#I need to play star allies again. specifically to get my hands on staff again

[sourbombz]

"I notice through all your obsessions Kirbys always there" woagh really... you don't say....

[itsthejuggernautbitch]

Of All the Stars, The Fairest - Chapter 1

Pairing: Nebula/Original Female Character

Summary: After being captured by the Sovereign for stealing Anulax batteries, Nebula expected to be handed over to the Nova Corp. and transported to the cell where she’d likely spend the rest of her life (until she could break out, that is). If she’s learned anything in her life, it’s that nothing ever goes as expected.

Chapter 1: Supersonic Rocket Ship

Author’s Note: It’s a tragedy there’s not more for Nebula. Let’s fix that.

Also, not to be that bitch, but this is on Ao3 now. I would very much appreciate kudos/comments, if you’re so inclined!

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

Ilana always felt like she was waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting for every meal. Waiting to train. Waiting for Ayesha to finish her duties for the day so they could move on to some new task. Waiting for the tailor to come and fit her with some new garment that Ayesha had ordered to be made. Waiting for Ayesha to release her from duty for the evening. No matter the day, no matter the time. Always waiting, but for what, Ilana did not know.

Nothing really ever felt out of place in her life - at least, not in a way she could describe. Sovereign society ran about as smoothly as any machine could. Every individual Sovereign was bred to exact specifications, their purpose literally encoded into their biology, and while there was enough deviation in their genetic codes to keep everyone reticent with their own disposition and beliefs, everyone toed the same strict line. There was hardly any crime, so there were no prisoners to capture and guard, no fights, no nothing.

Ilana was Ayesha’s Chief Guard, and she was beginning to suspect that her presence in the High Priestess’ court was mainly decorative. Really, she wasn’t sure what her job actually entailed short of standing around menacingly and playing Ayesha’s dress-up doll. Ayesha rarely left the planet on any sort of business, preferring to have prospective non-Sovereign allies and guests send diplomats to the Sovereign.

And since there was little to no crime, political prisoners were really the only people taking up jail cells. Anyone outside of the Sovereign who wanted to attack them came directly to them, and that only happened when the odd scavenger came to rip off Anulax batteries. Not that many people tried to steal the batteries. The Sovereign was the only source of Anulax batteries in the galaxy, but they also had one of the most formidable fleets imaginable, which usually drove interested parties away.

It seemed that Ilana’s job was to stand next to Ayesha with her laser spear held high and look polished and pretty for visitors and diplomats. Years of physical and mental training were very much wasted.

Hence, the never-ending feeling of always waiting, waiting, waiting.

 “Chief V’Syeth?”

Ilana broke from her reverie and looked out upon the empty court. She’d been instructed to participate in the usual debriefing, which she loathed doing. She stood to the direct left of Ayesha’s throne - her right-hand side was occupied by the Admiral. She’d never liked the Admiral. As pretentious as Sovereign could be, even amongst themselves, his noxious personality was truly special.

“Yes, High Priestess?”

“Were you listening to the Admiral?” Ayesha asked, the slightest edge of annoyance breaking through her mellifluous voice. The High Priestess didn’t turn her head, though she gave Ilana a truly righteous side-eye.

 Not really, but Ilana had absorbed the gist of the conversation. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Then you will send your guards down to the landing bay to retrieve the prisoner immediately.”

Right, the Admiral’s forces had captured a scavenger trying to make off with a set of Anulax batteries. She could imagine the scientists down in the basement rioting over their hard work nearly being stolen. If she’d had any amount of sympathy for the Admiral, she might have felt a little sorry for him that he had to deal with the screaming nerds.

“Yes ma’am, I shall,” Ilana replied automatically. Life was easier when she gave the initial polite answer before asking questions for clarification. “Shall I escort the prisoner myself, or shall I send Mersi and Metai to retrieve them?”

“I prefer to have you at my side, as you well know,” Ayesha replied curtly. “Your personal intervention will not be necessary as long as the prisoner is compliant. Mersi and Metai will suffice.”

“Duly noted, High Priestess. I’ll send them now.”

Ilana stepped off to the side away from Ayesha and the Admiral. The implant in her hand functioned as a pager when she needed it, as well as really anything else. All the guards had one. She waved her hand and instructed the girls to escort the prisoner to the holding cells.

Perhaps, Ilana surmised, she’d go have a look for herself later once the hustle and bustle had calmed down. Political prisoners were a hot topic, and she felt obligated to see what the fuss was about this time. Not to mention she was curious as to why this prisoner wanted the batteries badly enough to attack the Sovereign head-on, alone. Anulax batteries were serious business since they could power an entire hemisphere of a planet, but at the end of the day, they were just batteries.

Ilana returned to her place next to Ayesha and tried to focus on the Admiral’s debrief of the encounter. Intruder alert, alarms went off, serious injuries, blah, blah, blah. The usual.

“We’ve also received a hail to capture the girl alive, per the Nova Corp.,” the Admiral stated, brandishing his stylus at the tablet in his hand. Presumably, the tablet contained the reports and transcript of the hail from the Nova Corps. “They’ve requested that we hold her until they’ve rebuilt their fleet and can afford to send a transport ship to retrieve her.”

Ilana started. “Her?”

The Admiral rolled his eyes. “Yes, Chief. Her.”

Female political prisoners were unheard of – usually because they were too smart to get caught.

“Why do the Nova Corp. want her?” Ayesha asked, dancing right over Ilana’s question. Whatever pulled Ilana out of her trance had triggered an alarm in Ayesha’s head, though she couldn’t put her finger on why. “Is this something we could use?”

“Allegedly, she’s a daughter of Thanos,” the Admiral replied. He swiped the screen of his tablet, poking at it viciously. “And according to these reports, she seems to be telling the truth. The Nova Corp. sent a mugshot with the hail.”

Ayesha hummed. “So, that would mean there’s likely a price on her head?”

“I took the initiative to check. It’s a substantial reward, High Priestess,” the Admiral confirmed. “The Nova Corp. even have one on her”

“Have they offered us a price?”

“No, High Priestess. They have only ordered us to house her until they can collect her.”

“Then we will keep her for now, until she is claimed or a bounty hunter comes through. We’ll wait for someone to give us a price, once the word gets out that we have her,” Ayesha replied. She waved the tablet away, and the Admiral stepped back. “Though, I suppose she could be used as a bargaining chip if the need arises.”

“We will ensure round-the-clock surveillance,” the Admiral said. He stepped back away from Ayesha’s throne and stood at the head of his entourage of Navy soldiers. “Until the Nova Corp. arrives, or a better offer presents itself.”

Ayesha crooked her finger at Ilana, who’d actually been listening. “Chief V’Syeth?”

“Ma’am?”

“I am entrusting you with guarding her during the night shift. You will rest upon your relief of duty to me and proceed directly to the holding chambers upon rotation.”

“Noted, ma’am. I will report tonight.”

Ayesha nodded. “We have much to discuss between the two of us, Chief. Admiral, you will take your leave. Handmaidens, you are all dismissed for the night.”

Once the crowd of Sovereign had taken their leave, each bowing as they retreated, Ayesha beckoned Ilana forward. Ilana took a knee in front of the High Priestess, leaning on her spear like a staff. It wouldn’t do to fall out of form in front of the High Priestess, even out of the public eye. Ayesha expected perfection - always had - and Ilana had been genetically engineered to fulfill that expectation – despite her increasingly diminishing attention span.

“Rise,” Ayesha ordered. “Come forward, Ilana.”

Ayesha took Ilana’s chin and tilted her face up. It was a gentle gesture - exceedingly rare coming from the High Priestess. She’d always had a soft spot for Ilana, ever since the girl was a child. She’d watched her grow from a toddler to the woman who became her Chief - genetically bioengineered to be the strongest, the fastest, logical and strategic, and perfectly Sovereign.

And yet, Ayesha had always known that something inside of Ilana was… amiss. She was nothing short of biological perfection as all Sovereign were, but Ayesha had known since Ilana was a child that the Sovereign would not make this girl happy. It was simply in her nature - she would always be waiting for something. Ayesha could not say what, but as soon as she’d seen the prisoner on her surveillance screens, that something seemed closer to falling into place. Ayesha could simply sense these things, innate oddities in a creature’s biology. It was a strange feeling, but one she’d had before

Ayesha, ever the scientist at heart, wanted to test this something.

"You have always been my favorite, Ilana," Ayesha hummed, stroking the girl's cheek. She dropped her hand. "I dislike seeing you so melancholy, and you have been distracted lately. Can I do something to help you deal with whatever you're feeling?"

"I did not realize that I've been distracted, High Priestess. Or melancholy, for that matter."

Ayesha hummed in a gentle expression of her disbelief. "I know when you're lying."

Ilana grimaced. It was worth a try.

"I just… still feel like I'm waiting for something," Ilana replied. She took a seat in front of Ayesha’s throne, feeling suddenly like a child again. “It used to fade, but it won’t go away now.”

"What do you think you're waiting for?"

"If I knew that, I'd go get it. You know that."

"Indeed," Ayesha replied, pursing her lips. She’d personally helped train this girl in the hopes that whatever oddity, whatever weirdness would twist her around, would stamp itself out before it ever got to this point. Every Sovereign was made to exact, perfect specifications – but sometimes, the science of these things was just a little too exact. Best not to let her dwell on it.

“Maybe it’s the lack of challenge,” Ilana said. “I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, after all.”

Ayesha had to agree. "I’ve thought of that, and I hope that’s all it is. I've given you a heavy responsibility today. A daughter of Thanos… could give you trouble. But perhaps the challenge will give you perspective on what it is you require."

"Perhaps it's just a challenge that I require, not so much perspective."

"I disagree, but nevertheless, I expect that you will receive both challenge and perspective from your assignment.” Ayesha waved her hand. “You are dismissed. Rest - you have a long night ahead of you."

Ilana bowed, then turned and walked out of the back entrance of Ayesha's throne room. Her sleeping quarters were only a few doors down - a necessity bred from duty. The only room closer to the throne room than hers was Ayesha's favorite handmaid’s quarters, and that was only because Ayesha hated waiting longer than necessary when she rang.

She had a few hours before she was set to report for her first shift. Her first order of business was to wash up after a long day in full regal armor. Once she'd cleaned up, she still had plenty of time left on her break. It was just enough time to nap and make dinner while she scrolled through Mersi and Metai's report from the transfer.

The transfer to the holding cells had gone smoothly (as if it wouldn't with the prisoner in laser handcuffs). As for the woman, she was surly and mean, but she hadn't spoken more than to order them to stop touching her. No begging, no bargaining - as if she knew her fate or was planning an escape. The latter most likely, Ilana surmised. A daughter of Thanos would be nearly impossible to keep imprisoned in a normal holding cell. But she was in Sovereign territory, and their holding cells were simply inescapable.

Once she'd finished with the report, she donned her functional armor, grabbed her laser spear, and set off for the holding cells.

Like everything else on the damn planet, the holding cells were plated with gilded gold. And, like everything else in the Sovereign world, the halls she strolled down were gold. Smooth, seamless gold. The floors were gold. Her armor was gold. Her fucking spear was gold. Everything gold. It wouldn't kill the designers to put a little black, or silver, or anything but gold somewhere.

Metai, Ilana’s second-in-command, met her at holding and intake to debrief her on the current state of the prisoner. Just over Metai’s shoulder, Ilana could see Mersi, Ilana’s other second, still standing guard. The pair were currently the only set of living Sovereign twins; they had not been genetically designed as twins, but rather the fertilized cell had spontaneously split and copied the chromosomes to result in two engineered guards.

Metai inclined her head in the customary almost-bow performed by subordinates of the High Priestess’s Guard. “You took long enough getting here.”

“High Priestess ordered me to rest before my shift,” Ilana sniffed. The twins had emerged from an adjacent birthing pod to hers and been trained right alongside her for their entire lives. She liked Metai and Mersi just fine, but both twins had a habit of addressing her with unnecessary familiarity while on the job. It was fine outside of work, but she had to remind them of their places on the job. “I slept. I ate. I’m here. Now debrief me.”

“Yes, Chief,” Metai replied. She caught herself before she rolled her eyes, though the intention was not lost on Ilana. “The prisoner has been silent so far. She will not respond to questions. She will not acknowledge us when we speak.”

“Maybe you’re not asking her the right questions.”

Metai sighed. “You’re more than welcome to try questioning her yourself, Chief. If you get an answer out of her, I would love to know.”

“I’ll give it a shot,” Ilana said, shrugging. She motioned towards the door. “I’ll take it from here. You and Mersi are dismissed.”

Ilana walked in past the security door and took Mersi’s place in front of the cell. She would be the only guard for the rest of the night.

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

An hour passed in relative silence. The only sounds in the muted gold room were Ilana’s slow, collected breathing and Nebula’s foot tapping. The sounds echoed in the hollow metal room, cavernous and nearly deafening considering the monotony. (It really wouldn’t kill the designers to put up some drapes or a tapestry or something, anything, to cancel out the reverb.)

Finally, the silence was broken by a new sound - the sound of a stomach growling. Ilana looked back over her shoulder at the woman in the cell. The woman looked right back up at her, eyes hard and empty, and averted her gaze by looking back down at the floor. She seemed defiant still, despite her circumstances. Perhaps she was planning on trying to escape. It was fine if she was - the cell was nigh inescapable and Ilana could certainly see to it that she was confined.

Ilana was almost sick to her stomach watching this woman sit in confinement. She wasn’t a fan of prisons, but it was likely the empathy she felt could be attributed to having never actually taken a guard shift. It wasn’t her job, and never had been, to stand guard over prisoners - only the High Priestess.

Still, there was something about the woman that interested her. Something that made her heart twist. It could have been her blue-and-purple skin contrasting against the gold of the holding cell. It could have been her eyes, staring off into space, searching for a breach in the cell, sizing Ilana up in case she had to fight. She didn’t know what it was drawing her to this woman – someone who would see her dead in order to escape to freedom – but it was intense.

The woman’s stomach growled again, louder, and she twitched as if trying to force her stomach to quiet itself.

Ilana turned. “When was the last time you had something to eat?”

The woman didn’t respond. She merely glanced up at Ilana and looked back down at her feet. Her stomach growled again, but she gritted her teeth and didn’t look up.

“Can I get you anything in particular?” Ilana prodded, unused to someone remaining unresponsive in her presence.

Nothing, once again.

“Are you going to ignore me?” Ilana huffed. The woman looked up at her, then looked back down at her feet again. “Well, if you won’t tell me, I’ll just bring you something that I like.

“I’m fine,” the woman snapped, finally acknowledging her. Her growling stomach, once again, betrayed her.

Ilana quirked a golden eyebrow and held her communicator up to her mouth. “Metai, please bring two food trays up to the cell block. I’m hungry, and it’s not polite to eat alone.”

“Be there in twenty minutes, Chief.”

“Make it fifteen, please,” Ilana replied. She lowered her hand down to her side and resumed her guard stance.

Ilana took both trays of food from Metai when the soldier finally walked in the door (thirty minutes late, probably on purpose). She placed one tray in the grate between the bars and slid it through for Nebula to grab. Nebula took the tray without a word.

Ilana sat down on the holding cell floor and dug into her own tray of food. She wasn’t hungry exactly - she’d eat enough to make it look like she was and give the rest to the grumpy prisoner because she knew the kitchens would probably short her on food. After she finished, she wordlessly pushed the rest of her tray through the grate. She didn’t check behind her to see if Nebula would take the rest of the food, but she had a feeling that she would.

Ilana rested back against the holding cell wall. “What’s your name?”

Again, silence.

Ilana rolled her eyes. “Give up the stoic act, please. You just answered me.”

“Nebula.”

“Your name is Nebula?”

“Yes.”

“You have a beautiful name,” Ilana replied. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

They remained silent for the rest of the night.

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

Ayesha had made short work out of putting out feelers for a bounty on the prisoner. She knew of several groups who would be only too happy to take the girl off their hands. Now, she just had to wait until an offer presented itself. That, or she would have to wait until the Nova Corp. could retrieve her.

With her job for the day done, Ayesha had a chance to finally relax and ready herself for bed. She chose to partake in her usual evening activity, which was basically spying on people through all the cameras surveilling the palace. Her main concern was her experiment - why did she feel so strangely about this prisoner, and why did it feel like something had clicked into place?

She instructed the monitor to pan to the holding cells, down to where Ilana and the prisoner were located. She found exactly what she expected to find - Ilana standing guard, the prisoner sitting on the floor in the corner of her cell. What she did not expect was the overwhelming feeling of oneness she caught from staring at the screen.

There was no physical synergy on the screen - just a prisoner and a guard, standing on opposite sides of a door. Two beings as separate as could be. She did not know why, but as Ayesha watched, it seemed evident to her that this prisoner was what Ilana had always been waiting, waiting, waiting for. She could feel an influence far different from hers orchestrating this feeling. Ayesha could see it because she was different. She was the High Priestess, and she’d been created to know. She suspected she would soon find out why.

As she watched, Metai brought two food trays. One, Ilana passed through the grate in the holding cell door. The other, she kept for herself. She picked at it for a few minutes, then handed the rest of her tray off through the grate to the prisoner.

Ayesha would concede that this was a simple enough transaction between guard and ward. It was just the unfailing sensation in the back of her mind that something was off.

And then Ilana asked for the prisoner’s name and said no more.

Ayesha switched the screens to something that didn’t make her so twitchy. There was nothing she could do until something actually happened if it ever did. But she would be on the lookout for it.

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Fan Novel (Book 1, Chapter 3)

Darkness enfolds me, cold, quiet, and still. Then it stirs, creeping towards me. Powerful, rippling muscles. Glowing golden eyes...

I awake with a gasp beneath a leafy canopy in a four-poster bed. Sweat soaks the soft sheets and blanket. I flop back on the pillow, willing my heart to slow.

“What the hell was that thing?” I murmur aloud. It takes me a few moments to stop trembling. But once I do, I start to feel the effects of the night before creeping up on me, and I groan. I knocked back a couple more cocktails after coming back up from the beach, mostly to calm myself down. The throbbing pain behind my eyes tells me that was a very poor idea. Not to mention the effects of the late night in general. It occurs to me to wonder what time it is. I fumble for my phone on the nightstand beside me.

9:27am. And still no cell service. I check for a wi-fi signal, but there is none to be found. Not even a secured signal. I sigh and put the phone down. Might as well get up, I guess. I push back the covers, stumbling into the bathroom.

I turn on the shower and gulp some water from the sink while I wait for the stream to get warm. It doesn't take long, and I strip and step under the soothing water. The strong pressure feels like a gentle massage. The shower is stocked with exotic floral body washes and shampoos. I savor the fragrance as I scrub the sweat from my body and rinse the chlorine from my hair. I should have done that last night. Blonde hair and pool water usually don't mix. But so far my hair hasn't turned green. Sooner than I want to, I turn off the water and step out onto the mossy green bathmat. I gulp more sink water. I make the bed—because I haven't seen the housekeeping staff anywhere, either—pull on some clothes, and hang my towel to dry.

By the time I've finished brushing my teeth, the headache is fading, and my stomach is starting to growl. I take a few more gulps of water, tuck my room key into my pocket and wander down to the hotel restaurant.

I'm greeted by a chaotic scene, and a cacophony of smells from the buffet table.

“Uh, Raj,” Sean says, “when you said you were going to cook breakfast, I figured, you know, pancakes and bacon. Not...what is this, again?”

“The Raj Hangover Special 9000! A perfect scramble of eggs, potatoes, oysters, and bananas, topped off with pickle juice. Trust me, dudes, it'll cure your hangovers before you can say 'this tastes gross and weird.' Just try it.”

“...This tastes gross and weird,” Jake mutters.

Zahra grimaces. “I do not want this in this place, I do not want this in my face.”

“Y'all are missing out,” Craig declares, shoveling in another mouthful. “This shizz is delicious!”

“I once saw you eat a rock,” Michelle says flatly.

“That was a dare, and I won ten bucks!”

As they notice my entrance, my classmates go quiet.

“Well, well, well,” Jake drawls. “If it isn't the Girl Who Cried Monster.”

“Seriously, Alodia,” Raj laughs. “You shut down the party faster than the cops back home.”

“That's what you care about?” Estella sneers.

I smile sheepishly. “Sorry about that. I know I kinda freaked everyone out last night.”

“Pfft. Didn't freak me out,” Craig insists. “Nothing freaks Craig out!”

“Craig, let Alodia talk,” Sean chides.

“...That's pretty much it. I promise I'll try not to ruin anymore parties.”

“Good!” Raj says. “Because tonight, we're running it baaaaaack!”

Everyone laughs. I join in, but I stop when I notice Estela looking at me with disappointment.

“Hey, stranger.” Diego sidles up to me, holding a plate piled high with Raj's sizzling hangover cure. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I'm fine. It was just...a rough night.”

“Care for some breakfast?”

I eye the plate in his hands warily. The concoction looks like pureed scrambled eggs and smells like salted fish. “...I don't know if I should.”

“It's actually not bad.” He grins as my stomach growls audibly. “And face it, you need to eat something. Let's get you a plate.”

I relent, and move to the buffet table where I fill a plate with pale yellow salty-fish-scented goop. I fill a glass with orange juice.

“So, uh...I hate to give you a middle school flashback, but what table should we sit at?”

I look around for two empty seats. At one table, Michelle asks Raj and Craig where the resort gym is. At another, Aleister, Grace, and Zahra are discussing something Grace found at the beach. I drift over to the first table. I know Michelle hates me, but I like Raj, and I don't have anything against Craig. Besides, I can probably follow their conversation better.

“Hey, guys. I heard you talking about the gym? I'd totally be down to hit that up.”

Michelle scoffs. “Oh, sweetie, did you think I was talking to you? I'm going to the gym because I want to work out, not watch you have another meltdown.”

“Hey!” Diego says. “At the peak of her gymnastics career, Allie was in the gym about five hours a day!”

“Slight exaggeration. And I hardly had a career.” But I flash him a grateful smile.

“Come on, Michelle,” Raj chimes in. “Go easy on Alodia. We're all stuck on this island together, we might as well get along.”

“Pfft. Says you. I don't get along with anyone I don't want to.”

“Craig, dude, you don't get along with anyone, period.”

“He's got you there,” Michelle says.

I cover a chuckle by stuffing a forkful of egg goo into my mouth. ...It's like eating a pile of mushy salt with fish, banana, and egg aftertaste. If only I weren't so hungry. I gulp the rest of it before I can taste too much.

“Hey, you got that down pretty quick,” Raj remarks. “Did you like it?”

“...I'm going to be tasting that in my burps all day.”

“Absolutely!”

At that moment, the door swings open, and Lila enters, looking bright-eyed and flawless.

“Good morning, everyone! I hope you're all enjoying your lovely breakfast in our five-star restaurant. But I might've found out what happened to all the guests.” She pauses to let us react, but we're all waiting for her to continue.

“...Well?” Jake prompts. “Spit it out, Dimples.”

“Well, I went into the staff office to look for information. One of the computers in there, the one used for island-wide broadcasts, was still running. It turns out exactly two days ago, at 3:45 PM, someone used the emergency broadcast system to trigger a full evacuation of the hotel.”

“An evacuation?”

“It's a standard procedure at all Rourke International resorts. In the event of a natural disaster, the guests vacate the premises and head to a secure shelter.”

“A natural disaster?” I snicker. “You mean like Raj's cooking?”

Craig laughs. “Ha! Buuuuuuuurn!”

Raj presses his fist to his chest. “Ouch, Alodia. Major ouch.”

Lila blinks. “Yes. Well...questionable cooking aside, the evacuation procedures here were designed specifically to handle only certain cases. A hurricane, a viral outbreak, or Mount Atropo finally erupting.”

“Yeah, well, I don't see any hurricanes, virus, or lava flows,” Jake says skeptically.

“So, why trigger the evacuation procedure?” Sean asks.

“False alarm, maybe,” Quinn suggests. “But in that case, why hasn't anyone come back?”

“Perhaps everyone is still at the shelter,” Estela says thoughtfully. “Lila, where is it?”

“I...don't entirely know. I've never actually been there. But the signs on the trail say we'll find it if we hike north for a few miles.”

“I'm in,” Jake says.

Lila blinks again. “I'm sorry?”

“You're going to go look for it, right? Well, I'm coming with you. The rest of these kids are having fun playing Home Alone 2: Island Boogaloo, but I was already supposed to be in Cancun. I'm losing cash every second I waste here.”

“I will come as well,” Aleister says. “I...I'd like to get the lay of the land around here.”

“I want to go too!” Quinn chimes in. “I'd love to help out and see some of the sights.”

“How about you, Princess? You coming?”

I start a little. “...Me?” Involuntarily, I think of the thing I saw in the shadows last night. “Well...I...”

Jake waves a hand. “Hey, don't worry about it. If you're scared, you're scared. Just stay back here with the rest of the Goof Troop.”

“Wait! I'm coming, too.”

“You are?” Diego raises an eyebrow at me. “Why?”

I shrug. “I want to see the island. This hotel is great, but there's so much more to see. I want to see the jungles and the ruins and the waterfalls.”

He smirks. “And the creepy bomb shelter that is almost certainly full of zombies?”

“Exactly!”

“Fine, fine. I'll go with you. But only so I can say 'I told you so' when something horrible attacks us.”

I grin and give him a thumbs up. “That's the spirit!”

“All right, then!” Lila claps her hands. “Let's head out!”

* * *

A short time later, four of us follow Lila down a winding path through the rainforest. Jake and Aleister lag behind. Quinn, looking angelic in a white blouse with a white bandana tied like a babushka over her copper hair, skips ahead a little ways to marvel at the flowers on the trees and bushes. The flowers glow with a soft, colorful light. When I first saw them, I thought they were lightbulbs, something draped over the foliage like Christmas lights. But the glow is coming from inside the petals themselves.

“Unbelievable,” Quinn breathes. “These colors, these textures...they're like something out of a dream.”

“I've never seen anything like it,” I agree.

“Beautiful, right?” Lila says. “Due to its geographic isolation, La Huerta has one of the most unique ecosystems on the planet, boasting flora and fauna not found anywhere else.”

“Sure thing, Minnie Mouse,” Jake grumbles. “Keep spewing that Rourke International propaganda. I ain't buying it.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Aleister snaps.

“I'm just saying. All the brochures go on about how this place is some sorta Disney paradise. But drink in the right dive bars, and you'll start to hear rumors about what really goes on here. Criminal plots, illegal experiments, folks going missing...all kinds of crazy.”

Quinn wrinkles her nose. “Conspiracy theories? Really?”

“Laugh it up, Pippi Longstocking. While you were busy tweeting about your pumpkin spice latte, I was flying covert missions over Kandahar. Once you've peeked behind that curtain...well, let's just say there's some things out there that would blow your mind. The pretty purple flowers you're ooh-ing and ahh-ing about? They might just be sizzling with radiation.”

“That is preposterous!” Aleister cries.

“What do you think, Princess? You trust this place?” I hesitate a moment, eyeing the flowers. Then I back away. Jake nods approvingly. “Knew I could count on you.”

Aleister rolls his eyes. “Tell me you don't believe his conspiracy theory prattle.”

“I don't know what I believe, but I say better safe than sorry. Unique ecosystem or not, flowers should not glow like that.”

“Well, I still think they're beautiful,” Quinn says with finality. “And I'm not going to let some conspiracy theory keep me from appreciating that.”

She plucks a flower and puts it to her nose, inhaling deeply. ...Oh, my God, she is adorable. Diego elbows me lightly.

“What's with that goofy smile?” he whispers.

“Oh, shut up, Diego,” I hiss back, feeling myself blush.

Ahead of us, Lila stops suddenly and looks around in confusion. “...This...doesn't make any sense.”

“What?”

“Well, the signpost said the shelter should be right here...”

“Oh, great!” Aleister groans. “Even the tour guide's lost. What do they pay you for, again?”

“Tactical scouting 101 kids,” Jake says. “Get to high ground. See that rocky cliff over there? I'm checking it out.”

“Oh!” Quinn exclaims. “Do you hear that? Sounds like a waterfall nearby. The shelter might be near that.”

“Or you just want to go check out the waterfall,” Diego quips.

“Or that,” she agrees sweetly.

“I really think we should stick to the trail,” Lila says. “The shelter might be further ahead.”

“We could split up,” I suggest. “Cover a little more ground.”

“I'll stick to the trail with Lila,” Diego says.

Aleister crosses his arms stubbornly. “Well, I am staying right here. I see no reason to traipse around on some fool's errand.”

“Well, y'all know where I'm headed,” Jake says. He looks at me. “You wanna keep me some company, Princess?”

“Uh...yeah. Sure.”

“Stay within shouting distance!” Lila calls as we split off.

Jake and I head off through the undergrowth towards the hilltop. Jake moves easily through the dense tangle of leaves and branches. He deftly hops a log and slides under a low-hanging branch.

“Impressive. You do this a lot?”

“Get stranded on mysterious islands with a group of plucky college kids? Gotta say, it's a first.”

“I meant, go hiking, walk through jungles, that kind of thing. You seem pretty confident in the outdoors.”

“I grew up in a Louisiana town so rural it wasn't even on the map. When it comes down to it, the swamp and the jungle ain't so different.”

“Probably not as many gators out here though.”

“Less gators, more jaguars. I'll call it even. How about you, Princess? This your kinda scene?”

“Actually, yeah. I mean, I admit I grew up in the SoCal suburbs, but I love the outdoors. The blue sky overhead...the fresh air...that soft sea breeze... I should probably be more freaked out. Especially after that...whatever...I saw last night. Being out here, like this, I don't know. I can't help but feel happy.”

Jake raises an eyebrow at me. “That why you came along with me? You felt like a nature hike?”

“Well, you invited me. And...I guess I felt safer following you than Lila.You're confident. You're capable. And you seem to know what you're doing here more than she does. Or any of us for that matter.” I pause. “...Come to think of it, why would you ask me to come along?”

He shrugs. “Because I can already tell you're going to be the horse to back here.”

“I...what?”

“You're smart. Maybe not book smart. At least, not as much as Draco Malfoy back there, or...what's her name with the glasses?”

“Grace.”

“Right. Grace. But you've got a good head on your shoulders. You're also braver than either Grace or Malfoy, and when it comes down to it, I would bet money you're the one everyone's going to look to when things go sideways.”

“You say that like you're expecting them to go sideways.”

“I am, Princess. I am.”

I can't tell if he means that, or if he's just being facetious “...Are you ever going to call me by my real name?”

“When you've earned it.”

“I think you've forgotten it.”

“Have not. I saw all your boarding passes in Costa Rica. ...It's Alodia Chandler, right? Or do you prefer Allie?”

“Alodia. Diego's the only one who gets to call me Allie. That's a right you have to earn.”

“...Are you and he...?”

“Me and Diego? Please. I've known him since we were in diapers. He's practically my brother. Besides...” I discreetly point towards my pubis. “I'm missing a piece he finds essential. ...Best friend I've ever had, though.”

“Thought so. Got that vibe from him.”

“Is it that obvious? I know he's not Sean Gayle, but he's not camp, either.”

“He's not lisping or limp-wristing. It's pretty subtle. And if you've known him all your lives it's probably harder for you to pick up on since it's all just your friend to you.” He pauses. “And I'd be surprised if Sean Gayle hasn't kissed at least a couple boys in his time.”

“You think he's bi?”

“I think he's attracted to personality more than what's between a person's legs. Call that what you will.”

“For a lone wolf type, you seem pretty confident in your ability to read people. Or maybe it's just your amazing gaydar.”

“Well, it is damn amazing. Of course, it's wasted on you.”

“What do you mean?”

He grins. “Come on. You're not exactly subtle. If we put Quinn and Sean in front of you and had them bend over, you wouldn't know which ass to stare at.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. Then I laugh. “You're a brat, Top Gun! What about you, then? What's your pleasure?”

His smile slips. He looks away. “...Been a long time since I've shared my bed with anyone, man or woman.” He turns back to me with a wry grin. “Hard to get frisky in a hammock. ...But it don't much matter to me what a person's got in their pants. It's what's in their head that I'm picky about.”  

I am distracted from responding when we break through the branches and arrive at the foot of a sharp, jagged cliff face.

“If we can just get up that, we'll have a clear view,” he says. “How's your rock climbing?”

“Great. I mean...pretty good. Average?” I shrug apologetically. “I'm a gymnast, but I've really only done rock-climbing at the Y. But I never broke anything.”

“Good enough for me.”

He crouches down and gives me a boost, hoisting me up to a low ledge. Together, we carefully ascend the cliff face, grabbing handholds and sticking our toes in cracks to stabilize ourselves. Before too long, Jake crests the top. I'm just a few inches behind him when the rock I'm holding onto breaks off in my hand. I cry out, grabbing at the ledge, and hook my fingers on the edge. Jake grabs my arms and helps me up.

“Nice moves, Princess. Looks like you learned from the stairs on the control tower.”

“Still glad for the help.”

We take a moment to catch our breath, looking out over the island.

“...I gotta hand it to this place,” I say softly. “It never stops taking my breath away.”

“That's the radiation.”

I sigh. “You're a real glass-half-full kinda guy, aren't you?” I mutter.

“...I'm on an island owned by Rourke International. Don't trust that they haven't poisoned this place. In the military, I served near some of their mining operations. ...Massive machines that dwarfed skyscrapers. The kind that rob the earth blind and leave it barren.”

“...I gotta admit I didn't take you for an environmentalist.”

“I'm not. I just think you reap what you sow.”

“So...you believe in karma?”

“Doesn't matter what I believe. In my life, karma's made it pretty clear that it believes in me.” He pauses. “...Seriously, though...that is one hell of a sight...”

“No weird lights in the sky, either.”

“For now.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“...Hey...what's this?”

Jake kneels and brushes at some dirt. I see something glinting in the sun. I kneel beside him. Embedded into the stone is a square-shaped metallic plate with what looks like the head of a wolf embossed on it.

“What is that?”

“I dunno.” Jake frowns, staring at the plate. “There's no writing or anything. Looks like...some kinda wolf?”

“You think it's part of the resort? Like the corporation put it here?”

“Maybe...but why? If it's a warning that there are wolves in the area it's a pretty crap warning, given its location. And I don't know many species of wolves that live in the rainforest.”

I slide my phone out of my back pocket and snap a quick picture of the plate. As I tuck my phone back into my pocket, something catches my eye.

“Jake, look! Down by that river over there...the gray building? Sure looks a lot like...”

“A shelter! Hot damn! Good eyes, Princess!”

“Couldn't have got here without you.”

We smile at each other for a long, silent moment. Then Jake clears his throat.

“We, uh...should probably head back. Find the others and tell them where to go.”

“Yeah. We should. Definitely.”

Jake takes a step towards the edge, then looks back. “Gotta say...this was actually kind of fun. Maybe before I fly back, we can go on another climb together.”

“Sure. I'd like that.”

We regroup with the others and make our way to the shelter. The enormous concrete and cinder building is covered with creeping vines.

“Great job, Jake and Alodia!” Lila chirps. “You found it!”

“I wouldn't go popping the champagne just yet,” Diego says. “Anyone else getting some 28 Days Later vibes off this place?”

“It does look a little...dilapidated,” Quinn agrees. “How old is this place?”

“It's no older than the resort,” Lila says. “I will have to have a stern word with the caretakers!”

“Whole point of a shelter is keeping you safe inside, not looking good outside,” Jake points out with a shrug. “Come on.”

Lila pushes open the doors, revealing a long hallway that looks just as dilapidated as the outside. Vines snake along the floor, and broken fixtures overhead cough sparks.

“...Empty...”

Jake shudders. “On second thought, maybe Pop Culture Petey was right. This place gives me the creeps.”

“I finally get a nickname, and it's 'Pop Culture Petey'?” Diego mutters indignantly. “Everyone else got a cooler one!”

“Not everyone. I'm 'Princess', remember?”

“Anyone else want to go back to the pretty jungle with the magic flowers?” Quinn asks in a small voice. “Anyone?”

Jake kneels and trails his fingertips on the ground. “There's a lot of muddy shoeprints around. They seem recent.”

“You mean the guests were here?”

“Well...someone was.”

A skittering sound makes us all startle. Jake leaps to his feet.

“What was that?”

I look in the direction the sound seemed to come from. There is a gaping hole in the far wall where the concrete has crumbled. Vines and glowing flowers cover the edges like a wreath. ...Or dried blood on a wound, I think involuntarily.

I approach cautiously, the others gathering behind me. At the edge of the hole, I hesitate. Then I gather my courage and peer inside.

“...There's something in there.”

“What do you see?” Diego asks.

Something shifts in the darkness. Two spots of reflected light glint out of the shadows. A pair of eyes.

“There's something alive in there!”

“Certainly it's just a rat,” Aleister says most uncertainly. “...Right?”

There's a strange clicking sound that comes from inside the hole, separate from the sound of claws scraping on stone that accompanies it.

“That's no rat,” Jake murmurs.

“Allie, is that the...thing you saw last night?”

“...It's...” I'm cut off by my own cry as the shape rushes towards me, its shadow huge on the wall, and pounces into the light. We all whirl towards it, and stop.

A creature about the size and shape of a fox, with violet eyes and ice-blue fur, sits on its haunches in front of us and cocks its head.

“Mrrlk?” it trills curiously.

“...What the...?”

“Oh...my...God!” Quinn squeals.

“What...is it?” Aleister asks.

“Uh, literally the cutest thing I've ever seen!” Quinn answers, practically beaming.

“Okay, can we all officially agree this is not a real animal?” Jake says.

As if understanding, the fox-thing trills sadly, its tail and ears drooping. It backs away from us into a corner, trembling. Frost clings to the walls behind him.

“Huh...it looks scared.”

“But what would it be scared of?” I ask. “Us?”

Any reply I might have gotten is cut off by a deep growl from directly behind me. My veins turn to ice. I turn slowly.

An enormous feliform beast is prowling towards us from the shadows, muscles rippling under skin and golden-brown fur. Massive cuspids, each at least the length of my hand from fingertips to wrist, descend from its upper jaw. My heart drops into my stomach. I know in an instant that I'm looking at the creature I saw last night.

“That!” Aleister cries. “That! It's scared of that!”

“You think?!” Lila shrieks.

The fox creature scurries behind me, curling against my ankles.

“Jake!” I cry. “What do we do?!”

Jake looks at me. For the first time, he looks scared. He grabs my hand and holds it tight.

“Don't. Move.”

[spideychelle-romanogers]

Heaven Lost An Angel - Part 1

First series from the Cringe-Worthy Spideychelle AUs Collection

Prompt: Trying to create the cheesiest, most unfortunate Spideychelle story possible.

Michelle Jones is a triple threat pop star that misses her old non-famous life. Peter Parker is an unemployed starving artist who is offered the chance to be her assistant.

Image credit: here Betas: @female-overlord-3  & @smileholland 

This job wasn’t just Peter’s last hope, it was the only way he’d be able to keep his secret.

Peter Parker was struggling. A few months out of grad school, Peter was already out of a job. Three years later, he was doing his best as freelance to keep himself afloat. He’d spent three months now on his best friend Ned’s couch, unable to pay his rent. It wasn’t until this offer came up through Ned’s connection at the Daily Bugle that he ever had any hope of getting back to work.

No one really told him what he was interviewing for. He dressed in a t-shirt and jeans like he would for all of his freelance work. When he stepped into the building, he realized his mistake.  He was brought into the office, noting the high ceiling and even snapping a few photos.

He was finally told the name of the man he would be interviewed by: Happy Hogan. He was interviewing people for work as an assistant, but no one could tell him for whom. He didn’t wait long before a man much taller than him came up and loomed over him in the waiting room.

“You’re a bit young,” was all he said before waving for Peter to follow him. The interview was fast paced and nonsensical. It descended from talk about his work all the way to questions like: “Can you take a hit?”

“What?” Peter asked, incredulous.

“Can you take a hit?” he repeated impatiently.

“....Yes.” No.

“How are your reflexes?”

“Good, I think.” Adjusting his glasses, Peter nervously shifted in his seat, looking around the room for help. There were records hanging around the office, trophies on shelves, this man was clearly proud, if a little bit shameless. It looked so clean, Peter could only imagine he didn’t spend much time here.

“Starting tomorrow, I need you to be able to think fast on your feet,” he warned. Peter grinned. “Don’t get too excited. This is a one-time thing for the tour. I don’t like hiring people without experience but this was very last minute and Mr. Jameson said you’re reliable. What did you major in again?”

“I got my masters in photography,” Peter answered as he distractedly wondered how much begging it took for Ned to convince Jameson to say anything nice. That man had influence, and if there was anything he’d use it for, it’s to tell everyone how useless Peter is at just about everything he does. The only use he had for Jameson was his photos. “He said you’ve been working as his assistant the past three years.”

What did Ned have on Jameson?

“Yes,” Peter lied.

“And before that you were Tony Stark’s intern?” Peter nodded, though that was not as interesting as it sounded. Peter was never even in the same room as Tony Stark. They shook hands and Peter counted his blessings that no one looked too far into this. He was desperate and nothing could stop him from holding this job. “You’ll have to start tonight. We’re on tour all summer and I need someone who can be there every day.”

“I’m ready. Wait- tour?”

“You’ll be assisting MJ,” he noted, as though Peter should already know who that is. Happy stared at him as if he was testing his reaction.

“Oh! That’s great. I’m so honored,” he answered as he stared back, willing himself not to look as confused as he was.

Walking into the concert hall, Peter caught the last song muffled through the floor. The concrete walls of the basement drowned out most of the noise. Everyone was bustling about so quickly, Peter decided to take a few photos as he walked around. The stage hands didn’t seem happy but he avoided them as he made his way past.

For the most part, Peter’s new employer was a mystery. Being so desperate, he wasn’t in a position to ask a lot of questions. The girl’s name was Mary Jane. While he’d never heard of her before, he did a bit of research before coming. After digging for hours, all he could find was information on her and her fiance. There was almost nothing available on her past or her beginnings.

MJ was known for being almost angelic during interviews and very sweet to her fans. She catered mostly to younger audiences, and her music wasn’t really to his taste. He cringed as the first few bars of music played. Then suddenly, he heard her singing and he was charmed. It would be a pleasure to work with someone so talented and humble.

Making his way backstage, Peter held his staff pass out like he was braced for confrontation. He couldn’t relax until Happy found him.

“Dress differently next time,” was all he was met with before being told to follow him. Peter looked down at himself, still wearing the same t-shirt and jeans. He didn’t realize there was a dress code for an assistant but he made an excuse anyway.

“Okay. I didn’t really have time to run home.”

“We’ll go meet her at her dressing room, then I’ll introduce you to the crew. You’ll have to memorize every face and name you meet, so pay attention.” They were about to walk on when Happy noticed Peter camera, hanging from a strap around his neck. “Do you take that everywhere you go?”

“Yes,” Peter said, adjusting his glasses nervously again. “Why?”

Happy sighed out. “Let’s just see how this goes. Shall we?” Peter Parker had never worked as an assistant in his life but he still told himself with full confidence that he’d make things up as he went along.

Stepping off her stage, Michelle would always get this rush for a moment that would make her feel like nothing had ever gone wrong. She got into this business for the fans. She loved the idea of someone looking up to her. There was this rush of happiness she felt whenever she took her final bow. Every night ended in more tasks, more news, more scandals to handle, but that one minute of bliss was all she had to hang onto.

That and the phone calls from her mother.

It had been months since she had been home to see her family. Her fiance Harry visited last night and she begged him to stay. It was desperate, it was pathetic, but then, so was she.

The stress wasn’t just taking over, it won her over. All she could feel was down. She used to have allies in this business but with time everyone showed their weakness. Hollywood is enough to break down everyone’s last reserve of good. Michelle learned that the hard way when she found her assistant flirting with Harry. He resisted this time, to his credit. Maybe this meant he was changing but Michelle didn’t really like to admit to her hope anymore.

After firing her last assistant, Michelle became sure that there was nobody left for her to trust. Her manager was supportive, but he would always put his job before her feelings. Tuning out of her own thoughts, she heard the chanting. The concert had been over five minutes now and they were still chanting her name. Well, they chanted-

Mary Jane.

They took her name from her too. Now she was MJ, but no longer Michelle Jones. Before she could use that thought to drag herself down again, she smiled to herself, knowing it was a show of love. One of the stage assistants handed her phone to her as she adjusted the shoulder of her dress. There were so many texts asking her how she was. The first one was an apology.

“I really am sorry, Michelle,” the text read. It was Harry.

Rushing back to her dressing room, Michelle turned on the television, looking for the entertainment channel. In silence, she waited. They talked about movies, sports, music, the scandals always came towards the end of the episode. The wardrobe team tried to get her out of her outfit but she kicked them all out so she could watch the news alone. It only took a minute for them to cycle the headlines before getting to the news about Harry.

Harry Osborn, billionaire fiance to the up-and-coming superstar Mary Jane was photographed kissing his ex-girlfriend outside of her apartment in Los Angeles.

Maybe she blacked out for a minute. It felt like an hour had passed before she was aware of her surroundings. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this to her, but it was the first since she really believed he had changed. Just before she could start to panic, she glanced down at her phone again to the apology. She missed the sound of someone knocking on the door as she screamed out and threw her phone to the wall.

Her manager stepped in with some kid standing behind him. She was embarrassed anyone caught her in her outburst, but she reacted as though it was his fault for interrupting. Happy looked unamused, but the kid looked downright horrified.

“This your nephew, Happy?” she asked, her tone bored. She hated when the crew would bring family by to meet her. She needed privacy, not more people poking around.

“You should be changed by now,” he noted. For someone so much older than her, he really managed to stay young. His skin was clear for someone with such a high-stress job. Michelle assumed it came with the power of their influence now. She was a household name now, he had everything he wanted out of her.

“I’m busy. Leave,” she huffed, resisting more outbursts for the moment. When the rage subsided, the tears would come. She wanted Happy and the guest out of here so she could have her moment. Looking behind Happy, she saw a short kid with a staff pass and a camera. “I’m not in the mood for pictures right now so you’ll just have to go home.”

“Meet your new assistant,” Happy said gesturing to the boy behind him. He looked so young and a little familiar but she didn’t pay it any mind. He looked unremarkable, in her opinion. Everyone did. “This is Peter Parker.”

“Are you kidding?” Michelle asked, pulling her earrings off and throwing them on her vanity.

“You specifically asked for a man.” Happy didn’t say it but she could hear the insinuation: a man so that Harry can’t flirt with them.

“Yes, a man,” she repeated, not noting she also wanted someone mute so she wouldn’t have to listen to them. The kid hadn’t spoken yet, maybe that favor had been served at least. She took a good look at him. “This isn’t a man, it’s a boy. He looks ten. He looks like a fan.”

“Mary,” her manager warned in a stiff tone. Michelle rolled her eyes and turned to Peter.

“I am very sorry…. Pedro, was it?”

“Peter.”

“Peter, I am very sorry but this isn’t going to work. I’m sure Happy can find you placement with the stage hands.”

“I don’t have time to hire another assistant, Mary, so you either keep him or you get your own coffee.” Michelle scowled at her manager, not knowing why he insisted so heavily on calling her by a name she detested. At the very least, backstage, he could call her Michelle. “Or we can hire Emily again, since it seems Harry can’t be helped regardless.”

Michelle felt that burning inside at how cruel the comment was. Swallowing, she told herself not to remind Happy it was his fault she’d ever met Harry in the first place. “I can give Emily a call,” Happy continued, reaching for his phone. Michelle knew he was bluffing but she could feel her chest closing up. She needed them to leave.

“He stays for the tour. Just for the tour.” Peter looked worried at the idea of being out of a job in a few months. Surely someone would hire him if he survived the summer, right? She had a reputation for being difficult. If he could survive this, he could survive anywhere. Michelle wouldn’t let herself feel responsible for someone else’s livelihood.

Happy left without a word, but Peter was too busy staring at her in fear to realize they were alone. She gave him another look over, at one point lifting the collar of his shirt to feel the material. Polyester, dear God. “If you annoy me once, Pedro, you’re out,” she said, getting his name wrong yet again.  “And for fuck’s sake, ask Happy for an advance and go get yourself some new clothes. I won’t have you embarrassing me.”

Get on the Tag List | Updates | My Masterlist | Next Chapter 

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Tag list: @tomllholland @hufflepuffholland @thefandomranger @letstrysomefanfic @michaelsmoustache @sparklychopshopwasteland

Ideas from: @lindsaymaknae  

Image by: @theunholyqueens

[srseattlestreetnews]

Seattle Street News 58, End of an Era

Announcement:

[Dear Tipster Army, I need to make a sad announcement. I’m afraid to tell you all that this is the last issue of the Seattle Street News. I have lived in Seattle for many years. I made it my chosen home and it is the place that I love with all my heart. I have served this city and its denizens in the shadows to the best of my ability for as long as I could. I have made some wonderful contacts and I love the Tipster Army. But my time in the city has unfortunately come to an end. I have never told you all my name, and I still won’t. However, I will tell you this. I am a citizen of Tir Tairngire. Yes, that’s right, I have a national SIN. But my relationship with my family’s legacy was not something I wanted. Instead, I wanted to be here with you all. And I figured I could live here with you all doing good. And I think I did that.

But I just learned that my older sister has been assassinated, leaving me the only one to carry on my family’s obligations. I was told I have a “choice.” Come home and do good for the people of Tir Tairngire voluntarily, or be kidnapped and brought back to Tir Tairngire against my will. I negotiated being able to remain here these last few weeks so I could finish up my business in the Metroplex. But now I must go back.

So farewell Emerald City, as I go on to take on the leadership position I was born into but never asked for, know that I have been forever changed by serving you all. I hope it will make me a better leader. Know that you will always have a strong advocate and ally in Tir Tairngire.

Thank you for being in my Tipster Army. I am always at your service.

--The Seattle Street News elf]

International News:

Space Station Battle

Something was launched out of that mysterious facility at Sekondi. It is now clear what that was: a space station. Whatever this space station is, it seems to be very important.

This became clear when a number of different competing corps space forces all attacked this space station at once. There was a pitched battle between a number of corporate forces and after the battle was over, Saeder-Krupp held a press conference saying that the space station was now theirs. This itself might be odd but not particularly noteworthy…except for one other element of the press conference. Without prompting, the SK press secretary stated that the space station had nothing to do with the demise of the dragon Brennus. That denial raises quite a few questions. Specifically, what exactly does that space station have to do with the death of Brennus? Note the next story.

 Dragon Council Declares the Demise of Brennus

This week, the Dragon Council put out a short press release announcing that Brennus, the dragon formerly known as Prince, who carved a swath of destruction through Seattle a few months ago and who was perhaps connected to a fringe cult known as the Hand of Dusk, met its demise. They noted that the dragon either died or was forever trapped in an unknown metaplane and that it will never be seen again. They did not take any questions.

 Corp News:

Cheer Up—(by 8)

This night was NeoNET’s annual Thank you party for its Seattle execs. DoughNET donuts were a success, NeotenIQ had managed the double feat of creating no scandals and sticking with NeoNET. Guests were welcomed at NeoNET’s Blast from the Past club by bouncers and other security staff. Their fluorescent blue wigs and formal suits adorned with BeyonZ’s signature multicolored ribbons were great for BeyonZ fans, ridiculous otherwise.

All the familiar faces were there: Gaeaca and her security detail, Donnie “Top Gun” Deckard  at his bar, the X Will “brothers”, Sagetopian retelling the events of his short-lived electoral campaign. Getting reacquainted with coworkers not seen in months, exchanging news of XOGirlWonder who’d left since last time. The excellent champagne was from 2069, the last decent year for French wines, and there was still a stack of cases in Donnie’s office.

It had been a pretty good year for NeoNET but the atmosphere at the Blast from the Past was gloomy. The arcade in the back was broken, sure, but Techiecarer was on it. The Red Gods were supposed to play music and they were late, but the reruns of the latest Matrix Competition more than made up for it. Recent rumors of a run on Pacific Rim by a dragon-led anti-corporation group could mean impending danger for NeoNET. Could even this explain the end-of-the-world mood?

The sudden grating of chairs dragged on the floor drowned the chatter. NeoNET employees were standing up and turning their heads toward BeyonZ as he climbed onstage: “Please welcome my friends, The Red Gods. Tonight we are raising funds for the wife of their lead singer Larry, whose charred body… Well, we all know what happened. It was so heartbreaking when I told Lily on our second meeting... THE RED GODS.”

The man who had accepted that I sit at his table interrupted our small talk mid sentence and told me in his French accent: “It’s funny. Ze story about zem on Kappa reminded me of something my young étudiante told me…” His student was a friend of Ma1nfram3’s and the Blast from the Past star had easily got him access to the private event. Go figure why he was curious about a NeoNET corporate night, though. “By ze way, she just passed her GED”, he added, proud.

The four musicians who were ushered into the bar and replaced BeyonZ under subdued applause were clearly recognizable from the security footage featured on BeyonZ’s show. While they kneeled down and opened their instrument cases, their leader addressed the patrons gathered in a wide semi-circle around the stage: “Thanks for inviting us tonight. This performance is brought to you by... VORACK.” The hail of bullets that followed was more heard than seen through the dense smoke of a grenade thrown at the crowd.

Light clapping turned into screams. Tables and chairs became shields. Glass shattered and a few bodies collapsed in a matter of seconds that felt like an hour. The BeyonZ lookalikes, springing into action, staved off the panic, restored order in the nascent chaos. Three of them ditched their festive attire and assisted the bleeding victims. The Red Gods, having made their bullet point in 7.62 font, disappeared into the night. They were definitely more in their element running in the shadows than singing in the spotlight. The French guy was too busy taking notes on his pad to freak out while I recorded everything with my eye, the two of us drawing bravery from the other’s behavior.

A live, eerily silent, Kappa stream replaced the Corporate motivational fare and cheesy music nobody had given attention to in a while: four guys running toward a waiting van, smokin AKs in hand; a platoon of blue-haired orks and buff humans running after them. They were led by led by Angel Mallet, the famous troll captain I had winked at when seeing him posing as a waiter.

The trid followed the ruckus, passed over half a dozen puzzled youngsters clad in black jackets adorned with a flaming pumpkin. On a sign of their leader, who was wearing a weird mask combining a skull and bunny ears, an assortment of bats and light guns went poof in a flash. By the time the van’s roars and screeching tires made all present in the bar wince and instinctively look at the stream, this Halloweener detachment, their thunder stolen from them, had dispersed and vanished. Whatever they had been up to would be left for another day.

Minutes later. The puddles of blood caused by cuts on glass shards as much as bullets had dried up. NeoNET’s top brass had regrouped. The unflappable Techiecarer had fixed the arcade in the commotion. Except for the prominent bandage on Gaeaca’s arm, none seemed injured. They were giving reassuring news to the Corporate News guy, who had just put on his emergency uniform in front of us: a formal navy blue jacket, crisp white shirt and black tie over short, light blue distressed pants. My new friend said these jorts, as he called them, were “all ze rage in France, ze summum of elegance.” Donnie emerged from his office, beaming, dancing to Galaga’s 8-bit tune. Two cases were tucked under his arms. If Saeder-Krupp was still after NeoNET, if his beloved bar could still live wild nights, then the world was not ending after all and it was time to celebrate: “This champagne will not drink itself, guys”, he said as I was leaving.

 City News:

Mysterious Battle in the Barrens; The Death of a Becky

Something odd happened yesterday. There was a large firefight in the Barrens. That itself is not so odd considering firefights happen all the time in the Barrens. What was odd this particular fight was who the combatants were. Three opposing, enemy gangs, The Red Hot Nukes, The Rusted Stilettos, and Crimson Crush all inexplicably teamed up to assault warehouse that was being guarded by a few different shadowrunning teams. The details of the fight are shrouded in mystery—no one is talking. It was clearly important, with a lot of resources being spent over this abandoned warehouse. People wanted in, and other people wanted to make sure they didn’t get in. The warehouse is now all abandoned as if nothing ever happened. I imagine whichever Corps hired those runners have moved on and no one cares anymore about this warehouse. Isn’t that always how these pitched battles take place? Mad violence that is life and death, and then when the mission is over, everyone moves on. But in matters of life and death, sometimes people die. And in this particular instance, one of our shadowrunners died.

Scarlet Fyre has long been one of our favorite runner teams. The AAA runners who intrigue with their low profile mystique. Who doesn’t love the Twins, or Legs? Well, yesterday, the leader of Scarlet Fyre, who we’ll call Becky—because she had such great hair—died in that battle. It is unclear how she died, but the SSN learned that she died in battle high up in her sniper’s perch. Not a lot is known about her, but fixer contacts had only the best things to say about her professionalism and reliability. One thing that was said multiple times by multiple fixers: Becky was honorable in all of her dealings. She never played corps against each other just to make extra money. If her Scarlet Fyre were bought, they stayed bought and they always completed their mission with excellence and discretion. People often think of runners as criminals and trash or as menaces, but the best runners are experts and professionals. They may be doing a dirty job, but you can do it well and honorably or you can do it shoddily or in an underhanded way. Scarlet Fyre played hard, but they always were professional, much of that was down to Becky.

The SSN pours a drink out to you. The shadows will be less interesting without you in it.

[aion-rsa]

Star Trek: Lower Decks Episode 4 Easter Eggs & References

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This Star Trek: Lower Decks article contains spoilers.

With most new Star Trek shows, locating the Easter eggs and references takes probably at least two viewings. But, with Lower Decks, you can watch an episode four times and still be missing references and Easter eggs. This is saying something when you also consider that these episodes are half as long as episodes of Discovery or Picard. So, with that in mind, like in the previous episodes, there is almost certainly something we missed in trying to gather all the Easter eggs and references from Lower Decks episode 4, “Moist Vessel.”

From a surprise guest star (Haley Joel Osment) to a heartwarming story about Mariner and Captain Freeman (briefly) becoming allies, this episode was about a lot more than just Easter eggs. But that’s not why you’re here. You came for the Trekkie eggs and you shall have them! 

Here’s all the deep-cuts and references we caught in Lower Decks episode 4, “Moist Vessel.”

USS Mercet

This episode finds the USS Cerritos teaming-up with another starship of the exact same class, the USS Mercet. Like the Cerritos, the Mercet is a California-class starship, and, just like the Cerritos, is named for a town in California. We can only imagine what the USS Berkley is like.

Ancient generation ship

The concept of a “generation ship,” is a super-old sci-fi trope, which has appeared in everything from the Robert A. Heinlein novel Orphans of the Sky to the Doctor Who episode “The Ark in Space.” Generally speaking, generation ships carry multiple generations of people, because faster-than-light travel is not possible. Sometimes this also means the ships are sleeper ships, too, i.e. containing people in suspended animation. The earliest generational ship in Star Trek appeared in the TOS episode “For the World Is Hollow I Have Touched the Sky.”  In at least two alternate realities, the USS Voyager (“Shattered”) and the USS Enterprise NX-01 (“E²”) both became generational ships, in which the crews’ decedents became the new crew in the future.

Terraforming Emulsion 

Much of the conflict in  “Moist Vessel” happens because an inert “terraforming emulsion” is let loose and begins turning parts of the ship into self-contained biospheres and/or ecosystems. Like generation ships, terraforming is a pretty big sci-fi trope that doesn’t appear in Trek all that often. The most famous piece of terraforming tech in Trek history is easily the Genesis Device from The Wrath of Khan and The Search For Spock. Like the terraforming emulsion, the Genesis Device had an instant effect. In “Moist Vessel,” the terraforming emulsion is described as something to the ancient aliens had “to “to use it on a dead planet they could call home.” In The Wrath of Khan, Dr. Carol Marcus uses a “moon or other dead form,” as the ideal place to use the Genesis Device. 

Tellarite

Captain Durango is a member of the Tellarite species. He is also the first Tellarite we’ve seen in the TNG era. The first Tellarites appeared in the TOS episode “Journey To Babel.” Like the Andorians and the Vulcans, the Tellarites are founding members of the Federation. Star Trek: Discovery has given us several 23rd-century Tellraties in episodes like “The War Without. The War Within,” and the Short Treks episode “The Escape Artist,” which was, of course, written by Lower Decks showrunner Mike McMahan.

Hull colors on the Mercet and the Cerritos

Since its debut, fans have noticed that the Cerritos has gold/yellow ring on its saucer. Meanwhile, the Mercet has the exact same stripe of color, only blue. Just before the launch of Lower Decks, McMahan explained that because the Cerritos is a second-contact and engineering vessel, that its outward color is yellow, which mirror the yellow/gold colors worn by engineering and security officers. “In the California-class [line], there are three types of hull painting: there’s blue, red, and yellow,” McMahan. This means we can infer that the Mercet is more of a science vessel than the Cerritos, despite the fact the ships are the same class.

Sarcastic Vulcan salute

As Mariner is leaving Captain Freeman’s Ready Room, she flashes the famous “live long and prospers” Vulcan salute. Freeman yells, “Don’t give me that sarcastic Vulcan salute!” Interestingly, we haven’t seen the Vulcan salute used sarcastically or ironically all that much. Although, in Star Trek 2009, Spock did say “Live long and prosper,” with such venom that it almost scanned as “fuck you.” In Discovery, we also learned that “The Vulcan Hello,” was not the Vulcan salute, but instead, firing upon a Klingon vessel without checking first.

Beings of pure energy

This one was easy. When Tendi is talking to Rutherford about a crew member named O’Connell (Haley Joel Osment) who is going to try to ascend into a higher plane of existence, Rutherford says, “Oh, like a Q! Or, the Traveler!” The Q obviously references the Q Continuum, first seen in “Encounter at Farpoint.” In terms of a “regular” person becoming a Q, that happens in the TNG episode “True Q,” in which a woman named Amanda Rogers realizes she can become a being of pure energy. The Traveler refers to the alien of the same name from the planet Tau Alpha C. (Though sometimes, this was said to be Tau Ceti.) The Traveler himself didn’t exactly become a being of pure energy, but he did help Wesley Crusher “ascend” beyond the physical realm in the TNG episode “Journey’s End.”

However, in Nemesis, just one year before Lower Decks, Wesley Crusher was glimpsed at Riker and Troi’s wedding in a Starfleet uniform, implying he was, in fact back in Starfleet. (Wesley also had a new rank of Lieutenant, which seems to indicate he had returned to the service.) So, does Rutherford know about Traveler stuff from Wesley? And is that because Wesley is actively a part of Starfleet again — an officer who is also a being of pure energy?

Holodeck waste removal

Throughout TNG and DS9 it is strongly suggested that people have sex with holograms. This is implied in TNG episodes like “11001001,” but pretty much stated outright in DS9, specifically the episode “Merdiain,” in which Quark is outright commissioned by a sleazy client to create a holographic duplicate of Kira for erotic purposes. Later in “Moist Vessel,” when Ransom and Freeman are talking about what Mariner is doing, they say Mariner is “emptying BEEP out of the holodeck’s BEEP filter.” We all know what they mean.

Debating the Prime Directive

When Mariner is called in to join a senior staff meeting, she jokes “Are you guys debating the Prime Directive again?” In fairness, most debates about the Prime Directive do tend to occur in conference rooms like this one.

Conference room chairs

Mariner quickly discovers the senior staff is debating about the furniture in the briefing room. “A beige chair with a strip of leather right down the middle,” is mentioned. This could refer to a chair Picard had in his personal quarters throughout The Next Generation, which had a strange piece of fabric running right down the middle. The briefing room chairs in Voyager also had at least two leather-ish sections at the top and in the middle.

Everyone folds at poker all the time

When Marnier joins the senior staff’s poker game, she is chastised because she decides to go “all in.” She also points out that most of the characters tend to fold, just when things are getting interesting. This references several episodes of TNG in which the senior staff play poker together and tons of people fold. In “The Best of Both Worlds,” Wesley folds only to discover, in the end, that he would have had the winning hand.

Taco Tuesday

When Tendi is talking to Rutherford about needing to be liked, it looks like she is having a taco. This could mean that the USS Cerritos has Taco Tuesdays in the mess hall, just like on the USS Discovery, about 120 years prior. In the Short Treks episode “Calypso,” the sentient computer of the Discovery, Zora, claims at one point, it is “Taco Tuesday.”

Tamarians

At one point, Tendi lists off an “ascension process for the Tamarians.” The Tamarians are also known as “The Children of Tama,” and appeared in the TNG episode “Darmok.” 

Moriarty!

While Boimler is caught talking to himself, he briefly pretends to be talking to a non-existent hologram on the Holodeck, specifically, Moriarty. This references the sentient holographic version Professor James Moriarty (Daniel Davis), first introduced in Trek canon in the TNG episode, “Elementary, My Dear Data.” In that episode, Moriarty was accidentally brought to life when Geordi asked the computer to create someone who could defeat Data in a Sherlock Holmes simulation. Moriarty reappeared in the episode “Ship in a Bottle,” and attempted to take control of the Enterprise from the holodeck. At the end of the episode, Picard and the crew trapped Moriarty in an endless simulation, in which Moriarity believed he had won his freedom.

The character of Moriarty, of course, originates in the canon of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories and novels, specifically the short story “The Final Problem,” and the novel, The Valley of Fear. Within Star Trek canon, it could be debated that Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty are not fictional characters, but rather quasi-historical ones. In The Undiscovered Country, Spock attributes a Sherlock Holmes quote to “an ancestor,” which seems to imply Spock is related to Sherlock Holmes on his human side. Or, maybe Spock was referring to Doyle, and not Holmes. Or perhaps, as many Sherlock Holmes fans and scholars have maintained for decades, Doyle was simply the real-world literary agent for Dr. Watson, and both things are true. 

The notion of Watsonian (in-universe) and Doylist (real-world) viewpoints relative to canon originates, naturally, within Sherlock Holmes scholarship and fandom. However, these viewpoints also heavily apply to Star Trek, insofar as both viewpoints are often required to reconcile various canon discrepancies. 

In fact, from a Watsonian viewpoint, the reference to Moriarity implies that Boimler is aware of the infamous holographic Moriarity from the Enterprise, and that, perhaps, that Moriarty escaped the “Ship in the Bottle” simulation and is terrorizing various holodecks throughout Starfleet. But, from the Doylistic standpoint, this is mostly just the Lower Decks writers making a fun reference to the TNG episode in which the holodeck goes bananas. Finally, any Sherlock Holmes references in Trek tends to be meta even when you don’t talk about Data and Spock. Both Nicholas Meyer (director The Wrath of Khan and The Undiscovered Country) and Michael Chabon (showrunner of Star Trek: Picard) wrote their own Sherlock Holmes pastiches. In fact, in Meyer’s first Holmes book – The Seven-Per-Cent Solution — Moriarty turns out to be a hallucination created by Sherlock Holmes’ grief and cocaine addiction. So, in The Next Generation, Moriarty was a hologram. But in Nicholas Meyer’s Holmes canon, Moriarty is an outright delusion! 

The voice of the Cerritos references… Captain PIke?

Though uncredited, the voice of the ship’s main character in this episode is played by Vanessa Marshall. The fact that the computer says “Hitting It” in reply to Captain Freeman saying “Hit it” could be a reference to Captain Pike saying “Hit it” on Discovery Season 2.

Also, the computer getting sassy in general has a precedent in the TOS episode “Tomorrow Is Yesterday.” 

Captain Freeman’s first name is Carol

Not only is this the first episode that Mariner calls Captain Freeman “mom,” but we also hear Freeman’s first name spoken aloud: “Carol.” This entire episode is about terraforming, and the creator of the Genesis Device in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan was named Carol Marcus. This seems intentional. 

O’Connell becomes… V’Ger?

When O’Connell’s ascension actually does end-up happening, aspects of it visually look a lot like when Decker became part of the massive A.I. known as V’Ger in Star Trek: The Motion Picture. O’Connell also briefly has wings, which could reference the Red Angel in Star Trek: Discovery, but probably not.

Spock visors 

Just before Mariner and Freeman meet-up with an admiral in the conference room, we see Cerritos crew members vacuuming-up the terraforming emulsion. But, they’re wearing red visors while doing it. This seems like a reference to Spock’s red visor in the TOS episode “In Truth Is There No Beauty?” In that episode, Spock wore the visor to prevent himself from going insane by looking directly at a creature know as a Medusan. The Medusans were last referenced in the Star Trek: Picard episode, “Broken Pieces,” when Rios’ engineering hologram talked about “Medusan astrogation.” 

Starfleet medals, DISCO-style

The medals that Mariner and Freeman receive at the end of the episode are almost identical in style to the medals that the entire crew of the Discovery were given in the Season 1 finale episode “Will You Take My Hand?” This is most likely the “Starfleet Medal of Honor,” which is given for acts of valor. The insignia on the medal is a little different than the DISCO versions, but that blue stripe on the fabric is unmistakable. Interestingly, in “Will You Take My Hand?” the vast majority of characters who received medals, were, not primary cast members, and, it could be argued, were part of the “Lower Decks” of Discovery, even if they worked on the bridge. 

Star Trek: Lower Decks airs new episodes on CBS All-Access on Thursdays. 

The post Star Trek: Lower Decks Episode 4 Easter Eggs & References appeared first on Den of Geek.

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