#I used to boot up call of duty so I could kill some bots

[stereotypicalscorpion]

Does anyone else ever like, feel completely and utterly calm and then that one song kicks in and suddenly you’re filled with the wrath of everyone whose ever been wronged, the need to tear things apart and scream a battle cry?

Most of the time I just boot up my zombie game to decapitate some weirdos but man, the sudden bloodlust is spooky

[parkerparts]

My Work is Loving the World

Harley Keener lives alone in Tony Stark’s cabin by the lake. He fills his days with bot-building, AI-coding, garden-tending, and absolutely no spider-killing. It’s fun, sure, but he’s terribly lonely. That all changes when he comes across a red and blue spider in his garden, and to make matters even better, the little fella can understand him.

Truly, it’s a testament to Harley’s sanity — or lack thereof — that he doesn’t run away screaming. Instead, he smiles softly and holds out his hand. “Well then, Peter. Want to come stay with me in the house for a little while? I’m real lonely up there and could use the company.”

The spider Peter doesn’t bother spelling out a response. He just jumps into Harley’s hands, ready to go with him to the ends of the earth.

“Well then,” Harley says again, if only to fill the silence between himself and the nonverbal creature. “Here we go.”

(parkner, 2.6k, no warnings except for fluff and a lil sad boi harley, inspired by this prompt by @offbrand-celestial, title from mary oliver’s ‘the messenger,’ beta’d by the lovely @midorimireio-blog)

Read on AO3 or Keep Reading Below

When he was nine years old, Harley read that killing spiders in a beer brewery was practically illegal. His garage might not be a brewery — though admittedly, he had made moonshine in there once or twice on a whim with a friend or as a dare — but he still outlawed the killing of spiders.

“Why?” his Ma had asked, stepping into the place to bring him a dinner plate. She frowned at the expanse of cobwebs Harley empathetically embraced.

“They’re cool creatures,” he said with a shrug, mouth full with a bite cornbread. “Ain’t done nothing wrong to me, so I don’t see no point in killin’ them things.”

Twelve years later, not a thing has changed. He lives in Georgia now, in the lakeside cabin Tony and Pepper keep as their getaway house. They visit more often as Morgan gets older, needing a break from whatever mess they handle up in the city to spend time as a family — Harley and the other Keeners included. Harley’s Ma lives in New York, has some swanky job in one of Pepper’s departments, but Abbie’s in Georgia with Harley, attending Emory University. Harley, at Tony’s insistence, had finished high school before moving out, though he refused to go to college. He liked living here, alone most of the time except for when Abbie visited from her dorm on holidays and the Starks and his Ma came down every couple of months. He could do as he pleased, tinkering and inventing and regularly blowing things up. He was terribly happy in that cabin by the lake.

He was also terribly lonely.

Sure, he had his cars and his bots and his trusty AI C.I.R.C.E, but they weren’t the same as human connection, something he infallibly yearned for. Some days, when the self-imposed isolation was too much to bear, he’d drive half an hour into the city of Atlanta, stay a night in a hotel, find a bar, and dance the night away with a faceless guy or two before sleeping alone, buzzed but not drunk and temporarily satisfied.

Most days though, he’d just swallow down the loneliness, bury himself in work or bury himself in blankets. It was all the same to him anyway — a hazy blur of sunrises and sunsets and meals he may or may not have eaten, chores he may or may not have finished. The pile of dirty clothes is a testament to that last one, and he spends three days in an engineering binge to create Landry, the bot who lovingly does his laundry for him when he can hardly be bothered to get out of bed.

Some memories in this hazy blur stick out more sharply than others, and they all revolve around the garden.

It had been started by Pepper as a vegetable garden. When its care fell into Harley’s hands, he had lovingly invested in it, throwing as much hard work and passion into it as he did his engineering. Over the years it has grown into a veritable maze — though not an actual hedge maze, which would have been unimaginably pretentious in Harley’s eyes, and much too orderly. He grew nearly every fruit, vegetable, and flower the Georgia climate would allow and spent hours engineering bots to take care of it.

And, just as in the old garage back in Rose Hill, he had a strict no spider-killing rule.

Harley wakes up, sprawled sideways in a chair on the porch. The sun is high in the sky, and a glance at his phone indicates that it’s well past noon. Even then, Harley shivers, the spring air not yet warm enough for his liking. Half a day wasted, though really, Harley muses as he goes inside, he was up all night combing through his AI’s code, so it’s not like he actually wasted time. Just daylight.

“Mornin’ C.I.R.C.E,” he greets his AI, yawning. “How we feeling?”

“Like brand new, after last night’s check-up.”

“Good, good,” he murmurs, rifling through his dresser. At long last he finds a pair of clean jeans, holding them up with a triumphant grin. “C.I.R.C.E., wake Kof-E up for me, will ya? And send Landry in here. She’s been slacking off her duties.”

“You got it, partner.” Tony had been downright scandalized when he heard Harley’s AI’s country twang. Abbie had laughed about the look on his face for days. Harley smiles at the memory as he goes back out into the kitchen, freshly dressed but with his hair as unkempt as ever. His beloved robot Kof-E whirs from his place on the kitchen counter, wheeling closer as Harley approaches to present a cup of coffee. Harley takes it and pats the robot’s head. He heads outside again, slipping on his boots and a flannel as he makes his way to the garden.

He grabs an apple from the trees that line the border of the garden as he walks through, pausing to greet his robots — Go-G and Gerald — by name as they trundle along. Soon he reaches a small clearing by the lake under the shade of an oak tree that’s sure to be over a hundred years old. Here, Harley takes a seat, finishing his apple and tucking and core into a bag in his pocket that he’ll put in composting later.

A flash of light catches his eye, and he stands, moving closer to the source. There, in between the branches of the tree, is a spider web that — if Harley’s not hallucinating — spells out HI.

“Howdy,” Harley says out loud in response, feeling only a little stupid. “Where are you?”

As if it can understand him, a spider skittles out of the shadows of the branches. Harley bends closer to take a look, surprised by the vibrancy of the peculiar red and blue creature.

“Can you understand me?” Harley asks.

He only has to wait a moment before the spider has spun a new pattern, spelling YES.

“You got a name, fella?”

The response takes a little longer this time as the spider spells out PETER.

Truly, it’s a testament to Harley’s sanity — or lack thereof — that he doesn’t run away screaming. Instead, he smiles softly and holds out his hand. “Well then, Peter. Want to come stay with me in the house for a little while? I’m real lonely up there and could use the company.”

The spider Peter doesn’t bother spelling out a response. He just jumps into Harley’s hands, ready to go with him to the ends of the earth.

“Well then,” Harley says again, if only to fill the silence between himself and the nonverbal creature. “Here we go.”

Over the next few days, Harley and Peter figure out how to live together comfortably. All of Harley’s robots are programmed to recognize and avoid spiders and spider webs, so Peter’s safety isn’t much of a concern. Communication, however, is.

They start out with an old-fashioned chalkboard with basic responses, needs, and the alphabet written out for Peter to indicate by crawling on. With that taken care of, Harley sets off on his next engineering binge, with the goal in mind to create a robot that will allow Peter to move and speak.

He begins by programming a new AI called PETER — Personal Equipment for Telecommunications and Electronic Replies because Harley loves is acronyms as much as Tony does — and gives him the voice of a teenage boy or young adult.

If Abbie or his Ma were here to witness this bout of insanity, they’d call him out for his poorly concealed loneliness. Nonetheless, he is alone and shamelessly gives in to his fantasy of finding a best friend, even if that best friend is a spider.

And really, Peter’s not too shabby of a best friend to have. He likes bacon and waffles — really, the fact that this spider liked human foods should have been a glaring clue to Harley that something truly weird was going on — and makes Harley regain a somewhat normal sleeping schedule by wrapping webs gently around his wrists to make him stop working late at night and somehow — Harley has never figured this one out — getting C.I.R.C.E. to play rock music loudly every morning to rouse him awake. He also gets C.I.R.C.E. to wake Kof-E up every morning though, so Harley can’t complain too much. Peter accompanies Harley in the lab, webbing tools over with surprising strength and giving as much input as he can with his limited communication abilities. He accompanies Harley into the garden every evening and listens as Harley speaks, asking questions every now and then with his little chalkboard. Harley can’t wait to build his robot, ready to hear Peter tell him a story of his own.

At long last, after two weeks of work, Harley finishes the robot, affectionately nicknamed “Capslock P.E.T.E.R.,” with Peter’s approval. He guides the spider into the clear container that serves as Capslock P.E.T.E.R.’s head before stepping back with bated breath to watch his genius play out.

“Hiya, Harley,” Peter/P.E.T.E.R. says, and Harley is nearly moved to tears. “I’m Peter.”

“I know,” Harley replies with a breathless laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Peter replies, voice full of emotion that Harley had no idea an AI was capable of producing.

That evening, they go out to the garden, back to the clearing where they first technically met. Peter greets the garden robots as he trundles by, voice adorably becoming more enthusiastic as the robots chirp back. Harley just smiles fondly at the spider inside the robot, quietly regretting his failure to give Capslock P.E.T.E.R. a face, if only to see him smile back.

“I think it’s your turn to tell me a story,” Harley says, settling by the lake. P.E.T.E.R. rolls to a stop beside him.

“Okay,” he says. “Well, here it goes.”

Peter had once been Peter Benjamin Parker, a bright, young science nerd living in New York City with his aunt. He worked as an intern for Tony Stark, who found the boy after heavy surveillance of a masked vigilante who liked to web muggers up in a sticky, fluid substance of his own invention. “Spider-Man,” the media called him, though Tony preferred “Spider-Boy.”

Then, in a tragic twist of irony, Peter was actually bitten by a spider and somehow become a spider himself.

“Mr. Stark was beside himself. The whole thing was so bizarre, and he couldn’t figure it out. Dr. Banner thought it was radiation, but he attributes most unexplainable phenomena to radiation,” Peter explains.

Eventually, a wizard doctor guy Tony reluctantly called in a favor with figured it out. Harley wants to interrupt and ask what exactly he had figured it out, but Peter glosses over it and presses on. Apparently, Tony had been telling Harley’s Ma the story and she, remembering Harley’s affinity for spiders, had suggested that Tony send Peter down to Harley’s place. They wanted it to be a secret or for him to figure it out on his own or something, so they discreetly packaged Peter in the latest care package/equipment shipment they had sent down from New York.

“That was nearly a week before I found you!” Harley cries out, remembering.

Peter reminds him that “You had an engineering binge,” and Harley blushes, unapologetic.

Together, they sit in silence for a moment as Harley digests the story, which really was something straight out of a comic book. Then a thought occurs to him and he says, “Hey, what did that wizard doctor figure out?”

“Oh,” Peter says with poorly feigned surprise, as if he hadn’t wanted Harley to remember that little detail he left out. “Yeah, he figured out a cure.”

“There’s a cure?” Harley turns to face Capslock P.E.T.E.R. with excitement. “Peter, why didn’t you so? We have to fix this! Tell me, what can I do?”

Peter is quiet for a moment, and Harley begins to wonder if he’s said something wrong. “See, this curse or whatever is magic. And the only cure is a kiss. A true love’s kiss.”

Harley’s mind goes blank. True love?

Harley doesn’t believe in true love. He doesn’t buy into the whole soulmate idea. He moved out to a cabin in the middle of the woods with a heavily encrypted, unlisted address, condemning himself to a solitary lifestyle. He’s lonely, sure, but he likes it. He likes his space, his bots, his AI …

And Peter. He really, really likes Peter.

In the past couple of weeks, Peter has become an integral part of Harley’s life as his trusted companion and caretaker. He’s listened to all of Harley’s stories, and Harley wants nothing more than to hear all of Peter’s, get to know the boy beneath the arachnid body. As he thinks about it more, Harley can’t imagine a life without Peter in it, and maybe Peter’s not his true love — not yet, at least — but it’s worth a shot.

“Well then,” Harley says tentatively. “What are we waiting for?”

With shaking hands, he frees Peter from Capslock P.E.T.E.R.’s containment, smiling as the red and blue spider jumps eagerly into his hands. Harley raises his palm to his face, closes his eyes, and before he can think any more about it, he kisses the creature.

Immediately, Harley can feel the ripple of magic course through Peter’s body. The creature in his hands morphs until he’s cupping not a spider but the soft cheek of a boy whose lips are pressed gently against Harley’s. He opens his eyes at long last and pulls away, unable to contain a gasp at the sight of the boy-turned-spider-turned-boy-again, whom he’s come to love.

Peter wears what looks like a spandex suit, though it’s probably some fancy Stark tech, red and blue with black webbing all over it and a black spider emblem emblazoned on his chest. Harley assumes that the mask Peter mentioned is missing, but he’s glad for the fact as he drinks in Peter’s rosy cheeks and amber eyes and tousled brown curls that make Harley’s heart ache with yearning.

“Hi,” Peter says nervously in his own voice, not Capslock P.E.T.E.R.’s.

“Thank God you came back wearing clothes, because that would’ve made for a real awkward situation.” Harley wants to take back his words — which he hadn’t actually meant to say aloud, for goodness’s sake — as soon as he sees Peter’s eyes widen, but when the boy lets out a bark of surprised laughter, Harley relaxes, joining in. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“It’s okay. The first time I met Mrs. Potts, I ran into her — literally — and tried to say either ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘Nice to meet you’ but ended up blurting out ‘I’m sorry to meet you,’ instead. I just ran away. It was so embarrassing!”

Harley can’t help but to laugh again, leaning his head on Peter’s shoulder. Peter leans his head on top of his. They sit there together, in the clearing by the lake, where it all began, feeling completely at peace with the world and each other and their state of being.

“Thank you,” Harley says suddenly, grabbing hold of Peter’s hand.

“What for?”

“The efflorescence of love,” Harley replies, “and the gossamer that holds us together.”

Peter says nothing at that, just squeezes Harley’s hand tighter. Together, they watch the sunset, witness the way the world changes colors.

The world might be forever changing, but at the heart of it all sat two boys by a lake with the knowledge that through it all, they’d have each other.

And it would be enough.

“I died, and was born in the spring; / I found you, and loved you, again.”

— Mary Oliver, “Hummingbirds”

[antibadnik-a]

"Hey! That one was mine! You can thieve whatever you want, but hands off of my Badnik busting!" Said with //some// playful intention, even if he was pouting all the same. "Like c'mon, If you're gonna try and steal my thunder, at least wait for me to show you up!" The nerve of some people! With a scoff, his fist is already sunk through another bot, hurling it up and detonating it with a burst of fire, turning confetti out of charred parts from the sky. "Make this a flair contest, I //dare// you."

@masterprotector  /  this isn’t call of duty, you nerd.  kill - stealing isn’t a thing.

Her intention had been, for once, at least 50% selfless and NOT entirely rooted around her own bizarre need for adrenaline and / or money.  She had caught the echidna stumble in the midst of their fight out of the corner of her eye and —

She knows Knuckle’s strong.  IF HE WASN’T, SHE WOULDN’T SPEND SO MUCH TIME ANTAGONIZING HIM.  But she’s safe and HIS DEATH wasn’t a risk she could take.  So she had drilled her heeled boot into the badnik’s skull.  To save him.  Evidently, he hadn’t needed saving.

But, hey.  BETTER FOR HER REP if he thinks she’s just kill - stealing.

“Sometimes a girl gets bored of stealing priceless gems.  I take what I can get.”  The banter is accompanied by an easy strike to another badnik; she doesn’t even need to look at it.  “Just fighting these things gets so BORING after a while.  Might as well make it interesting.”

OH — fireworks.  HE’S CHALLENGING HER.  Her smirk grows, eyes lidding further with smug challenge.  Knuckles is strong.  If he wasn’t, she wouldn’t antagonize him so much.  And she’s strong, too.

“Of the two of us, Knuckles, I have a strong feeling that flair is MY strength more than yours.”  A backflip and a kick sends another badnik into the air — with one of her bombs attached.  When it bursts, it takes out not only the bot it was attached to, but also several around it.  

“But please.  Do try to beat me.”

[sueboohscorner]

#Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D Season 5 Episode 13 "Principia" Recap and Review

Baby Von Strucker is in therapy. For whatever reason I thought he was dead, so that comes as a shock. His therapist wants him to open up before they put him on Thorazine, a heavy-duty antipsychotic. He does, but the therapist now probably wishes that he didn’t. He has a super memory courtesy of Lincoln and the memory machine from way back. He knows about the therapist’s daughter, his quirks, and his address. He then stabs the therapist with a pen and gets taken away.

Yo-Yo is still bedridden but stabilizing. She wants Mack to stop babying her and starts making jokes. Coulson tells her that Fitz is working on her prosthetics, but he doesn’t have the equipment. He talks about how cool his robot hand is but admits that it’s not the same thing. She asks Mack if he can date someone with robot parts, but he says that those aren’t the parts that matter. Simmons takes it dirty, but it’s supposed to be sweet.

Fitz tells them that they need more gravitonium.

Daisy has a plan for both the gravitionium and Yo-Yo, Cybertek. They even mention Raina and Quinn. Maybe Quinn will even show up this season. Anyway, all of Cybertek’s scientists are dead and their death certificates were all signed by a man of a million aliases., one of which I assume is an annoying radio host like the one he played on NCIS. He’s currently in New Orleans, so they’ll go pick him up. Daisy’s coming but Fitz isn’t. He’s going to stay with Deke and he is not happy about “babysitting duty.” 

Baby Von Strucker wakes up in a cell without a shirt. He’s in Ruby’s facility. He puts on some clothes and explores. Ruby comes into the cafeteria with headphones on and doesn’t say a word.

Man of a million aliases knows Mack. His name is Anthony “Candyman” Caine and he was at the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy. He was booted out, but “Mackhammer” was a goody goody and loved MC Hammer. The pictures are gold. He can’t help much with the Deathlok stuff, but he does have some info on the “dead” scientists. It’s called Operation Paperclip. Hydra scientists were recruited and disappeared the same way Nazi scientists were after World War II.

Deke has found a baseball mitt and a glove. He wants to play with Fitz, but Fitz is being Mr. Grumpy Gills. He’s eventually persuaded, only to have an alarm go off. Come on universe, let Fitz play catch with his grandson! Anyway, the alert is for another rift flareup.

Simmons finds Yo-Yo on the floor. She forgot she didn’t have arms and she fell off the bed. She wants to have kids with Mack, but she’s afraid that they can’t change the future.

Mack shows shotgun-axe to Caine. Caine tells him that the Deathlok program is a dead end and they talk about how much Mack has changed.

Daisy and May wanted to use the Deathlok program to keep Coulson alive. He doesn’t want to be another John Garrett, rip Bill Paxton, but they refuse to give up on him.

Von Strucker walks in on Ruby training. She doesn’t tell him much, but he remembers her from when they were kids. She has a scar that she got from hitting her head on a table when he was babysitting her. His dad beat him in front of her and her mother. He puts the knife he got from the cafeteria to her throat and demands to see her mother.

Caine brings Mack to talk to one of the Cybertek scientists. He says that the gravitonium was on a cargo ship, the Principia, that sunk in a storm in the Pacific.

Fitz can’t find it and he’s frustrated. Simmons tries to get Fitz to sleep. Deke knows nothing about the ocean and brings up bad memories by asking too many questions. After he leaves, Fitzsimmons shift into completely adorable mode. They want to hyphenate their last name, but they want to do it the wrong way.

Hale and some bots walk in and she gives him the lowdown. They were going to essentially lobotomize him where he was, so she had him transferred. He lets Ruby go and asks if she’s Hydra. She condescendingly says no. Hydra was a boy’s club. She hated it and she hated his father. She’s building something new, something that will hereafter be referred to as Haledra, and she wants his help. Specifically, she wants to know what he remembers about his father. He says that he’d rather die. She says that she won’t kill him. She’ll even let him leave the next day if he wants to. After he leaves, she tells Ruby to get inside his head through any means necessary.

Deke finds Twinkies, which I’m honestly surprised he’s never had, because Twinkies are supposed to survive any apocalypse. Then his mom shows up. She likes Daisy, which is such an embarrassing mom thing to say. She reminds him of this quote she used to say, something that she learned from her mom, “the steps you take don’t need to be big, they just need to take you in the right direction.” Then she tells him to leave, because he knows what happens when he gets close to people. Then she gets stabbed by a Kree, who Deke subsequently kills. Simmons rushes in and asks him what’s wrong.

While ranting about Fitz, he gets an idea. The gravitonium isn’t at the bottom of the ocean. It’s in the sky.

The rest of the team find it and Caine gushes about how cool it is.

Von Strucker has nightmares. Ruby comes in and they talk. He doesn’t just remember facts. He remembers pain like it’s the first time he’s felt it. They bond over parental issues and then she tells him the truth. Her mom is using her to get to him. Then she adds a little twist. What if it were their team and not hers? The best lies always have a little truth in them and she leaves him to think about it.

Coulson, Daisy, and Mack are on the ship with May and Fitz watching. The crew are all dead from lack of oxygen, but somebody took the gravitonium from the engine room, at least most of it. Mack found a little. Here’s where Deke comes in. He tells that they can’t touch it, but they can use a plastic box to contain it. After that, they’ll have 90 seconds to get off the ship. Coulson takes this time to make an MC Hammer joke while Mack secures the gravitonium.

The person that took most of it was a Haledra bot and there are several of them. Mack tells Daisy and Coulson to go on ahead, making me very nervous, but he manages to get out, and brings a few of the bots with him.

Caine leaves and surprisingly doesn’t turn them in or screw them over. Instead, he’s going to look into the Deathlok program.

Yo-Yo and Simmons talk. Yo-Yo apologizes for her breakdown. Simmons uses the exact same quote that Deke’s mother used earlier and Deke overhears. She also has the monolith shard. He’s obviously having a moment, but he doesn’t tell her. He does tell her that the rest of the team is back. He then follows Grandpa to work on the rift.

Mack got Yo-Yo beer and arms from the Haledra bots.

Ruby sees Von Strucker in the cafeteria. He’s staying, so she shows him Creel. Hale asks Ruby how she got him to stay. She says that she told him the truth, so maybe she will go against mommy dearest one of these days.

Old school episode and I loved it. Nothing could ever top the Fitzsimmons wedding, but this at least managed to follow it. 9/10.

[gaigewrites]

Skyelark Sample

A little section of my current work in progress! Hopefully in a few months I’ll be submitting it to publishers!

Wind whipped her dark red dreadlocks around her face, occasionally pelting her cheeks. She inhaled deeply, drinking in the slight salt tang of a long dried ocean and the smell of hot sand. She could smell the oil of her skiff and very faintly, the tin scent of her own prosthetic. Skyelark opened the throttle, guiding her skiff closer to the cargo hold of the Second Wind. Rust colored sand whipped below the small hovercraft’s thrusters, stirring up tiny dust devils.

The Second Wind loomed closer, the cargo hold’s main door slowly sliding open at her approach. The dark metal was sandblasted, obscuring the name on the hull. The bow bore battle scars from run ins with rock formations, rival ships, and errant cacti. As worn as she was, the Second Wind was home. Skyelark slowed until she was able to coast up the ramp. The door slid shut behind her with a solid bang. Overhead lights slowly flickered into life.

Skyelark leaned back, stretching out her spine as she surveyed the cargo hold. Four skiffs were moored in their docks, which left one spot open for her craft. Electromagnets guided the hovercraft into place, locking it into dock. She disembarked, throwing over cargo ties as she crossed the walkway. She was a little taken aback when no one came to greet her. That no one came to fuss over her cargo delivery. Normally there would be a small swarm of women desperate for their cut of the medicines and foods she’d bring back from port.

She tapped the communicator in her ear. There was no response. Skyelark leaned over a control panel, dialing in a command for a helper ‘bot to carry the supplies to a cooler room. The small helper bot, caught halfway between an oblong and a rectangle weaved its way up the ramp. At some point it had blown its axle and as much as she tried to fix it, the bot would power back on and run away. Jerking her chin, she pointed to the supplies in the back of her skiff.

“Take that to the kitchen. There’s another box that needs to go to the infirmary.”

The robot’s single glowing optic was focused on the pile of scrap. The dull green light reflected off of a particularly shiny panel.

“No, you don’t get new parts unless you do your bloody job.”

The robot made a little grumbling noise, its best approximation to human speech. Skyelark shifted stances, holding up her boot menacingly.

“Hurry up. If I come back and find out you didn’t do a thing I will disengage your sensors. And before you ask, yes, those sensors.”

The tiny robot engaged its energy arms, attaching magnetic like grips on the steel cargo boxes. Skyelark didn’t bother watching it. She had her pistol in hand as she made her way into the bowels of the ship. She took the corners at a good clip after a brief survey of the hallways. The monitor she kept with her at all times showed that most of the activity was on deck. She didn’t recognize a handful of biosignatures listed among the crew. Skyelark redoubled her pace, her grip deathly tight on the butt of her pistol. She took the last flight of stairs leading to the deck two at a time.

A loud bang echoed into the open air as Skyelark slammed her hand on the latch. The door smashed into the side of the wall, leaving a dent in old metal. She kept her gun level, ready to fire. A low gurgle of pain caught her attention, she spun, training her pistol on the source of the noise. Blood spattered across the deck, splashing her cheek. She cringed at the sight of a freshly gutted man hanging from the rigging. Her cringe only got worse when she made eye contact with her captain.

“It’s about bloody time you got back.”

“Erm, things going alright here, Cap’n?”

The captain turned, her lips drawn in a tight scowl. Normally the sight of her would send Skyelark’s heart fluttering, this time it just filled her gut with dread, particularly when her eyes landed on the wicked blade her captain held aloft. Skyelark quickly holstered her gun, offering up placating palms. She took a half-step back for good measure.

Skyelark risked a look at the deck. There were a few black-clad bodies littering the deck. Joanna, the quartermaster was busily pitching corpses off the side of the ship. She turned back to her captain, feeling a tight pang of guilt.

“I’m assuming there’s a reason why Yanno’s men decided to attack us today?”

“You mean aside from the obvious, right?”

“Skyelark! There had best be a damn good reason why I just had to kill a few men myself.”

Skyelark opened her mouth to reply only to have her captain gesture toward the helm. She groaned softly. The crew members on deck all stared at her, a few making snide comments. Joanna looked up from her grim duty, offering a wan smile. Skyelark envied the big woman; she never got the tail end of one of the captain’s tirades.

Lucky bitch.

The door to the bridge slammed shut in her face. Skyelark grunted in annoyance as she took her seat on a rickety metal chair. The chair was scorchingly hot; it burned her through her thick cargo pants. She had heard stories of people waiting outside headmasters’ offices and she could say she had a good idea of what it felt like. Every now and then she’d hear the soft ‘oooh’ of one of her crewmates as she waited. She told a few to piss off. At one point even Joanna came up to her. A large hand settled on her shoulder.

“If it helps, she only does this because she likes you.”

“Your idea of liking is very bizarre, Joanna.”

Joanna flashed a megawatt smile. Skyelark rolled her eyes as she idly fanned herself.

“Eh, cheer up, love. I doubt you’ll get anything worse than a stern talking-to.”

“The whole Yanno business wasn’t my fault.”

Joanna’s features darkened. Her nose wrinkled at the mention of Yanno’s name. “I know that, she knows that. Honestly, she’s probably just concerned, that’s all.”

The door opened. Skyelark uttered a soft prayer in her native tongue; it was a sailor’s prayer for safe passage. Joanna snorted, waving listlessly as she returned to her duties. Skyelark rose from her chair, hands dangling in front of her. She let out a soft sigh as she entered the bridge.

The helm was not a very large room. It held a display of wafer-thin monitors, a large wood and steel desk covered in maps, and two chairs. The wheel stood on its solemn pedestal, its surface bedecked in brass tones. The captain sat at the table, legs primly crossed. She had changed shirts and washed the blood off of her hands and face. Skyelark dropped into the chair across from her, her palms resting along her inner thighs in a very unladylike slouch.

“Before you start, can we just cut to the chase? I’d like to get some rest before my watch.”

At that point the cabin girl appeared, holding a tray. There were two cups and a teapot. She gave them both a curt nod as she set the tray on the table. The cabin girl was called Lily mostly due to her pale skin. Skyelark had long since forgotten the girl’s actual name. The captain poured them both a cup, hers in delicate china, while Skyelark was given a heavy copper mug. There were small dents from where her metal fingers warped the mug. The captain took a sip of tea. Skyelark waited for the other boot to drop.

“I would ask you what you were bloody well thinking, but I believe that is out of the question judging by the report I got from Joanna. However, I would very much like to know why in the world they decided that now was an opportune time to attack.”

“Yanno probably got real cocky again. He picked a fight with me in the bar. I shot him. He’s dead, Cap’n.”

“I’ll send someone to scour his ship later. I managed to capture some of their tech. Perhaps he had another lead?”

“Doubtful. I think he just had a burr up his--”

The captain cleared her throat. Skyelark sipped at her tea, momentarily chided. She took a moment to sneak a peek at her captain. The captain had a girlish face and thick, curly black hair. A jagged scar ran across her right cheek, but it gave her face a little more character. Skyelark refused to admit that she was quite smitten.

“So he just wanted revenge?”

“My best guess, Cap’n.”

“You can stop calling me captain all the time. You’ve known me five years now, you may as well call me Amelia.”

“I don’t want the other girls thinkin’ I’m gettin’ too familiar with you.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. She brushed her jet black bangs out of her eyes, squinting as she surveyed Skyelark’s face.

“As if they don’t already talk about how many times I’ve had to pull you aside for your nonsense.”

“Err…” Skyelark broke eye contact, smiling guiltily. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks.

“Exactly. Now fill me in on what happened in town. Were you able to gather everything I sent you for?”

“Got all the supplies, ca-- Amelia. Picked Yanno’s hopper dry. I might finally be able to get the spare up to snuff.”

“Any news from the town?”

“Nothing to really report. The apothecarist thought I was a man, the old bastard. Beer’s piss water. And there is neither a brothel nor a scrapyard.”

“How did he mistake you of all people for a man?”

Skyelark glanced down at her leather vest. It concealed her chest a little, but not enough to hide the rather obvious fact that she was a woman.

“Guess he never saw a real woman before.”

“What is it that you say? ‘A good handful is more than enough’?”

Skyelark snorted. She wasn’t entirely sure where Amelia heard her say that, but it was obvious she had at some point. She held up her palms, frowning down at her chest.

“Well, for you they’d be a good fit.”

Amelia snorted into her teacup. She fumbled on her desk until she got her hands on handkerchief. She mopped up the mess with a few precise swipes. Once she was content with her work, she held up her hand, gesturing for Skyelark to do the same. Skyelark let Amelia press their hands together. Despite their mere three inch height gap, Skyelark could almost wrap the tips of her fingers over her captain’s.

“Well it’s because you have such bloody big man hands.”

“You didn’t deny that they’d be a good fit.”

Amelia pulled her palm away. Skyelark had a hard time not smiling when she rolled her eyes.

“You’re only fiesty because two of your favourite hobbies were out.”

“I have other hobbies.”

“The last time I loaned you a book, you threw it on my desk complaining that the best character died and you sulked for a week.”

“It was only two days.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”