The gratitude I get, I swear,” Jesper muttered, stomping off purposefully after Kaz.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment and sighed softly, Nina’s magic working its way through her system. They were a band of misfits and criminals, the dregs of society, but to her they were family.

[creepy-crowleys]

The sound of scraping stone was all the warning Crowley got before someone opened fire on her. Bullets pinged and ricocheted off of ancient golden and copper figures, shattering ivory carvings and scattering coins and jewels across the floor. Crowley had her own gun in hand and was already returning fire before she was able to fully appreciate just who had attacked her.

Then her world burst into flames. Crowley skittered backwards away from the heat just in time to duck the broad swing of a massive mallet aimed for her head. The air crackled. “Casey!” the voice behind the swing called. “Long time, no see!”

Crowley caught herself, brought her mace up to catch the mallet in its downward swing, and finally laid eyes on her lead attacker. “Riley.”

The defector Bee cocked a smile at her with a line of Blooded soldiers at his back. “I guess that ain’t your real name though, issit Miss Meredith Crowley?” His grin soured. “Thought we had an understandin’, you ‘n me.” Crowley shoved back, nearly knocking the mallet from his hand, only to be forced away by another round of minigun fire from the backing line. “Thought you were lookin’ at whole board too. No more takin’ orders form stuffed shirts that oughta be worshipin’ at our feet.”

The Buzzing painted an opening in the waves gunfire, and Crowley jumped for it, closing the distance between her and the minigun line before any of them could process what happened and alter their responses accordingly. She swept around a soldier at the far end of the line, knocking him off his feet and pivoting his gun arm towards his fellows before he could think to release the trigger. The rest of the team faired little better, tracking Crowley with a hail of rounds even as she took shelter behind the wall of muscle that was the fallen soldier.

If their was any hope for the soldier’s survival, it was dashed by the fireball that soon consumed him. “Y’see what I mean?!” Riley called over the inferno as Crowley was forced back on the move. “Marquard’s had a look at the bigger picture, and he can’t even put together summin’ what’s a match for what we got.”

Riley squinted against the flames of the burning corpse for a glimpse of where the other Bee had gone. It didn’t take long. The treasure chamber wasn’t especially large and between and the others, there weren’t that many places to be out of sight for long. She came at him like a freight train, the mace cratering the ground where he’d stood not a moment before and the backswing ripping stone spears from the ground the like he could only hope to match on his best days. Then in the space she’d forced him back, she dropped two more of Marquard’s Favoured supersoldiers with a flurry of quick shots before returning her focus to him.

Yeah, he saw how it was. If they were both gods in the cocoon, she was a hell of a lot closer to finding her wings than he was. Not that it would change things. 

“I’ve seen you when nobody else was lookin’,” Riley chided from the backfoot, barely keeping up with Crowley’s blow well enough to protect himself. “You’re just about as fed up with bein’ some ponce’s bee-stung weapon as I was. Y’ really think you’re gonna get something good outta this? A nice pat on the head from ol’ Miss Geary?” Riley chuckled darkly. “You think they aren’t gonna put you down the moment they realize you don’t flinch when they pull on the leash the ya used to?” The air around them condensed and shattered.

Crowley guarded her face to the best of her ability against the hail of jagged ice that rained down upon her and coated her clothes, skin and hair in a layer of frost. It wouldn’t do much to stop her, but it did slow her reaction time enough for the flame-coated fist to collide with the side of her face. Riley realized his mistake in the next instant. The sharpened flange of the mace drove deep into his gut before a quick swing split his femur. 

His ‘back-up’ fared little better. As he dropped to the ground howling and swearing, he could do nothing but watch as the remaining soldiers were mowed down with minimal effort. Sweat rolled down his brow in the cool of the cave and his face pinched in a snarl. It wasn’t fair. Here he was, finally getting his hands on real power and some stuffed shirt was still, still getting in his way. 

When she returned her attention to him, he spat at her. “What’re you gonna do now? Kill me? Try it and see what happ-”

Without pausing to answer him, Crowley cracked the macehead against one of the room’s pillars, breaking a sizable chunk from it’s base before circling around and bashing against it with her shoulder to Riley’s violent protests. It landed with a solid crunch across his legs, a sound only made worse when she stepped on top of it.

Crowley loomed over Riley and his howled curses with an impassive sort of calm, shifting her weight on the stone when he refused to go silent. “No,” she told him. “But you won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

[siribear]

a bullet whizzes past her head. a shower of bark hits her in the face from the tree next to her. deacon grabs her arm, pulls her down and toward the back of an old bus stop. above them, a chorus of voices ring out, taunting.

‘c’mon girlie, where’d ya go? i was just startin’ target practice.’

the damn corvega plant. whisper swings her rifle around the corner of the bus stop and aims high with her rifle. deacon’s hand on her shoulder stops her. ‘what?’

he gestures forward, toward the plant. across the road, a trio of raiders are slowly moving in. gunshots ping off the metal as she drops back down behind their cover. high and low. they’re sitting ducks.

‘should have kept further away from the road. sorry.’

deacon shrugs with a grin. ‘if we didn’t have prior arrangements, i’d say we take these guys out ourselves.’

‘maybe they’ll get bored and let us go,’ she hopes out loud. a quick peek overhead crushes those hopes. the raiders are closer, inching around the edges and ready to flank.

with a shared look, they ready themselves, pressed close against the wall of the bus stop. deacon leans around and fires, catching a raider in the neck. the others scatter back to cover even as a hail of bullets forces him to hide. whisper rests the barrel of her rifle on the back of the bench and peers through her scope. with the raiders focused on deacon, she seizes an opportunity and aims for a raider too far extended over the roof of the corvega.

the body lists forward and falls. blood spurts on the concrete from what remains of the lower jaw. the gunfire shifts to her side of the bus stop.

‘sweet shot. couple more of those and we’ll be out of here before the end of the day.’

she doesn’t want to think about it. ‘i don’t think we have that kind of time. there’s got to be a way out of here - ‘

as if in answer, the ground begins to shake beneath them in steady beats. deacon looks just over her shoulder and grins.

‘don’t tell me that’s a deathclaw.’ her stomach drops as the shaking increases. the thundering steps grow closer.

‘alright,’ deacon says, still grinning, ‘i won’t tell you. might want to keep your head down, though.’

whisper lifts her head to look, but a mighty roar and deacon’s hand pull her back down. in the air is a mix of panicked screams and an.. oddly familiar mechanical whirring.

‘if you two’re done making out,’ mocks a scottish brogue behind her. ‘you’re missing all the fun.’

whisper whirls to see cait, one hand on her hip and the other holding a bloody bat. ‘what the hell,’ whisper deadpans. this time she does lift her head toward the noise, only to see the raiders running from a hulking set of blue power armor wielding a minigun.

‘is that - ?’ she asks, stunned.

‘surprise.’

-

it doesn’t take long to drive the raiders back after that. self preservation kicking in over pride. ‘why aren’t you using this thing all the time?’ penny asks when they’re finally clear of lexington. in the distance, a vertibird hovers over the cambridge police station, and whisper leads them again to the outskirts of the city. ‘could’ve punched those super mutants to death back up north.’ she clenches her fist in emphasis.

‘not that i’m not grateful, but what are you two doing here?’

‘your pal invited us out on this little double date. said you had something dangerous that needed killing.’

whisper looks to deacon beside her, who’s pointedly looking ahead. his surprise. she lightly squeezes his hand in thanks.

‘gotta stack the deck in our favor,’ he states simply, with a smile that clearly says he’s pleased with himself.

‘the fuck is this thing you’re chasing anyway? all i know is that it’s super dangerous and this,’ penny pounds a power armored fist against her chest, ‘bad ass armor is supposed to save the day.’

whisper smiles. ‘it’ll help.’ she explains, briefly, a courser, with deacon’s help. ‘there’s a chip in its head that we need. so don’t blow that off.’ 

‘it’s cait and that bat you gotta worry about. i’m a body shot kinda girl. hear that, babe? head intact on this one.’

cait rolls her eyes with a huff. ‘fine. but everything else is fair game.’

deacon leans his shoulder against hers, and whisper instinctively tilts her head toward him ‘i feel better about our chances already.’

-

whisper tunes in to the classical radio as they approach the ruins of the university. penny grumbles when the first set of strings kicks in, but whisper holds up a hand at her protests. just underneath the music, she hears a single beep. she takes a few more steps forward, fully into the courtyard. two more beeps come in quick succession. and if she tunes the frequency just so... there. the music is quieter and the courser signal clearer.

‘ah, now we’re huntin’. i’ll lead, general. just point me in the right direction.’

the right direction takes a few minutes for them to find until the pings become steadier, more rapid. the rhythm takes them east, close to another raider outpost, but with the cover fire she and deacon provide, plus the sheer firepower from penny and cait, they tear through the raiders in record time.

they lose the open air around them, the closer they get. buildings close in, and they’re forced to find alternate routes around the rubble. the signal grows ever stronger, the pinging steadier, pulsing in time with her rapid heartbeat. they find the end of the trail, not only by the steady signal but also a gunner barreling out of a tall building.

whisper holds back a shout when the gunner slams into her, not paying attention. the woman is bloody, eyes wide in fear, hands trembling as she clings to whisper’s arms. ‘it’s a monster. a monster - it - it killed everyone... all for her - ‘

whisper quickly silences the radio and the signal. ‘who killed everyone? what happened?’

the gunner seems to come back to herself, eyes finally meeting whisper’s. ‘no. no, fuck this. you wanna die? you go after that thing. should have never picked up that girl.’ the woman pushes away and stalks off deeper into the city, eventually breaking out into a run when a muffled explosion echoes from a higher floor of the building.

‘there’s a courser in there, that’s for sure.’ deacon’s voice is hollow, far away. ‘so! penny, you’re up front. i believe in you, old girl.’

cait steps up next to her in response, and a single raised eyebrow sends him back to whisper’s side in an exaggerated cower. she pats him on the arm, consolingly. as the bruisers enter the building, whisper quickly presses a kiss to deacon’s cheek.

without a word but a knowing look, they enter the building soon after, weapon’s drawn.

-

greentech genetics is a ruined mess. overturned furniture is scattered across the lobby. holes blasted open in couches and chairs splintered to pieces. blood and dead bodies litter the floor. one shot per corpse. clean and efficient. they follow the sound of screaming to the upper floors.

desperate and confused gunners attempt to fight them on their way up. nothing makes it past the power armor and cait’s quick swings with her bat. any gunners that try to pick them off from the upper walkways are picked off in turn by whisper and deacon. a handful of gunners they find cowering behind and under office desks, simply trying to stay out of the way. those, whisper and penny have to pull cait away from, the woman stronger than she looks.

all she receives from penny is a quick, ‘we’ll talk later.’

‘psycho,’ deacon whispers in her ear. it takes a slight gesture for her to look at cait’s arm and the needle tracks, red and angry in the harsh, fluorescent light, to realize he isn’t simply being disparaging. ‘your girl’s girl has a drug problem.’

psycho.

she remembers nate telling her about it. that first time he came back to her, a haunted look in his eyes. shaking in the middle of the night, afraid to touch her because he thought he might - once, and never again, he promised. never again.

‘one problem at a time. penny’s keeping an eye on her as well.’

‘just saying. one problem at a time,’ he repeats.

terrifyingly, the closer they get to the top and to their quarry, the building grows quieter. warning shouts become scarce, and even the screaming stops. any living gunners they come across are huddled in shadows, trying not to be seen. the rest are crumpled into heaps with blood and skull fragments splattered against the walls.

‘quiet,’ whisper notes, as both an order and an observation. penny falls to the back, taking slow, careful steps behind the rest.

at the end of the corridor, she sees him. it. the courser. tall, in a black leather jacket, standing over a gunner on his knees. whisper and deacon sidle along the wall as they inch closer to the door. nowhere to hide but behind the wall. penny ducks into a room further back along the hall while cait joins them down the hall.

a gunshot. a body falls to the floor.

‘tell me the code to the door,’ the courser demands. the next gunner mutters i don’t know between sobs. ‘then you are useless to me.’ another gunshot, a round of collective gasps and sobs. the courser moves on.

cait twitches and her shoes hiss against the dirt-covered floor. a second gunshot whizzes through the doorway.

‘come out,’ the courser intones. it’s almost like listening to the robotic gen 1′s and 2′s, but with a more human tone. entirely unsettling. deacon swears beside her, and another bullet passes through the doorway. ‘i know you’re there.’

before cait or deacon can stop her, whisper steps through the doorway, kellogg’s pistol aimed at the courser’s heart. it spares her a glance before asking the next gunner the same question as before. the man looks up at her, instead. ‘we didn’t know. we didn’t know what she was, please help us.’ to the courser, ‘i don’t know the code. please, ‘m sorry - ‘

whisper doesn’t blink when the body falls. only tries to keep her hands from shaking when the courser turns its full attention to her. over its shoulder, in a room separated by bullet proof glass and a thick, metal door, a woman presses herself against the back wall, shaking her head.

‘ma’am,’ is all it says. its gun remains lowered at its side.

‘why are you doing this?’

it answers simply: ‘i was sent to retrieve K1-98.’ the woman behind the glass. a synth. ‘she has locked herself behind this door, and these gunners have the password.’ he looks her over, frown deepening. ‘have you also come for the synth?’

whisper looks again to the woman, her eyes wide in fear. she carefully lowers her weapon, already hearing deacon screaming in her mind. don’t lower your gun around a courser, what’re you doing? ‘potentially,’ she says, slowly, and watches defeat cross the other woman’s face. ‘but in exchange for my help, i need something from you. i need to get into the institute.’

the courser doesn’t hesitate. ‘i’m afraid i can’t do that, ma’am. i am not to harm or help you.’

‘under whose orders?’

‘father’s. regardless, i am only here to retrieve K1-98.’

‘my name is jenny,’ the woman finally screams behind the glass. ‘and i’d rather die than go back!’

‘who is father?’ she asks. a scientist? the institute leader? father - someone with a god complex? when the courser doesn’t respond, whisper sighs and raises her weapon again. this time, the courser does raise his own in response. ‘then it seems i will return the synth without your help.’

the recall code. the code - whisper barely dodges a gunshot aimed for her legs. apparently hurt only stops at kill. at a shot from behind her, the courser pulls out a stealth boy and disappears. deacon runs into the room and helps her to her feet while scanning the room. cait brandishes her baseball bat, swinging wherever the air shimmers, with penny thundering into the room behind her.

‘well, good attempt with the talking thing. now we bring out the big guns, right?’ deacon pulls her behind a pillar at the far end of the room. their footing is unstable on the pile of rubble around the pillar, but the collapsed ceiling next to them allows only one direction the courser can attack from. ‘you do remember the code... right?’

the code - the code - penny’s minigun roars to life, loud in the small room. the remaining gunners attempt to crawl away, despite their bound hands and feet. cait’s baseball bat makes a dull noise as it hits the floor, abandoned in favor of a shotgun that fires in rapid succession. penny shouts for her - deacon fires - whisper herself fires when she sees the shimmer pass by their pillar - the code -

the courser rips deacon from his place at her side and tosses him across the room. deacon scrambles out of the way of gunfire from nowhere. a bullet strikes him in the leg just before he can crawl behind a fallen piece of wall. and in that moment, whisper sees it. the shimmer stalks toward her partner like death, black coat fading back into view.

gun forgotten, whisper leaps at the courser, intent on tackling it. though it doesn’t budge, she wraps her arms around its neck as it tries to shrug her off. ‘z2-47, initialize factory reset,’ she begins between gritted teeth. her grip begins to slip. ‘authorization code - ‘

her breath leaves her as she’s slammed to the ground. she blinks tears away from what’s certainly a broken rib. the courser ignores a sniper rifle shot to the gut, and continues toward deacon, who doesn’t stop firing. penny shoots from the other side of the room, standing in front of a wounded cait. laser fire burns away the outer layer of its coat. though it slows, it isn’t enough. the courser grabs deacon by the throat to lift him from the ground without so much as a wince.

time slows. she watches as deacon looks to her as a gun is pressed against his temple - ‘zeta-5-3-kilo,’ she grounds out. she closes her eyes, can’t stand to see if it fails.

nothing happens.

[undertalethingems]

Bark at the Moon Chapter 9: Setup and Punchline

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Or read on my Ao3>

Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None

Chapter Summary: Terrorizing Snowdin is fun enough, but Flowey wants more--where's Papyrus in all of this...?

Flowey suppressed a giggle as he hid beneath the lowest branches of a pine. Two monsters--a purple deer and a double-eared fox--were hiking just outside Snowdin. Idiots. Didn't they know there was a beast running loose?!

Flowey's smile turned jagged. There was a crack, and plumes of snow burst around the hapless monsters. Withdrawing his vines, he sent them running with a shower of pellets, delighting in their screams. He'd gotten bored of killing, but instilling fear in people was still fun and he had the perfect scapegoat.

Well, more like scape-dragon. His little rumor had done the trick. Even if he couldn't get Sans to attack, the townsfolk were so used to nothing happening it was easy to whip them into a panic. A prod here, a nudge there, a hail of bullets in between, and all of Snowdin had been buzzing within a week. He'd given it another just to really let it set in--and then let his pet go.

Flowey hadn't actually seen Sans in a while now, though he'd noticed his tracks around town and heard him howling at night. To think the toughest opponent he'd ever faced could be reduced to hiding in the shadows and relying on people's trash to get by! Though... that's more or less what all of monster kind was doing... A simple fact of life wasn't the best insult. Flowey frowned, his gloating spoiled. So much for that.

His fun over for now, he left his hiding spot to check in on the latest with the Guard. They usually met around this time to discuss the day's orders now that living in Snowdin had actually become eventful. Flowey liked keeping track of just how much chaos he'd caused, so he popped up beneath another tree and eagerly listened in.

"Undyne should be here soon, right?" Doggo was saying, and there was a rustle--presumably one of the Dogi nodding.

"We're supposed to meet with her at nine sharp. I wonder what our orders will be now that we know the beast is real," Dogamy said, and Doggo growled.

"I don't like it. We can't smell it, barely anyone's seen it--and its tracks just disappear into nowhere! Maybe it did eat Sans and stole his weird... appearing without moving thing..."

Flowey stifled a laugh. How were they all so dumb?!

Dogamy sighed. "Those brothers sure were something... at least Undyne told us Papyrus is okay."

Huh. So someone knew where Papyrus was...

"I've just gotta wonder about Sans after he was so worked up... and then he got sick, and we haven't seen him since. I hope he hasn't... you know..."

Doggo huffed. "Yeah. Damn. Oh hey--there's Greater Dog with the rest of 'em, guess it's time. Undyne's probably two steps behind 'em."

Flowey ducked a little closer to the ground to see better. He could hear the clanking of armor as Greater and Lesser Dogs trotted up with Dogaressa in tow. All the dogs shuffled around each other happily, sniffing and yipping; Flowey gagged as the Dogi kissed each other sloppily. Then someone started the morning howl, and they collectively threw their heads back to cry, their hot breath sending plumes of vapor into the chilled air.

Flowey found it all incredibly dumb.

Metal clanking rose over their voices, and their howls died away as they turned to salute their captain. She returned the gesture as she surveyed her troops, and sighed. She looked troubled.

"Anything to report before I begin?"

"No ma'am," Dogaressa replied firmly, "to our knowledge, there have been no further incidents. What are our orders for the day?"

Undyne nodded. "Right. We need to see if we can capture this... creature. It's clearly not a human, which means it has to be a monster somehow, so I don't want anyone hurting it. Whoever they are WON'T escape justice. Understand?"

"Yes ma'am!" they chorused.

"Good. Now, if it's scavenging from people's trash... that's gotta mean it's hungry."

"I can relate," Doggo murmured wryly, and Dogamy elbowed him.

"Ahem," Undyne growled, then continued. "What I was saying was, we might be able to lure it out with food. Today, I want everyone to scout out places that look promising--where there's been a lot of tracks, places that naturally make escape difficult. We're NOT letting this thing get away."

Flowey quietly scoffed--good luck with that plan. Sans wouldn't be found if he didn't want to be, and he couldn't be caught so easily either. He would know--he'd had to keep him tied up personally at all times just to keep him from disappearing on a whim. This would be hilarious. Even more so if he messed with them the whole time. The guards broke their huddle to get to work, and Flowey followed with full intent to sabotage.

He dumped snow on the Dogi, threw a stick for Greater Dog that sent him skidding across a patch of ice, and kept pulling on Doggo's tail when he wasn't looking; Undyne was harder to mess with, but he still managed to clock her in the helmet with a big icicle. By the time the morning shift was over, he'd made a thorough nuisance of himself and was quite pleased.

"Maybe this beast is actually a ghost, and they're playing poltergeist with us," Doggo growled dejectedly during one of their breaks, and Greater Dog whined in agreement.

"We'll question the ghost cousins if we have to, but I want everyone to focus on our goal," Undyne commanded. "There's already been one incident today. Let's do everything we can to make sure there's not another. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am!"

Flowey had gotten bored of messing with them, so he left them and settled for poking around town to see what other havoc he could cause while the Guard was occupied. There wasn't much--everyone had taken to keeping their things and themselves indoors, so the most he could do was tap on windows and scratch at walls. But not being able to see the fear on his victim's faces took the fun out of it, and he grew bored of that too. He might as well wait for Undyne to get home so he could find out where Papyrus was.

He wasn't sad to exchange Snowdin's ice for Waterfall's mud, popping up in the corridor just outside Undyne's home. He'd hang out here, then maybe catch her attention as she passed by.

The wait was almost unbearable, but he finally heard her clanking down the passage and wriggled with excitement. Finally, he'd be able to question her--wait, where was she going? She'd passed by and continued down the hall. Flowey lowered a brow, and ducked down to follow her. At one point he overshot--she'd stopped somewhere behind him, at a cleft in the rock walls that wasn't really a path. She sprang up, and he burrowed as fast as he could to catch up before he lost sight of her completely.

He came out in time to see her finish vaulting up the walls and frowned. It could take him hours to find a route through the rock... but he didn't want to keep sitting around. He wanted--needed--to know what Undyne was doing, because this pathway was new. He grit his teeth, and sent out his roots to feel for weak points in the rock.

He finally emerged on a landing some twenty feet above the spot he'd left, and muddy boot prints confirmed this was where Undyne had come through. He peered down the corridor they led into, and cautiously made his way forward. There wouldn't be so many places to hide here--but not far from the exit, he found a nook between a few stalagmites and hung back, listening as Undyne spoke.

"Yeah, sorry about that. There's just... a lot going on with this investigation. Nothing serious, don't worry! But it's got the Guard all worked up and someone's gotta keep 'em on task, y'know?"

"Of course!" Papyrus replied.

Flowey frowned. Papyrus was way out here? Why?!

"Are you sure I can't help yet?"

"No, we can handle it," Undyne replied firmly. "We're close to a breakthrough, I can feel it!"

He heard Papyrus huff. "I'm sure your investigation would be over instantly if I helped, but fine... Anyway! You wanted a sparring session tonight!"

"YEAH! Gotta stay sharp, especially now that there's an active threat. Plus, you're perfect for helping me against--" Undyne cut herself off.

"Against anything!" Papyrus supplied.

"Yeah," Undyne agreed. "Alright, let's get into positions... and, whenever you're ready!"

Flowey heard the familiar ping of a blue attack, and Undyne was already laughing eagerly.

"Right off the bat! Hell yeah, bring it ON!"

Flowey listened to them clash, wishing there was some way to watch--but he hadn't found any more weak points in the surrounding rock. Drilling straight through would take forever--they'd be done by then. So he sat back and listened, and flinched at the hum of a 'special attack'. Flowey shook his head. 'Gaster Blaster' was a cooler name than that, but he never could get Papyrus to use it.

"Hah! You're hardly TRYING!" Undyne taunted as she undoubtedly summoned a ton of spears. "Now, dodge THIS!"

He could almost picture Papyrus darting around each crashing spear--but the sounds he heard didn't match. They were scratchy, clicky, came too close together to make sense with his mental image. Flowey furrowed his brow. What the heck was Papyrus doing? Walking on bone stilts?

A raspy yelp startled him from his thoughts.

"Oh geez, sorry!" Undyne called. "Are you okay?"

More clicking sounds, and Papyrus cleared his throat. "Yes! I was simply startled by that arrangement, that's all! It was very good!"

"Fuhuhuhu, thanks! I based it on a thing Alphys showed me--I'm gonna surprise the humans by using their own tactics against them!"

"Clever! It certainly caught me off guard! But soon! I'll be on the Guard! Nyeh heh heh heh heh!"

Undyne burst out laughing. "Not so fast! You gotta get through me first, punk! Come on! Prove you've got what it takes!"

Their sparring match began anew, and Flowey continued to eavesdrop. Papyrus seemed to be using his special attack more often than usual--maybe he was getting over thinking he had to 'save it' to keep it special. But... oddly... it sounded like Undyne was holding back? For all her boasting, he could hear it--she wasn't using as many spears as she usually did.

Papyrus confirmed it. "Hmph! You tell me to go all out! But you! You're holding back on me! You think I can't take it?"

"No!"

Papyrus gave an offended gasp. "You don't?!"

"No! That's not what I meant!" Undyne retorted. "I meant 'no' I think you can! I just! Don't--I don't feel like it! Ngaaaah!"

Well, that sounded like the usual number of spears.

"See! I knew you could do better!" Papyrus cheered when the salvo was over. "I even got hit a few times! But this battle isn't over yet!"

"... I dunno, Papyrus. I don't wanna hurt you anymore."

A huff. "You keep saying that! Or things like it! I know you're a very strong monster--you're the Captain! But! You seem to be afraid of everyone else hurting me too, and though it's true I don't wish to be seen, that is not the same... as being able to handle myself in battle! Nyeh!"

Undyne grunted, apparently taken off-guard by his attack. Flowey pondered his words--he didn't want to be seen? He was Papyrus, he always wanted to be seen...

"That's not it!" Undyne grunted. "It's--attacking you right now... feels like attacking a puppy!"

There was a long pause as the battle ground to a halt, but Papyrus finally spoke.

"... I see."

"No, I mean--it's just--you're already so nice! And then, everything that's happened getting you down--I dunno, it doesn't feel fair anymore."

"Our fights are very fair, Undyne! Perhaps the most fair! I am not, despite appearances, a puppy, but a very capable and dedicated warrior!"

Despite appearances!? Flowey's mind raced. If he was right--no, no, he needed to see. He hoped this little chat would wrap up soon, it was getting in the way!

Undyne sighed heavily. "I know, but... Listen, forget I said anything. You're a great fighter. There's just been a bunch of junk that doesn't make sense lately. Let's head home and get dinner, that'll clear both our heads."

"... Okay. I'm sure whatever feelings you're struggling with will be subdued by punching vegetables!"

"Yeah! Need any help packing up?"

"No, I can manage!"

Flowey cheered internally, then ducked back and waited. He could hear Undyne's armor clanging as she approached, and the rustling as Papyrus gathered up whatever stuff he had. And then, more clicking, a steady rhythm against the cavern floor. Flowey practically vibrated with excitement as it grew louder, nearer. The hall darkened briefly as Undyne filled the entrance then passed, and then it darkened again--though not as much, and Flowey kept his eyes riveted to the opening.

Oh.

OH.

There it was. Flowey watched, tucked in his corner, as a tall skeletal creature walked by with an easy grace, its slender claws clicking on the stone. It carried its long head high, with bright orange eye lights reflecting on the corridor walls. A red scarf was draped around its neck, some sort of brightly patterned sash or skirt wrapped around its hips, and a light satchel was slung from its tall dorsal spines. A long, whiplike tail trailed behind, flicking idly as it walked.

Flowey almost couldn't believe his eyes as he passed by, but there was no mistake. It was so familiar, but different. No wonder Sans hadn't been bothered by threats of Papyrus finding out what he was... because he was like that too. They were both freaks who didn't want anyone finding out. A wide grin spread on Flowey's face, and he ducked out to go somewhere private--somewhere he could laugh freely.

Oh, this was all too perfect! He had to do something with this--and already had the groundwork laid out. Now, to figure out just how to use it...

[swaps55]

5 Questions for Writers

Tagged by @foofyschmoofer! Perfect timing, as I am chewing on how to re-frame a new scene and haven’t gotten anywhere with it, ha. 

Tagging @citadelsushi, @pigeontheoneandonly, @nightingaleseeking, @joufancyhuh and seriously anyone else!!!!! No obligations. 

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

Right now? Joker. He comes so easily, and makes every scene he’s in a delight. There’s a lot of him in Sonata, my current WIP. 

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

...I feel like if I say anything other than fake relationship I’d look like a complete liar. But also just epic, endless pining and hurt/comfort. The classics. 

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

Would it be really selfish and terrible if I gave you two? 

...Imma give you two. 

I hopelessly love everything I wrote about the Battle of the Citadel from Joker’s perspective, from here. 

The Normandy shot through the relay under Joker’s steady hands, a swath of hot dust and radioactive particles smothering the shutters with blue-lit gas.

Joker wasn’t looking at the shutters. All he’d find was a cocoon of stillness and silence. But the ship’s sensors were alive with heat – a chaotic hail of ordinance and high velocity projectiles tearing across the vacuum, with no gravity or air resistance to stop or even slow them down.

Just a target. Whether they reached their intended target was irrelevant. Every quantum torpedo loosed in the melee would eventually find something to hit.

Newton’s first law was a bitch.

Ladar identified dozens of enemy vessels, from bombers and frigates that darted swiftly in and out of attack lanes to the slower, sluggish cruisers and dreadnoughts anchored all around the tightly sealed cylinder of the Citadel.

Alliance transponders winked into existence around the relay like tiny stars, the overwhelming task of dispatching so many ships at once creating staggering amounts of drift. The smaller, more maneuverable vessels immediately dispatched to cover the flank of the Everest, the kilometer long dreadnought Hackett presided over with a proportionate main gun that made the Hiroshima bomb seem like a tea party, complete with princess hats.

Against the geth, it might not be enough.

Fighters launched in droves, streaking towards the geth onslaught as the bow guns of cruisers sounded off in rhythmic patterns. Light on light, heat spike upon heat spike, a carefully but brutally coordinated clash of ordinance playing out in energy pings and return signals.

The second one is this, from Celestial Navigation. I am so fucking proud of it.  Mildly NSFW: 

Shepard’s armor is as much a part of him as the person underneath it, and he’s not just talking about the hardsuit. There’s the military fatigues. The leather jacket and jeans that make it really fucking hard to pay attention. He’s got shield emitters on all of them, and they’re no less protective for being figurative.  

But skin tells a different story. It doesn’t hide the scars. The wear. The truth. Shepard’s all lean muscle over hard edges – biotic metabolism, just like his – not an ounce of him wasted or spared. His skin is a star chart of things he’s put his body through, and Kaidan’s navigating it as best he can. It hurts to think how much of that history Cerberus erased when they brought him back from the grave. The things Kaidan can’t see. Things he’ll never know.

So he focuses on the things he does know. Shepard’s body is familiar, but only as it functions in a hardsuit. Where it’s weak. Where it’s strong. How long before his amp overheats, how much punishment his barrier can take before he’s spent and vulnerable. He knows Shepard’s weak left hip – still weak, even after he’s been rebuilt from the ground up, because the man doesn’t know how to roll to the right every now and then – and how to protect him from it.

Now instead of gauntleted hands searching ablative for a breach to seal, Kaidan’s fingers skate over bare skin, find where it’s whole and where it’s broken. Instead of checking his biofeed and reading Shepard’s pulse he feels it under his palm, flesh and blood instead of numbers in his HUD.  

This is better. This is much better.

It’s better when Shepard’s hand glides across the inside of his thigh and wraps Kaidan’s leg around him. It’s better when their limbs tangle in the sheets, and Kaidan nearly knocks him off the bed trying to get free from the loop snaring his foot. It’s better when the muscles of Shepard’s belly jump as Kaidan ghosts them with his fingers.

Shepard threatens him with bodily harm if he ever lets it slip that the Savior of the Citadel is ticklish.

They’re messy but eager, feeling their way through one touch at a time. The angles that fit. The ones that don’t. They’re both seasoned soldiers with joints that pop and bones that ache, nursed along each day with a little dose of aspirin and a lot of grin and bear it. Some they already know, others they discover with winces and grunts when a hand strikes the wrong spot or a something torques left when it needs to torque right.

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

I always default to dialogue from an unfinished story that I still think is the pinnacle I will never top, but so I don’t post it again I’m going with something different here. This is from Plans, and I absolutely love this little interaction. 

He was still staring out the window when a familiar presence settled in beside him. Arms draped over the railing, familiar bow in his shoulders, weight on his right foot. Before Cerberus, Shepard had always rested his left foot because of that bad hip. Kaidan wondered if that was still true or now just a force of habit. Had Cerberus rebuilt that hip the way they'd upgraded his amp, or had their “bring him back the same as before” mantra extended to nagging injuries? There was so much about Shepard he needed to relearn. And yet so much he didn't.

“Remember when I said you should annoy the shit out of Udina?” Shepard asked.

“Yeah,” Kaidan said, flushing a little.

“That wasn't exactly what I had in mind.”

Kaidan jabbed his toe at the railing. "First day jitters, I guess.”

Shepard smiled a little, but it faded quickly. “You did the right thing. For whatever that’s worth coming from the guy Udina would have loved to see you put a bullet in.”

“He wouldn’t have enjoyed it, Shepard. The real Udina, at least. Not whatever indoctrinated puppet he was at the end.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Kaidan shook his head. “You two may not have seen eye to eye on anything, but he respected you. Most of the time. You wanted the same things. Just…had different ways of achieving them.”

Shepard huffed in distaste. “I didn’t hand Cerberus the keys to the Citadel.”

“But you did accept their help when it was convenient,” Kaidan pointed out, unable to keep some of the bitterness from slipping through. “Use them to accomplish your goals. The difference is that you won and he lost.”

Shepard was silent for several painful seconds. Still. When he finally spoke his voice almost sounded small. “Yeah. I guess I deserve that.”

Kaidan sighed. “You didn’t deserve it. I just.”

“You’re you,” Shepard replied, not unkindly.

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

My other WIP is a trilogy-spanning slow burn mShenko romance, which I am basically writing for one line that I will use when they finally hook up in ME3. 

I am very much looking forward to that moment. 

[saultnpeppah]

Mistletoe

This is my WonderBat Secret Santa gift for the person responsible for every WonderBat event we have. You're awesome @maidenoftheworld!

December 24. Washington D.C. 17:05

Christmas and the surrounding holidays was a time to be spent with family. Time for families to relax and enjoy the company of those they loved. For Bruce Wayne, the Christmas season had always been a difficult one. When his parents had passed when he was a boy, only Alfred was there to bring the young Wayne much comfort during this time, and although he had tried his hardest, whenever Bruce would feel festive, guilt would soon consume him.

Bruce had struggled for years with survivor's guilt, but he knew his parents would not have wanted him to isolate himself, especially during the holidays. When Dick had come into his life, Bruce had found a new purpose, giving relief and help to another who had lost their parents too young. For a moment it seemed as if he had gained some normalcy back into his life - however normal he could be while still parading as a vigilante every night. But when Dick had died unexpectedly, it had thrown Bruce back into the isolation he had fought so hard to claw out of. He had become angry at the world, and instead of resolving those feelings he buried deep within, he had focused that anger into The Batman.

Within a matter of years, The Batman had become someone to fear, willing to do what needed to be done in order to stop the threats. When one of those threats had become Superman, Bruce had nearly lost his mind and given into the one rule he had set for himself when he had started his war on crime in Gotham, enraged by the death of innocent people that had been sacrificed when the Man of Steel had surfaced on this world. That anger, however, soon became more guilt when Clark had died saving humanity from his world and the horrors of it. Bruce had, once again, been thrown into that spiral of guilt and anger, letting it consume his every thought, letting it spill into his work both at Wayne Enterprises and as The Batman. The only difference was now he had someone besides Alfred willing to pull him out of those thoughts, and she was much less inclined to allow him to say no.

For nearly a century, Diana had wallowed in her own grief. She had grieved the loss of her home, never being able to return to the island she had grown up on and loved dearly. She grieved the loss of Steve, the first man she had loved. And she had grieved the loss of her dear friends, who would age before her very eyes as she remained as youthful as the day she first arrived on Man's World. Diana had known loss, and by extent, had known grief and guilt- she was the one person who Bruce could find a true connection with, as she knew of both of his lives.

With Diana came the discover of Arthur, Barry, and Victor, and they had each brought something of their own to the mix. Soon had come Clark's rival, which had not only brought another teammate, but a friend into Bruce's life, someone he could share not only the playboy persona, but The Batman with. By extension had come Lois, the oh so determined journalist, and Mrs. Kent, Martha, the one who had connected Bruce and Clark and brought Bruce out of his fit of anger. She was the one who saved Clark that night. She was the one who had brought Bruce out of that rage.

It had taken some time, but slowly Bruce had begun to trust himself with his new teammates, his new friends. He would find himself spending more time with the group, wanting to share his life with them. They were his family. And family spent the holidays together and this was no different for the group of heroes.

"On your right."

Bruce turned just in time to see a blur of red zoom past him, the robot that had been inches in front of him seconds before, now a pile of metal on the frosted ground. "Thanks," Bruce muttered before he jumped behind a door, narrowly missing a few shots from another nearby robot, one of the many that were attacking the White House, knowing the President had opted to stay in Washington D.C. for Christmas. Someone had orchestrated this whole attack, and it was their job to stop the army of robots and find out who had gained inside knowledge and started the attack. It hadn't taken long for the team to be bombarded.

Bruce took a deep breath and reached into his utility belt, searching for another smoke pellet. The group had been fighting for nearly an hour and he was running low on supplies. His only hope was Victor would be able to stop the assault from the inside.

His fingers made contact with one of the pellets and he took another deep breath and threw the pellet to the floor, encasing the surrounding area in a thick cloud of dark smoke. The continuous fire aimed at the door Bruce had been hiding behind ceased momentarily, as the artificial army tried to find the caped crusader. They never saw the batarangs fly into their backs, before the miniature bombs went off, sending metal pieces flying about the room.

"Alfred," Bruce said, taking another deep breath. He wasn't as young as he was when he had first created The Batman, and whenever he fought alongside stronger, younger, people, he felt it. But he was never one to give up a fight.

"Yes, Master Wayne," Alfred called out.

"Do we know who's behind this?" Bruce asked. His eyes focused on Clark as he hovered above a few of the bots, letting his heat vision melt the metal that composed their bodies. He watched as Clark flashed him a smirk, before he ran off alongside Barry, punching robots who didn't see the two coming until they were disassembled on the ground.

"The signal is encrypted, Master Wayne," Alfred explained, "The location seems to jump every time I get close."

Bruce let out a frustrated sigh. Whoever was doing this was good and prepared. They knew the League would come. "Victor, have you found the President?"

Victor Stone, who had been tasked with finding the President and getting him to safety, turned another corner, his lips curling into a smile as he stared down the hall towards the bunker that laid under the Oval Office. He let his robotic eye scan the door, his smile widening when he was able to pick up the heat signatures behind the steel. "Yes," Victor replied. "Getting him now."

He quickly connected to the control panel outside of the door and began to decode the encryption. The door quickly opened and Victor stepped inside. "Mr. President," he began said with an outstretched hand. However, he stopped when he was bombarded with a barrage of gunfire coming from inside the bunker, as the President's secret service were unable to discern Victor from one of the many robots attacking the League. "I'm taking fire," was all Victor said, before he jumped out of the bunker and ran for cover.

"Probably shouldn't have let the robotic one go after the President, when robots are trying to attack," Barry said with a smirk as he stopped next to Bruce. He took one look at Bruce's scowl and knew he would be in for another lecture if he didn't stop making sarcastic comments. "Got it," he said, giving Bruce a thumbs up. "Going now."

Bruce turned and watched as Barry rushed off, leaving only a red streak behind him, before he let out another sigh. He refocused his attention to the area in front of him, his eyes widening when he noticed two robots uncomfortably close. He mentally cursed himself when he saw them raise their guns, as his hands fumbled to find something that would buy him extra time. The two robots fired their guns at Bruce, however when the only sound that was heard was the loud pings of their bullets hitting something strong and metal, Bruce knew he had gotten that extra time after all.

Bruce glanced up at Diana, who only raised an eyebrow as she stared into his eyes. She kept her shield raised, keeping the two of them safe from the hail of gunfire that was aimed at the two of them, as her free hand gently punched Bruce in the shoulder. "You're getting sloppy in your old age," she teased, flashing him a smirk.

She watched as he gave her a small smirk in response, before he pulled out his grappling gun. "And you're getting cocky," he retorted.

Diana only shrugged, before she thrusted her arm forward, crashing her shield into one of the unsuspecting robots, crushing its metal skull before it fell to the ground. "I learned from the best," was all she said as she reached for the sword that rested on her hip. "You're going to be late," she whispered, pulling her sword from its sheath, slashing at the robot that had jumped behind Bruce.

Bruce watched as the blade sliced the metal being in half, shrugged at her comment, and aimed his device at a beam across the room. "I'll be fine," was all he said, before he fired the gun, watching as it connected with the wood, before it flung him up towards the ceiling. He carefully disconnected the line, landing on his feet behind an unsuspecting robot, before he drove a piece of metal through its back. The robot quickly fell to the ground and Bruce retreated behind another beam for coverage.

"Barry?" Bruce asked, knowing the speedster should have retrieved the President by now.

"El Presidente is safe and sound," Barry responded, reappearing beside Bruce.

Bruce only gave a small nod and said, "Alfred, any luck on that encryption?"

"There's no need," Victor said, stopping the Englishman from speaking. "I found the control system, and it's unlike anything I've seen before."

"Victor, stop this army," Bruce commanded. He turned to Barry and nodded, knowing the younger man would be able to help Victor find a way to disable the robots before they overtook them all.

Without a word Barry ran off, searching every room in the White House until he found Victor staring at a giant control panel. "Woah," Barry said, his eyes widening as he realized the complexity of what was in front of him. Someone had thought of this for a while, someone smart. It would take a genius to bypass the encryptions on the control panel, and even then it would take hours, if not days.

"It's going to take some time," Victor said, plugging himself into the control panel. Instantly the control panel began to buzz and glow, and Victor began to shake. Whatever he had plugged himself into was trying to hack into his system.

Barry watched as Victor struggled with the control panel. He watched as Victor groaned in pain as electricity began to fly from the buttons and switches, before it coursed through his friend's circuitry. Without another word, fearing for the safety of his friend, Barry rushed up to the control panel and began to push every button, toggle every lever, flip every switch he could, hoping something would stop both the army if robots and the assault on Victor.

Meanwhile, back in the main foyer of the White House, Bruce, Clark, and Diana continued to fight the robots. "Any luck on stopping these things?" Clark asked, punching one of the robots through the chest. He quickly pulled the useless metal from his arm and tossed it aside, glancing over his shoulder at Bruce.

Bruce only shrugged. He didn't know what was taking Barry and Victor so long, but he hoped they would be able to stop it soon. He didn't know how much more he could take. The three of them were managing okay, but it would have been a lot easier if they had more bodies. Bruce made a mental note to pick up the search for more potential members when he got home. He also made a mental note to give Arthur a strongly worded message; even if Diana had to constantly remind him he was now a King and had other duties, he was still a member of the team.

Batman turned to deliver a punch to another robot, shock in his eyes when the robot punched him back. A piece of metal dragged along Bruce's cheek and cut his skin, leaving a small trail of blood. It was enough motivation for Bruce, as he grabbed the robot's arms, placed his foot on its chest, and pulled, dismembering the robot. "You're going to be late," Diana reminded, kicking a robot's head from its body, watching as it landed across the room, before she turned to face Bruce once more.

"It's fine, Diana," Bruce said once more, trying to reassure the woman that whatever he had planned for tonight took a backseat to this. But Diana knew how important keeping up appearances was to Bruce. It was the only way he was able to remain The Batman without anyone becoming suspicious.

Diana opened her mouth to speak, but when every remaining robot in the room began to shake, she knew Barry and Victor had done something right. She quickly rolled on top of Bruce, knowing the robots were going to explode and placed her shield on her back, covering the two of them from any debris that would come their way. Just as expected, the robots all began to self destruct, letting piece of metal fly about the room.

Bruce only laid on the floor listening to the ping each piece of metal made against Diana's shield, trying to avoid the playful smile she was giving him. He knew now wasn't the time to flirt, but she made it so hard. "I do like a woman on top," he whispered with a smirk, listening to another piece of metal fly their way, hitting the edge of the shield.

Diana only chuckled and playfully slapped his chin, telling him to cut it out. Clark, who had been standing next to the two, only turned his head and cleared his throat. The two looked up at Clark, watching as a shard of metal bounced off his forehead, before Diana let out another chuckle. The two had done the flirting and playful banter for so long, it was hardly a surprise anymore. Still, there was a time and place for it.

When the sounds of metal on Diana's shield ceased, she quickly rolled off of him and stood, before offering the man her hand. He took it quietly and she pulled him to his feet, just in time to see Barry run into the room holding Victor and the control panel. "Good work," Bruce said, glancing at the control panel. "How'd you stop it?"

Barry only shrugged. "I just pressed every button until something worked," Barry admitted, lifting his hands, confused.

Bruce tilted his head, unsure of Barry's method. Clark, however, was pleased. "Well it worked," he said, "Any idea who did this?"

Victor nodded. "He tried to hack my system," he confessed. "But he was too cocky and left a signature in the code. T.O. Morrow."

Bruce only nodded his head. "Once I get back to Gotham I will see what I can do about-"

"You will do no such thing," Diana interrupted. She glanced up at Bruce and crossed her arms over her chest. "Clark and I will deal with the clean up here. You have somewhere to be," she said, pointing a finger at his chest.

"Diana," Bruce began. He watched as Diana shook her head before she nodded to Barry.

"Sorry, Bats," Barry said, before he lifted him into his arms and sped off towards Gotham faster than any plane could.

Clark watched as Barry left with Bruce in his arm, chuckling before he turned toward the Amazon standing at his left. "What about the jet?" he asked, knowing Bruce had the only set of keys hidden in his utility belt.

Diana said nothing as she lifted the keys, a smile on her face as she thought of how handsy she had to get in order to get those. She quickly tossed the keys to Victor who gave her a smirk, before she began to clean up the mess the five of them had made.

December 24. Wayne Enterprises - Gotham. 19:35

Diana continued to walk through the crowd of employees and other members of Gotham's elite, walking toward two familiar faces. She tilted her head as she approached, making sure the bun atop her head remained perfect, as a few of her bangs swept down in front of her face.

"Well you look spectacular," Lois said, grabbing the few strands of loose hair and pushing them behind the taller woman's ear, "For being late, that is."

Diana smirked at the red headed woman. She turned and glanced at the dress Lois wore, a beautiful blue cocktail dress, with matching silver heels. Clark truly was a lucky man.

"Blame your husband," Diana whispered, nudging the man next to her. "He had to make sure every piece of metal was picked up before we left."

Clark only shrugged as he took a sip from the champagne glass in his hand, watching as both ladies turned to face him, before they chuckled. He watched as Lois hugged Diana and he was grateful that Bruce had once again, saved him and his family. After the Daily Planet had reported he had been killed in the attack on Gotham, he knew it would be nearly impossible to explain his sudden resurrection. But Bruce had done it. Clark hated having to lie to everyone, saying he had been labeled as a John Doe due to his face being so badly injured during the fight that no one knew who he was. He hated having to tell people he couldn't remember who he was for a year. He hated telling people his mother had buried someone else in a case of mistaken identity - Martha Kent and Lois were the only two to have seen Clark before deciding the keep the casket closed for everyone else. But now that he was married to the woman he loved more than anything, and able to see his mother happy and thriving on the farm, he knew it had been all worth it.

"So where is Mr. Wayne?" Lois asked, her journalist's instinct kicking in.

Diana scanned the room, shrugging when she couldn't find Bruce. She did, however, see another familiar face at the other end of the room, stuffing his face with finger sandwiches and hor d'oeuvres. "Excuse me," she said, walking towards the young man dressed in a red tux.

She quietly walked up to Barry, grabbing a champagne flute from the table and taking a sip. "You clean up nice," she said, plucking a cracker from one of the platters and taking a bite.

Barry glanced up at Diana and smiled, before he stuffed another sandwich in his mouth.

He pointed towards the green tie he wore, swallowed his food, and said, "It's festive." Diana only let out a small chuckle as she nodded. "It is very uncomfortable though."

Diana ate another cracker before she gently placed a hand on Barry's shoulder. "Did he make it?" she asked, letting her eyes wander around the room once more in an attempt to find the person who arranged this whole event.

Barry nodded. "Barely," he explained. "Although he was not too fond of either you or me

the whole way to Gotham.

Diana chuckled once more. "Thank you," she said, watching as he only nodded once before picking up another sandwich. She turned from the table, her eyes lighting up when she saw Bruce come into view.

He was dressed in one of his signature three piece tuxedos. His hair was styled, and the stubble on his face was nicely trimmed. There was still evidence of the cut on his face, but the blood was now cleaned; Diana assumed Alfred had tended to that before he left.

Bruce walked up to the front of the crowd, waving to various employees, offering smiles to those who had decided to share their Christmas Eve with him. "Good evening everyone," Bruce began, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. They all turned to watch Bruce as he evened out the black tie around his neck. "I want to thank everyone for coming. I'm happy to announce that Wayne Enterprises will be funding S.T.A.R. labs' bio-mechanical engineering department." There was applause from around the room, and Bruce smirked. It was his way of telling everyone he was funding Silas Stone and helping with Victor's ever changing mechanics, without outright saying it.

When the applause died down, he looked around the room, a smile on his face when he caught sight of Clark and Lois. "When my parents died, the holidays were a hard time. But as I've grown older, you have all become like family." Bruce's gaze moved throughout the room, watching as smiles appeared on faces at what he had just confessed. He moved his eyes, searching for one person in particular. When he found her, his smile widened as he locked eyes with hers. "To family," he said, raising his glass of champagne. "And Merry Christmas."

Everyone reciprocated the toast, raising their own glasses, echoing his words, before they moved on to their own side conversations. Bruce, content with his small speech, moved from the front of the room and disappeared into the crowd.

Diana, knowing Bruce would be headed towards Clark and Lois, joined the duo, reaching them at the same time Bruce did. Bruce only acknowledged her with a small smile, knowing whatever he had to say to her could wait until he was done with Clark. After all, he had been planning this secret for almost a year.

"That was some speech," Lois said with a chuckle, teasing him for his lack of words. Bruce was known for his ability to make up anything on the spot. He was charismatic, and people were drawn to every word he said.

"There were more important things I needed to get to," was all Bruce said, before he extended his hand, waiting for Clark to reach out and shake it. He did, causing Bruce to smile once more.

"You are still coming to the farm tomorrow, right?" Clark asked. He stared at Bruce but the question was directed to both he and Diana.

Diana only nodded, taking another small sip from her flute.

Likewise, Bruce nodded, reached into his jacket, and pulled out an envelope. "Merry

Christmas," Bruce said as he handed the envelope to Clark. He watched as the reporter carefully opened the envelope, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses, ever suspicious of the billionaire. "Sorry it took so long."

Clark looked up from the papers in his hands, trying his hardest not to cry. The farm had been in his family for generations and when his mother had lost it after his death, he couldn't imagine the pain that it caused. He was more than grateful when Bruce had bought the bank, letting Martha come back to the land she had fallen in love with, but this-this was beyond generous. "Bruce," Clark began, only to be silenced by the older man.

"The deed is in both your mother's name and yours. You should never have to worry about losing the farm again," Bruce explained. He placed his hand on Clark's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you, Bruce," Clark said quietly. "Truly."

Bruce only nodded before he turned to Diana. "Miss Prince," he said, offering the woman a hand. "Care to dance?"

Diana said nothing as she placed her hand in Bruce's and nodded. She waved to Clark and Lois, silently telling them she would see them tomorrow, before she followed Bruce out onto the dance floor. There Bruce turned to face her, stepping closer as his right hand fell to her lower back, pushing her against his chest. "Bruce," she warned, staring into his eye as she placed her right hand into his remaining hand.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, pulling her closer.

"Careful, Mr. Wayne," she whispered back, "I am spoken for."

Bruce craned his neck and raised an eyebrow. "Since when?" he asked, glancing over her shoulder at Clark and Lois who had begun to dance at the end of the room.

Diana ignored his question, lifting her left hand to gently caress the skin of his cheek just below the cut he had received earlier this evening. "You need to be more careful," she whispered, "You're not invincible."

"And you need to stop being so damn flirty when we're on a mission," he retorted. "Especially when you have a boyfriend."

"I never said it was a boyfriend," Diana said with a smirk.

Bruce raised an eyebrow once more. "Girlfriend?"

Diana let out a small chuckle. She enjoyed doing this to Bruce, but would deny it if asked. "What you did for Clark," she began as they started swaying to the music, "That was very kind of you, Bruce."

"He deserves it," he admitted. "Plus, I was a bit of an ass when we first met."

Diana chuckled once more. "Always the charmer, Bruce Wayne."

The two continued to dance, swaying gently to the music, enjoying small talk in between whispered flirtations. They discussed Arthur and his acclimation to the throne of Atlantis. They discussed Clark and Lois' wedding last September . They discussed who to seek out to join the team in case another threat emerged. They discussed Victor and his acceptance of what he was, and Barry's new job with the Central City Police Department. Neither had known just how much time had passed until Lois was nudging Bruce's shoulder, letting him know it was time to make the announcement of the century.

Carefully Bruce led the two of them to the end of the room where he could talk to Diana. He wanted to give her an out. He wanted her to know that whatever she decided tonight, he would support her. After all, she had tried to hide herself for nearly a century, never wanting the world's attention on herself. It was only after Steppenwolf had come to Earth had she let the world know who Wonder Woman was. He didn't know if she was ready for the string of attention this would cause her.

"I'm fine, Bruce," Diana whispered. She knew what he had been thinking. He had confided in her countless nights of this decision, and the more he talked about it, the more she agreed with him. It was time the world knew who the real Bruce Wayne was.

Without a word, Bruce nodded up towards the door frame they stood in. Diana followed his gaze, letting her eyes settle on the piece of mistletoe that Barry had attached to the door frame seconds prior. "You sneaky man," she whispered. She watched as he only shrugged before she shook her head playfully and leaned in for a kiss.

There were a few gasps from the surrounding guests, as they watched Bruce wrap his arms around the younger woman and deepen the kiss. A few of the reporters rushed to grab their phones, wanting photographic evidence that Bruce Wayne had a new fling, however none were as quick as Clark, who snatched the first and only photo of Bruce and Diana kissing.

Bruce pulled away from Diana and flashed her a smirk, before he grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. Disappointed they had missed their photo opportunity, reporters quickly swarmed up to the duo, pens ready to jot down any details that would get them a story worthy of the front page. "Mr. Wayne," one reporter called out, "Who's your new lady friend?"

"Is Bruce Wayne dating again?"

"How long has this been going on?"

Bruce ignored everyone's questions, raising his empty hand to silence everyone. "I wanted this night to be about family, and I'd like you to meet mine," he said. He gave a small nod to Clark, letting him know their deal was still intact. Lois would get the first and only news story regarding he and Diana's relationship, as she was the only one they trusted. "This is Diana," he began, pulling Diana close to him. He wrapped his arm around the woman, smiling when he realized he didn't have to hide the truth anymore. Bruce Wayne was a taken man, and had been for a while.

"This is my wife."

A little different, but hey, they technically did end up. I tried to add some team interaction for you, and some playful flirtations for you as well. I hope you enjoyed it. This event wouldn't have been possible without your amazing self.

@fyeahwonderbat

[flaine1996]

SSV AIN JALUT

Bit of an update with projrct timeline dtill working on it but havent finished sny of the new WIPs im writing so herree have an old one i slightly revamped :))

------

Garden worlds have always been habitable places, where the ecosphere could support any population.

Yet somehow Anhur managed to feel anything but habitable.

[[More]]

The buildings that had been built had been noticeably new and renovated and yet hardly anyone had seemed to be living in it. Preferring to be living on the streets. From the looks of it though, it hadn’t seemed like they had a choice.

Which is why it had been a strange sight seeing a group of armed soldiers walking down the streets as if they owned the place the day after they landed. After all this was the terminus, soldiers don’t come here. Not by choice anyway.

The tall, bulked up soldier in the front talks to one of the locals. He points to the nearby dense forests where he explains that there is a clearing far off from the eye can see and in response the soldier nods and gives him a small container. The local gladly accepts and runs away from prying eyes, holding the container as if he was carrying gold.

The soldiers charge on passing through the dense forest, going in deeper and deeper.

Boots filled with gravel and sand. Sweat pouring down their faces. Guns held close to their chests. Until they see it. Somewhere in the middle of their misery. They see it. A small building.

One of the soldiers raises his hand and an omni-tool appears, “The scanner is picking up life signs, Commander. How shall we proceed?”

The tall man surveys the area, “Hajjins position yourself 15 feet southeast from here take Alvarez with you, Alvarez I need you to decrypt any information you can get in that building and the rest of you will be ground team. Move out.”

Without a single word the rest of the soldiers filed out with disciplined movement. The ground team had been precise and careful as they reached closer to the building despite the dense trees and rocky terrain. As one of the soldiers moved closer however a turret unsheathed itself from its cover blasting away at the soldier’s leg.

“God damit! Alvarez, did you not see that?!” The commander yells as one of the other soldier drags the injured behind a large tree they were in.

“Was just about to contact you, Sir!” Alvarez hastily replies.

“Fucking asswipe,” says the injured soldier.

“Save you energy, Lee. Trembley slap some omni-gel on that! Hajjins, take it down," The commander ordered, "Any other surprises we should worry about, Alvarez?”

“Hajjins says she’s doing the best she can but as long as you aren’t in range it won’t come out… and also…”

“Spit it out Alvarez!”

“They’ve managed to scatter IEDs below ground… If you even step on o---”

“I GET IT ALVAREZ! Fuck…. Can you somehow deactivate them?”

“It will take hours to shut them all off, sir… but i can show you where they are located,” as he says that the commanders omni-tools pings and a map of the area with glowing red dots scattered on the battleground in front of them. The dots beeping to specify their location, “That’s not all… There’s still another turret… hiding…”

“FUCK SAKE! Find a way to deactivate them! NOW!” The commander barks and turns to his soldiers, “You’ve heard him for now we have to wait and pray for a fucking miracle”

“You’re telling us to wait,” a soldier with distinct blood red, black striped armor asked.

“Didn’t think you were deaf,” The commander snaps, “If you want to be a moving target then do it, but i am not wasting any good men.”

With that he turned his back on the soldier and checked on Lee.

“Uhm… sir,” Alvarez calls shakily.

“WHAT NOW?”

“Shepard’s mobilizing,” replies Alvarez nervously.

The commander’s head turns immediately to the battleground in front. The blood red, black striped armored soldier charging into the battlefield with only a storm shotgun at hand.

“SHEPARD, GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!" The commander yells.

Shepard doesn't even pay the commander attention, staring at the battlefield ahead. Only having a few minutes to glance and hear the sound of beeping from the commander’s omni tool to decipher a clear path

Feet thuddering the ground at each step.

That’s when the sound of turrets unsheathing from the ground could be heard, Shepard knew that time is of the essence and that less than 10 seconds, it will have found its target. Without even thinking, two grenades are thrown at the first turret while firing shots from a storm shotgun, managing to damage it enough that it blew up. The second one would be more a problem since shepard had been preoccupied with the first. She could hear shots being fired far off from where Hajins position was, attacking the second turret.

Shepard had one trump card though. Biotics.

Feeling the tingling sensation of eezo nodules from the brain and powered by the implants at the back of the skull. Shepard engulfs in a biotic barrier which felt like second nature. Blue light started emanating from Shepard’s whole entire being before a hail of bullets started pouring down. Fortunately enough, the end was close. The door to the building was only 3 feet away however shepards biotic shield as well as the shield from the suit had practically been blown to pieces. One more shot would be fatal.

Shepard leaps, body twisting to face the turret and using the sheer carnage ability from the shotgun sent shepard flying and hitting the entrance door while, simultaneously, blowing up the last turret.

“Shep---,” Alvarez reported.

“I fucking see it, Alvarez. Shepard, deactivate the IE---,” before the commander could finish, Shepard disconnected the comm channels and entered the building.

Once inside, Shepard notices how the whole building seems larger from the inside and sees containers ranging from large to small. Creeping closer to the smaller containers, shepard notices that a small beeping light is attached at its handle, a bomb. One filled with freezing ice in liquid form. Seems like the targets had prepared themselves for a likely event of an outsider. But they hadn’t prepared for Shepard.

Hearing footsteps, Shepard hides behind one of the nearest crates as the distinctive sounds of prattle kept coming closer.

“Those bastards with two eyes have been following us for weeks. We need to end this here,” one of them says.

“Don’t worry, those pests will be blown to sky high the minute they try getting through,” the other happily replies.

Shepard glances from the crate and notices that they are standing just approximately two feet away. Checking the omni-tool, Shepard’s shields and abilities had managed to recharge.

Not wanting to miss this chance, the small container that had been idly standing to the side is thrown violently to one of the speakers breaking and freezing him into place. Before the other one could even speak a word, Shepard grabs hold of its mouth and ramming a fist through his face repeatedly until it falls to the floor. Laying there on the pool of its own blood shepard grabs hold of the omni-tool it wears. Clicking what looks like the map of the area, Shepard commits to memory the layout of the building before the hologram fazes out. Then proceeds to drag both dead bodies behind the crate used for hiding earlier.

Shepard remembers a shortcut to the west and proceeds to move. The layout is pretty simple, after the entrance there would be the main hall connected to half a second floor with stairs.

All Shepard needs to do is reach the stairs. However upon reaching the clearing a group of the targets had been using the main hall as a gathering. Wasting no time, Shepard spots and uses the nearest crate to take cover.

“Have the implants been inserted?” asks one of them.

“Yes with force i might add,” another replies.

“Good. Remind them of the position they are in," another comments.

“What of the alliance soldiers,” another asks irritatedly.

“What of them? they're to stupid to even find us. Anhur has been desolate of batarians since 2170, they will not look here,” another chimes in, “Besides, we're well equip for dead meat.”

Clutching the shotgun, Shepard creeps all the way to the stairs. Fortunately the batarians have been too focused on their discussion to even notice. Reaching the top, two snipers are stationed to guard but decides instead to gather around playing cards.

With one flick of a wrist, Shepard lifts one of the batarian from his seat and slams his head onto the other one. Before both of them could react Shepard grabs both their heads and slams it hard against each other knocking them both out cold. But Shepard didn’t just want to knock them out. Grabbing hold of the first snipers neck, shepard twists his head until a snapping sound could be heard and does the same for the remaining batarian.

“IF YOU TWO DIM WITTED SHMILA, ARE BREAKING SLAVES NECKS, I WILL BREAK YOURS,” one of the batarians threatens menacingly.

No reply came but a small rotating disk shaped object falls from the sky. The batarians take a closer look before they realize what it is.

“BO---” before it could finish, a blinding white light and an explosion rocks the whole clearing.

The batarians are dazed and injured but they hear a loud thud from the table. As they look up a single armored being is standing.

One of the batarians opens its mouth before a loud blast of a shotgun echoes through the halls and before any of the others could raise their weapons, Shepard guns them down with quick precision and accuracy. Leaving only one clutching its head at the ground.

When the carnage was over, Shepard sheathes the shotgun and approaches the last batarian remaining and stepping tightly on his crumpled form speaks, “Where’s Balak?”

“W-Who?” The batarian asks.

Annoyed with its response, Shepard kicks the batarian hard enough that it sends him flying to the nearest wall.

“I’ll keep this simple,” Shepard says while grabbing the batarians head, “If you do not give me the information i want. I will take each one of your eyes and feed them to you.”

The batarian simply laughs, “Puny freak, you alliance soldiers aren’t the type.”

However his smile falters as Shepard's own feral grin grows, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

--------

The remaining soldiers outside finally breach the building. As they scan the area, only the dead could be found.

“Fuck sake, it smells like a varren took a really huge shit,” Trembley comments.

“Keep your wits about you, we don’t know what lurks here,” the commander sternly advises.

Before they could even step forward, a dark figure approaches. Without even hesitating the soldiers point their weapons at it, “FREEZE!”

"Alliance Vanguard Officer Shepard, reporting for duty," Shepard says while emerging from the shadows with a tone similar to an elcor, "sir."

“SHEPARD WERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?” The commander yells.

“In here.” Shepard replies coolly.

Before the Commander could pop a blood vessel, Alvarez steps forward, “What’s that in your hand?”

Without replying, Shepard throws the object at him. As Alvarez catches the object, he notes how hard it is and the fresh blood coating on it. With a shaky voice, “T---this is an arm...”

“As well as the omni-tool. If we preserve the arm we might still get information regarding Balak so i took it. We should also tell the Alliance regarding the slaves too,” Shepard comments before she heads towards the door.

“WE ARE NOT DONE HERE, SHEPARD,” the commander yells as he follows behind her.

Alvarez and Trembley looked back at the hallway and at each other before catching up with the group.

[today-we-will-survive]

As The World Burns Around Us, Ch. 2

header made by me

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader ft. Taehyung

Genre: Apocalypse!AU, Angst, Thriller, Romance

Warning: dark themes, violence, gore

Word Count: 14K

Parts can be found in the masterlist under “As The World Burns Around Us”

Summary: You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”.

You don’t know how far you’ve gone by the time the sky has faded from light gray to charcoal but you’re exhausted nonetheless. The three of you make your way back down onto the freeway and take shelter in a gutted minivan. Taehyung sits in the driver’s seat with it reclined almost all the way back so he can still see out the windshield, while you and Jungkook lay the backseats down flat. You curl up into him, burying your face in his neck for warmth. Your hands are still sore though not nearly as bad as they have been. You wrapped them in Jungkook’s scarf since you didn’t need the protection in the woods and now you clutch them to your chest and breathe a heavy sigh. Jungkook tightens his arms around you and the sound of the hail hitting the roof lulls you to sleep.

A spray of rain against the windshield wakes you the next morning. It’s light and blows around more like a mist so you have to go back up into the woods to protect yourselves. The three of you travel just within the tree line, keeping the freeway in sight so you know you’re heading in the right direction. Tae is up ahead, as always, and you seem to be straggling a bit. Your legs are sore from the snow that seeped in through your clothes yesterday and the skin on your palms has turned white and has started to crack and you wish for the millionth time that you’d brought something to protect them. You have no idea what you’ll do if you’re attacked. There’s no way you’d be able to hold a knife with your hands like this.

As the daylight starts to fade at the end of the third day, Jungkook glimpses remnants of tall buildings in the distance. You recognize them immediately. You’ve reached Daejeon. Actually, you’re surprised at the number of buildings still standing, since it was one of the targets of the nuclear bombing.

The three of you don’t want to get any closer than a few miles away what-with the remaining radiation. Even from so far away, you can almost feel it. Like static on your skin and in your blood, weakening your joints and making you sick to your stomach. You’re just glad you weren’t there when the bomb hit. Then again, you don’t know what would be worse. Dying in the wars or living in the after.

Your hands hurt worse than they did yesterday. Every time you try to clench them, pain shoots up both arms along with a feeling of dread. You need to find something to heal them soon or they’re just going to get worse. There’s no way to keep them clean since all the water within a hundred miles is tainted with radiation. If infection sets in, you’re toast.

Taehyung and Jungkook build a makeshift lean-to that night. You don’t think either of them know how bad your hands really are but you can’t bring yourself to tell them so you just grit your teeth and blink away the tears as you saw at small tree branches with one of your knives.

You can’t sleep. Surprise. This time you actually want to, though. You would gladly take the nightmares if only to feel a little relief from the pain in your damaged hands. Words can’t really describe the feeling of sheer dread festering in your stomach as you look up through the gaps in the branched roof of your shelter. Any sound you hear brings images of those ravagers that attacked you the other day. You close your eyes and see the sharp tipped horns on the cow skulls. The wind blows and you swear you can hear the necklace of human teeth rattling around the man’s neck as he leans in and sniffs your hair. And you can smell his rancid breath as he whispers in your ear, “you’ll be very useful, little bird.”

Your eyes snap open and you sit up with a start. Your thoughts had warped themselves into a dream. A nightmare. It seems that’s all you have anymore.

The next day brings dark gray clouds and along with them, rain. It comes down in daggers, slicing through the thick canopy of trees and into your layers of clothes. Luckily, it doesn’t reach your skin. You can’t imagine being stuck out here without the right protection. Actually, you could imagine it. In fact, you’ve seen it first hand plenty of times.

The first few times the acid rain came down were the worst. No matter what you had covering you, if it wasn’t something absolutely waterproof, you were going to get burned. You still have the faint, pink, scarred patches to prove it. So many others weren’t lucky enough to get away with such little damage. Eyes glazed over, fingers so scarred they couldn’t bend, lungs rasping, shriveled and dying. It was awful. But Taehyung prepared you for the worst. He’s kept you alive thus far.

It’s another long, painful day of trekking through the woods. Nothing but the sounds of your boots crunching on the dirt fill your ears. Animals and birds don’t even make noise anymore. Silence is a matter of survival these days.

It’s getting dark and you’re about to mention something about it when Jungkook catches a glimpse of a cabin a little ways ahead. You haven’t seen any houses or other signs of life for a while and the freeway hasn’t been visible for hours so this seems to be your safest bet to get some rest.

The closer you get to the cabin, the easier it is to see just what kind of people lived in it. The slanted roof looks to be made out of stainless steel and sits atop concrete walls. It seems like whoever built it really knew what they were doing. And judging from the lack of cracks and crumbling, it was built within the last few years. Maybe just after the wars started. Probably because of the wars.

The three of you make your way to the door cautiously, all eyes on the two barred windows in case anyone is home. You follow behind Taehyung and Jungkook, your boots barely making a sound as you make your way up onto the covered, concrete porch.

Taehyung tries the handle but, unsurprisingly, it’s locked.

“Do you think someone’s here?” Jungkook asks and a shiver runs down your spine.

“There’s one way to find out,” Taehyung says then brings the butt of his handgun up and raps it hard on the metal door. The sound bounces off the trees surrounding you, throwing it back from a million different directions. Surely, someone heard that.

You wait for a long while in silence. You hold your breath and strain your ears, searching for any sign of life. Voices, footsteps, anything. Instead, only the quiet waits on the other side of the door. Taehyung hits his gun hard against the metal again and you about jump out of your skin. More waiting. More silence.

“Now what?” you ask. It’s getting colder and your breath paints the air with fog. You turn to Jungkook and see him biting his bottom lip in thought; his narrowed eyes study the door.

Finally, a grin breaks through his hard stare. “I have an idea,” he says and reaches into his jacket. After rustling around in one of the inner pockets for a second, he pulls out a couple shotgun shells. “I’m sure I’ve told you I used to be a bit of a pyro when I was younger,” he says kneeling on the floor.

“Actually, no,” you say surprised.

“Hopefully this will work. Can I have one of your knives?”

You stick your leg out toward him and he pulls one of the blades out of your thigh holster with a smirk. Taehyung rolls his eyes at your obvious flirting and lets out an exasperated sigh. It never bothered the old Tae.

Jungkook rips a dry piece of cloth from the edge of his shirt and lays it flat on the ground. Then he takes your knife and cuts the plastic casing on one of the shotgun shells in half. With a couple quick taps against the cloth, the gunpowder comes loose from the shell and pours out. He does the same with the other one, creating a little black pile on top of the material. Then he picks up the corners and twists them together, creating a little sack.

You and Taehyung step away from the door as Jungkook stands up. He takes your knife and pierces through the cloth, wedging the blade into the tiny crack between the door and the jam right next to the deadbolt. Then he turns around, confidence gleaming in his dark eyes.

“I need you to shoot that,” he says to Taehyung and points back at the little sack of powder. “If you can create a spark, it should ignite the gun powder and blast the lock.”

Taehyung nods impressed. “Let’s try it.”

The three of you hop back off the porch and stop when you’re at the edge of the clearing. You brush the back of your hand against Jungkook’s as Taehyung pulls the hammer back on his gun and raises his arms. You hope this works.

The world is silent for a long moment as Taehyung takes aim. Then a crack splits the air and the bullet hits the metal door with a loud ping, sending a spark jumping near the middle of the door. Almost. He curses under his breath and takes aim again. This time when he pulls the trigger, a much louder bang rattles your ears and a hole appears in the concrete beside the door.

Taehyung lets out a loud laugh and turns to give Jungkook a high five. Jungkook slaps it hard, a proud smile on his face. Then Taehyung turns to you next and you flex your fingers at your sides. They crack painfully. You just give Taehyung a wincing smile and a nod and he drops his hand, frowning back at you.

The three of you don’t waste anymore time and hurry back onto the porch with a bounce in your steps. Jungkook’s bomb blew a big chunk of concrete out, leaving a gaping, smoking hole. The edge of the door looks like it’s been punched by the Hulk and your knife is nowhere to be found. Surely, it was destroyed in the blast.

The door swings open easily now on its hinges and Taehyung steps inside cautiously. You don’t really see the point in sneaking in since anyone within a twenty mile radius would have heard the explosion.

Taehyung gives you the all-clear and you shuffle in behind Jungkook. The place is dark but the fading light behind you illuminates the small room enough that you can make out the walls and furniture. A couch is positioned in the middle of the room facing a cold, dead fireplace and a vase of sticks sits on a little table next to the couch. You’re guessing those sticks were flowers at one point but withered and died a long time ago.

“Why would someone want to lock a living room behind steel and concrete?” You ask bringing your hand up to touch a shriveled flower stem. It crumbles in your fingers.

“This can’t be it,” Taehyung says. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. Instead, he begins stomping around on the wood floor. The furniture shutters and the vase dances across the table. You nudge it with your hip before it can fall off the edge and watch as Jungkook stomps his foot repeatedly in one spot next to the couch.

“Is that necessary?” Taehyung asks loudly.

Without a word, Jungkook hefts his shotgun on his shoulder and shoves the couch toward the fireplace. It scrapes across the floor, riding along in grooves scratched into the wood and revealing a trap door with a metal handle.

“I figured,” he mutters to himself and wraps his fingers around the handle. With one strong pull, the door opens and Jungkook throws it back. You all peer down into the dark hole in the floor.

“What do you think is down there?” you ask quietly.

Jungkook shrugs. “Whatever it is, the people that built this place wanted to keep it safe.”

With a heavy sigh, Taehyung starts down the stairs into the dark. You go next then Jungkook follows behind you. You hear a click ahead of you as Taehyung palms his handgun and a few more from behind as Jungkook pulls his shotgun off his shoulder and holds it at the ready. Your hand hovers over your thigh holster where your four knives are nestled.

The stairs creak as you continue your descent into the dark. The air around you grows colder and damper and you’re just starting to wonder how far down into the earth these stairs go when your foot hits the ground instead of another concrete step.

Something smells awful.

Your one hand gropes the wall next to you while the other touches a handle of one of your knives. Another wave of dread trickles down your spine and you pray you don’t have to fight anyone down here. Your hands ache at the thought.

As you move through the darkness, you bump into Taehyung and then Jungkook presses into you blindly from behind. The three of you stand there in silence. There’s a faint humming sound almost like a truck driving in the distance.

“Do you hear that?” Jungkook asks next to your ear.

“Sounds like humming,” Taehyung replies.

A faint flicker catches your eye on the wall up ahead and you peer around him. Squinting in the darkness, you see another flicker. “What’s that?” you whisper. “Up ahead.”

Taehyung seems to see it just then too because he lifts his pistol again and starts creeping forward. You and Jungkook follow close behind. As your eyes adjust, the walls begin to appear around you and you realize you’re heading down a long hallway. Surely, this lower level spreads out much further than the structure above your heads. Who knows how far it goes?

As you continue down the hall, the humming grows fainter while the flickering light becomes more obvious up ahead, along with the terrible rotten smell. You bring your scarf back up to cover your face but it doesn’t seem to help much. It’s hard to keep from gagging as you reach the glowing doorway. Taehyung stops and peeks into the room. A muffled curse escapes from behind his gloved hand and he turns toward you, away from the room. The stench is unbearable.

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, his own words muffled by his hand.

Taehyung’s eyes are barely visible in the glow. “What do you think?”

You make your way around him and step into the room, feeling the full blown stench hit you like a tidal wave. Only one thing can give off a smell like this. Rotting flesh.

There are three bodies, dark and bruised, all in different stages of decomposition. They lay on a bed, a man and woman on either side of another man in the middle. He looks younger than the others, and more recently dead. In fact, if not for the bullet hole in his temple, he’d almost look like he was sleeping.

The glow you saw from the hall comes from a row of candles set atop a dresser in the corner. How are they still burning? Who could have lit them? You turn back to the guy laying between the couple on the bed. Unless…

“I think he killed himself recently,” you say from behind your scarf. Jungkook and Taehyung are both standing in the doorway and looking around the room. “He must have lit the candles. It couldn’t have been long ago.”

Jungkook steps inside and walks up beside you, his hand still tightly covering his mouth and nose. “What’s that?” he asks pointing his gun to the man’s chest. Something around his neck glimmers in the candlelight. You make your way around the bed and lean in.

“A key,” you say. You lean in closer still so you can see better. The teeth are dulled and flecked with something white. Looks almost like paint. Your eyes shift and focus on the wall across from you. “Look,” you whisper and point to the words scratched into the plaster.

“This isn’t life,” Taehyung says, reading the words out loud.

Sadness pierces through your disgust and stabs at your heart as you look down again at the man. Judging by the smell and how they look, the other two have been dead for a while. How long was this man alone for before he finally just gave up? Even with your hand and a layer of material between you and the air, the stench is beginning to make you dizzy.

“I have to get out of here,” you wheeze, stepping away from the bed and hurrying past Jungkook and Taehyung before breaking into a run. You race blindly back down the hall and up the stairs into the living room, your hand still covering your mouth. When you finally make it back out the front door, you let out the breath you’ve been holding.

You’re in the middle of sucking as much clean air into your lungs as you can when Taehyung and Jungkook come stumbling out after you. The three of you spend a few agonizing minutes coughing and just trying to get the memory of that smell out of your heads.

“So what do we do?” Jungkook finally asks between heaving breaths.

Tae straightens up from his crouch. “Well,” he says. “If we can figure out a way to seal that room off down there, we’ll have a place to sleep. It looked like there were other doors in that hallway. Maybe it’ll be safe for the night.”

You cough and spit out the stomach acid that has made its way up your throat. “I don’t think I can go back down there,” you crack.

Something wet hits the back of your hand and begins to sizzle. You quickly wipe it away and look up. It’s starting to rain.

“We can’t stay out here,” Jungkook says and stands up. He flips his hood up to shield his neck and head. “I have an idea.”

“You’re just chock full of them today,” Taehyung says and you and him follow Jungkook back into the house.

You help him rip the cushions off the sofa and then Jungkook starts back downstairs. As you descend after him, the smell comes up to meet you and you clamp your mouth shut tight as your stomach lurches and fire starts up your throat.

“Just breathe through your mouth,” he says as you hurry toward the end of the hall.

You grab the neck of your coat with your free hand and press it against your face. “That’s almost worse,” you say swallowing hard.

Taehyung takes the cushion out from under your other arm and steps around you. “You go in there,” he says and nods toward a door a little bit behind you. “See if it’s livable.”

After giving him a delirious nod, you turn around, grateful you don’t have to go back into that room of death. The door is made of the same metal as the front door and the roof and seems just as impenetrable. Luckily, it’s unlocked. It takes a couple pushes but with a little effort, it finally budges, scraping across the cement floor. The gritty sound makes your teeth rattle but you keep pushing with your shoulder until there is a big enough space for you to slip through.

From down the hall, you can hear the boys cursing and coughing as they work but when you step into the room, their voices immediately cut out and you’re greeted by pitch dark silence. At least, it would be silent if not for that strange humming sound.

You sit there for a minute with your back resting against the door. You can’t feel it through your layers of clothes but your hands are still naked and the metal feels ice cold against the burns on your palms.

The stale air makes it kind of hard to breathe but at least the dead person smell isn’t as bad. You’re too afraid to step forward, especially without knowing how big the room is or what’s in it. For all you know, you could be standing in a broom closet.

Keeping your back to the wall, you slide to the right—at least this way maybe you can figure out how big it is. You only make it about a foot before something small and hard pokes into your back. You grope at the concrete wall until you find the aggressor. A light switch. Curiously, you flick it up and jump when another hum joins the first. Suddenly, the room springs into focus, a single fluorescent light washing the small room in a pale, greenish glow.

So the humming must be some sort of generator, maybe in one of the other rooms in the hallway. As you peer around the room, you feel your throat begin to close up. Not from the smell of death but from the beautiful sight in front of you.

Cans and boxes and tubs of food—wonderful, glorious, not peas and hotdogs, food—are stacked on top of each other on two big shelves in one corner and in another sits five big jugs of water.

You hear Taehyung and Jungkook come back into the hallway and push the door open further behind you. But you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away from the wonderful scene before you.

“Look at all this food,” you whisper.

Taehyung steps past you making his way to the shelf and picks up a can. “The guy could have easily lived for months in here if he hadn’t offed himself like that,” he says, his words tinged with disgust.

“Then what?” Jungkook asks. Finally, you turn around to look at him. The fluorescent light above reflects in both of his eyes like two fireflies. “He would just be prolonging the inevitable.”

You look back at Taehyung again to find him shaking his head. “It was weak of him.”

“You saw the writing on the wall yourself, Tae,” you say. “This isn’t life.” And you raise your hands in the air as if to present this place to him, nestled in this dead forest on this dead planet.

But again, you look at Jungkook. His golden skin shines even through the dirt and his smile warms your insides and though that dead guy was right, though this terrible thing you’re living isn’t something you can really call life, at least you’re sharing it with Jungkook. And at least you’re going to get to eat.

There’s more in the room than just food and water but you didn’t really notice at first. Two mattresses are pushed up against the walls adjacent to the one with the door and a big safe sits against the wall between the food and water.

“What do you think is in there?” you ask stepping curiously toward it.

Jungkook drops the can he was opening with a knife and gets closer to the safe to inspect it. “It looks like one of those heavy duty gun safes. There’s no combination lock though.”

“We can worry about cracking it later,” Taehyung says cutting him off. “I’m hungrier than a ravager right now.”

Just the mention of the ravagers has shivers going up your back but you try not to let the boys notice. It doesn’t matter. You’re safe—for now anyway—and there is a ton of food in front of you. The three of you will feast tonight.

Being underground, the place isn’t very warm so you push the two mattresses together and you sleep between the two boys. You remember a few late nights spent over at their dorm in college when you’d be chilling on Jungkook’s bed studying and Taehyung would come over and cuddle up to you, throwing his arms around you because he always had trouble falling asleep unless he was hugging something. Usually it was his own pillow or sometimes even Jungkook but once in a while, you ended up unintentionally becoming his cuddle buddy. Of course he hasn’t done that since before everything and now he sleeps with his back to you.

Laying awake, listening to their steady breathing has become a normal occurrence for you. You’re always the last to fall asleep. As far as you know, you’re the only one that doesn’t welcome it with open arms. You shift uncomfortably and put one of your hands on your stomach, feeling the weird, hill shape of your full belly. It’s strange, this feeling of being full. You’ve experienced it so few times over the course of the last few years and now it’s happened twice in just a couple days. Your body doesn’t seem to like it. You’re tired brain, however, loves it. Like it’s fuel for your dreams and now your mind can take off, if only you close your eyes and allow it to go.

But you’re not about to let that happen.

Careful not to wake the sleeping boys on either side of you, you scoot down until you’re at the edge of the mattress then get up quietly. You’d left the door propped open, which is a good thing since trying to open it yourself would probably be loud enough to wake the dead people down the hall. When you slip out into the dark passage, you smell the faint scent of death in the air but it isn’t nearly as strong as it was before Jungkook and Taehyung sealed the room with the couch cushions. You start in the opposite direction and make your way up the stairs, the only sound besides the hum of the generator being the sound of your boots on the steps.

The hatch creaks open when you press on it and you wince, waiting for any sounds of stirring below but nothing happens. You’re sure Jungkook has woken up plenty of times to find the spot next to him empty. He knows about your nightmares and he knows that they’re about the past but you’ve never actually told him that they’re about Taehyung. It would only make him sulk anyway.

You step up into the room above the ground and close the hatch carefully behind you. The wall surrounding the front door is completely destroyed. Cracks fissure out from the hole like veins and branch out, threatening to make the whole wall crumble. The night seeps in, tingeing everything with the acrid, acidic smell of the rain. It still comes down in sheets outside. You can hear it rather than see it. The couch, now stripped of its cushions is pushed up against the fireplace, which probably hasn’t had a fire made in it in a very long time.

There’s only a tiny bit of light from the dark gray tinted sky—it’s never fully black anymore—and your eyes are adjusted well enough that you can make out the shapes of things hanging on the wall behind you. You make your way over and squint through the dim light at the framed pictures hanging on the wall. Faded faces smile back at you.

The biggest picture is one of those classic family portraits you might have taken professionally at a department store. Looking at the man and woman standing behind the younger boy, you immediately think of the three bodies downstairs. Obviously this was taken a long time ago as even the freshly dead man looked like he was in his late twenties instead of a teenager like in the picture. There’s another photo next to the big one of just the boy and his father. A candid shot of them playing basketball in a driveway outside a big white house. Surely, they moved these photos here from where they lived before, you know, to make the place seem more like a home and less like a bomb shelter.

You turn around again to face the gaping hole and make your way out onto the porch. The rain on the metal awning sounds more like bullets than water and it drowns out your thoughts.

Good.

That’s exactly what you want it to do. You turn around again to look at the back wall with the collage of photographs and pull a knife out of the harness under your arm. Your burned fingers hurt so bad you can barely close them around the hilt.

You can barely hold it, let alone throw it. You’d be useless in a fight and you really don’t like that. You were useless when The Virus broke out, killing your friends and family. Useless when Taehyung was trapped in the lab, having God-knows what done to him. Useless when those ravagers attacked you the other morning. Useless under that dead man when the raiders took over the lab.

Not anymore.

You close your fist around the knife, hissing through your teeth and focusing all your attention on the wall across from you. You’re done being useless.

The throbbing ache eventually subsides enough that you feel you can try throwing the knife. You raise your arm, crossing it over your body. Searing pain spreads from your hand and starts making its way up and you begin to breathe hard through your nose. It takes you a minute to push past the dizzying pain and nausea.

Then with a quick flick, you let go of the knife and it lodges between two pictures in the tiny space you aimed for. A sense of pride blooms in your chest, dulling the pain for a brief moment. You take that second of relief to reach for two more knives, one from your thigh holster and another from under your arm. Then you turn so you’re facing the porch and close your eyes, pushing the stinging in your hands out of your mind.

With a quick pivot on your heels, you spin, hurling the knives toward the wall. Each one nestles into the plaster, buried to their hilts on either side of the big family portrait. Even with your hands feeling like they’re on fire, pride warms your insides and you can’t keep the grin off your face.

You still got it.

The rain continues to come down hard behind you and drowns out any other sound in a pleasant rhythm. You find yourself falling into almost a meditative state as you continue throwing your knives against the wall, always purposefully missing the pictures. Though your damaged hands aren’t bothering you so much anymore, you know they’re really going to hurt tomorrow. Maybe there’s some medical supplies somewhere down in the bunker. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow when the boys are awake.

After throwing your last knife, you go to retrieve them for the nth time. The rain is still coming down pretty hard and you’re starting to feel the fatigue. Maybe one more run through then you’ll call it a night and just deal with the nightmares. It’s not like you haven’t had them enough times already.

The rain drowns out your footsteps as you make your way toward the wall again. In the gray light, you can just barely make out the trees in the reflection of the glass in the picture frames. It’s hard trying to work the knives back out of the plastered wall but you manage to get two out and are working on the third one when movement in the picture catches your eye.

Your fingers flip the knives in each hand and you spin around, snapping your wrists in time to watch as they bury themselves into the neck of a masked person.

No please. Not here. Not now.

They go down and you watch in horror as several more figures, blurred by the rain, make their way out of the forest. Again, you swivel around and grip two more knives, tugging hard with all your strength. They don’t budge. You pull erratically, the burned skin on your palms tearing, making your hands slick. Running footsteps make their way toward you and you yank hard, finally getting the blades unstuck. Without missing a beat, you turn to meet the raider and dodge out of the way of his crowbar as it slices through the air at you. As you roll, you thrust one of the knives forward, aiming for the artery on the inside of his thigh. Immediately, bright red blood blooms under the material of his pants and his muffled scream cuts through the sound of the rain. Your eyes dart to the trap door only a few feet away. Still on the ground, you roll forward and pull the handle ignoring the pain in your freshly opened wounds. A gap just big enough for you to fit through appears and you slip in, shutting it behind you before stumbling down the stairs in the dark.

The ruckus from above is deafening and when you reach the room the boys are in, they’re already awake and making their way out the door. Taehyung runs right past you down the hall as the trap door flies open again and feet start pounding down the stairs.

“My knives are up there,” you say to Jungkook. He meets your eyes for a second then pulls you behind him and pumps his shotgun. Again, you find yourself rendered completely useless but for the two knives clenched in your damaged hands. You’re pissed.

Grunts and gunshots erupt from down the hall causing Jungkook to jump into action and charge after Taehyung into the darkness. There has to be something you can do.

From inside the storage room, the lights flicker and your eyes fall on the safe. You furrow your brow, studying the lock. It needs a key. The key! Without another thought, you run out of the room, crouching low and covering your head when a shotgun blast rings out as you sprint for the death room.

You choke back the bile rising in your throat as you throw yourself against the door. Taehyung and Jungkook did a pretty good job at sealing it off and it takes you a few more hits before the door finally opens, the stench of death pouring out into the hallway. You hold your breath and run into the darkened room. Since you can’t see anything, you head in the general direction of the bed and feel your way around. Your eyes burn and your lungs beg for air as you search. When your hand hits a shoe, you pat your way up the dead man’s leg, up his stomach and to his chest where the chain and key lay still nestled in his shirt. Without a second to think, you grasp it and yank hard, ripping it from around his neck. Another gunshot and a grunt has you running back out of there, leaving the door wide open.

When you get back to the storage room, your fingers—tacky with fluid from your oozing burns—tremble as you try to fit the key into the slot on the safe. Finally, it slips in and you turn it. The lock clicks and you throw the door open to reveal a small arsenal inside. There are three rifles and several handguns of various calibers on a rack on the back wall. Quickly, you grab the nearest rifle and rush back out into the hallway.

All you can do is pray the thing is already loaded.

“Boys, hit the floor!” you scream into the darkness as you unlock the bolt. You wait for only a second then pull the trigger. To your surprise, a long string of shots ring out, igniting the darkness in front of you and you almost drop it. In the sporadic light given off by the obviously modified gun, you watch as several bodies jerk and hit the floor. Finally, you stop and run forward hoping that 1. You hit all the raiders and 2. You didn’t hit Jungkook or Taehyung.

Even as you make your way toward the stairs, more raiders come down through the trap door. Where are they coming from and why are they all suddenly banding together?

The three of you need to get out of there. You let off another string of shots, taking out the ones on the stairs as you run. The air is filled with smoke and the smell of gun powder and blood and death. You hear Taehyung grunt somewhere near you and a shadow falls to the ground.

Jungkook calls your name. He sounds close. The blast of a shotgun rattles your ears. “We need to get upstairs!”

“I’ll clear a path!” you yell back and again pull the trigger on the rifle in your hands. More shots fire and more bodies fall away. You don’t know if or where the boys are behind you but you start up the stairs, taking out everything in your path and don’t stop shooting until you’re up on ground level.

Your eyes immediately go to your throwing knives stuck in the wall and you rush over to them, dodging out of the way of a hatchet. It barely misses you, biting into the wooden floor and sending splinters into the air. You let off a round in another man’s chest and then there’s nothing between you and your knives. The gun is light enough for you to hold with one hand while you use the other to work at getting your blades unstuck.

“Y/N!”

You quickly duck just as the hatchet sticks into the wall and you spin, jabbing the knife you hold into your attacker’s side. He falls away and you sheath your knife before turning around to retrieve the rest. You’re missing two.

Jungkook lets out a curse behind you and you turn again to see him struggling against two raiders. You can’t use the rifle, you might hit him. Where’s Taehyung? You search frantically and spot him out on the porch trying to get his gun away from another masked person.

No one seems to notice you now. You could use this to your advantage. Your eyes land on a raider lying dead on the ground with your last two throwing knives in his chest. You drop the rifle and lunge forward, grabbing the knives by their hilts. They come loose from the guy’s chest in an arc of blood as you spring into the air, aiming for the raider in front of Jungkook. The guy doesn’t even have a chance to react. Your legs clamp onto his sides, throwing him off balance and you stab the knives into the back of his neck. He goes down and you go with him, hitting your knees hard on the wooden floor. The sound of Jungkook’s shotgun connecting with bone resonates in your ears as you scurry back to your feet. You have all your knives again—minus the one Jungkook blew up earlier. Now you need to go.

As if you’re on the same wavelength, Jungkook puts his hand on your back and shoves you forward. You take down two more raiders on your way out onto the porch. Tae is already ahead of you, his figure blurred by the pouring rain. As soon as the raindrops hit your skin, you can feel them burn and you quickly throw your hood up.

The three of you keep running. Running away from the raiders. Running away from food and shelter and clean water. Away from the place that you thought would be your safe haven.

You run for a while through the dark, foggy forest. Wet strands of hair slap against your face and you shake them off as they start to burn. Your whole body tingles but you don’t know if it’s from the rain or the adrenaline coursing through you. By the time the rain finally subsides, the sky is getting lighter and you have no idea where you are.

While Taehyung curses at the sky and kicks at any plant unfortunate enough to be growing near him, you tangle your burning hands into your hair and try to keep from crying. You can feel the hot, angry tears coming anyway and throw your fist at a tree, clipping it and scraping the skin off your knuckles.

“Y/N, it’s okay,” Jungkook says pulling you back so you don’t hurt yourself more.

Blood still flows freely from a cut at his hairline. “You’re hurt,” you gasp hysterically.

“I’m alright. It’s okay.”

The rage in you just burns hotter and the tears spill down your face and you whirl around and start yelling at him. “Don’t say that!” you screech and push him hard. “Tell me anything else!” You’re off the handle by this point and grasp his jacket in your clenched fists. “Just tell me we’re going to die. Tell me the world is ending and there’s nothing I can do about it because if I hear ‘it’s going to be okay’ one more time, I’ll explode!” Your breaths come out in thick puffs of fog and Taehyung has gone silent behind you.

Jungkook leans in close and furrows his eyebrows. “Well, one of us has to be the optimist here,” he snaps.

You let go of his jacket and step back. “Who thought it would be you?”

“Yeah, I guess I should be the one punching trees, right?”

You look back at Taehyung who’s standing there looking down at his gun, unclipping and re-clipping the magazine over and over.

“You’re different, you know,” you finally say looking back at Jungkook. “I mean, we all are.”

Again, Jungkook steps forward, this time leaning in close, touching his forehead to yours. “But I still love you the same as I did before all this. That will never change.”

You close your eyes, clinging to those words like they’re a life preserver and you’re lost at sea. You want to say that you love him back. You want to thank him for at least trying to make you feel better. But it seems the adrenaline is wearing off and, along with it, whatever was dulling the pain in your wrecked hands.

A cry escapes your throat and you keel forward onto your knees, pushing your palms against your rain-dampened pants. That’s probably the worst thing you can do. The acid just adds to the pain and you clench your teeth hard against the scream as it tears from your throat.

Jungkook puts his hands on you and tries to pull you up but you can’t unfold yourself. You can’t let him see your hands.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asks in a panic.

“My hands,” you finally gasp out.

“Let me see.”

“No!” At this point you’re more afraid of seeing how bad they look than you are of the inevitable infection.

Taehyung stomps over just then and grabs your wrists, yanking them up toward him so he can see the burns. Jungkook steps back swearing. “Y/N, what did you do?” he asks.

It’s worse than you thought. With the tears in your eyes, you can’t see the details but just the colors are enough to strike fear in you. An awful mixture of red, green, black and white stains your palms.

Taehyung drops your arms in disgust. “They’re infected.”

“Yeah, you think?” Jungkook barks angrily. “She needs medicine.”

“No kidding, genius. But where do you expect to get that?”

“Well we have to do something!”

You can’t tear your eyes away from your hands. You knew this would happen. You should have told them when it first occurred. You should have looked for medicine or anything back at the bunker. You should have done a lot of things but you didn’t.

Taehyung takes the pack he got from the roamer off his back and lets it fall on the ground. “What are you doing?” you ask weakly as he starts to dig.

“I filled up this puny little canteen with some water last night,” he says and shakes the bottle at you as he stands up and makes his way toward you. He uncaps it. “It won’t heal you but if I can clean your wounds a bit, it’ll buy us more time.” He wrenches your wrists out again so your palms are up and holds the canteen over them. His eyes lock on yours and for a second you think you see a flicker of sympathy.

“This is gonna hurt,” he says gravely then tips the canteen.

You watch as a crystal clear stream of water pours from the opening and splashes onto your hands. Clenching your eyes shut, you grit your teeth as the cold water fills your hands. Jungkook lets off another string of curses from behind you. After several agonizing seconds, you rip your hands out of Taehyung’s hold and cradle them against your chest.

“So you thought to fill the canteen but didn’t think to see if there was a medical kit anywhere?” Jungkook yells coming up behind you.

Taehyung screws the cap back on the half empty container. “I was going to look around more after we slept but then we were attacked because someone decided to set off a freaking bomb and let the whole world know where we were!”

“You’re the one that shot it!”

“You told me to!”

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter. “ENOUGH!”

Jungkook and Taehyung stop. The sudden silence is pervasive enough that for a second, all you can hear is your own heart thundering against your ribs. Slowly, you open your eyes and lift your head to look at the boys. The excruciating pain rushed out of your body along with your scream and now your hands just throb. “I should probably bandage these so they don’t get worse,” you utter.

Jungkook comes over and helps you up, careful not to touch your hands as Taehyung starts digging through his pack again to see if there’s anything you can use. He pulls out some cloth that at first confuses you before you remember that the roamer had packed “a little something extra” for you. At least it’ll serve some purpose even if not the one it was originally intended for.

“This is probably the cleanest thing you’re going to get,” Taehyung says and steps toward you.

You shrink back reflexively but hold your palms out to him. It seems like he’s trying to be at least kind of gentle as he wraps the cloth around your hands. It’s not enough to cover all of the damage but at least the worst of it is now protected from the elements. As he pulls the knot tight, a wave of nausea hits and you groan through your teeth. Jungkook’s arms come up to hook under your own as your knees go weak.

“I think something’s wrong,” he says in a low voice and brings a hand up to touch your cheek. “She’s burning up.”

“Of course she is,” Taehyung spits. “That’s how infections work.”

As the last ounce of adrenaline leaves your body, your vision starts to blur and you slump back against Jungkook. You can tell he’s worried without having to look at him as he holds you against his chest. “Well we need to get help.”

Taehyung’s shadow darkens the space behind your eyelids. “You sure know how to state the obvious, don’t you, Kook?”

Without another word, Jungkook turns and then you’re moving. Your legs dangle over one of his arms and your shoulder rests against his other. You feel sleep trying to take you under and for the first time in a long time, you welcome it.

Your weakening body gives you plenty of time alone, shutting out the world and locking yourself in your own mind. Memories fill your head like fog, making your thoughts slow and blurry. Somewhere behind the fog, you can see images just barely clear enough that you recognize the faces of your parents. Like looking at clouds on a nice day, you watch as their faces morph into others. You see classmates and professors, friends and family.

You drift in and out of consciousness a lot and every time you do, the scenery has changed. Sometimes it’s your dreams that wake you up. Sometimes it’s Jungkook or Taehyung jostling you whenever they trade off carrying you. Sometimes it’s the sensation of cool water flowing over your dry lips and down your parched throat. All of it, though, is dulled by the haze of your fever. You feel like a bubble of hot air is surrounding you, yet you can’t seem to stop shivering.

“Y/N.”

You let out a groan and shift, rolling onto your side. The ground is hard below you and the wind feels cool on your hot skin. When you manage to pry your eyelids apart, light sears your retinas and they fall shut again.

“Sweetheart.” It’s Jungkook. “You have to wake up. You need to eat something.”

You let out another groan. It seems that’s all you can do now. You’re too weak to talk. Too weak to shake your head. You don’t want to eat. In fact, you’re the farthest a person could possibly get from being hungry.

“Come on, Y/N,” Jungkook urges and you lift an eyelid a crack. It takes too much effort to keep your eyes open so you let them fall shut again.

You seriously feel like this is it. You’re out in the middle of the forest, somewhere south-ish of Seoul—however south, you have no idea—and you’re halfway gone and slipping faster with every sick beat of your heart. It’s okay though. You’re perfectly content with falling asleep and never waking back up. What is there to keep you going? Besides Jungkook. But even he doesn’t seem like enough now. Not after everything. Not anymore.

“Come on, baby, you have to eat something.”

“She can’t,” Taehyung says from somewhere to your left. “She’s too weak.”

Just let me die, you want to say. Just keep going and find food and shelter and others like us and live a long life.

“She has to,” Jungkook fires back. You really wish they would stop fighting. The faint smell of cooked meat invades your fevered senses and you roll to try and get away from it. “Come on, Y/N.”

Again, you make an attempt at opening your burning eyelids a crack but whatever that bright light was the first time is still there. Jungkook lets out a sigh like he’s giving up. Just let me sleep. Just let me go. Then you feel his hand, like ice, on your cheek and he swears under his breath.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t burst into flames.” A rustling sound coming from the general direction of where Taehyung had been standing makes Jungkook’s fingers stiffen against your skin. “Tae?”

His hand leaves your cheek as he stands up. Then the sound of his boot crunching the ground right in front of your face has you picturing him stepping over you.

“Tae? Are you alright?” he asks, worry in his voice. “Tae?”

You pry your eyes open again and squint through the glare to see Jungkook’s crouching silhouette by a crumpled body on the ground. His shotgun sticks out like an extra appendage as he scans the area around you. Then something whistles through the air over your head sending him flat on his back with a jerk.

If you could, you would scream but you barely have enough energy to keep your eyes open. And with that blinding white light making it even more difficult, there’s no hope. You watch helplessly, blinking slowly, your eyelids getting heavier, the fog seeping out of your brain to blur the world around you. The last thing you see is a boot crunch the leaves in front of your face. But you just can’t hold your eyes open any longer and they fall shut, locking you out of the world. Maybe for good.

You’re drowning.

Black water surrounds you, warm and constricting, pushing against your chest like it’s trying to squeeze every last ounce of air from your lungs. You try to kick, try to push back with your arms, try to make your way to the surface but the darkness wraps itself around you, binding your limbs and making it impossible to move. You can see the surface above your head. The sun shines, shimmering off the water and casting a moving web of shadows down on you. Your lungs ache and your eyes burn as you look down into the darkness below. It seems that is where you’re heading. And there’s no use fighting it. So you give up your thrashing and let yourself sink farther into the black.

“Wake up. Come on. Wake up.”

Your eyelids creak open, resisting a little as you break through the gunk that glues them shut. Everything blurs together in a confusing swirl of colors and blobby shapes and your disoriented brain can’t tell what you’re looking at. Even as a pair of dark, feline eyes come into focus. You lick your cracked lips and taste salt. Along with that, the fact that you’re drenched immediately reminds you that you were just sinking into the depths of a dark sea.

The serious face of a light haired man materializes behind the dark eyes. “Do you know your name?” he asks steadily. His voice is deep.

You push air out of your lungs to speak but your voice won’t catch. It takes you a second to muster up the strength. “Y/N,” you finally wheeze. Your eyes wander past him to the corrugated metal ceiling.

“Do you know what day it is?”

You look back at him. “Does anyone anymore?”

One corner of his lips lift into an amused smirk. “I’m Yoongi,” he says.

You sit up slowly, pushing off the threadbare blanket that covers you. The floor of wherever you lay is the same metal as the low ceiling and close walls. A thin sleeping mat and a slat of plywood seems to be the only thing cushioning you from the cold, hard floor.

“Where am I?” you finally ask. But before Yoongi can answer, a terrifying memory surfaces in your mind. “Jungkook and Tae. Are they alright? Are they alive?”

“Whoa, calm down there,” he says putting his hands on your shoulders to keep you from jumping to your feet. “If you mean those two guys Jimin shot, we’re holding them in a different car.”

You feel like an ice block is dropped on your stomach. “Who’s Jimin? Wait, he did what? Why would he shoot them?”

Yoongi furrows his brow. “What were we supposed to do? The black haired one was—”

“Jungkook.”

“Okay, Jungkook was standing over you and you weren’t moving. What were we supposed to think?”

He has a point. “Well, are they okay?” you ask.

“Better off than you,” he says crossing his arms. “You almost didn’t make it, you know. We didn’t know if we were going to be able to save your hands.”

In a moment of panic you lift your arms to your face and sigh in relief at the sight of your hands, wrapped in clean, white bandages. When you flex your fingers and they wiggle, you feel like you’re about to cry. “How long have I been out?”

“A few days. Your fever finally broke about an hour ago.” So that’s why you’re so damp. Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh like he forgives you for your previous accusations then turns toward the wall and puts his hands against it. With a hard push, he slides the wall open, flooding the dim, metal room with light. Then he turns back around to face you. “You can take a hot shower if you’d like.”

You’re too startled by his words at first to speak. “I’m sorry. Did you just say a hot shower?” you finally crack

Again that amused smirk lifts the corner of his mouth and he hops, landing on the ground outside a few feet below the floor. “Yes, a shower. Ever heard of one?”

“I know what a shower is,” you snap. “I just don’t understand how a hot one is possible. And what about the acid in the water?”

“No acid in the water here,” Yoongi says with a shrug. “Hobi just heated up some more. Shower’s two cars down.” Then he disappears around the corner leaving you to stare baffled after him.

You spring to your feet, immediately swaying from weakness and you give your head a shake to clear it. Your three coats and boots lay on the floor next to the mat you were laying on but you don’t bother picking them up. All you can do is stare at the trees outside, green and dappled with sunlight.

Sunlight!

You can’t remember the last time you saw sunlight. This is too good to be true. You hop down and your socked feet land on gravel. Immediately, you spin slowly to take in your surroundings. Now you can see that the metal room was in fact the car of a train. Several cars extend to your left while even more stretch in the opposite direction and disappear around a bend in the tracks. Then you look up to the sky and suddenly you can’t breathe.

You’ve never seen anything so beautiful in your life. It’s completely and utterly blue. Not a blemish, not even a wisp of fog or gray cloud in sight. And the sun, the glorious sun, shines down on everything, touching the trees and the ground and you with its light. You have on just your t-shirt—worn thin from years of harsh and inconsistent washing—and for the first time in three years, you feel the sunlight and the air on your bare arms. You close your eyes as they well with tears of relief—the kind you thought you’d never cry again—and relish in the feeling of the warmth on your face.

A metal door slides open several cars down from you but you don’t open your eyes. Not until you hear the hurried footsteps. You barely have enough time to catch a glimpse of Jungkook’s black hair before his arms are around you and you’re suddenly in the air. Your own arms wrap around him and you bury your face in his neck. It’s so weird hugging him with so little material between the two of you but at the same time, it’s such a glorious feeling and you feel your throat tighten further.

Jungkook sets you down but neither of you seem to want to let go. Instead you cling tighter to each other your nose pressed against his throat, feeling his skin, smelling his skin. Oh, how you missed his skin. You feel him shiver and you don’t know if it’s from a gust of cool wind or the overwhelming emotions. Either way, you grip each other tighter, letting your thundering hearts speak for you in the silence.

It’s several moments before either of you say anything, but finally Jungkook is the first one to break the silence with a string of incoherent mumblings. You have to pull away and ask him to repeat what he said.

“I thought for sure it was all over,” he says shaking his head in disbelief.

Even though his words are full of sadness, you can’t help but smile as you notice the way the sun bounces off his golden skin, making him glow. Correction. Now, you’ve never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

He squeezes you around your waist and you meet his eyes again. His dark eyes that hold so much more life than they did the last time you looked into them. They sparkle like they haven’t in years. He studies you as if you might disappear if he looks away. “I thought I was going to lose you, Y/N.”

You bring one of your hands up and touch his jaw with your fingers. Where before there was always just barely a coat of stubble, there’s only smooth skin. He leans into your hand and you smile. “You shaved.”

The worry leaves Jungkook’s face and he brings his own hand up to cover yours. “Yeah,” he chuckles. “They have showers here.”

“I wondered why you smell so amazing,” you sigh then nuzzle your face back into the crook of his neck and breathe in deep. The captivating aroma of soap fills your head and you close your eyes, savoring the feel of his soft, clean skin against your mouth. Then you reluctantly pull away again. “How’s Tae?”

“Pretty pissed,” Jungkook says and reaches up to scratch the back of his neck.

“There’s a shocker.”

Jungkook lets out a snort and digs his hands into the pockets of the jeans he’s wearing. Apparently, they have extra clothes here too.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” you say and put a bandaged hand on his arm. “I suddenly feel unworthy of touching you.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything—hey!”

You smack him with the back of your hand before heading two cars down, your happiness made obvious by the bounce in your step. The train car is wide open so you climb in and look around. What looks like two bed sheets hang down on either side of you, blocking the two ends of the car off. The place is silent so you figure it’s safe to assume you’re alone and can pick either.

Let’s see what’s behind curtain number one. You push the sheet on your left to the side. The “shower” is a tube connected to some sort of foot pump on the ground and a bucket full of water. Another tube runs up the wall and ends above you at a shower head. You carefully step on the foot pump. The water in the bucket gurgles in response. Now full of curiosity, you quickly get undressed and put your clothes in a pile just outside the curtain so they won’t get wet.

The metal floor is ice cold on the bottoms of your feet and the little hairs all over your body stand straight up. Judging by the steam coming up out of the bucket, the water is really hot and you don’t want to give it even one more minute to cool down. With a few pumps of the foot pump, the water gurgles some more, this time sucking up into the tube and you watch as it climbs up the wall. A couple seconds later, it shoots out of the head, speckling you with glorious hot water.

Your breath catches in your throat for a second and you step back in surprise. The water cuts off as soon as you take your foot off the pump.

A few more pumps and the water starts back up, spraying you with warmth and cutting through the dirt and grime that has crusted on your skin. A white block of soap sits on the ground next to the bucket and you pick it up. Breathing in deep, you savor the clean, cottony smell. A smell you never thought you’d experience again. The bandages on your hands work as makeshift washcloths as you rub the soap between them until you get a good lather going. And then you scrub.

You scrub until your skin turns red and starts to burn. A few small holes drilled in the floor at your feet act as a drain and you watch delighted as the clouded, soapy water disappears, taking the physical evidence of the hell you’ve been through. Once your skin is clean, the scars left by the acid rain show bright on your arms and shoulders and you touch the rough patches with your fingertips. Of course, you’ll always have these as reminders but you can deal with them as long as you never have to set foot in Seoul again.

A plastic bottle stands upright on the ground on the other side of the bucket and you pick it up, pulling the cap off and inhaling. The smell of honey and vanilla fills your head and you again feel tears welling in your eyes. They slide down your freshly cleaned face along with the hot water as you work the shampoo into your matted hair. By the time you’re done and it’s all rinsed, you can pull your fingers through the strands. It’s weird to think that something like this could make a person get emotional but it does.

Once you’re done rinsing off, you step off the pump and stand there in silence, listening to the drops of water hit the metal floor. You close your eyes and rest your forehead against the wall in front of you. You’ll have to get new bandages and you really don’t want to put your old clothes back on. You don’t want anything to soil the wonderful, clean aroma that fills your little makeshift shower room.

A rap on the wall makes you jump back, startled.

“Hello?” it’s a male voice you don’t recognize.

Even though the curtain separates you, you cross your arms over your chest embarrassed and turn back toward the wall. “Yeah,” you croak. “Yeah, someone’s in here.”

“I know,” the voice says and you hear them step up into the car. You instinctively hug the wall. “Yoongi told me you were in here. Y/N, right?” he sounds kind.

You nod before realizing stupidly that he can’t see you. “Yeah.”

“My name’s Seokjin. I brought you a towel and some clean clothes to put on. I’ll just leave them out here and take your other ones if that’s alright.”

A long silence stretches between the two of you before you finally speak. “Okay,” you say. “Thanks.”

Seokjin takes a few steps toward the curtain and you hear him drop something on the ground then scoop up your other clothes.

“Once you’re done, I can change the bandages on your hands.” Then more footsteps as he goes back to the door and hops down the ground. “I’ll just be waiting for you on the other side of the tracks.”

“Okay,” you say again. “Thanks.” Are those the only words you know? “Seokjin…for the clothes,” you add quickly and wait.

You think for a second that he left already but then you hear a small laugh. “No problem.” The gravel crunches and you wait for his footsteps to fade.

You stand there for a while longer holding your breath until you start to shiver and then you cautiously peek out from behind the curtain. The towel and a pile of folded clothes lay on the floor right where the old ones were and you snatch up the towel, quickly wrapping it around your torso. It’s well worn if not a bit threadbare but it’s clean and soft.

Laughter breaks out somewhere outside of the train car and you hurriedly dry off and throw the clothes on. Your wet hair slaps against your back as you pull it out of the neck hole. The clothes are obviously meant for a guy with the way they hang loose on your frame. The pants are long and baggy but you don’t care because at least they’re clean. A pair of thick socks and your boots lay on the ground too and you quickly pull them on before jumping down out of the train car.

You have to go back the way you originally came, walking past the car you woke up in and to the end before you can cross over the tracks. After a few more yards of trees, you come to a small field. There are a couple of shelters constructed out of wood planks and tarps along with a makeshift table and a big bonfire in the middle of it all. Your eyes immediately seek out Jungkook who’s standing in front of the fire with his back to you. He has his hands stuffed in his pockets and he looks to be holding a casual conversation with a guy with tawny brown hair and a dimpled smile.

It’s weird seeing Jungkook in just a shirt and jeans after so many years of protective layers but even weirder to see him talk to another person so easily. Over the years, you haven’t had too many run-ins with people that didn’t want to harm or steal from you—besides Jungkook and Taehyung—so your own conversational skills are definitely lacking.

As you make your way over to the fire, Jungkook turns around. He was already smiling but now his smile widens so his cute bunny teeth show and you feel your heart skip a beat. If anything good has come from the past few years, it’s you and Jungkook. Though the world around you has grown weaker, your bond has grown stronger to form an unbreakable bond. Ever after everything, that beaming smile, those sparkling eyes that seem to hold galaxies within them, the way he sees past your scarred skin and dull hair like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world still gives you butterflies.

“Y/N, this is RM,” he says gesturing toward the guy. “RM, Y/N.”

“Good to meet you,” he says, his voice is deep and smooth. He holds his hand out and you take it tentatively. “Looks like you’re feeling better,” he adds with a gentle smile.

“Yeah,” you say and pull your hand away again as heat rushes to your cheeks. “My hands don’t hurt anymore.”

“You’ll be kicking butt and taking names before you know it.”

Your eyes shift to Jungkook and he smiles. “I was just telling RM about your throwing skills.”

Now your whole face grows hot. “You were talking about me?” you whisper. You aren’t sure if you should feel pride at this point but only horror fills your chest and spreads down your arms. You don’t like people knowing things about you, especially people you just met. Though, Jungkook seems to trust this RM guy enough. Maybe you’ve had your guard up for too long.

Yoongi makes his way around the fire toward you. “Oh good,” he says. “Jin found some clothes for you. Do they fit okay?”

You look down at your clothes and crinkle the hem of your shirt. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

He gives you a sharp nod then gestures over your shoulder. “I see you met RM. He and I are kind of the heads of the group. Follow our rules and there won’t be a problem.”

“And, uh, what are the rules?” you ask nervously.

Yoongi shrugs. “Basically just do your part to help out around here and don’t be an a-hole. Follow the rules and you’ll be fine.”

The amused twinkle in his eyes tells you he’s not as stern as he’s trying to be and you find yourself smiling a bit. You give him a nod to say you understand.

“And here’s these,” he says bringing his hands up to you.

You didn’t even notice he had your knives but now you take them carefully, hugging the holsters to your chest and feeling the comforting weight of the knives sheathed inside of them.

“Thank you,” you say relieved. You feel ten times better just holding them again.

Yoongi’s gaze falls to your hands. “Jin can redress your bandages for you,” he says then tilts his head to the other side of the fire. “He’s over there with the other two.”

Other two?

You glance back at Jungkook who’s resumed his talk with RM and he meets your eyes, giving you an assuring smile. You smile back before making your way in the direction Yoongi told you. There’s a long, crudely made table a little ways away from the fire with a canopy over the top. A tall boy with dark hair stirs something in a pot on a camper stove while two other guys sit on the bench on either side of the table. They seem to be completely enraptured in a game of cards. As you near, the boy stirring looks up to meet your eyes.

“Hey Y/N,” he says and you recognize his voice immediately as the one that spoke to you in the shower car. So this is Seokjin. His dark eyes sparkle as he smiles, sending creases across his pale skin. “How are you feeling?”

You hug your knives to your abdomen. “Better now that I’m clean,” you say quietly.

His smile widens and he reaches around the stove to grab a white box off the table. “Come over here and I’ll rewrap your hands.”

“Aish, Hobi! You’re cheating!”

You jump at the sudden outburst, your eyes darting to the two playing cards.

The brunette jumps to his feet. “I’m not! I swear!”

Now the other, a boy with rust colored locks, gets up too. “Then how do you keep beating me?”

“Maybe you just suck at this game!”

“Would you two pipe down?” Seokjin snaps. “You’re going to give the poor girl a heart attack.”

The two finally look your way, their eyes widening a bit as if just now noticing you standing right beside them. The reddish haired one clears his throat.

“Hi,” he cracks then fumbles to put his cards down so he can offer his hand. But then he looks down at your own bandaged hands holding your knives and pulls his back again. “Oh, sorry. I’m Jimin. Are your hands okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you respond. Seokjin finishes grabbing what he needs out of the kit and motions for you to hold out your hand. You set your knives down on the table and offer your palms. He takes one gently and starts undoing the gauze.

“That’s Hobi,” Jimin continues though now his eyes have settled on your hand, as if wanting to sneak a peek at the wound underneath the bandage.

You give the dark haired boy a nod before looking down to watch Seokjin work. In all honesty, you’re curious to see what your hands look like too. Last time you saw them, they were painted a ghastly rainbow of sickening colors but now, they don’t even hurt. Your heart thumps hard in your chest and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting, dreading to see.

Carefully, Seokjin peels back the last of the gauze and you feel your lungs empty with a whoosh of air. Your palms are a shiny pink, the wound reduced to scar tissue. You can’t help yourself as you slowly make a fist, feeling the resistance of the thick, healing skin, but you can close your hand tightly and that’s what you were really worried about.

“Alright, let me just rewrap it and then I’ll do the other one,” Seokjin says and starts unraveling a new strip. “They’re healing really well.”

You look up at him and he smiles again. The boy is handsome to say the least—heck, they all are—and you feel heat tinge your ears as you look away again. Of course, when you do that, you meet the gazes of the other two, still watching curiously and now you feel your whole face turn beet red.

It hasn’t really struck you, yet, that you somehow managed to get here. Even though you’ve been awake for the past hour, even though you’ve felt the hot water and soap on your skin, smelled the fresh air, met these boys that don’t seem even the least bit dangerous, you still feel like it’s all a dream. This can’t be real. This oasis in the desert can’t be real. And yet, here you are.

The length of time it takes for Seokjin to finish the first hand and then the second is torturous and you can feel yourself getting antsy under everyone’s gaze but then Seokjin gives your second hand a pat and you drop them both to your sides.

“All set,” he says.

“Want to join our game?” Hobi asks, his eyes shining as a friendly, dimpled smile spreads across his face.

You glance back at Seokjin again for a second. The boy is busy putting things back into the medical kit. “Uh, what are you playing?” you finally ask.

“President,” Jimin says with a smile. “Though it should be called ��Cheater’ since that’s all Hobi ever does.”

Hobi throws his cards down on the table and crosses his arm. “I do not!”

“Then why do you always win?”

“If you’d get better, maybe I wouldn’t!”

“Wah!” The three of you look back at Seokjin again who’s gone back to stirring the pot on the stove. He pulls the wooden spoon out and stabs it in their direction. “If you don’t stop acting like two year-olds, I’m gonna tell Yoongi to put you on looter watch tonight!”

Seeing the three of them act like this reminds you of how it used to be with you, Jungkook and Taehyung. Before…everything.

You feel a dull ache in your chest form at the memories of staying up late over at the boys’ dorm. Playing card games just like this on the floor of their room when you were supposed to be studying. You miss how goofy Taehyung used to be. How sweet he was. How his mouth would shape into an almost perfect rectangle and his eyes would disappear whenever he laughed. And how he laughed. His laughter would fill the room, carry down the hall. You haven’t heard him laugh like that in years. And of course, thinking about how it used to be brings your nightmares to the surface. How they’d start out as fond memories, but always end with you gasping awake in a cold sweat.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jimin asks, reaching up to put a hand on your arm.

You flinch back. “Uh, yeah,” you say weakly. The other two have the same worried looks on their faces. “Sorry, I just…I need to be by myself for a bit.”

You grab your knives and walk hurriedly across the field back toward the tracks. Behind you, Seokjin continues to scold the other two and laughter bursts from over by the fire. You just need to get away to clear your head.

You break into a jog, creating as much distance as you can and don’t stop until the only thing you hear is the sound of your boots crunching on the gravel and your breath shooting out of your lungs in sharp bursts.

You’d rounded a bend in the tracks so now you stand with the forest on either side of you, completely alone. As your heart starts to slow down to its normal pace, you close your eyes and lift your face to the sky. With the constant rain and snow up north, the seasons all blended together so you didn’t really know what time of year it was. Now, the sun shines down on you, warming your cheeks and eyelids. A breeze whispers across your skin, not sharp like winter air but cool like wind coming off the ocean. The strong smells of grass and dirt and smoke fill your head, bringing back memories of camping trips with your family.

Summer.

With a sharp inhale to clear your thoughts, you snap your eyes open again and focus on the trees across the tracks from you. You quickly strap your holsters onto your thigh and arm and then stand completely still. Your fingers brush the hilt of one of the knives in your thigh holster. Now is as good a time as any to work on throwing. With your feet planted firmly on two of the planks laddering the tracks, you zero in on the tree directly in front of you.

Slowly, you draw the knife from its sheath and run a finger along the smooth hilt. Then you grip it tighter until your palm starts to sting. The pain is nowhere near what you felt at the bunker house when your burns were infected. That already seems like it was years ago.

The memory of all those raiders rushing in like a flood fills your head. Attacking, spilling down through the trap door, you breaking back into the death room, the smell of rotting flesh and then finally the feel of the gun jumping in your hands as you peppered the darkness with bullets. All of it is tinged with absolute despair and hopelessness because you know with every fiber of your being that this is going to be your life forever. It doesn’t matter where you are now. It won’t last forever.

You shake your head until the memory extinguishes and you’re left with only an aching brain. That was the past. Now only this tree stands in front of you. You lift the knife up and back so your elbow points directly at the rough bark of your target. Then with a quick flick, you cut your arm downward and let go of the knife. It slices through the air, missing your target and embedding into the tree just barely behind it and to the left. A curse rides out on the breath you were holding as it leaves your lungs.

Another breeze rustles your hair and the acrid smell of cigarette smoke burns your eyes. You turn your head to see the sun glint off of Taehyung’s honey brown hair as he makes his way toward you down the tracks.

“Grown a bit rusty?” he asks bringing his cigarette back up to his lips.

Your eyes settle on the glowing end of it. “I didn’t know you smoked,” you say trying not to let the sting of his comment show on your face. “Where’d you get it?”

“Found it in one of the cars.” Then he takes a flask out of his back pocket. “And this,” he adds and shakes the container at you. You can hear the alcohol sloshing inside. Do the others know he’s snooping around the train cars?

He looks smaller without all the layers he normally wears. But even in just the thin, white t-shirt, he’s still much larger than you. Jungkook has always been the bigger of the two of them, looking healthy and strong while Taehyung is much slimmer and more wiry. Still he’s gotten bigger, his chest and shoulders broader. He looks more intimidating. More threatening.

He holds the flask out to you and smiles with the cigarette between his teeth. A smile completely unlike his old boxy grin that you miss so much. “Want some?” he asks.

You shake your head.

With a shrug, he unscrews the cap then removes the cigarette from between his teeth to take a quick swig. “You can’t really afford to get sloppy, Y/N,” he says after he swallows. “You never know when the next attack will be.” He makes his way toward you slowly, balancing on one of the rails.

You shrug in an attempt to seem nonchalant. “I don’t know,” you say. “This place seems safe enough. I don’t think any of these people want to hurt us.”

A knowing smirk plays on Taehyung’s lips. “You mean the people that shot both Kook and me with an arrow?”

“Yoongi said they thought you two were trying to hurt me.”

“Of course he said that.”

“I think we can trust them,” you say, trying to sound confident in your words.

“Trust is for the weak,” he snaps and circles around to your front. When he’s between you and your target, your hand twitches as if begging to throw a knife at him. Taehyung keeps going, sauntering slowly past you and then stopping just behind your right shoulder so you can’t see him anymore without turning your head. He takes another drag from his cigarette and leans in close. “Just be careful, Y/N,” he whispers. A stream of smoke snakes into the hair tucked behind your ear. “You never are truly safe.”

You want to turn around and slap him for being so creepy but before you can even react, he turns on his toe and continues down the tracks back toward the field. You watch him go, noting the way the sun makes his hair glow golden like he’s wearing a halo.

Oh the irony.

[geeky-writes]

Pieces of Echoes Chapter 16 Preview

Behind? Catch up on AO3/ FFN 😊

********

Fury shifted on the chair, one hand clutching his side as he dug around in his pocket, pulling out a USB drive embossed with the SHIELD logo. “Project Insight,” he said. “And this is everything that I was able to get on it before I was—”

“Attacked?” interrupted Steve as he took the drive, stuffing it into his pocket. “Who attacked you, Nick?”

“Steve, we have got to get going,” Tony said from Steve’s elbow. “Pete’s waiting for us, and—”

“Shh!” Steve suddenly said, his ears picking up a strange rustling noise just before the silence was shattered by the earsplitting sound of a rifle shot. Steve immediately lunged for Tony, knocking him onto the floor and raising his shield to cover their curled bodies as broken glass from the bedroom window rained down around them, followed directly by another smattering of bullets, pinging off the vibranium disc like deadly pieces of hail.

“Son of a bitch!” Fury roared once the cascade of bullets finally stopped, huddled behind his chair and clutching his bleeding left shoulder. “I’m getting way too old for this shit!”

Gritting his teeth, Steve waited three more heartbeats before moving the shield just enough to allow him to peer over the top of the windowsill, picking up the shadow of a man running along the rooftop towards the neighbouring building.

“Tony?” he gasped, looking down at his fiancé, who at first glance appeared to be unharmed.

“I’m all right, babe,” Tony replied, his upper lip curling into a sneer. “Go get him. I’ll take care of Fury.”

Steve nodded once and scrambled to his feet, climbing through the shattered window and hoisting himself up onto the roof. The shooter had already almost reached the next building, which at first glance didn't make any sense to Steve. These buildings were long, and no one should’ve been able to cross that kind of distance that quickly.

No one, except himself.

“Stand down!” Steve yelled into the darkness, not really expecting the man to follow his order but frustrated nonetheless when his stride didn't falter at all. It was almost as if the man wasn't a man at all, more like an android or robot from one of Peter’s movies.

“Damn it!” he gasped as he rounded a sharp corner, barely managing to keep the assailant in his sight as he leapt onto yet another rooftop. Steve’s legs were already burning with the effort of the chase, his lungs screaming for relief as he followed suit, hitting the gravel roof so hard and so fast with his bare feet that he felt the tiny, razor-sharp rocks burrowing into his skin, felt every bone in his body rattling.

Three strides later and he noticed the shooter paused at the opposite end of the roof; the next building was apparently too far of a jump, even for him. Steve finally had him cornered.

“Stop!” Steve yelled again, taking another cautious step forward before launching his shield as hard as he could at the shooter, his arm already drawing back in preparation for its return.

And then, to Steve’s utter shock the man simply turned, his piercing blue eyes nearly glowing in the darkness, and proceeded to catch the shield with his outstretched left arm, which was completely encased in silver-coloured metal, a red star embossed on the outside near the shoulder.

It was the Winter Soldier.

In an instant Steve froze, all the air in his lungs turning to ice, choking him as he attempted to wrap his mind around the fact that this… man had just caught his shield. Less than a second later the man shifted, briefly meeting Steve’s eyes, and a shiver the likes that Steve had never felt before raced through him, almost like he'd been electrocuted with ice water.

There was something about those eyes, the shape of the man’s nose, his forehead, the colour of his hair. Something… almost familiar.

********

The full chapter will post on Monday, May 20th 😊

[thornbolts]

Shootout at Steeltusk Saloon

((Trying something new with writing. I’d like to get more into action scenes. These action-heavy adventures will be featured under the tag: barking irons.))

tw: blood, violence, firearms

"I'm lookin' fer a whiny shitstain of a shot and cowardly arsonist and murderer by the name 'a Theodorick Thackeray, who's so stupid that if he had brains fer dynamite, he couldn't blow his nose."

The entire saloon halted at the undead's entrance,  The flapping doors grated, letting in a sharp beam of Badlands sun behind the lone undead as she sized the whole room up with a dry yellow eye.

The ragtag assortment of disheveled outlaws squinted at her all at once.

A taller, stubbled man rose from his seat at the back bar, lips widening to reveal black tobacco-stained teeth. He gently pinged his spur into the metal barstool leg.

Pistols, shotguns, rifles drew. All muzzles pointed toward Remington. She leaned her hat backward, sweeping her gaze across the bar's now hostile denizens.

"I'm gonna give you another chance," the stubbled man's tone dropped lower, goading the undead. "What did you say about Theodorick Thackeray?"

Remington doffed her hat, laying it on the adjacent window's sill as she faced back toward the group. "I said I'm lookin' fer a whiny shitstain of a shot and cowardly arsonist and murderer by the name 'a Theodorick Thackeray, who's so much of a dumbass that if his brains were leather, he wouldn't have enough ta saddle a scorpion." She stared right back at the man as she splayed her hands out with a cocky grin. "And if yer him, ya really are so stupid that ya couldn't piss outta a boot with instructions written on the heel."

The stubbled man shook his head, facing back toward the bar and taking another seat. He raised his hand, an index finger extended up before pointing at Remington.

The saloon lit up in a frenzy of gunfire. Bullets tore through the undead's sandy poncho. The salvo lasted near fifteen consecutive seconds of non-stop shooting. Glass shattered under the hail of projectiles, scattering all over the wooden floor as spent cartridges and shells joined them and clinked against the shards.

Gunpowder and the hot hiss of glowing muzzles were all that remained after the thundering cacophony of lead.

Yet the forsaken still stood, her hole-ridden poncho revealing the bent ghost iron plating shielding her torso. Fragmented and blossomed bullets trickled down the armor in a jingling rain.

She smiled. "Like I said: Stupid."

The gunslinger drew her pistol in a blur of motion as a goblin to the left began to reload. She squeezed the trigger before he could swing back the grimy cylinder back into his revolver, shooting a hole between his bloodshot eyes.

KA-CHUNK. The sound of a shotgun rattled behind her. "HURK!" The ogre brandishing the weapon heaved a giant poker table up like a shield, cards fluttering about the gunsmoke.

BANG! Remy dove behind an upturned table, the blast shredding the hat rack behind where she previously stood in a hail of wooden shrapnel. The undead clutched a preserved cat's paw within her cold palm. She sprang out from the cover, squeezed the paw, then raked her claws horizontally across the air.

Four thick red stripes slashed through the poker table across the ogre's torso with an unseen, sinister force. The ogre collapsed in a quickly-bleeding heap, two stubby arms covering his belly to keep his innards within.

"Make yer piece, Theo," the forsaken growled as she twisted her cat's wrist. "Ya ain't got much time left."

The force was hungry for blood, and this den of outlaws was the perfect grounds to sate its appetite. The tauren lifted as the vengeful presence snarled, twisting his bones in unnatural directions with a slew of sickening snaps and breaks.

Remington swung her claws toward Theodorick himself.

It was the perfect way of subduing without rope or manacles. The force threw the tauren like a ragdoll, crumpling over the human and knocking the wind out of his lungs with cracked ribs.

The forsaken swung her gaze to the rest of the den.

That momentary distraction was all a troll needed. He gritted his teeth against his tusks, sweeping low with a curved blade the size of Remington herself.

He was fast, but Remington was faster. She leaped up over the vicious blade and swung her fist downward, muttering a discordant incantation as her feet touched the bar counter.

The force followed the movement, smashing the troll's entire figure into itself like a crumpled tin can. Red splattered out from the display, staining, rendering the remaining four living combatants scarred.

The undead marked her targets.

A gnome fumbling about with her shotgun, struggling to load shells into the loading dock. The weapon much too big for her height.

Another human, his fingers shaking and unable to load more bullets into the chambers of his six-shooter, likely his first shootout.

Two half-elves peeking out from below the windows outside. The first tossed knife after jagged knife toward Remington. The other raised her palms, a fiery boulder welling up between her hands.

The gunslinger raised her pistol, smacking down the hammer of her weapon after each shot, sending a volley of bullets at the flying knives.

PING! PING! PING! PING! Bullets collided with blades in mid-air as the projectiles harmlessly clattered to the bloodied ground.

Remington twisted the cat's paw-holding wrist again, hopping off of the counter.

The snarling force levitated the first half-elf up, twisting his head and body in opposite directions before dropping him like a broken doll with a dull thud.

The other elf's eyes widened, losing her composure with the giant fireball between her palms. The magic went wild, unstable flame coalescing and condensing before it exploded in a great blaze, obliterating both the elf and a third of the saloon porch.

The gunslinger shielded her gaze, though caught the gnome finally raising her shotgun in the her direction.

BOOM! Remington took the blast of buckshot to her ghost iron plating. She swung her fist out.

The unseen force rammed into the gnome, sending her crashing into the rickety wooden shelves behind the bar and toppling them on top of her.

With a shaky grip, the remaining human trained his sights onto the lone undead. He squeezed the trigger repeatedly, sending wild shots around her figure.

Undeterred by his poor aim, Remington walked forward, spurs clinking as her hard leather soles stepped through blood and glass

He yelped as she gripped his pistol and wrenched the barrel into the underside of his chin.

Remington forced his trigger finger down.

BANG.

"Theodorick Thackeray," her voice chuckled through the saloon. "Wanted fer the arson of an elderly couple's homestead after ya threatened them fer not housin' yer outlaws. That was after ya were wantin' ta lay low after ya killed a band 'a innocent whiskey merchants when a robbery went wrong."

Theodorick whimpered, unable to muster any words as he cowered before the figure looming over him. He could feel the heavy weight of the tauren's corpse crushing him, cracking his ribs and compressing his lungs. His breathing was shallow as he reached a weak hand up toward Remington.

"M-Mercy," he wheezed.

"Ya don't deserve it.” Remington snapped back. “Besides, yer bounty’ll be payin’ my folks ta eat fer one more month.”

She slid her pistol back into its holster and pocketed the cat's paw. No, she wouldn't waste ammunition on him. Remington slid her oak-handled hunting knife out from her boar leather sheathe. She punctured the man's cheeks between her clawed fingers, holding him in a vice grip. The undead hovered the tip of the weapon just before the human’s eye.

"So why don't ya be useful fer once in yer life and give me yer head, Theo?”

[dehvastation]

The Escape Room Part 2 (With @V_Bloodletter)

V: I stood back and watched all the goings on in the room as if I was detached from the scene before me. I had to give it to Dehv, he was busting ass trying to figure out what the fuck was up. Not once did I have to prod the male into doing something. Nope, he just dove in and started to work on whatever was before him. This was a new way of fucking with the Brotherhood. Whoever devised this shit had way too much time on their hands and really needed to get a new hobby. I didn’t say much as Dehv searched out various ways to get us the fuck out of here. And when he ended up with his arm cradled close to him, I stepped up to the first of many games. “I doubt wiring them correctly was a priority to them.” As I was talking I was presently running my gloved hand around the main structure of a Donkey Kong pinball machine. On the surface it all seemed legit but as Dehv was finding out, there were little differences with the aged old games. And this Donkey Kong was no different. It looked normal but the moment I pushed the white buttons on either side a loud whoosh sound flooded the room. I muttered. “That can’t be good.” Various slatts in the walls and ceiling slid open and metal ping pong balls were suddenly be shot out of all the new holes. I shouted a warning to Dehv… “Take cover…” I didn’t waste time to see if he obeyed before I yanked him by his arm and pulled him under the game with me. The sound pinged off the walls and floors, breaking much of the glass on the various other machines as the assault continued. Just when I thought it all started to slow down another obstacle was thrown our way. The ground became unsteady, acting as if you were on a wave board and tossin us around as if we were little more than washcloths. I kept my facing outwards, taking the brunt of the metal balls shooting at us like oversized bullets. I looked up at the underneath of the game the started this whole clusterfuck and without thinking I rammed my fist up unto the machine. It was more an action out of frustrated anger but who knew that the handful of wires I ripped from it, was happily going to stop one of the issues we were having. I rolled onto my back once the balls seized and I could only lay there a moment before I was on my feet and trying to stay upright. Surfing was never my thing and now I knew why, I sucked at it. I was finding it harder to stay upright than to stop landing on my ass and if that wasn’t bad enough, various areas covering said floor, had spikes ram up through the wood flooring. I made my way to a neon sign hanging on the wall and my diamond eyes locked on the green gems that made up the barmaids tits and then another set of jewels that created the numbers bordering said tacky picture. At first glanced they didn’t look out of the ordinary but up close they resembled buttons and sure enough when I pressed on one of her green tits, it pushed in easy enough and gave this ear splintering squeal. I growled a series of curses and shook my head. “Okay, I will try not to make that fucking sound again.”

Dehv: ~ I rubbed hard at my arm, trying my best to get the tingling to go away. I really wanted to get the fuck out of here, but at the same time I knew that if the doors suddenly opened right now to expel us, we’d burn up before we even reached the road. I snorted at V’s weary reply about the electronics and then huffed. “They’re deliberately wired this way. If I’d been human that would have stopped my heart.” I experimented with rolling my fingers, stretching and curling them until I was satisified my hand worked as it was meant to. Next I moved to my wrist and elbow, letting the muscles know that they could relax and do what an arm was meant to do. I hesitated, knowing I should step up to another machine, but really not wanting to find out this one just stabbed something through my brain and that was that. There had to be something that told us what to do. That’s what they did in the human world right? They had a name and I couldn’t recall it at all, though I knew they were popular. I’d never managed to go to one, but I remembered a few employees talking about them when I’d been visiting one of the main offices. There was a sequence or something. I was about to voice my thoughts when Vishous yelled and grabbed my arm, yanking me to the floor and I got my brain in gear to help with moving under one of the higher machines. I could feel the pain flare from the overly tight muscles in my arm before I got hit by one of the metal balls rebounding off something. I gasped and moved further under the tiny bit of protection we both had. I growled slightly when I realised that Vishous was protecting me from the brunt of the pellets. Though there wasn’t anything I could do but move as far to one side as possible to allow him as much cover as we could manage. But two of us, the size we were, the machine really had no change of managing to cover us all. I was just glad the important bits on us both seemed to be sheltered. I winched again as another hit me, and I could see my watch as I lay curled on the floor. I counted the minutes until it seemed to calm. Then the floor tilted. My arm shot out and I curled my fingers around the edge of the longest part of the machine, hoping it was secure enough to stay put while the floor moved around us. Throwing the two of us from side to side. I felt a searing pain lance up my back, but I didn’t focus on that pain, instead wincing when Vishous put his fist through the bottom of the machine. I reached out and squeezed his shoulder to show as much support as I could while hiding from the giants buckshot. All at once it seemed to stop and Vishous was on his feet. I stayed down a minute longer and then rolled, my back screaming at me when I put pressure on it, but not enough for me to stop until I was on my feet. The uneven and frequently changing floor made it impossible to stand still, but also ridiculously draining to focus on staying upright. “I’m getting fucking sick of this, and we’ve only been here a few hours.” I shook my head and started making my way towards the shaft of light that separated us from the room we’d just been in. I looked like bambi on ice, and was just glad there was no cameras to see me land on my ass more than once. It didn’t help that my anger flared the more I failed. I could do fucking up, but I was just pissed at the whole fucking situation. I managed to get within a few feet of the door before I had to clamp my hands over my ears. The noise shot straight through to my brain and had me feeling like I was seeing stars. “Holy shit, what was that?” I frowned and looked at Vishous, something weird pulling my attention right back again a second later. “V, look.” I pointed, trying to keep the aim true as I shuffled with each shift of the floor. Glad that I’d managed to avoid the spikey shit up till now, or most of me. I was starting to think that was what had fucked up my back. Though it wasn’t enough to pull my focus off a faint outline above the door frame, but behind the shaft of light. I knew that looking at it was liable to make it hard to see for a while, as we were far too close to the sunlight as it was, and every nerve in my body was screaming just that at me. “It’s numbers, two rows of them. Your little screaming thing, does it have numbers like the machines do?” I could feel my heartbeat starting to increase as I rolled out my shoulders, maybe it was a code of an order to play things in. Then a code to open the next door. Though either one of us staring hard enough to actually see the numbers in order was going to cause some damage to our retinas. That was a fight I was sure I’d have with V before we got started. “And tell me how you’re doing? You got pelted hard with those stupid little ball things. You covered me, so now you get me playing nurse.” I focused on the numbers as I spoke, eyes starting to water almost immediately with how close I was and the focus needed to do that and stay standing. I then squinted at the machines, their lights waving slightly and the colours muted. “Are they all still in working order despite the hail storm of metal we’ve just got through?” ~

V: My feet were swiftly becoming my enemies as they kept almost slipping out from underneath me with the constant rolling of the floorboards. I had already shoved out of my mind any other issues I might be having at the moment. Like the onslaught of metal pellets that used my back as target practice. That was nothing compared to what Dehv had already endured so far. And that was an issue. I had a male that was no longer a trainee but not a full on brother yet, and the big ball of light in the sky was out in full glory right now. And I sure as fuck didn’t see things changing in our favor any time soon. “They are definitely wired for us and us alone. All of this is nothing more than elaborate cage set up to catch us and keep us contained.” My diamond eyes traveled around the every moving room. “That is until they are done playing cat and mouse with us and ready to be done completely.” But what did it mean when they were done with us and all the games had been played out? Death, a whole other kind of cage or lockdown? The possibilities were endless and we just needed to make sure that there wasn’t a way for them or who the fuck ever was behind this, to get at us. I ran my gloved hand along the wall, for one, it was to help me with balance and also to feel out any other clues. I was getting ready to run my mouth some more but the words died as soon as the floor switched up the game on me. It went from me trying to surf on the over wobbly ground to it opening up and swallowing me whole before closing over again. I landed on my backside with a loud as fuck thud and my head bounced off the concrete floor a few times before it finally stopped. I let out a ragged breath and slowly sit up. The ceiling slash floorboards that I had been sucked through, looked as if it was a regular ceiling now and nothing more. I might have already said this but damn I really had to give props to the fucker that designed this clusterfuck. But even though, I wanted to gut the bastard and I would eventually. Right now I was separated from Dehv and with no way of knowing how to get back to where he was. I stood up and started in with hunting down a way out. But that wasn’t going to be any easier, considering the room I was in this time, there was nothing. It easily resembled being placed in what they called the hole in prison, padded walls and floor with nothing in it, not even a shitter or sink.

Dehv: ~ I squinted at the stupid wall through the shaft of light while I waited on Vishous looking into the machines. I shifted my feet as best I could, trying to avoid anything spikey as well as stay on my feet. I could balance well enough, but I wasn’t known as the most graceful of males. So trying to not burn my eyeballs out while shuffling in place wasn’t the most fun I’d ever had in the world. I could image that Q would laugh his ass off if this was some kind of fucked up candid camera. Minus the me getting hurt thing, but the rest he’d find amusing in other circumstances. I blinked hard and turned when I heard some kind of weird clunks and squeaks, my gaze landing on Vishous as his gloved hand landed on the wall. The next second he disappeared. I felt my jaw drop before my brain really caught up with what was happening. I started to back up before I felt my back burning in warning that I was getting far too close to sunlight, and burning myself to a crisps. I have enough presence of mind to stumble forward before I gingerly started in the direction Vishous had disappeared from. I watched the floor snap into place again and I instantly dropped to my knees. The whole room shook, but I wasn’t sure whether it was lots of small panels that moved in a pattern, or a whole flat board that just acted a little like a wobble board. I slapped my palm on the hard surface and yelled Vishous’ name. Though I shouldn’t have bothered, even if he replied I had no clue as to whether I could actually hear him speaking. I slammed my hand down on the floor again just from pure frustration and then moved back to the light. “Fuck it, ok. I can do this bloody thing and hope that both of us get out of here without too much injury.” I could barely hear myself over the music that still blared through the various speakers, of the room and the machine. “3,8,2,4” I mumbled to myself as I tried to keep the first set of numbers in my head. My feet were still shuffling from side to side with each slight shift of the floor. It wasn’t as often now, and that almost made it worse, as I wasn’t able to tell at what point I had to be on my guard. It seemed just as I relaxed I was jerked from side to side. And avoiding the odd spikey platform was frustrating as they popped up out of seemingly no where. I rolled my shoulders and moved to the first machine, a little pac-man that chomped his way around. I liked these ones, and this one wasn’t giving me a bloody electric shock. I took that as a good sign and carried on moving until I managed to get through the first, then second level. I kept going, watching the lights on the side as they lit up slowly, not really in time with the level jumps, but I hoped it was like a timer. That when it was full I could move onto the next one. I played until I heard a little beeping noise, then what sounded like a lock being pulled back. I froze as best I could on unsteady legs, then moved to the next machine in the sequence. This was some western with a gun. This I could do, thanks to some of the brothers training. The little bar on the side of the machine also started to rise and I was quickly onto the third and then fourth machine. Each time the metal sliding over metal sound echoed through the room when I’d finished. Without hesitation I rushed back to the sunlight that separated the rooms and squinted through it, my retinas were burning from the exposure, but I needed to get this last bit done in the hopes I could get back to Vishous. I blinked a few times to clear the fuzziness that was starting to creep in around the edges and then moved to that little screamy thing Vishous had upset earlier. Whatever it was I hoped it wasn’t about to kill my eardrums. Being blind and deaf in this place wasn’t going to be an advantage to anyone. I poked the numbers in and let out a little whoop of excitement when the door to my left slid open. I didn’t pause as I rushed through it, instantly regretting it when there was no more floor and I tumbled forward into darkness. ~

V: I heard nothing, not a single creak of footsteps walking anywhere around me or the rush of air that goes through vents when the heating/Ac system kicks in, nothing. It was dead silence and the only thing that I could hear was my own thoughts and breathing. If this wasn’t my own personal hell before, it was easily becoming one now. Being locked down in any fashion, was a headfuck for me, in more way than I cared to think about. Before I was sucked down into the oblivion of basically nowhere, I was only mildly annoyed with this shitshow, now that was no longer the case. I was pissed the fuck off, ready to destroy whatever came my way, to the point that I could taste the need for destruction. Every place I touched was much the same, bare walls with nothing to lead me anywhere. I rubbed over each square inch of my cell, hoping to find a hidden button, something, any fucking thing. But you have heard that saying, be careful what you ask for. I wanted a way out or at the least the knowledge as how to find it and it came to me. A rush of air burst into the small enclosed space and with it a very seasoned Lesser. “Well at least that mystery is solved. The who…” That was about all I got out before he rushed me and when I say that, I basically mean he tackled me. The cage I was locked in was barely big enough for me to sit down with my back to a wall and my legs stretched out in front of me and this smelly fucker was massive in size. I was easily knocked off balance and the air left my chest in a rush as he wrapped his tree trunk size arms around me. A single grunt cut through my decompressed lungs as I struggled to reach my dagger. I was pretty fucking grateful for the whole not breathing thing because being this up close and personal with this lesser would easily make even a sick bastard like me, gag. The baby powdered bitch was at least a head taller than myself and I gave up the fight for my blade and instead went for knocking him off balance. I reared my head back and lifted it up with a savage growl filling the space up right before I sunk my elongated canines into the side of his skull, greedily ripping his ear off in the process. I tasted nothing, more than that, I reached a place to where I felt nothing, air filled my chest cavity back up and it was as if I was on the outside of my body, watching. The simple harm that had been inflicted on me before, now was a memory and I used what the fuck ever this was to annihilate the fucker. I locked my arms around him as he had done me and with a hard side step to the right, we both toppled over and before he could gather his wits about him I came up fast, yanked my dagger from my side and literally pounced on him. I couldn’t say how many times I rammed the blade through random parts of his muscled body before I finally hit the sweet spot and he vanished like a bad dream.

Dehv: ~ I blinked and watched the floor come up to meet me. I was barely able to make it out, and that was something I wasn’t used to at all. I landed hard and rolled, trying to stop myself before I hit something or landed on something I shouldn’t. I quickly thudded to a jarring stop when my body hit the wall on the opposite side to where I had initially stepped into the room. I groaned and pushed to sitting, hissing in a breath as my back stung. I rotated my wrist to ensure I hadn’t broken anything, I hoped it was just sprained as I was able to move all my fingers. My shoulder and hip were burning now, and my eyes were about as happy with me as I should expect from deliberately burning them. I tried for a deep breath and closed my eyes for a minute. I really hoped whatever the fuck this place was, we were nearly out. I licked over my lips and then checked my watch. I felt my eyes widen when I realised that we’d been in this place over four hours already. Not that I was thrilled with that prospect, but it meant that with every passing minute we were getting closer to sunset and our ability to get out of here in one piece. I just had to hope that Vishous was getting out with me. He’s taken a beating with those metal balls, plus the floor spikes, then to be dropped on his ass. And who the fuck knew what was happening to him in the room I couldn’t get to. I gasped as my brain clicked in and I was on my feet before I really realised what I was doing. I surged forward and pounded on the wall, slowly moving along until I heard a change in pitch. It sounded like part of the wall wasn’t as thick as other parts. I drew back my arm and threw my weight into the punch, a thrill running down my spine when it bent under the weight even with my bad wrist using used. I figured if I was going to break anything, I might as well go with the injured side and keep one side strong. I patted the wall and smiled to myself. Hopefully vishous was the other side of the wall and had heard something. I wasn’t about to leave him in this place solo if I could help it. I spun on my heel and looked around the room. It was mostly black with graffiti all over the place. I squinted as my vision dimmed again and I cursed at the timing of it. With a quick swipe of my balled fists I was able to get my vision under control again. It only had to last until we got out of here, then I could feed, rest and it’d hopefully rectify pretty quickly. I inched closer to the wall and then growled as I realised that under the graffiti was scratches. Now I was closer I could also smell the blood and I realised pretty quickly that this was apparently the final room for a lot of others who had been through here. Names and family crests adorned the wall as I kept looking. The most I focused the denser the names became until I was barely able to breath for the panic. I was not going to die in this place when no one knew I was here and Vishous was still out there. I turned fast and threw myself at the wall. I used both hands to work at the wall, the bent becoming a hole. I pulled and tore at the metal, not caring what it did to me really. I’d heal with time, and the pain didn’t register as I worked. Blind rage motivated me past any kind of panic or worry. I just needed to get through to the room Vishous had landed in. If I could do that, we’d manage to work out what the hell to do. The minute the gap was big enough to squeeze through I sucked in a lungful of air and stepped into an even smaller room. I was breathing hard and I knew I was bleeding, though the smell of baby powder, blood and that sticky stuff lessers called tar was strong enough to make me almost throw up. I had to swallow twice before I could speak. “Vishous? Please fuck say you’re here and not a lesser.” ~

Vishous: It was more than a little unsettling to think that those smelly bastards can come through any secret opening that they are only privilege to and I couldn’t do shit about it. That whole control thing was an issue for me. Big shock...Not at fucking all. I felt like the hunted and nothing with that sit right with me. Again, another big shock, fuck no. I wanted to hunt down who the fuck ever was doing this shit but that would have to wait. I wasn’t the only one at risk here. Nope, I have Dehv with me and for that reason alone, I would not let my epic irrational anger issues affect the male. But damn, as soon as we were safely out of here, finding the culprit behind all of this, was going to be at the top of my list of priorities. One thing was obvious, lesser were involved. I just needed to locate the newly appointed ring leader and relieve him of his duties. I leaned back on my haunches, taking a moment to let my rib cage expand after being held in a vice like hold from a male that was the size of the Hulk. “Motherfuck…” I scrubbed a hand over my face before getting to my feet. Instantly I was at the now closed wall, where the Lesser came through. And as I figured, not a fucking thing left behind to easily open the trap door. I would be more elated if something actually did go my way but noooooooo...that was just way too much to ask for. I scraped and dug at the wall with my dagger, pounding at it just as I had hacked away on the previous Lesser. This was like some B-rated horror flick. All we needed now was the dumb blonde to go running around and falling everywhere until the killer slays her in some humiliating way. Suddenly where there was no sound except for my own beating down the walls and then I heard a faint noise. I stayed silent, still my breathing and listened for the interruption again. It was a series of hammering and it was coming through the wall that I had also been working on. I took on a whole new need for speed and destruction. It was either Dehv or who the fuck knew but I didn’t see lesser trying to beat their way through the wall. I dug my dagger into mix, destroying the blade until in a burst of air rushing in, Dehv came through with it. Relief flooded my whole system at seeing the male in one piece and it was even better that he was standing and breathing. I lowered my arm, keeping the blade held firmly in my hand and nodded at the male. “Welcome home, Dehv…” A sinister smirk took up residence on my face. “I say that it is past time that we got the fuck out of here. Oh and by the way, lesser are behind this.” I nodded at the still fresh oily blood mixture smeared and pooled on the concrete floor. “One decided he didn’t want me to feel lonely and stopped by to visit me. Keep your eyes open and obviously expect any fucking thing being thrown our way.”

Dehv:  ~ I snorted loudly and slumped against the wall. “Thanks. I agree entirely and completely. Fuck this home, lets get our asses out of here so we can move somewhere that doesn’t want to kill us.” I nodded and looked around, my gaze dropping to Vishous as soon as I saw that he’d taken out the lesser, checking over to ensure there was no fresh blood. “You took him down, did he get any hits in, or are you doing ok?” I shoved off the wall and looked around the space, knowing I’d have gone ape shit in here if I’d have dropped into the room. It was tiny and with the two of us in here, it was entirely too cramped for my liking. “What the fuck is going on?” I frowned and looked up at the ceiling, noting only when I really squinted that there was tiny cracks in it, I assumed where the mechanism lay for the room above. It still made me shudder at the thought of the loud music and lights. My fingers curled into fists automatically at the memory of the electricity flying through my arm. I exhaled a slow breath, really wanting to forget this place even existed, or to find out it was some kind of freaky nightmare so I could wake up in bed, at Qhuinn’s house like the plan had been all along. Before the night, or day I guessed, had become a clusterfuck of epic proportions. I accepted keeping my eyes open was a good thing to do, I needed to ensure that if a Lesser came through any of the hidden doors in the place, that I had a handle on having Vishous’ back. I knew my eyes were fucked, but right now I could see enough to do what needed done, pushing through the pain was something that I guessed was ingrained in my genes since it wasn’t like the Brotherhood trained you in getting hurt. Though to be fair, they probably should with how often it happened to everyone. That might be something I would have to pop in a suggestion box. I shook my head as I started to wobble slightly on my feet, my eyesight dimming yet again. The sudden change had me patting myself down to check I wasn’t losing blood without realising it. “You feel something?” I swallowed hard and then thumped back against the wall. My panic rising as I realised that I didn’t have control over my body, it was sinking to the ground and no amount of will power was pulling the strength back into my extremities. I managed to flick my gaze to Vishous, mouth opening to speak again before I hit the floor and slumped to the side, head landing right beside the gnarled entrance I’d created breaking into the room. I managed a slow wheeze before my eyelids dropped shut and I lost sight of the Brother with me. ~

V: “I’m sure we fucked up some plans of theirs when you busted down that wall.” A amirk took up residence on my face and I glanced at Dehv. “Damn good job on that by the way. And thank you as well for not leaving me for what the hell ever fate this place had in store for us.” I refused to even acknowledge that there was still a good chance we were fucked and obviously not a way that I would enjoy.  This whole layout was elaborate and that spoke volumes to me. This wasn’t some simple lesser attack to take out a couple vamps. Nah, this shit was designed to do more than just kill. That was stuck in my head from the moment this shity nightmare started and it kept replaying in my head on a constant loop. I stepped outside of my mind because trying to figure out the whys and hows, was not going to happen at this point and time. I gave a short nod. “I’m all good and I agree, let’s get our asses out of here. I could really go for a drink or ten right now.” A dry chuckle rolled out and I was going to add a few other things to Dehv but the words died on my tongue when I saw a sudden change in the male. My diamond eyes narrowed and before I could react, Dehv was down for the count. It happened so swiftly that I barely had time  to take even one step towards him before I watched him get more than a little shaky on his feet and then land against the wall, only to find the floor as his new sleeping place. I had been too fucking engrossed in trying to decipher this crazy puzzle to realize there was a soft hissing sound coming from above us and then the slight smell filled my nostrils. I cut my breathing off instantly, taking in no O2 at all but it was too late. The gas being pushed through the ceiling was already working its way through me. I didn’t even remember face planting on the ground, the last thing that I could grasp onto was the way my limbs felt as though they had been weighted down in cement and then it was lights out from there on.

Dehv:  ~ I blinked slowly and then groaned. Every muscle in my body protesting as I tried to move just my fingers. What the actual fuck was going on? I squinted and then felt panic flash through my body like a cold shower as I realised my vision really was on the fritz. I could see more of less, but I couldn’t make out much in my central vision. “Vishous?” I realised after I’d spoken that I hadn’t checked we were alone, or that we weren’t in some weird death chamber of the devils asshole we’d been in up until now. I flopped to my side and growled when my shoulder, hip, back, arm and wrist decided to pipe up. Yup. That would get old quickly. Thankfully I’d had enough blood in my system for the little cuts on my fingers and hands to have healed up a little. Which meant if I got my hands on a weapon I could at least use it effectively. I blinked and squinted as I looked around the best I could, taking in movement across from me. I pushed to my knees so I could crawl closer, grateful at the ice that greeted me. Those eyes were the most beautiful thing I’d seen all day. Meant we were both alive and they hadn’t thrown us out in the sun while we’d been knocked unconscious. I patted the male’s shoulder and then moved until I could use one of the lower beams to pull myself up to my feet. I wobbled slightly, but then got steadier as more and more of the gas they’d dosed us with leached out of my system. Oxygen chasing it away as if it had never been there in the first place. I looked around and then frowned. I could make out enough of the place to know that we were not in a room, or certainly not one that we’d have to battle out of. The space was deserted. The huge windows that ran along one side showed that we’d been knocked out for hours. And that the sun had set. Though not by long. “They’ve left. How is that even possible?” I shook my head and then swallowed hard. “What do you want to do? I can barely see, and my body is protesting the shit I’ve put it through. How are you? You were left alone while we were knocked out?” I turned to face where I thought the male was and spoke. I knew that even if he hadn’t been, he was unlikely to tell me. I was the trainee, he was the Brother. So even if I did want to know so I could pull my weight, he’d probably turn the tables on me anyway. I waited though. Unsure of what would spring into action if I got too excited about the prospect of getting the fuck out of here and going back to the manse. ~

V: Spinning and noise...Those are the only two things that were registering within my semi unconscious brain. That state of my eyes staying close only lasted long enough for me to feel the movement of another body around me. And then my diamond eyes were snapping open and I was struggling to sit up. It wasn’t often that I had truly felt a drug state.Our kind didn’t react to substance the way that a human would but there were certain meds out there that could easily make us want to crawl in a hole for a whole and escape. I was freezing from the inside out. To the point that I was almost positive my teeth were chattering. I blew out a breath and shoved myself up to a sitting position. “Hello, Dehv...Apparently taking us out was not their ultimate goal.” And that was the part that was digging at me. In what world did a lesser have a vampire at their disposal and yet, they didn’t kill us. Why?! Okay now obviously wasn’t the time or place to try figure this shit out. I would always have that issue of questioning every fucking thing, particularly when things made not one lick of sense. But I would have to dissect this whole night once Dehv and I were out of this shit hole. I scrubbed a hand over my face, took a few more cleansing breaths and then made it to my feet. Once I was fully upright, I looked around and talk about yet another headfuck, we were basically right back to where we started when we walked into the warehouse at the beginning of the night. Once again I scrubbed my fingers over my eyes, just to clear them some more because I still wasn’t convinced that I was seeing things correctly. It was the same and yet not the same. Still yet there was a front entrance and the fucker wasn’t obstructed like the one we originally walked through hours ago. “Alright, so this shit was fucked but right now I am not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. You’re alive and so am I and there is a way out. The rest of this stuff we will figure out later.” I needed air, that alone would help with the extreme fog still clouding my brain at the moment. I went toward the double glass doors cautiously, still not fully sure if this was some kind of fucking trick or shit and only when I had my hand on the handle, did I actually take a breath of relief. “Dude, let’s get the hell out of dodge.” I cast a look at Dehv and gave a short nod before I had that fucker shoved open and was bounding away from the building just in case somehow that thing could suck us back up inside of it. And it was maybe a few seconds later that I was sending a 911 message to the Manse along with our coordinates.

Dehv: ~ I looked around, squinting as I breathed a sigh of relief. We were getting to go back to the manse. It wasn’t comforting to know that at any point whoever created that death trap could have drugged us and left us for dead. Dragging us into the sunlight, shooing us in the head, or giving us some other mortal wound that would leave us to die a slow and painful death while the other could do nothing to stop it or save them. I nodded along with Vishous as he spoke and pulled my phone out of my pocket. It had a cracked screen where I’d landed on it and I wasn’t sure how well it’d work, but my heart skipped a beat when I realised that there was a signal, which meant we could get the fuck out of here. I breathed in deep and then moved slowly towards the double glass doors that Vishous was testing, huffing out air when I realised that we could actually get away from here and regroup. Maybe bring a few hundred vamps with us next time and torch the place while the sadistic fucker was trapped inside. I was sure there was so many ways we could go about fucking over whoever had put us through this. Though at least we were still alive, which was more than could be said for whoever had put in the call, or those who had come before us. Civilians would have been taken out by the lesser the minute he’d turned up. Unable to defend themselves or have a weapon on them like Vishous did. He’d had hundreds of years of practice. I wasn’t sure how I knew that there had been many casualties here, but I felt it deep in my gut, and I wanted answers, or at least for someone to stop whoever was doing this. I didn’t much care how right at this moment. I moved slowly, keeping my eyes trained on Vishous so I didn’t walk into something I shouldn’t. I needed to feed badly so that my eyesight would hopefully heal. Not to mention everything else. I stepped up beside him and then coughed out a laugh at the obvious relief in his voice. I’d expected no emotions that weren’t pissed off or putting up with. So to see my excitement to get out of here mirrored in the male was soothing in a way I hadn’t realised I needed. I knew I was still training, but I didn’t want to be a burden or like an over excited puppy. “Fuck yes. Please can we get out of there.” I swallowed hard and then followed on after Vishous much slower. I didn’t want to be any closer to the building than he did, but I wasn’t quite as unaffected as him. Though I did take a minute to turn in a circle, squinting hard at the place while I tried to orientate myself. I noted the bus stop where I’d arrived initially. Then I looked at both buildings. My brain trying to tell me something, but wasn’t able to while I was getting over shit. I spun once more and then crashed straight into Vishous. “Sorry. There’s something off about where we came out of and where we went in. I’m not sure what though. I can’t………….think.” I shook my head and then winced. Letting out a frustrated growl before letting my shoulders slump. “Never mind. It’ll come to me. I hope a car is coming. Because I doubt either one of us is in a fit state to….” I snapped my mouth shut as I watched Fritz carefully pull the car around the corner and then slow to a stop beside us. “Ok. Questions answered. Lets get the fuck out of here.” ~ #TheEscapeRoomPt2

[voidtekarc]

War - Part II

Arcuris and Umbrianas charged through open plains mounted on their magitek armor warmachines and ravines in pursuit of the small group of Ala Mhigans that fled from the fight before. Arcuris' gained tunnel vision as he gripped the controls of his mech tightly, blood pumping through his veins that fueled his adrenaline rush. The wind picked up throughout the night which made navigating and tracking the enemy difficult for those not used to the terrain. However, Arcuris had been to the region before and knew full well of any tricks the Ala Mhigans would use to lose their trail. They would not get away.

Arcuris and Umbrianas recieved information that one of them had to withdraw to help along the main lines. The roegadyn snarled and shouted in his linkpearl to his brother in arms, "Arc, I'll get this. Don't let that bastard get away!" With that, Umbrianas turned his magitek walker and ran at full speed back to reinforce the main Garlemald army.

Arcuris kept his focus on chasing the commander. Thunder and lightning cracked in the skies as war still sounded in the distance. The Garlean was getting angrier with his stomp of his walker, feeling like he lost their trail a mile behind him. However, he spotted the yellow feather of a chocobo bobbing past the small village ahead. He was right on their heels.

He placed his magitek into overdrive, pistons whining and engine roaring as it's stomps thundered along the ravine. The Ala Mhigans turned to see an enraged magitek walker and even angrier pilot. The small group snapped the reins, attempting to escape. The first action of Arcuris was to fire a charged cannon shot from the core, exploding next to a chocobo. The impact took the leg off of the poor creature as a massive chuck of rock sliced through the head of the rider, sending both crashing to the ground.

Another one of them turned to fire a single bow shot behind at the Garlean but the shot bounced off of the armored beast. Arcuris returned fire, unleashing a hail of gunfire from the side gun pods, ventilating the rider with a storm of bullets. He was struck by several, his body convulsing from the impact before taking off his arm completely. His body was flung from the side, being caught on the side of the saddle, dragging along the dusty earth.

A village came into their view, and they rode into it. The commander blew a small whistle as he rode by, alerting all of them to the enemy that rode in. More than a dozen resistance fighters sprouted up over the village like weeds after a hard rain within Grindania. Arcuris swung the walker around, spewing bullets and cannon shots, obliterating three more of them, blood and limps scattering about. After the mechanized mayhem, the pureblood leapt out of the walker and smashed into the ground before taking off in a sprint.

He roared, "To hell with you all!"

With one swift motion like a samurai, he pulled his gunblade free and took the arm off of the first attacker with a single stroke and running him through before firing off another round at another nearby Ala Mhigan. He was shot in the arm, falling off the top of a building before another charged at Arcuris with an axe. She swung twice, clipping him once before smashing into his shoulder. The impact knocked the Garlean back a bit and sunk a couple of inches into his shoulder. For a normal person it might have put them out of the fight, but for this pureblood it only fueled his battle prowess.

He hacked her axe in two at the hilt as he sliced her across her throat, splashing blood on his chest plate as she fell. She fell to her knees, holding her throat as her life bled through her fingers to the ground. The rest charged after seeing their comrade fell, attacking him with rage filled retaliation. Arrows whizzed by Arcuris' head, a couple of them smashing into his chest. He stumbled forward a moment before swinging the gunblade in a single hand, firing a shot in tandem. The blade sliced though one's leg at the knee as the bullet punched into the chest of another.

The fighters were stunned at the ferocity of the Garlean even if he had taken multiple wounds, all of which seemed to not bleed or slow him down. He threw the blade, and it took off the head of yet another warrior, flying into the side of a building and sticking in the side. With a flurry of blows, he smashed in the side of a knee of another before upper cutting him into his elbow, breaking skin through the bone with the impact. He swung his other arm as a piston driven punching blade exploded out like a gun, slicing another from abdomen to their face.

One of the fighters was able to sneak in an attack, stabbing him in the chest from behind. He stumbled forward from the impact and his enemies were sure he was done for. In horror, their faces grimaced in fear and their eyes in disbelief as he tore the sword out from behind, tossing it to the ground in front of him. He pulled out yet another weapon, firing the three barreled cannon round right through the skull of one nearby, exploding their head in a horrific display of gore. The last warrior before the commander charged, only to be stabbed with the arm blade several times, making his innards and blood pour out as he tore the blade free.

Solmund knew he could not run anymore. Snarling, he charged in rage with a large greatsword to end the pureblood onslaught. He fought better than his fighters, a young and strong warrior in his own right. However, the Garlean was fast, beyond what he had ever seen before. Seeing multiple wounds on Arcuris and looking like a porcupine full of arrows, didn't make his thoughts on this any easier. He swung the weapon like some demented beast, attempting to avenge his friends and warriors. Arcuris dodged under the blade, grabbing the gunblade from the building.

The commander glared in anger as he grit his teeth, "Had enough killing, Garlean, or are you still hungry for blood?!"

Arcuris held the blade to the side and pointed his finger at him with his other hand as lightning exploded overhead, "All I wanted was yours, Chambers."

"Then come and get it, monster!"

Solmund gripped the blade tightly in his hand as lightning lit the sky and shook the ground. Their clashed blades together with such force it caused sparks to fly with every few attacks. He was a powerful warrior and his actions would fell any other man, but this was no other man. The Garlean was faster, stronger, and far beyond Solmind's abilities. He got the best of Chambers with one fatal mistake, splintering the commander's blade into metal shards with his masterwork gunblade after he deflected too many swings.

"You killed Gellerius. You murdered my brother!" Arcuris kicked Solmund in the ribs, snapping a few of them. Chambers groaned as he impacted the ground. The Garlean pulled off his helm and his hurtful eyes stabbed at the man like daggers as his face quivered in angry loss, "You get to see the face of his brother. The last one you will see."

Asharri raced as fast as her feet could carry her into the outskirts village. It was darker than she had remembered the last she was here only hours before. She had come against the orders of Solmund's second in command, whom she'd sooner see shoot his piss into the wind than follow the orders of. Solmund and some of their unit had not made it to the rendezvous point for some time and it didn't seem likely they would. Just keep pushing ahead? No. She couldn't leave them behind. Perhaps it had been foolish of her to return alone, but she had to see for her own eyes why the majority of their group was now missing in action. Maybe they stood a chance.... With the movements of one trained in the arts of careful movement under the guise of concealment, Asharri made her way from tent to tent; keeping to the shadows.

As she caught sight of the bodies laid strewn about, she heard the voice of one she did not recognize and narrowed her eyes. The Garlean man had Solmund on the ground, looking as if he was about to finish him off. Gripping each of her fist blades tightly, the woman raced towards him - her smaller body slamming into the larger form of the Garlean, trying to knock him off balance. "Away from him you murderous fuck!" She shouted.

The Garlean's tunnel vision was thrown away as he was knocked slightly backwards from the impact. He narrowed his eys as his face formed into a snarl. He gripped the gunblade in his hand tightly as he spit his words out at her, "Fuck off, Ala Mhigan. This one dies!" He breathed heavily as he stared down the new combatant. Groans came from a couple of the soldiers he wounded from earlier were still alive, but only barely.

Asharri's stance went on the defensive as she bounced on her toes from side to side, her fisted blades hovering near her chest steadily as she readied herself to throw down with the Garlean, "Just like that one, and that one?" She jerked her head towards the bodies strewn about, unaware some were still barely just hanging on. "Your kind are never going to stop and I'm done standing aside, asshole."

"I asked nicely before and they would not comply. Your commander Chambers is harboring some very sensitive material and I have some personal things I need to sort out. If you want your other soldiers to die then by all means try and stop me." The Garlean stared her down with fire bellowing in his eyes. He gripped the hilt of the gunblade tightly as blood dripped from both it and his armor. He stood waiting for the woman's next move, "But you won't..."

"Cocky like all the rest," she spat at his feet, clearly not going to back down. "Your kind know nothing but senseless violence and as you see around you, your rule here is crumbling all around you." Asharri frowned, finally looking to the other soldiers who were bleeding out nearby - their groans finally hitting her ears. Had she been deafened before by the rage that pulsed through her at the sight of this man? Looking back to the Garlean, she snarled, pinging her linkpearl that was nestled within her ear, "Hunt here, I need back up. We have a few still alive and needing treatment NOW!"  her emerald stare bore into his as she taunted, “In case you haven't realized, I'm not backing down,"  "Now, are we going to have this dance or not? Not scared of a little woman now are you?"

"So you send more to die!" The Garlean was tired of her shit talking. He charged at her with the gunblade, emptying the rest of the ammunition quickly before he swung it upwards with a powerful swing right at her face.

Asharri had been ready for it, lunging backwards - a quick somersault into the air that sprung her back a few extra paces, "What do you care? How many of us have your killed anyway?" Tapping into her own aether, the Ala Mhigan woman charged again at the Garlean, her bladed fists taking several quick swipes across his torso. "Twenty? One hundred? A thousand?" She asked in between strikes, her breathing labored - but she never tired.

Arcuris took all of the hits, being staggered backwards as she landed each hit landed perfectly. His armor was torn open and he bled, but only a little. It appeared the wounds that she caused seemed to heal at an exaggerated rate, more than what was normally possible. He yelled at the top of his lungs, "As many as it takes!" He reared back and swung a powerful attack with his first that landed with more force than a sledgehammer, sending her backwards through a nearby building. A lamp from inside burst into fire as it was knocked down and the building quickly caught fire.

Asharri laid there for a few moments, dazed from the massive blow. Her body ached and she was cut in several areas, but she tried to push it out of her mind. The only thing that mattered was getting back on her feet. Smoke began to fill her lungs and she began to cough, realizing the crumbled building had now burst into flames. "You miserable.... piece of.... SHIT!" She shouted, lumbering to her feet not so gracefully as before - and yet she still charged at him as quickly as she could, missing one of her fist blades. "For Ala Mhigo!"

The Garlean was ready for her to make her move in anger. As she charged he allowed her punch to the chest before he took his hand, slamming her in the stomach with another powerful strike. He took his other hand and choked her tightly and lifting her up in the air as he stared her in the eyes with rage that was beyond any kind of monster or animal in nature. He breathed in deeply as he spoke in a very deep and dark voice, "You have no idea the pain, the torment, the absolute horror I have been through, Ala Mhigan!" He walked over towards another building, tightening his grip before he hurled her into a wooden beam sticking out of the ground.

Asharri glared at him in anger at first, refusing to give him the satisfaction in her torment - but when she realized the air would not be returning to her lungs by his grip, she body naturally gave way to its own panic. She kicked at him as hard as she could while she struggled against him, digging her nails in armor - each nail seeming to break piece by piece. Just before the world had gone black, she felt a sudden burst of air return to her lungs before everything had gone dark. Just before she drifted off into an unconscious state, she felt the ground tremble lightly in the approach of the likely army of chocobos, carrying those she had summoned not long ago.

The Garlean watched as she went unconscious. However, he remembered his true target. He looked around in horror as he could not find him. Somehow the man had been able to slip away on the back of a chocobo as the dust from it kicked up in the distance. He yelled in anger at the top of his lungs, “Mother fucker!” before he spotted even more reinforcements arriving. To him, it was like a swarm of annoying bugs that he had to swat in order to progress through the god forsaken area. He had no time for any of it. He ran over to his magitek walker, engaging the controls  as he sped off through the village after his target once more, leaving the fire and carnage behind him.