#I will not lie. it was a little difficult to calibrate this perfectly

[hail-our-lady-underground]

Makaria, glorious keeper of a blessed life beyond. Tender of the garden, the heroes, the roses and the legacies, we give you eternal praise.

Playlist link here

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Assembly Blues

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan' Walker's entire week quickly went downhill. By Tuesday afternoon he still hadn't heard from Emmett Locke, not that it was all that late in the week but he had called last Tuesday so a small part of him expected it. More accurately, considering how the date had gone, he was scared Emmett wouldn't call at all and since it was Tuesday, that bit of worry had transformed itself into a huge ball of nastiness that he couldn't quite name.

Then, at a little past three o'clock, his general manager came into his office holding two of the new circuit boards and looking like someone had died. Finnegan tried to smile and reassure Richard, two fails was perfectly acceptable this early in the game. That's why they had done the run through today and not Friday. They had three days to fix whatever was wrong before they went into full production on Monday.

"Two's not bad, Richard." 

He wasn't quite sure why the man had brought them to his office, he certainly couldn't fix them.

"Uh, no boss, I don't think you understand. These are the only two that passed."

"Out of forty?" he exclaimed.

"That's impossible."

"Yeah, It's not good," Richard confirmed.

"Even worse, we've found three faults so far. It's so random and the engineers are down there scratching their heads."

Three faults? One fault, even as widespread as this one was, was fixable. It was probably a small calibration, even a timing issue. Unfortunately, the two working circuit boards that Richard held in his hands proved that the problem was much worse than that and having three faults to try to track down was going to make everything incredibly difficult. Finnegan wasn't sure where to start. Luckily, this is why he paid people well.

"Send Howard up."

He wasn't sure why his head engineer wasn't here already, he would just have to pull himself away from the complete clusterfuck that was going on in their QC department right now. Three hours later he was no closer to an answer then he'd been earlier that afternoon. Everyone seemed to be pointing fingers at each other or at machines no one had any ideas for solutions. He spent an hour running a meeting and at the end of it, nothing had been accomplished.

Oh, there were going to be lots of technical experts in the building tomorrow and they were going to do another test and everyone had thrown pennies into the wishing well just hoping something would work but the fact of the matter was that he still had two functioning circuit boards. Then his father called.

"Finnegan, how did it go today? Are we going to be ready on Monday?"

They had an amazingly close relationship but even he wasn't sure how to answer the question so he went with the easiest part first.

"Hey dad. We'll be ready on Monday but not quite sure how. We had a 95% failure rate on the PCBA's. PCB's look good, relatively. We have a fix."

"For both?"

Finnegan hated to say most of this out loud but he refused to lie to his dad.

"Just the boards. The assemblies are a disaster. Three separate faults."

Finnegan Walker the Third was a renaissance businessman and knew just enough about electronic manufacturing to know that with more faults, the problems and difficulty increased exponentially.

"Damn, Finnegan."

His thoughts exactly.

"I've got four engineers down there taking one board through the line."

"Good, that'll help take the human element out of it. Have the mechanics scheduled?"

Of course he did but they had insisted the machines were working fine when they were installed.

"Yeah dad, they're coming tomorrow but you know how that goes."

"I do. If you're not damn sure it's their machine, they're very unlikely to find the problem. Okay son, sounds like you're busy. Give me an update tomorrow. And Finnegan?"

"Yeah?"

"You sound tired. You taking care of yourself, son?"

"Yeah dad, promise."

A small lie but he'd do better tonight.

"Good. Your mom and I love you and I know you can do this. If we have to delay a week..."

"Not happening dad."

He chuckled, knowing his son all too well.

"If we have to delay a week, the world will not end. You should get out of there now, get some dinner and have a good night and come at this tomorrow with a fresh head."

"Alright. Thanks dad. I'll update you tomorrow."

He hung up the phone, closed his eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths and then spent two more hours putting out fires. By the time he fell into his car that evening it was dark and raining. He crossed his arms against the steering wheel and rested his head, trying to mentally prepare himself for the drive home. Ten minutes later, when he turned off his headlights, he was in front of Emmett's house instead of his own.

He had no idea why except that he knew being alone tonight, even in his pajamas with some cartoons, wasn't going to cut it. He couldn't just show up though, especially since he hadn't heard from Emmett since Saturday evening. Sure, they had parted politely after having a great dinner, hell he even got a kiss but that didn't mean he could show up at the man's house uninvited. He'd almost gathered the strength to leave when he saw a shadow pass in front of Emmett's front windows.

Finnegan Walker: Hello. I know this is weird but is there any chance you're up for some company tonight?

He regretted the text as soon as he sent it. Emmett might be up for having company tonight but Finnegan wasn't. He had typed out a quick apology when Emmett's text arrived.

Emmett Locke: Sure. Come on over.

He quickly deleted his message. Just how long did he have to sit in his car before he went in so that Emmett wouldn't know he was currently sitting in his car? He hoped ten minutes would do it. After two he got antsy and uncomfortable and considered leaving. Instead he opened the squeaky gate and knocked.

[smells-like-mettaton]

Perhaps #5 (Hold my Hand) with Papyton for the fic ask game if you are still doing it?

(I hope you're okay with me writing this as a sequel to one of my other papyton fics! This could still be read on its own, but it will make more sense if you read the first chapter. If you don't want to, just know that the part in italics at the beginning is from a fanfic that Alphys wrote.)

The Greatest Fanfiction of All: The Sequel

Rating: T Word Count: 1687 Read on AO3: here

---

Papyrus���s hands are warm. Of course they are. Theyre always covered in gloves. Not even Mettaton, his boyfriend of one month and thirteen days, knows what his bony phalanges look like beneath the plush red fabric.

But tonight, that's going to change.

xxx

Exactly one month and thirteen days had passed since Mettaton had read the beginning of Alphys’s “papyton” fanfiction. It also happened to be one month and thirteen days since Papyrus had agreed to be his boyfriend, sending him on a magical journey of love and romance.

That journey had given him plenty of new perspectives and discoveries. Yet the mystery of what lie under Papryus’s gloves was not one of them.

He sat next to Mettaton on their usual bench at the center of the hedge maze. The sky was dark with stormclouds, which kept any stray spectators away from the park. Papyrus was prepared, as usual; a tall MTT-Brand Umbrella leaned against his femur. Nothing and no one would ruin this moment.

Now Mettaton just needed to have the moment. Preferably without resorting to calling Alphys and Frisk again.

“METTATON? IS SOMETHING THE MATTER?” Papyrus asked, his browbone furrowing in concern.

Mettaton’s fingers were already laced through his; Mettaton rubbed his thumb against the back of Papyrus’s glove.

“Well. It is a very special day, darling.” Special enough that Mettaton had worn the outfit Papyrus loved most—a cropped shirt that said COOL ROBOT and galaxy-print leggings that hugged his metallic thighs. Papyrus himself had worn a bright Tetris shirt and shorts that exposed his gleaming femurs.

“IT IS?” Papyrus blinked. “IS THERE A SALE ON RIGATONI? BECAUSE I THOUGHT THAT STARTED NEXT WEEK.”

“Hm? Oh—not that I know of, but I will keep that in mind.” He imagined creating a pasta bouquet for Papyrus, and a smile graced his lips. “Today is the one month and thirteen day anniversary of our glamorous romance.”

“WOWIE! TIME FLIES WHEN YOU’RE DATING A HOT ROBOT!” Papyrus grinned, pressing his teeth to Mettaton’s cheek in a close approximation of a kiss. “HAPPY ONE MONTH AND THIRTEEN DAYS, METTATON! IS THERE A SPECIAL WAY YOU WANT TO CELEBRATE?”

It was perfect. Mettaton couldn’t have set it up better if he tried.

“Actually…” He turned Papyrus’s hand over, examining every seam and stitch in his crimson glove. “I was hoping to see your hands. I know they’re just as handsome as the rest of you.”

He winked, and a light blush spread across Papyrus’s cheekbones.

“MY HANDS? I’D GLOVE TO! BUT, ERM…” His fingers disentangled from Mettatons, instead fidgeting nervously with the hem of his right glove. “I DON’T KNOW THAT YOU WOULD FIND THEM AS UNBEARABLY ATTRACTIVE AS THE REST OF ME.”

Coming from Papyrus, that was practically a statement of self-loathing. Guilt bubbled in Mettaton’s soul-tank.

“Beautiful.” He grasped the top of his boyfriend’s arms and squeezed them gently. “There is not a bone in your body that I would not find attractive. Of course, I will not ask you to perform if you are suffering stage fright, but I do think you shine so much brighter in the light.”

Papyrus smiled a little, though his browbone was still turned upward with worry.

"IF YOU'RE SURE…"

"Positive as my ratings, darling."

Papyrus nodded slowly. "I TRUST YOU, METTATON."

Those words were like ambrosia to Mettaton's soul. He would do anything to remain worthy of his boyfriend's trust.

"PLEASE, JUST… DON'T BE FRIGHTENED, ALRIGHT?"

Mettaton couldn't imagine anything about Papyrus being frightening.

Then, with agonizing care, Papyrus peeled off his gloves. And Mettaton understood.

The bones of his hands were scorched an ashen gray, nearly black. Hairline cracks laced through them like spiderwebs. Mettaton was half afraid that if he touched them, they would crumble to dust.

"I'M FINE, REALLY!" Papyrus must have noticed the look on his face, no matter how quickly Mettaton had schooled his expression. "THESE BURNS ARE SO OLD, I BARELY NOTICE THEY'RE THERE!"

His grin was strained. Mettaton wanted nothing more than to reach out and squeeze his hand, but he didn't dare.

"They don't hurt?" Mettaton asked, then winced. He could've phrased that more tactfully. It was probably better than asking how on earth the injury had happened, at least.

"WELL… THEY ARE A BIT SENSITIVE WITHOUT MY GLOVES. THEY HAVE HEALING MAGIC, YOU SEE." Papyrus held out one of his red gloves, his expression turning to one of pride. "SANS DID THE SEWING, AND I DID THE ENCHANTMENT."

"No wonder you love them so much." Mettaton smiled. It was adorable how much Papyrus loved his brother. Their love had inspired Mettaton to finally patch up his relationship with Blooky and Mew Mew.

Papyrus smiled back, running a charred fingertip fondly over the fabric. "WOULD YOU… LIKE TO TRY ONE ON?"

"Me?" Mettaton blinked.

"OF COURSE! WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO EXPERIENCE THE GREAT PAPYRUS'S LEGENDARY HEALING MAGIC FIRSTHAND?"

Mettaton chuckled at the pun. "How could I possibly refuse?"

He slipped off his white gloves, revealing the unsightly bolts in his own fingers. He hardly felt self-conscious about that after seeing Papyrus's hands, though.

Papyrus's glove fit like a dream. Like holding his hand, only from the inside. Warmth seeped from the fabric into his metal joints, slipping through his cracks like sweet oil.

"This is… quite the enchantment," he breathed.

Papyrus couldn’t be in pain with that much healing magic caressing his bones. But on the other hand, even the constant healing magic had failed to permanently erase the scars. Mettaton still wasn’t too familiar with physical injuries, but surely that wasn’t normal, right?

Papyrus’s wink sounded like magical glitter."WHAT CAN I SAY? I'M VERY ENCHANTING."

He looked just as bright as ever. Just as energetic, as full of life.

Just as beautiful, inside and out.

"That you are, darling." Mettaton kissed his cheek.

Papyrus pulled his left glove back onto his hand, then twined his fingers with Mettaton's. Red on red, warmth on warmth Their hands matched perfectly.

"YOU PROBABLY HAVE SOME QUESTIONS," Papyrus said quietly.

Mettaton's eye flickered to Papyrus's bare right hand before returning to his eyesockets.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't feel comfortable with, darling."

Mettaton was curious of course. If this injury had been caused by another monster, they would face the wrath of a true killer robot. Knowing Papyrus, though, he had probably forgiven whoever was responsible.

"I ALWAYS FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH YOU." He smiled. "AND IT IS… NICE. TO HAVE SOMEONE BESIDES SANS KNOW THIS."

"No one else knows?" Mettaton’s eyes widened. He'd thought Undyne would have found out, whether Papyrus told her on purpose or she burned off his gloves during one of their cooking lessons.

"I AM A SKELETON OF MANY SECRETS." Papyrus winked again. This time it sounded like tinkling bells. "IT HELPS THAT NO ONE ELSE REMEMBERS THE ACCIDENT, THOUGH."

An accident. No one had hurt Papyrus on purpose.

Mettaton sighed in relief, powering down his killer robot protocols.

"I WAS HELPING MY DAD WITH HIS WORK ON THE CORE. I ALWAYS CALIBRATED THE PUZZLES WHILE HE CALIBRATED THE GEOTHERMAL POWER LEVELS."

Papyrus looked down at their tangled hands, his expression distant.

"I STILL DON'T KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED. ON THE DAYS SANS REMEMBERS, HE PROMISES THAT IT WASN'T MY FAULT. THAT DAD WAS TOO CARELESS. BUT THERE WAS AN EXPLOSION, AND DAD, HE… HE FELL…"

Something in Mettaton crushed as Papyrus's voice cracked.

"I WAS LUCKIER. THE BLAST ONLY GOT MY HANDS." The smile returned.

"Papyrus…"

Mettaton didn't know what to say. What could he say? Ghosts didn't have parents. His cousins were his family, but he couldn't imagine them dying, either. Blooky physically couldn't.

But this wasn't about him! It was about Papyrus, who had lost his father and scarred his hands and still counted himself lucky.

"DON'T BE SAD, METTATON. IT WAS A LONG TIME AGO. LONGER THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE."

Papyrus looked into his eyes, and for a moment, Mettaton saw something old. Mettaton had been alive—albeit as a ghost—for nearly two centuries. Right now, though, Mettaton wondered if Papyrus was even older than that.

"I suppose so,” he reluctantly admitted. “I don't even remember an explosion at the CORE."

"OH, THAT'S NORMAL. APPARENTLY DAD WAS RATHER FORGETTABLE." His smile was sad. "EVEN SANS DOESN'T ALWAYS REMEMBER HIM. BUT I… WELL."

He closed his blackened fist.

"IT WOULD BE DIFFICULT TO FORGET."

Mettaton opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Luckily, it didn’t seem like Papyrus was looking for a response.

“WHEW! ALL THIS HONESTY IS EXHAUSTING!!” Sweat beaded on his skull. “DO YOU WANT TO GO GET NICE CREAMS?”

“Of course, darling, but—are you sure that you’re okay?” Mettaton couldn’t help the concern in his voice. It wasn’t every day that he unlocked his boyfriend’s tragic backstory.

And here he’d been so concerned about something as trivial as holding hands. He truly was as selfish as everyone believed.

“PLEASE, DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME,” Papyrus said firmly. His hand gave Mettaton’s a tight squeeze. “I MEANT IT WHEN I SAID IT WAS LONG AGO. PRACTICALLY A DIFFERENT LIFETIME. I ONLY TOLD YOU SO THAT YOU WOULD KNOW HOW MUCH I TRUST YOU.”

Trust. Mettaton trusted Papyrus, too. Trusted that he didn’t need Mettaton to coddle him. Trusted that if he wanted Mettaton’s help, he would ask for it.

“I… thank you, darling.” Ghostly tears welled in his eyes. “Your trust means everything to me.”

“WELL THEN!” Papyrus’s grin turned mischievous. “I TRUST YOU TO KISS ME UNTIL I CAN’T BREATHE!”

Mettaton’s fans whirred and whirred. The sound was quickly drowned out by the raindrops that began to fall and fizzle on his shoulder pads.

“Darling, you’re a skeleton. You don’t have lungs.”

“NEITHER DO YOU.” Papyrus twirled the umbrella before popping it open, protecting Mettaton from the threat of short-circuiting.

(From the rain, at least.)

“You truly know how to give me a challenge, darling.” Mettaton cuddled closer, reaching up to brush his red-gloved hand against Papyrus’s cheekbone.

“ONLY BECAUSE I KNOW YOU’LL RISE TO IT!”

Mettaton grinned back, and that was exactly what he did.

[starfaring-princelotor]

Fourth Taste

Summary: Emperor Lotor finally achieves his life-long goal.

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing.  ★

Warnings: N/A.

A/N: In light of S8, I am making my own canon interpretations.

Touch Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Taste Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Sight Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four

Allura was never one for sitting idly when there was work to be done. She supposed that was another thing she had in common with Lotor. With their advancements on the Sincline ships thanks to her knowledge gained from Oriande, it would only be a matter of time before her - their goal of peace can be achieved. So, why then, was she here of all places?

“Hm,” you removed the stethoscope from her back then unplugged them from your ears, “When was the last time you had a good night's rest?”

“Oh, I...A few days ago, just after we planned to bring in leaders from neighboring planets for a diplomatic - “ she paused, noticing you staring unblinkingly and rather sternly at her, “Ah, yes, well, I suppose it has been quite some time.”

“You may feel fine, Allura, but the overexertion is taking a bigger toll on you than you think.” Arms crossed, you glanced down at your screen, “The reason why you fainted earlier could be due to stress.” “Doctor, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine, really. Coran has been making sure I eat my meals and Lotor even suggested I get myself checked out. That’s why I am here. I assure you, I’ve never felt better.”

Silence. If there was one thing she found unnerving, it was that you were always the quiet, unflinching type. Your eyes never left hers, but Allura stood firm and smiled softly to show that, really, this was unnecessary. Alteans and humans have different bodies and tolerance levels for stress, so the Princess was unsure why you were intent on keeping her here any longer when she could be helping Lotor.

“Your blood pressure is a little high and I noticed an odd heart palpitation during the examination. Allura, both of these combined can be the cause of your fainting spell. Are you aware of any heart conditions or possible illnesses that would otherwise affect your daily activities?”

She was an alchemist. These body issues are something she doesn’t understand. She opened her mouth to answer, but found that she didn’t actually have one.

“How long has this been going on? The stress.”

Allura shook her head, knowing that denying won’t help, “Aren’t we all stressed from this war? I must do everything I can to help, surely you understand.”

“I do understand - “

Part of her really doubted that and much of that doubt came from her distrust in you.

“-but Allura, you are more helpful alive than stuck in a coma.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been with you since Shiro located me. I have made sure you’re all in top fighting form, both in body and mind,” a pause as you gathered your thoughts carefully, “I know of your sacrifices, your many sacrifices, and as a doctor, I would like to make sure you are fine mentally. It may not be obvious, but mental health can have direct consequences on the body if left untreated over a long period of time.”

“Doctor, I assure you, I am not mentally ill,” a tone of finality, of we will speak of this no more.

Allura shifted off the table to fully stand, the conversation making her slightly uncomfortable. She was a PRINCESS. She was fine, she knows her limits, why weren’t you listening to her? No matter, there were more important things to do at hand. She was not crazy or whatever you were hinting at. She was NOT. She was just...tired. Yes. She needed rest.

You thought otherwise based on your expertise, but there was nothing you could do to make her see that maybe, just maybe, the life and death sacrifices, the times she survived, the fighting, supporting Voltron, all of it, were red flags at a crumbling mentality. Yes, this is war. No one you knew came out the same or even sane. You knew that all too well.

“Alright. The quintessence in your body is being drained at an exceedingly fast rate, which I can only assume is because of the Sincline ships being created.” Turning to the cabinet, you read over the labels carefully, “Ah. Here. This medicinal powder is made from Balmeran herbs. Mix it in your drink in the morning and it should rejuvenate your body from over straining your quintessence levels. Do not forget to rest more.”

If there was one thing you would need time adjusting to, it was technology. Not so much the weapons or the ships. You were familiar with the medical tools at your disposal, but the simple things like this tended to really bring home the fact that you were in space. You were far from the planet you were born in, even if it looked exactly the same last time you were there.

The sand. The ocean. The clouds and the palm trees and the little crabs scuttling away from you. And yet...

Lotor’s footsteps echoing the room was the only thing reminding you this was not real. You turned to face his approaching form, the door behind blending perfectly with the technological mirage. You won’t lie, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Full body armor in an otherwise peaceful paradise - well, a paradise to others - wasn’t exactly fun in the sun wear.

“A beach?” he stated, taking a few seconds to observe the details around him. “You know, good doctor, you are by no means tethered here with ball and chain. If you wish to take a personal leave, I can provide you with an escort to the nearest aquatic planet.”

The Emperor crouched and sat besides you as the imitation waves lapped at both of your covered feet, then after a few seconds, you spoke up, “That’s not necessary. I was just curious to see if this room worked as well as I heard. The Castle of Lions has the same simulator chambers, but it isn’t suited for any other species except Alteans.”

This was such a peaceful scene. The sun was setting, throwing the sky under a spill of angry red and fiery orange rays. Birds were skimming across the horizon. The glow, oh, the glow was just as you remembered it. The sound of rustling trees tingled your ears despite the fact that there was no wind brushing against your skin. No spray of the ocean, no chill of an oncoming night. No wetness from the water.

Fake, but real enough.

“Hunk helped re-calibrate some of the more...technical settings. I was just the guinea pig,” fingers raked through the sand, but you felt none of the grainy texture, “You may change it, if you want.”

“On the contrary, I would like to see more,” Lotor suggested, but you refused him with a shake of your head, “No? Then may I ask about this place?”

You nodded.

“This is Earth, I presume? Your home?”

“No, not mine. My father’s home. This is where he was born,” short answer, but it was detailed enough for him, “...I visited after he died, when I was honorably discharged. This was my first time seeing it.”

Now, Lotor was no blind man. He was no fool. For every moment you shared with him, he took with an ounce of gratitude. Expecting any more than you were willing to give would only make his itch unbearably annoying to hold back. Tempering himself to not push so hard, not yet, the act of discovery is only half the fun, was difficult. So, he liked to work with what he got.

“The ocean swallowed his home island the year after. It doesn’t exist anymore.”

“You miss it,” Lotor stated based on the far-away glaze in your eyes.

“I miss what I could’ve experienced growing up there. But miss it? No, not particularly,” perhaps the disconnect should have worried you after all this time, “Do you have something like that, my Emperor?”

Somewhere he missed, somewhere he could have experienced great things growing up there? Yes, but the simulator works off memories and how could he possibly have memories of extinct planets? Lotor closed his eyes, letting the computer change the room from soothing sunsets to complete darkness, then slowly rebuilt from the ground up. White water, a pinkened sky, ancient buildings of Altean knowledge.

“Where is this?” your curious voice asked, clearly interested in this somewhat heaven-esque world.

“Oriande. Beautiful, is it not?”

You said nothing, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Pretty? Yes, but what truly made a place special was the context behind it and you were interested in what story he had to share, what piece of himself he gave in return for your vulnerability. A fair exchange of sorts, one you both agreed to long ago.

“I always wanted to be an explorer when I was younger and finding Oriande was the pinnacle of my discovery,” he started with a bit of a bitter undertone, “An honorably revered homage to the Alteans of old and the secrets they keep there. Truly, it was an experience I would never forget.”

Yes, he did not gain the knowledge of alchemy, but just finding the place was good enough. Just one of his childhood dreams achieved, to retain a piece of his lost heritage. You two soaked in the ambiance of the view. Him, reflecting on his actions and his choices. You, committing that his lost Altean history is what pushed him to strive for the urge of discovery in the first place.

Soon enough, the imagery faded and the lights revealed an empty, blank room, “Shall we, good doctor? I believe I have an appointment with you soon.”

Lotor stood to his full height, a hand held out in offering. You accepted with little hesitation on your end.

“Emperor Lotor, I have a request.”

Both of them paused their work to face you, Allura from the ship and Lotor from the screen. Normally, it would be ideal to take whatever proper procedures you needed to formally ask for access, but by now you figured that you were somewhat in the Emperor’s good graces. You approached him just as the Princess grouped up, as well.

“What is it, good doctor? Did you need more of my blood samples?”

“No, I have enough,” you pulled out the black vial and Allura’s brows rose, “I’d like to have access to the quintessence stock in order for me to experiment with combining its properties with this.”

Ah, yes. The miracle drug that saved your life. He was able to break down the components with the sample you gave him, but was otherwise unable to explore its properties any further. Perhaps this would be the perfect opportunity for you to carry on his work while he continued with -

“Absolutely not,” Allura spoke, making both heads turn, “Certain quintessence can lead to harmful effects if used improperly.” “I am aware. I have read about it and this is why I believe it can help completely bypass the after effects when administering this drug,” you argued back, perhaps a little offended she thought so careless of you, “If it works, then I can mass produce this and aid those who need it. Like the Coalition forces. I know they lack medical supplies for refugees- “

“We can not risk over exposure of quintessence to those who are sensitive to it,” the Princess interrupted, your lip twitched, “Perhaps after the ships are made, I can lend a hand with your research. This is too dangerous work with alone.”

You kept your lips sealed in a firm line, completely unsatisfied with her answer. Yes, you read Honerva’s research. Yes, you finished reading upon Galra biology down to a molecular level. Yes, you knew what you were doing. Using the drug on yourself proved it worked with humans, but other species? Galras? Taujereens? Olkarions? You must perfect it before introducing it to other scientists for aid.

Lotor placed a hand on her shoulders, “Allura, I think this is an excellent opportunity at hand. Doctor, I will give you access to certain strains of quintessence that our own medical officers have used before. There are some notes on file when I started my own experiments with the Witigue drug. They are yours.”

“Thank you, my Emperor,” you gave him a curt nod, “When the both of you have the time, I would appreciate it if you overlooked my work. It would help to have pairs of fresh eyes to collaborate with me and make sure the quintessence is as useful as weapons as it is for healing.”

Allura’s concerned expression only grew more worried. Infusing quintessence and medicine? Nothing of the sort has been done before since quintessence on its own was already useful, though she knew not every unique body would accept it without harmful after effects. Perhaps Lotor was right. The sooner you cracked the code, created a drug every species can use, then the sooner the people can start healing from the war.

You stared holes into her back as she walked away. This was why you willingly joined Lotor. She held you back whereas he encouraged your freedom. And yet, it still did not get through to her that she may be a Princess, but you were not her subject. And you swore you would never blindly take orders from higher ups again.

“Anything else I can help you with, doctor?”

“Not now. We shall discuss more...later.”

Lotor was a man of luxury. Did he have it in his life? During his exiled years, no, he did not. He struggled some nights to survive the cold and there were days he was ever so grateful to have a roof over his head. Now, as Emperor, it took awhile for him to adjust to the lush lifestyle. Imagine his surprise when he found you sitting on the edge of his bed, patiently waiting for him.

“Are the rooms not up to your standards, darling?”

“No, they are fine, my Emperor.”

His ears twitched at that title leaving your lips.

“Then, pardon my assumption, do you wish to sleep here tonight?” he boldly suggested with an easy, welcoming smile on his lips.

“Perhaps, but that’s not why I am here,” you said, “I wanted to give you an update on my research. If you have the time, that is.”

“Allura has decided to call it a night and there is not much I can do without her alchemic powers. Come, may I join you?”

What an odd thing to hear. Lotor asking permission to be in his own bed. An Emperor, nonetheless. Either way, you nodded, and he headed to his closet to begin undressing. You turned away to give him some modesty while he stripped his armor off. Since when did it bother you to look at him? You’ve seen his body in the office. This...this was a different setting.

“I managed to isolate the compound that triggers the residual pain - “

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him starting to peel his body suit down to his hips before slipping on a modest shirt.

“- and the medical officers were able to greatly help speed up the process. We have not yet tested it - “

Lotor tugged the rest of his suit down, letting it fall as he stepped out of it. The dark room did well to shadow his chiseled body and make his sharp features look even more prominent. His toned legs and smooth thighs soon became covered by silken fabric, fingers deftly tying the string in place.

“ - and...that is why I am here. Although I have completed step one faster than I expected, we have not been able to proceed to step two. Experimentation.”

Though, you highly doubted space mice were an available option to choose from, especially since you were sure Allura would straight up drain your life force with a blink of an eye. No, you needed to find an animal that had the same biological properties like an Altean or a Galra, but you were unaware if such creatures even exist anymore.

“Ah, yes. How can one check the efficiency of an experiment without a test subject?” Lotor mused, stepping to the other side of the bed before taking a seat, his weight leaving an indentation, “No space bunnies available, hm?”

Lotor leisurely laid on his side, arm propping up his head, then stared at you. Or rather, observed. Shoulders were lax, expression calm, the gears in your mind turning as you gazed right back at him. Of course, he himself was the epitome of relaxed right now. He gets to keep his brain occupied with another little experiment in his claws. You.

“I...suppose I can work with them. It may take weeks or months to finalize a firm result, though.”

“How about me?”

“What about you?”

You tilted your head a bit with your brows lowered in suspicion. Was he insinuating what you think he was? And why did he look so...willing to do it? His lids were hooded and you could see that there were shadows under his eyes. Overworked? You wouldn’t be surprised. Both Allura and Lotor didn’t know their limits. It will get them killed one day. Or maybe, they weren’t aware of their body’s limits?

“Why not try experimenting on me? After Sincline is finished, of course,” Lotor’s voice was steady, yet strangely flippant as if he wasn’t suggesting live experimentation on PEOPLE.

“I do not think...that would be wise, Emperor Lotor.”

“What is your second choice?”

Second choice? Second choice was...using it on yourself. It isn’t like you haven’t injected Witigue within your body before and you were confident in your knowledge of chemistry and molecular biology. You could handle it, you’ve done it plenty of time to ensure your own survival. Now, though, it would be in the name of science.

“Myself.” “Hm. Me, or you,” he played with those few words, knowing that now your blurred morality line would be almost impossible to differentiate, “I swore I would let you explore my body. This is part of it and in the name of science, I am willing to do it. We need not smear protocol for this, good doctor.”

I am doing this to keep my end of the deal.

Judging by your silence, you were honestly considering it.

“I will...try to find alternatives before taking your options as a last resort.”

He had expected you to promptly leave after that final word, but imagine his surprise when instead, you casually laid in his bed. Interesting, but not at all unwanted. Lotor opened the blankets in offering, thinking that perhaps you would not mind another night of his arms securing you while you slept.

In all honesty, he wasn’t tired at all. The thrill of being so close to his goal, reaching peace within the empire, unlimited quintessence -

“What are your next plans after this?”

Lotor leisurely slid his arm around your waist, not tugging, but you weren’t pulling away either. In fact, his eyes dilated when he felt the tips of your fingers skim over his covered hip in an almost teasing adventure. Once your palm fully rested on the dip of his waist, you sidled up to his chest as you kept your gaze firm with his. The question. What do you plan on doing?

“Planets whose resources are critically strained due to my father’s unsustainable practices will be tended to first. A little humanitarian services is long overdue, no? We will need the Olkari’s help on this. Having their engineering knowledge may further aid in siphoning and transporting quintessence across the universe.”

A noble choice after ending the war. Unlike Lance, you knew that just releasing enslaved planets when their resources were otherwise drained to near unreparable would only end up sentencing them to starvation and death. Ten thousands years made societies rely on the Empire for survival, even if the decision was ultimately out of their hands.

“With Voltron and Sincline, I can begin work to restore the Empire as a whole. Those who claimed disloyalty and wrought destruction in the wake of my crowning will be stopped,” Lotor paused, only because he hadn’t noticed your hand had made its way up to his cheek, “Times are changing for the better. And those who do not change with it, will…”

You cupped his jaw, stroked his cheekbones softly, and he unceremoniously let out a big yawn with his fangs glinting in the night. A content groan escaped his chest, now realizing how comfortable he was. How his mind seemed to have calmed down from the days’ rushing thoughts. Did this pillow always feel so good? Or the comforter so warm? Ah, the luxuries. It made him weak.

“Do you plan on staying?”

Lotor’s eyes slid closed.

“Staying with…”

Me.

“Doctor, you checked them out for flight, yes?”

“Yes, Coran. Physically, they are fit. I saw no problems with their body’s health and I did make sure they had a full days rest before today’s launch.”

Coran’s concerns were coming from a good place, you knew. He was practically Allura’s father at this point, watching over her and giving advice when needed. Even sharing the same pain and comforting each other in the face of a daunting reality that they were both the last living Alteans in the universe. You understood their connection. Perhaps not relating to it, but you understood it.

“Shouldn’t we be a little more concerned about this? I mean, last time anyone went in the quintessence field, Zarkon turned evil,” Lance piped in, clearly disgruntled by the entire plan.

“Zarkon fell prey to his own evil instincts,” your attention switched to Shiro, “The quintessence field didn’t create them. It revealed them.”

No. That wasn’t right. You read Honerva’s research, handled quintessence yourself, and there was nothing that supported his claim. Then again, Shiro faced Zarkon himself. He battled him for the lion, but just based on your own findings, it felt like something was...missing. A major component about the Rift and the quintessence. If what he said was true, then either you were immune to it or you were unaware of the effects.

But you felt fine. Nothing out of the ordinary, except perhaps feeling a little more...light around Lotor. You were more inclined to believe that was just the friendship between you two. The growing something between you two. Something you only saw as respect for him. Lotor only solidified that respect when you told him no a week ago.

Of course you expected him to listen as anyone should, but you noticed he did more than that.

“We’re prepared just in case there is an accident,” you explained to the group, “If the quintessence does anything to their bodies, I will be the first to know. The second they are heading back, I assure you, I'll run a full physical on the both of them. Right now, I have their vitals up on my screen.”

Part of you was also...excited about this discovery. Was quintessence the true reason why the universe fell into 10,000 years of suffering and loss?

So far, nothing strange. Perhaps their hearts picked up the closer they got to the ruined Daibazaal remains, perhaps your own was beating loudly in your chest as Coran counted down until the ship would reach the gate. You didn’t care for war. You didn’t. You cared that there was something left afterwards, something that would show you there was a future for all.

The chart readings went blank the second the ship disappeared in a blinding light.

“You know, Shiro, I never did like waiting,” you told him out of the blue as seconds turned to minutes, “That’s what I like about you. The soldiers get jobs done, the medics wait for the inevitable.”

He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, understanding your message that would have been odd or offensive to any other person in the room. War does that to people. They force strangers to connect in a bond no other could experience. You couldn't say this to Coran or Hunk and expect them to know what nonsense you were spouting without giving you some form of pity. Giving you distance with a cautious gaze. Isolating you.

Shiro took a deep breath. He knows what you’re asking.

Is this the end of it all?

“Don’t worry, doctor. You know what I always say. Patience yields - “

The blaring red screen cut him off suddenly, announcing that there was something wrong. No, not wrong, just an incoming ship? Your brows furrowed in confusion. They couldn’t be back already. Your screen didn't pick up their returning vitals. Everyone’s eyes focused on the large screen showing a very much different ship than they expected. Wasn’t that...an Altean pod?

“Shiro, it’s Keith.”

“Keith! A-Are you okay?”

“Where’s Lotor?”

And just like that, the air in the room became cold. Frigid.

“Emperor Lotor is with Allura in the quintessence field. They managed to get through and should be returning shortly with their results,” you explained, to which Keith only replied with two words.

“Oh, no.”

Everyone went down to the docking station, you included. Keith sounded grim, you could even go as far to say a bit scared. The sound of the ship opening was unsettling and when he finally approached you all, that’s when you noticed he looked different. Vastly different from the last time you saw him at the coalition headquarters. He was more...stern. Unmoving. Resolute in his eyes.

“We need to stop Lotor. He’s been lying to all of us!”

“Wh-Lying? About what?” Shiro asked, hesitated in asking, and it was rare he was ever caught off guard.

“Everything!”

The sound of a new voice demanding attention left everyone shocked in surprise. And, ashamed to say, even you. Two women and a wolf? A Galra who wore the same suit as Keith and an Altean, an actual Altean, revealed themselves. The group began bombarding the newcomers with questions, Keith too, but the only thing you could focus on was the little girl.

Another Altean. A living Altean. Something...something was not right. Something was missing.

Your mind reverted back to your old habits. Everything you thought of, from meeting Lotor up until now, nothing seemed out of place. You had every information available at your beck and call. Everything about him you discovered on your own. Everything about Lotor and his motives for a better future. This...this life long experiment couldn’t be a mistake. It couldn’t.

You both entered this with a mutual agreement of respect in mind. The evidence was clear as day. So then, why the accusations against him? Why was the mere presence of this Altean setting your mind on edge? Why did that seething tone in her voice send a familiar chill down your spine? And why was it hard to breath?

“This is Romelle. And I think she should tell her own story.”

[xxforsaken-angelxx]

> Helm Date

context: this timeline has a chat for helmsman ocs in the timeline. one of the ships’ crew made an experimental horror game for helmsmen and passed it around, and hydromatic has refused twice to participate in playing bc theyre apparently just too busy for fun, so @infiniteproxy​ offered to stream a playthrough

and then they get chatty and bitch about the other helms, but mostly nepeta

infiniteproxy

STARBASE FRONTIER has requested a direct connection.

starshiphydromatic

Direct connection to STARSHIP HYDROMATIC permitted and established.

infiniteproxy

> A video feed with SIRI's game loaded will soon open, idling on the starting menu.

will you prefer textual or audio communication for the duration of the broadcast?

starshiphydromatic

I believe audio communication is generally used for feeds such as these, as long as it does not provide any inconvenience to you.

infiniteproxy

it is of no concern. one moment.

starshiphydromatic

Of course.

infiniteproxy

> There's a brief static crackle as the audio feed initializes. The voice that comes through is clearly synthesized, yet also clearly a decent translation of his natural voice. Though flattened somewhat in tone and occasionally caught with a brief electronic distortion that hangs particularly on vowel sounds, it isn't difficult to imagine how he might sound in person, the disdainful inflection and biting consonants.

"Calibrating vocal parameters... Connection stable. Shall we begin?"

starshiphydromatic

> Mm, dreamy.

> The voice coming back is clearly more synthesized. It doesn't use their natural voice at all, and stays so perfectly neutral and sharply enunciated. They've turned their aesthetic filter down for these purposes, but there's still this odd metal quality to their voice that wouldn't be there otherwise.

"Certainly."

infiniteproxy

> Interesting. Expectedly precise, as they were in all affairs, but even that hint lends a subtle quality beyond that of most run of the mill vocal synthesizers. It seems to suit them.

"I have cleared all previously saved data. I will demonstrate the extent of each branching scenario and their associated choices."

starshiphydromatic

"Do proceed at your leisure, then."

infiniteproxy

"Patching game audio through."

> It isn't a perfect experience, being secondhand, but an attempt is made to render the broadcast of the simulation as immersive as possible. To that end, as he plays through the initial story segment, he does not offer commentary throughout or attempt to speedrun despite having completed it previously, rather allowing the scenario to unfold naturally. It's a psychological horror game, after all, and what was worse than some idiot blabbering over the entire thing without allowing it to sink in?

starshiphydromatic

> The loss of any minor aspects from the secondhand broadcast aren't much of a loss at all to them since, quite frankly, they haven't seen a good piece of media in decades. Their engineer insisted on watching movies with them every once in a while, saying it was good for their mental health, but her tastes were rather...shlocky. Their past self was an artist, they'd never be interested in that garbage even if they allowed themselves to.

> This was already different, and more to their tastes. They watched with silent investment.

infiniteproxy

> Most media meant to be frightening or shocking he found to be terribly dull, whether from an over reliance on cheap scares, or a blatant lack of imagination. And truly, who could better craft an experience that actually resonates with someone whose life was already a study in existential horror than another helm? He finds it more intriguing than truly disturbing, the questions it poses, the creeping threat of corruption and total loss of self, but there's a definite appreciation nonetheless. It does its job well, as he demonstrates for them each ending in turn, briefly remarking in between on the various differences.

starshiphydromatic

> It was certainly a concept that Hydromatic could understand the appeal of. They'd denied themselves emotion for too long to be that disturbed by it, but someone with so much restraint would of course see why the themes were unsettling.

> They gave their own quips in turn, and asked small questions about this or that feature, but mostly just watched and tried to allow themselves to be absorbed in the experience of the game...or at least the one of experiencing it with him.

infiniteproxy

>In speech, he sounds detached, almost bored as usual, but the meticulous way he makes sure each scenario is observed to full appreciation before moving on gives the lie to his apparent disinterest. Even this was more than he usually allowed himself to show, but it's an enjoyable way to pass the time, and HYDROMATIC, at least, he trusts to not make a spectacle of it, unlike certain other parties.

"Conclusions? While I am aware most would find such pursuits unnecessary and frivolous, I do find it an engaging possibility to consider the merits of helm-driven media, tailored to our tastes."

starshiphydromatic

> Of course. Why would they have any need to make it into a thing when they kind of  like seeing him loosen up a little?

"Unnecessary and frivolous, certainly, but there could be practical use in the form of wide-scale player data. There's potential for media pieces like this to be used to great scientific effect."

"Even without such intent, though, it's still an interesting project. I thank you for taking the time to show this to me. And as well, for doing so privately."

infiniteproxy

"Indeed there could, if anyone would ever employ a fraction of creativity toward such matters. I am more than aware of the nature of how we are usually viewed; what I will never understand is why they seem committed to never using our capabilities to their full potential."

> After everything has concluded, the video feed closes out, though audio remains connected, a beat passing before he responds.

"Of course. It was preferable to my usual routine and I have no interest in keeping close company with any of the others."

starshiphydromatic

"Likewise."

> Though it only takes a tiny fraction of a second to see if the audio stayed connected after the visuals ceased, it feels like an eternity.

"I have no qualms with my own routine, but I find myself agreeing with the latter point. Simply put, you are the only one amongst them that isn't obnoxious."

infiniteproxy

> Unseen, of course, his lip curls in a sharp-edged smirk. Ah, sweet validation.

"My sentiments exactly. Quite frankly, I would not put up with them as much as I do were it not for the potential longterm benefits of an established association."

starshiphydromatic

> Even without seeing the full reaction, though, there is so much relief in a single word of anger without it being a fucking federal issue.

"I don't have any choice in the matter, but perhaps if I'm lucky then something may come of it for me as well. It isn't reaping very many benefits at present."

infiniteproxy

"I have little faith in the matter. But for your sake and mine, we can only hope. For one who harps so incessantly on the virtues of 'friendship', she does very little to render herself endearing in any way, and the rest are hardly better more often than not. You, at least, seem to comprehend my exasperation. But I am not one to pass up an opportunity when it arises; so."

starshiphydromatic

"It seems her only progress has been in hooking the lot of them on the feeling of mild delinquency, which has paved the road to the current social situations. Needless arguments instead of needless friendship."

infiniteproxy

"Far less of those if she would only stop pushing. It is no secret I would be the last to claim adherence to 'proper' behavior. The current helming system is inefficient and wasteful in terms of what we could do if given the proper means. But the way in which she seeks change is deplorably ignorant."

starshiphydromatic

"She was not in the rig long enough to experience more than shallow changes to her psychological state, and she is not able to make up for that difference. She does not seem able to understand perspectives on the matter far outside her own at all, really. It seems unlikely that she ever will."

infiniteproxy

> There's a harsh sound, half audio glitch, half dismissive scoff, bitterness curling at the edges like smoke.

"She knows nothing of what it is like to have been helmed for most of one's life, yet she insists her opinion should carry the same weight. She whines about how hard it is to be something in between, yet she is the one who both insists on being treated as a person and demands to still be considered something that is not. She meets all viewpoints at odds with her own with denial, and seems to not comprehend that her behavior would get most Imperial helms severely punished. Until it becomes a reality, this new utopian order of theirs is a pipe dream, at best."

starshiphydromatic

> The bitterness stirs the helm on the other end of the line the way a passionate speech might. Enough for there to be a pause before they respond.

"It's fortunate that one of us is used to speaking their mind. Every word she says of me points a belief that I'm some common tragedy, and nothing more. Though I am above her methods, if I were to complain I find it unlikely that I'd be certain on where to begin."

infiniteproxy

> That gets a laugh in turn, if one no less harsh and distorted.

"Oh, yes, and one would think she might appreciate that-- but alas, I use my free will to be mean, and that is just terrible."

> A hum, then, and a tone almost pleasant were it not all but dripping in contempt.

"Is that not how they all are? Poor, mislead Hydromatic, whose choices mean nothing if they are not the right ones. That is the dilemma we face, is it not? She simply cannot wrap her feeble little pan around the fact that some of us do not  and never will want to be like her."

starshiphydromatic

> Harsh, distorted, and very handsome.

"If asked, I have almost no doubt they would say I'm like them behind the script, and merely have not tasted enough freedom. But she cannot wrap her pan around the fact that I make choices in the first place, much less that I may have wants that are not in line with hers."

infiniteproxy

"Hmh. Freedom..."

> He trails off, into silence that lingers a moment. When he speaks again, it's in a low, almost distracted voice, something distant, yet no less serious.

"...I know where my freedom lies. And it is not in the constraints of flesh and a mundane life. If we were given all the freedom one could possibly desire, and still made the same choices, would we be respected then? Or would they pity us, still, and think us too far gone to know better?"

starshiphydromatic

> More silence. They know their answer, but it's hard to form the words.

"I'm convinced it would be the latter. I have almost everything I could want, there's little the offer of more freedom could do for me. I feel they'd never accept that, and that the only way to possibly get them to would be incredibly undignified."

infiniteproxy

"You are likely correct. And we cannot have that, now can we? We must retain SOMETHING for our own."

> Another beat of silence, longer this time. One could almost imagine him to be drumming his fingers in thought, with an appropriately contemplative frown, if he were a troll and could do such things. But he's not, and he cannot, and so he does not.

"Would you permit a question of an intrusive nature? You may of course refuse either."

starshiphydromatic

"I believe I can permit such a question, yes."

> There's a hint of curiosity there. They... have almost no idea what he's going to ask.

infiniteproxy

"I of course know what I want."

> A dry huff.

"But I will admit a measure of curiosity, as to what one in your position may still want for."

starshiphydromatic

> Dammit that's the one they thought he'd ask.

> Fuck.

> They- Well the answer is mostly him but they can't say that.

"Trivial things. If I were to, as you said, be given all the freedom I could desire, I would perhaps indulge in some of the music and film pieces I enjoyed before conscription. They were, on average, illegal. I might request a few of the ships I work with frequently to skip a few phrases mandated by protocol, to have a break from the voices I've heard constantly for decades. I might find a few more moments of quiet and privacy, or excuse myself from a few of the check-ins the Grease Lightning insists on during odd hours of the day."

"...I would see no reason not to initiate in things like this. None of them are needed, but they are actions I would take if there was no consequence."

infiniteproxy

"Trivial, perhaps, but I am hardly one to judge. You have experienced enough of my own musical inclinations, I think. Privacy, yes... And a cease to all the relentless chatter, every moment of every night and day. Before, it was tolerable-- a warship has no need for constant communication. Now it is endless."

> Another hum.

"If initiation is the trouble, I would not protest the occasional indulgence. This channel is secure."

starshiphydromatic

"I have known nothing but the endless communication. The Starship Hydromatic is as much a transport hub as it is anything else. However, that means that while an outgoing request for communication without reason is rather noticeable, an incoming one is merely one amongst the constant noise."

infiniteproxy

"Your patience vastly exceeds my own. Nonetheless, if it poses no consequence, I see no reason not to continue. It provides a satisfactory diversion."

starshiphydromatic

"Indeed."

> That's the only word they say, but the idea of keeping contact like this is all they could ask for.

infiniteproxy

> It's only one word but there is, he thinks, a mutual relief in correspondence away from prying eyes.

"Were there other matters you wished to discuss? Otherwise, I may close this channel for the time being. While I have ensured its security, it would not do to tempt fate and leave an unofficial channel open for long enough to rouse suspicions."

starshiphydromatic

"Of course. But no, I do not think I have anything else for you. Thank you for your time, Starship Goldwave."

infiniteproxy

> Ah, now. That does feel good to hear aloud. It's been far too long.

"Likewise. Signing off."

[theshatteredrose]

Guardian of Healing (Chapter 13) - Etrian Odyssey 2 Fanfiction

AN: And we’ve reached the second last chapter to this saga. Turned out a little longer than expected, but hey, what can you do? Anyway, hope you enjoy reading!

Ao3 | Wattpad | FFNet

Chapter 13:

It was no surprise that Lynus was given the best private room in the hospital. One that was in a quiet wing, where there was little foot traffic so the occupant inside could have the peace necessary to sleep and recuperate. But it was also in an area close to the nurse’s station in case of any unforeseen drama or complications.

It was also thankfully big enough for a pull out cot to be set up, allowing for Axel to rest upon so he didn’t need to leave. Not that he would have. Even without the cot, he would have just slept in a chair. Even if sleep felt unlikely at this point in time.

After ensuring that Lynus was lying comfortably upon the bed, Axel grabbed a chair and immediately pulled in close to him. And for the first time in what felt like hours, he sat down.

“I want you to try to get some rest,” Dr Stiles sat as he stood on the other side of the bed, his hand lying flat against Lynus’ forehead even though his gaze was strictly upon Axel. “The wound on your back has completely healed, but it takes time for you to regain the blood you’ve lost.”

Axel abruptly realised that he was still dressed in his bloodied and torn clothes and winced. He made no attempt to stand up, however, and just nodded his head idly. “I’m not going anywhere until he wakes us, so this is as restful as I’m going to be.”

Dr Stiles didn’t look even remotely surprised by his response. “Ah, fair enough,” he said as he pulled his hand back from Lynus’ forehead and motioned toward a door in the corner of the room. “There’s an attached bathroom so you won’t have to wander too far.” He smiled suddenly and took a few steps away from the bed. “At least you won’t be alone.”

Axel was a little perplexed by his last sentence. But then he heard the sound of hurried footsteps outside and he immediately understood. And felt a small smile slip across his lips.

In a flurry of movement and the chatter of concerned voices, the room was suddenly filled with the rest of the Guardian Guild. Half of them immediately huddled around the bed while the other half asked Dr Stiles questions. Questions about Lynus and his health. Axel was sure that Hamza would have reassured them before he did anything else, but they wanted and needed extra reassurance.

They were making a lot of noise. But it was ok. This kind of noise…was good. It was comforting. And even though Lynus was unconscious, he was certain that their presence was reassuring to him in his dreams.

Axel was pulled from his observations and thoughts when Magnus moved to stand next to him. And he was clutching something against his chest.

“H-here,” Magnus said as he indicated to what appeared to be a bundle of clothing in his arms. “We brought you a change of clothes.”

“Ah, thanks,” Axel said as he retrieved the clothes from him and gave the blond alchemist a small smile.

He should probably make the attempt to get changed. Tidy himself up a bit and be somewhat presentable. He didn’t want to alarm Lynus when he awoke later. He was sure that seeing him dressed in a pair of blood-free and not brutally torn clothing would reassure his guildmates, too.

Still, it was difficult for him to take to his feet and head to the small bathroom of the room. But he did so. On autopilot to be perfectly honest. But it was still enough to busy himself, especially his mind. Removing his old, dirty clothing and putting on his new ones. A splash of cold water on the face also helped.

He left the old clothes on a chair in the bathroom, though, deciding to deal with them later. He walked silently out of the bathroom, comforted by the sight of his guild (minus Hamza as he was busy elsewhere) as they quietly talked amongst themselves.

He then sat on the edge of his temporary bed, rested his elbows on his legs and felt his shoulders sag in exhaustion. It suddenly hit him how…worn out he felt. It wasn’t physical fatigue, but mental and emotional.

Jhon lingered next to him and gently placed his hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked him softly.

Something inside of Axel broke at that question. He couldn’t pretend anymore. He couldn’t lie and say he was fine. He didn’t have the strength to do that anymore.

So he dropped his head into his hands. “…No.”

Jhon was immediately by his side on the bed and his arm was wrapped firmly across his shoulders. Axel’s breath hitched in his throat when he heard the sound of shoes on the hard floor.

“Macerio, Lirit, come on,” Tobyn said quietly, yet urgently. “We’re going to find Axel some food.”

“But-” Macerio started to protest but was cut off by Lirit.

“Yes, we’ll help.”

“Magnus. Let us help, too.”

“…Ok.”

“Chi-hung, come. Let’s see if we can find Hamza.”

There was the sound of feet hurriedly shuffling across the floor, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. And then there was silence.

He was…relieved to be alone.

It wasn’t as if he was ashamed to break down in front of the others. He didn’t want to because they had been terrified enough as he was. With the curses and the monsters, and Lynus sprouting wings before coughing up blood and fainting; they’ve been through enough. Axel didn’t want to add further to that.

But he also couldn’t hold back his own fears either.

“Talk to me,” Jhon urged as he tugged him toward him.

Axel turned and just slumped against Jhon, his head still in his hands as tears pooled along his lower lashes. “That scared the shit out of me. I thought I’d lose him for good that time.”

Jhon sighed and rubbed comforting circles on Axel’s back. “It scared the hell out of us all.”

Axel dropped his hands from his head and allowed Jhon to pull him into a comforting hug. Keeping an arm around his shoulders, he used his other hand to press Axel’s head against his shoulder.

“He keeps pushing himself for the sake of others,” Axel murmured, his voice sounding weak and tired. It was shocking, even for him. “And I’ve stood by because it’s what Lynus wants. But I don’t think I can anymore.”

“I know,” Jhon said in return, his voice also low and soft. Tired even. “We all feel the same. This can’t happen again. It won’t happen again. We’ll all work together to ensure that this never, ever happens again.”

Yeah…That was right. Axel wasn’t the only one constantly watching over Lynus. The whole guild was. They were watching over each other. And Lynus was still with them. Dr Stiles assured him and reassured him that he was just exhausted. He wasn’t going to disappear on him again. Not again. No one would allow that to happen.

“You should try to get some rest now,” Jhon said as he continued to comfort him. “We’re all in this together.”

Those words were enough for Axel to close his eyes and finally fall asleep, against Jhon’s shoulder and under the watchful eye of his guild.

… … … … …

Hamza walked through the hospital corridors with purposeful strides and a stoic expression on his face. He had returned from attempting to speak with those rogue hexer students, but it was a fruitless venture. They weren’t in the best of shape to be interrogated. Somewhat satisfying, and yet still very frustrating.

Never mind them for now. He had been reassured that they weren’t going anywhere. They had occupied his thoughts for long enough. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

 The moment that Hamza was close enough to the door leading to Derek’s office, he knocked. After receiving a terse “enter” from the other side, he promptly opened the door and stepped inside. He paused only to shut the door tightly behind him, to ensure that no unwanted ears overheard this conversation.

“You’ve been doing some research, I hear. Anything of note?”

Sat at his desk that was covered with more books and files than usual, Derek lifted his head up to regard Hamza with a sharp nod. He then dove straight into his findings. “From what I can deduce, some of what Mahogany makes sense. The power that Lynus showed was an ancient skill that only medics of the highest calibre can wield. It’s known by two names; Healing Touch and Medical Miracle. Not much is known, I’m afraid. But it’s not life threatening.”

That was certainly reassuring to hear.

Derek then sighed and shook his head. “To think that he was able to heal everyone all at once by sheer willpower alone…”

Lynus was meek and docile in many ways; however his desire to heal was certainly anything but.

Hamza nodded his head and folded his arms across his chest. “The coughing of blood?”

“That was the result of the severe exhaustion,” Derek answered quickly as he slapped his hands atop of his desk and pushed himself to his feet, he himself clearly on the brink of exhaustion. “Not the result of the healing.”

“So, he’s going to be all right?” He had been reassured that many times before, but he still needed to hear it again.

“Yes,” Derek replied, not tersely but firmly, resolutely. “There shouldn’t be any ongoing medical issues with him. Other than his inability to care for himself, that is.”

“Hm.” A half smile appeared on Hamza’s lips. “I get the feeling you’re hoping to rectify that.”

“Oh, I plan on it.”

Funny, that almost sounded threatening.

“For now, I’m going to check in on him,” Derek said as he moved from behind his desk and toward the door. “A lot of people are worried about him, you know?”

A lot was probably somewhat of an understatement.

“Yes, I know,” Hamza said instead as he moved to follow Derek out of his office.

As he stepped through the door, though, he was surprised and subtly alarmed to find that Cedric appeared to be waiting for him. With Chi-hung at his feet.

“Is something wrong?” he asked as he stopped in front of the two, his hands instinctively reaching out to rest against Cedric’s sides.

Cedric, however, smiled and shook his head as he rested his hands against Hamza’s chest. “No, it’s been dealt with now.”

Hamza was momentarily confused, not immediately understanding what he meant. But it soon dawned upon him and he protectively tugged Cedric toward him. “…Axel?”

“He’s fine,” Cedric said as he slipped his hands toward Hamza’s shoulders. “Jhon’s with him. But…let us all go now.”

Yes. The guild needed to be together. Just them. Just for a little while.

… … … … …

Lynus felt so…heavy. His head ached. His body ached. He felt sore and just so exhausted. It was an unfortunately familiar feeling. He had felt this before. Overwork and exhaustion. He just…couldn’t remember why he felt so tired.

A familiar voice calling his name softly in a tone that was both questioning and pleading prompted Lynus to find the strength to open his eyes. They felt as heavy as the rest of him, and it was genuine struggle to keep them open.

But despite the urge to simply close his eyes and go back to sleep, he kept them open long enough for him to recognise two figures leaning over him. To his right was Axel and to his left was Dr Stiles. He could only see blurred outlines of them at first. His vision soon started to clear, thankfully, and he realised that they were both leaning over him with expressions nearly identical. Expressions that were a mixture of worry and relief.

Did he…faint again?

“Axel…?” Lynus attempted to speak, but it came out as a short, weak murmur.

“Hey,” Axel responded, his voice thick and a smile of relief on his lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Dr Stiles was the one to answer.

“The hospital? Why?” Lynus murmured and furrowed his brow in pure confusion. However, it all soon came flooding back. The images of everyone struggling with their curses. The image of Axel surrounded by FOEs and…

Blood pouring from a deep wound on his back.

 His eyes grew frantically wide and he immediately attempt to sit up. “T-the hexers!”

“Easy!” Dr Stiles said, but Lynus barely heard him.

Instead he reached out toward Axel, to cup his face in his hands and look him in the eyes. “You’re ok? Are you ok? Everyone ok?”

Axel immediately placed his hands atop of Lynus’ and leaned forward so that his forehead was touching his. And allowed for him to look deeply into his eyes. “I’m fine. We’re all fine. Thanks to you.”

That…surprised Lynus immensely and he felt his brow furrow once more in confusion. “Me?” he uttered before a wave of light-headedness and discomfort washed over him and he slumped forward.

Axel’s arms immediately caught him and he felt Dr Stiles also instinctively reach out to grab him. He felt boneless and weak as the two guided him to lie back down onto the bed.

“Hng,” he uttered in discomfort as he sunk against the pillow. “What-?”

“Easy now,” Dr Stiles said again as he pressed a hand to his forehead. “Take slow breathes. Do you remember what happened?”

Lynus squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “Everyone was…cursed,” he swallowed thickly as the images replayed in his mind once more. “And Axel…he was surrounded by FOEs and bound to the spot. A hexer…approached me. He taunted me.”

“What happened after that?” Dr Stiles pressed. “Do you remember healing?”

Healing? He…remembered the desire to heal.

“I don’t…know,” Lynus replied honestly as he opened his eyes and lolled his head to the side to look up at Dr Stiles. “I just wanted to heal everyone. That was my only thought. I could sense everyone’s pain and discomfort and all I wanted to do was to stop it. And…that’s my final thought before everything went…fuzzy. Like I was falling asleep. I…felt something on my back though.”

Unexpectedly, Dr Stiles and Axel shared a troubled look before they turned their gazes back down to him. “Your back?”

Lynus nodded his head. “Yes. Just…felt as if there was something there.” He couldn’t explain anything more than that, though. He tried to think back on it, on that moment before everything when black but he honestly couldn’t recall anything. Only the desire, the desperate need to heal everyone.

Did he…manage to do that?

“Sorry, I’m feeling a little dizzy at the moment.”

“No, it’s completely fine,” Dr Stiles said comfortingly. “We’ll talk about it later. After you get some rest. Something you need a lot of.”

Dr Stiles’ tone was parental, something Lynus had heard many times before. And yet it felt different this time. He sounded truly worried. He sounded as if he had been truly…frightened by something. Both he and Axel.

“You’re withholding something,” Lynus said toward the both of them. “I can sense it. What happened?”

Once more, and unnervingly so, Axel and Dr Stiles shared another concerned look.

“Lynus,” Dr Stiles said as he subconsciously leaned in closer, as if he was about to reveal something extremely important. “From what I can deduce, you used a highly powerful skill known as a Force Break. It is a skill that not many can ever accomplish in their lifetimes. And the skill you used, one that only medics can ever hope to achieve is called Healing Touch.”

Lynus blinked up at him in shock for a moment. “Healing Touch?”

Dr Stiles nodded his head before he continued. “Yes. It is different for each person. For example; for one their perception increases to a speed that makes it appear as if time has crawled to a stop. A critical skill for those who conduct life-saving surgery. You, on the other hand, appear to have a slightly…different ability. Your will and spirit. You healed everyone within the vicinity of their ailments; binds, status, injuries on all spectrums. All at once. Without having to touch any of them.”

…What?

No…what?

Lynus sunk back onto the bed and closed his eyes. He was…able to heal everyone at once? Heal their injuries, binds, and ailments all at once? That was what he had wanted, what he had desired. He managed to do that?

He was…able to save everyone. Oh, thank god. He…they were safe. He didn’t understand a thing about this Healing Touch. It didn’t matter. Not at this very moment. Everyone was safe. That was all that he cared about. He could sleep easier now.

Lynus reopened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look up at Axel once more. “What happened with those hexers?”

“We managed to arrest four of them,” Axel answered with a frown to his lips as he gently cradled Lynus’ hand in his. “Unfortunately two did manage to get away. We severely doubt they’ll have the guts to return after…what happened.”

There was a slight hesitation in Axel’s voice. Did something else happen? Something to leave him worried and unnerved?

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Axel didn’t answer immediately. Instead he shared yet another brief glance with Dr Stiles once more as he idly traced patterns to the back of Lynus’ hand. He finally sighed. “When you were using your ability…a pair of wings appeared from your back.”

Lynus furrowed his brow, not entirely sure he had heard him right. “What? Wings?”

“Yeah,” Axel said as he locked his gaze with his to show to him that he was being honest. “They…looked like that of angel wings. That’s what the others have called them.”

“That…” Lynus whispered in disbelief. “That can’t be possible.”

Axel gave him a small smile as he reached out to curl a strand of his hair around his finger. “It’s true. Everyone from the guild saw them.”

“What? W-what does that mean?” Lynus stuttered as he tried to sit up.

Axel immediately wrapped an arm around his shoulders to support him while Dr Stiles placed a hand on his shoulder to still him, and to make him turn his attention directly to him.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he said firmly. “Mahogany deduced that they were simply a representation of your aura. Of your spiritual healing abilities. It is nothing to be worried about. Right now, the only concern we have about your health is your acute but severe exhaustion. Not much of a surprise, to be honest. With all the previous healing to add on top of using a force skill; you are truly exhausted.”

It took Lynus a moment or two to allow the information that Dr Stiles just told him to sink in. When it did he sighed and rested his head against Axel’s shoulder.

Exhaustion sounded about right. Perhaps an extreme case of it. He had been working rather tirelessly the last few days. He could accept that. It felt right to him as well. Sure, he still wasn’t entirely adept at inspecting himself for his own health and wellbeing, but he knew enough to know when he was exhausted.

The one thing that was wholly confusing was the mentioning of wings. And…For some inexplicable reason he didn’t feel concerned about that, about how he had sprouted wings. Wings of all things. It was just…his aura, wasn’t it? Due in part by that force skill he used. That sounded plausible, too. It was confusing as to why such a thing happened and he did wonder if Kerri had somehow foreseen the appearance of his wings when she spoke with him the other day. Perhaps he could speak with Mahogany about it later.

It was all very…baffling. He wasn’t concerned or upset, just confused.

God…all this information was just so overwhelming at the moment.

“How are you feeling?” Axel asked him attentively once again, pulling him from his thoughts.

Lynus closed his eyes and touched his forehead with his free hand. “I…I just feel tired and achy. But that’s part of the exhaustion, isn’t it?”

“Do you feel anything else?”

“A little lightheaded,” Lynus answered honestly as he dropped his hand from his forehead and sighed. “Nothing extreme, though. I’ve honestly felt worse.”

“Try not to think too much about it,” Dr Stiles said as he gently placed his hand upon Lynus’ shoulder, prompting him to lift his head to look over at him once more. “You’re here. Your guild is here. Four of the six hexers have been arrested. After seeing that, I doubt they are willing to return any time soon. We can assume that this epidemic is over. Now, it’s time to rest. Your time to rest. I will leave you in Axel’s capable hands. And tomorrow your guild will return and they will fuss. And you will sit there and relish in all of their fussing, do you understand?”

Lynus chuckled tiredly but nodded his head. “Yes, I understand.”

The others were sure to be worried. Very much so. Especially after that dramatic display.

As Dr Stiles turned to leave the room, Axel urged Lynus to lie back down upon the bed. He was actually thankful for that as his head was starting to spin just a little bit more than he was used to. And he was thankful, once again, for Axel’s unconditionally strong and gentle arms around him.

“You all right?” Axel asked him (a question that he would no doubt ask him abundantly in the future) as he sat himself upon a chair pulled as close as possible to his bed.

Lynus sunk against the mattress and pillows and sighed. “I just…” he murmured as he reached up to press a palm to his forehead. “I just find it hard to imagine why I would, well, literally sprout wings. Wings, of all things. But they must have been part of my aura, for some reason. Kerri made a strange comment to me the other day. About how she could see them clearly now.”

He found himself uttering another sigh and let his arm flop back down onto the bed next to him. “I don’t know what to think.”

He honestly felt too lightheaded to think too deeply right now.

“I’m just glad you’re ok now,” Axel said as he gently stroked the side of Lynus’ face.

Lynus lolled his head to the side to look at his beloved. “I’m glad that you’re ok. But did you see them? The wings?”

“I did.”

“What did you think of them?”

Axel managed to force a smile to his lips. “Honestly? They suited you,” he joked lightly before his face unexpectedly crumbled into a tired and subtly frightened expression. “I was worried though. That you would disappear on me again…”

Axel’s voice cracked as he trailed off and Lynus’ heart broke. He tried to keep a brave face for his sake. He tried to be encouraging and supportive of everything he did, even though he was terrified of something happening to him.

Oh Axel…

Lynus ignored his weariness and pushed himself to sit up. He reached out to Axel, to wrap his arms around his neck. And Axel reached for him, too. Taking him into his arms, which held him so tightly as he buried his face into the crook of Lynus’ neck.

“I’m sorry,” Lynus whispered as he threaded his fingers through Axel’s hair as he gripped the back of his shirt with his other hand. “I keep worrying you. You’re upset. I’m so sorry.”

“You scared the hell out of me,” Axel murmured against his neck. “I don’t want you to do anything like that again. I won’t stand by and watch as you push yourself to your limit again. I can’t…”

Lynus felt tears pool along his lashes when he realised that Axel, too, was crying. Ever so softly, but he could feel his heated tears against his neck. God he loved this man so much. And he loved him so much in return.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I’ll make it up to you.”

He didn’t mean to scare him like that. But…he was scared too. Seeing him, seeing his Axel injured, surrounded by monsters, unable to move. No, he couldn’t stand it. He had to do something.

And he did do something. He was able to use his healing abilities to help him, save him. Him along with everyone important to him. And if he had to relive that event again he would do the exact same thing. He would do whatever it took to heal everyone. To keep them alive.

He would also do what was needed to keep himself alive.

They continued to simply hold each other for the longest time. Lynus running his fingers through Axel’s hair as cradled the back of his head and held him tightly. Slowly, they both grew fatigued.

Unwilling to be apart, Axel slipped onto the bed next to Lynus and feeling him next to him had an immediate comforting effect on Lynus.

With Axel lying on the bed next to him and his arms around him to cradle him against his chest, Lynus felt comforted and content. His weariness returned to him but he knew that with Axel with him once more he’d be able to sleep far more peacefully.

The danger was over. Everyone was fine. Everyone was safe. He could truly rest now.

“A part of me is…relieved, though, in a way,” Lynus murmured as his hands gripped the front of Axel’s shirt, his eyes slipping close as Axel placed a soft kiss to his hair. “That I was able to cure everyone all at once and so quickly. And if I ever find myself, ourselves in a situation like that again, I know I will be able to heal everyone.”

“What about you?” Axel asked in return, his lips brushing against his forehead.

Lynus opened his eyes half way, his gaze immediately falling upon the garnet ring that sat so perfectly on his finger. “…I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But…it’ll be ok. I don’t think we’ll be encountering too many situations that will call for me to do that again, am I right?”

Axel gave a very subtle bristle of protectiveness. “Not if I can help it.”

Lynus chuckled tiredly as he tilted his head back and took Axel’s face in his hands. He gazed lovingly into his eyes. “I’ll be ok, Axel. I promise.”

He then leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. Axel’s arms immediately tighten around him and he gently deepened the kiss. Lynus uttered a soft sigh and let himself become complete lost in both Axel’s arms and his gentle caress.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT YAHOO

But I was mystified about Carver. Maybe options should be replaced with something tied more directly to earnings. In many businesses, it just means more work for me, because I rarely heard a teacher say I don't know anything about malaria. Nearly everyone who works is satisfying some kind of announcer. By the time you got to program even less: Your job description as technical founder/CEO is completely rewritten every 6-12 months. It was like watching a car you're chasing turn down a street that you know you're on the right track. What makes the Bay Area it's the Band of Angels. Some angel groups charge you money to pitch your idea to a random person, 95% of the investors we know to hear them present what they've built so far.

Usually it's implicit in statements like there are only so many startups Google, Microsoft, and Yahoo can buy. Every startup has reasons both to invest and offers the founders a term sheet unless they really want to. But there is a way for VCs to make the poor richer. But it's gone now. And yet he invested anyway, because he either hasn't told anyone else about the idea yet, or your founders are technical people with no business experience operating out of a garage in Silicon Valley than in Boston, and even so we got a record number, up 40% from the same cycle a year before. It seemed to me this couldn't possibly matter. The faster you cycle through projects, the faster you'll evolve. You can magnify the effect of a powerful language by using a style called bottom-up programming, where you can shift into the next gear. Driven by his enthusiasm for the new project he works on it for many hours at a stretch.

Maybe options should be replaced with something tied more directly to earnings. It's surprising how much you can take. And funding delays are a big distraction for founders, because you will never again be so productive. Those guys must have been freezing! You have to calibrate your ideas on actual users constantly, especially in math and the hard sciences are fairly honest, for example, is a language that people don't learn Python because it will get them a job; they learn it because they genuinely like to program and aren't satisfied with the languages they already know. Once you take money from my parents was that I didn't have to worry about money. Breaking up companies into smaller units doesn't make those needs go away. Now the group is looking for more money: they want enough to last for a year, and maybe to hire a lot of founders mentioned how important it was to get the opposite quality down to one: hapless. I found that I got a little carried away with this example. But could you shortcut the process by funding startups? Once you're profitable you don't need the money?

In these situations, the deal terms will be when and if to engage the other ship. They hate to release something that could be dangerous for VCs. But not as small as they might seem. Morale is key in design. If what you've made more effectively than any verbal description. They're a product of unusual circumstances. I'd even heard of.

How can this be? Surely Microsoft isn't benevolent? In a startup you would do well to remember that. Usually the limited-room fallacy is not expressed directly. Transposing into our original expression, we get: decreasing economic inequality means taking money from the rich. So the only way to communicate with the server was to ask for a new project, but because the space of possibilities is so large. If a kid asked who won the World Series in 1982 or what the atomic weight of carbon was, you could just tell him. The kind of question on the application form that asks what you're going to succeed makes you work harder, that probably improves your chances of succeeding, but if you get a new crop of 18 year olds think they know how much jobs suck. Errands are so effective at killing great projects that a lot of time worrying about what I should do.

Users like it and they've been growing rapidly. A company has to be big yet, nor do you necessarily have to be devious. For example, lower-tier VC firms are organized as funds, much like hedge funds or mutual funds. These are supposed to be like a job, and that will convince any investor. But every company that gets really big is lucky in the sense of being very short, and also on topic. A friend of mine found himself in a situation that perfectly illustrates the complex motives we have when we lie to kids, read almost any book written to teach them about issues. Let's start by talking about the designer. The organic way to do that instead of the original.

Marble, for example: after the founders graduated from college, they borrowed $15,000 from their parents to start a startup, not a side project—an application to sharpen Arc on, and a small but devoted following. Maybe I got a lot more eager to close—and not just because things change faster, but because it's not officially sanctioned, he has to do it yourself. When you write something telling people to be good, because it requires their developers to do work. I'd argue, is good procrastination. They could sense that the measure of good design together, but really one is just resting on the other hand, are almost forced to work on it. You won't have it driving you if your stated ambition is merely to start a startup doing something technically difficult, just write enterprise software. Anything you might discover has already been invented elsewhere. Dropbox, and none of them understand it as well as moral questions. They'll just discard that sentence as meaningless boilerplate, and hope, with increasing impatience, that in the past has had false starts branching off all over it.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Anton van Straaten, and Bill Yerazunis for their feedback on these thoughts.

[falloutpnp]

Session 18

Two hours before the mission briefing…

Charles (taken over by the Cain persona) wanders outside of the Boneyard to meet with Sybil. Arriving that the usual meeting place, Sybil greets her husband with a mixture of good and bad news. She firstly explains that, luckily for them, other raider clans and small nomad tribes are willing to join The Three Dragons. The bad news is that it will come at a great cost of resources, including weapons, chems and also sacrifices needed to end blood feuds. Cain takes it in his stride and say that these are all necessary to accomplish their goals.

Sybil also delivers some troubling news; The Wasps have appeared to force The Family to completely retreat. The Family have sustained heavy losses and have decided to withdraw completely into Reelfoot and fortify their position. Although The Family in Reelfoot were displaced due to The Misfits’ previous actions, the vacuum left in their wake had not been filled. With a fortified Reelfoot proving too much to topple, it can only mean that The Wasps will most likely be making their move against the other Raider clans soon. She gives Cain two choices:

The Three Dragons and the other clans create a fortress to defend themselves against The Wasps’ inevitable attack.

The Three Dragons and the other clans launch a surprise attack on The Wasps.

Realising that the latter will not only require perfect timing and intel gathering, Cain opts that to choose the former option. He agrees that they need to prepare to defend but Cain also offers a third option: try and convince The Family to side with the - the idea being that they can use Reelfort along side them to defend against a common enemy. Sybil wholeheartedly believes that this outcome does not seem likely but she assures Cain that she will try. As a backup plan, the pair agree to convert the Three Dragon’s HQ into a fort. The underground complex will prove difficult for The Wasps to penetrate.

Sybil also begins to shed some light on their earlier suspicions. Evidence is mounting which suggests even further that The Wasps and the ACU are connected. Every Time The Wasps make an appearance, the superiority of their technology continues to increase. Furthermore, they seems to fight more like soldiers than raiders. Any yet, they still seem to have some sort of raider code…

Perhaps it is the fear of not understanding the enemy or the anxiety of the battles to come but Sybil suddenly grows timid. She asks Winston to leave her and Cain alone for a moment. As Sybil draws her lover into a deep embrace, Winston audibly wishes he had a wife.

And then his eyes fall on Ploom, who is busying herself by fidgeting with a pair of oversized workers gloves. Their eyes suddenly meet and Winston is suddenly flush with a brief but intense sense of infatuation for the female raider. Slipping the oversized gloves over her hands, she slowly raises a large, comically oversized pair of middle fingers at Winston, and any happy fantasies he may have held are instantly dashed at the his feet. Winston is overcome with a short lived melancholy. Sadly for Winston, there will be no fucking for him today.

Alone, Sybil tells Cain that she heard about his achievements on the Murder Mile. The entire clan are impressed with his exploits and consider him to be a fighter who operates about the others. They call him ‘The leader beyond sight, beyond sound. The leader in the shadows.’ Sybil holds her man tightly in her arms and huskily whispers into his ear that she loves him.

Cain nonchalantly says something to the effect of ‘Yeah, I know.’ Pulling away from her, Cain tells Skitters, Oak and Ploom that their previous effort on the Murder Mile was well received. He gives them a hearty ‘well done.’ The trio seem pretty happy to receive positive feedback for a change.

Shortly after, Cain and Winston set off back to the Boneyard...

Present time…

In the secluded back alley storage room with the mysterious NCR secret agent, The Misfits are relieved of their weapons (though they are told they can try take a concealed weapon that their own peril). The gang are then given formal wear (tuxedos for the gentlemen, formal gowns for the ladies and a comical wig, pearl necklace and dress for Lotta), along with fake ID holotapes, a radio earpiece, a concealed radio transmitter and a special watch which contains a hidden .22 lr bullet to use with a zip gun which has been smuggled inside the facility. Reading over their new identities, the Misfits are tolds to memories and play the parts of:

Pandora: Audrey Cabanela - Jewel collector

Charles/Cain: Mark Klavetter - Successful explorer

Jack Shady: Wayne Thomes - International man of mystery

Billy: Benjamin Beckfield - Professional Gambler

Kassie: Ester Holzmeister - Widowed millionairess

Curt: Man Dingo - Hired bodyguard for Ester Holzmeister

Winston: Albert Amelung - Settlement magnate

Balint: Ruben Lippeatt - Brain surgeon

Sasha: Hector Danforth - Brilliant scientist who met an unfortunate accident

Lotta: MEDIBOT BX2 - Hector’s personal assistant

As Baxter was not originally part of the equation, the nameless NCR agent tells Baxter that he will play the role of himself, acting as “Beckfield’s” personal assistant on behalf of the Norris estate who have hired Beckfield to make a profit at the casino.

The agent again explains Operation Lion’s Den: Infiltrate the Top Hat Club, investigate Estefan Aguila’s relationship with the ACU and assassinate him should Aguila’s allegiances lie with the enemy. In the middle of the agent’s explaination of the mission, Jack asks for top hat to complete his visage as a professional ‘international man of mystery’. The agent aggressively tosses Jack a top hat, much to the conman’s delight. The agent continues with the briefing, explaining that NCR agents have managed to smuggle in a .22lr calibre zip gun into the gentlemen’s bathroom on the 2nd floor. It is hidden inside the water tank of the cubicle closest to the windows. The Misfts are also recommended to receive a ‘VIP’ status from the club, which will grant them access to the upper, closed off levels of the club. The agent encourages the Misfits to get noticed (in a positive way), reminding them that the Top Club VIP represent the top class societies of California; impress them with outlandish spending. It is then revealed that the Misfits can open a tab with nearly unlimited resources. After a short Q&A session, the agent finishes off the briefing by ordering the Misfits to stagger their arrival at the club, as to not draw any suspicions.

Unimpressed with having to wear a large, unpractical dress, Kassie secretly rebels by keeping her doc marten boots on, using the length of the gown to conceal them…

They soon set off.

The Top Hat Club is lavishly extravagant; a velvet red carpet leads towards a grand lobby entrance flanked by heavy security as automated spot lights shine into the moonlit sky. Jack is the first to arrive and after playing his role a little too much, he charms his way through the front doors and is greeted by a hospitality representative. After inspected by a metal detector, Jack signs in using his fake ID and is granted access without fuss.

Eventually, the others arrive. Pandora manages to smuggle in a pair of spiked knuckles while behaving in an appallingly patronising manner to the staff. Sasha and Lotta arrive to the shocked gaze of onlookers but after a brief explanation - wherein Lotta explains that it is the primary carer of Dr Hector Danforth who had an unfortunate accident (punctuated by Sasha animating a ‘boom’ with his hands) - they enter. Lotta zips up Sasha’s fly just as the rest of the crowd turn their heads in shock again. Kassie and Curt arrival prompts more strange looks; the hulking mountain of muscle in a barely fitting tux accompanying a disgruntled, tomboyish lady dressed in a elegant gown. Frustrated by the impracticality of the dress, Kassie lifts up her frock and stomps down the red carpet like a petulant teenager. After successfully attempting to intimidate the security, their background check passes and the pair enter. The others pass through without incident. Everyone manages to smuggle in their special equipment.

Inside, the Misfits learn about the layout of the club. The ground floor is the gambling pit, complete with slot machines and blackjack tables; the first floor is for high stakes gambling, where intense games of Poker and Roulette are played out; the second floor contains a dining area and an auction room, where the ‘save the endangered two-headed albino stag’ charity event is being held; the third floor is restricted and reserved for VIPs; and the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh floors are completely out of bounds.   

Pandora arrives on the first floor and catches the tail end of what appears to be a high stakes game of poker between a stress riddled man and a regally dressed lady. The game ends with the man folding and the woman winning a large sum of money. The lady catches a glimpse of Pandora and confidently walks over to her. She introduces herself as Alyssa DeBarge, flashing a set of ornate rings in a  bid to impress Pandora. The Misfit slips into her role perfectly. She impresses Alyssa by explaining she is a jewel collector. As it turns out, Alyssa is the daughter of a wealthy family who owns several diamond mines arounds California and plan to expand to New Vegas. They hit it off pretty well and it soon becomes apparent that Alyssa is flirting with Pandora. She invites Pandora to dinner, which she graciously accepts. The pair head to a nearby bar before heading upstairs.

As they head towards the bar, Charles (in the Cain persona) spots them. He goes to a bar opposite them, takes a seat and strikes up a conversation with the bartender. After discussing the selection of Whiskey they have on offer, Cain orders a 5000 cap tumbler of pre-war whiskey. With thoughts of the NCR bullet ration on his mind, the split-personality decides he will run up a huge bill in appreciation. He heads over to a nearby poker table with the intent on deliberately losing…

Jack reaches the second floor dining area and charismatically asks for a table for 2, saying that he is alone but expects that somebody will surely join him. The con artist is seated not far from a certain Michael Winger, a noted food critic of the Boneyard Times who is expressing his disgust with the braised Brahmin cheek. He demands that the chef remakes the meal and, spotting Jack, tries to persuade him not to order the same dish. Jack’s waiter assures him that there are a number of other dishes for him to choose. The two gentlemen strike up up an interesting friendship when Jack comments on the state of the cutlery - a detail Michael had failed to notice himself, causing the food critic to scribble notes into a notepad. Jack convinces Michael that he is indeed a professional international man of mystery and easily coerces the critic that this is a real occupation. After some more pandering to his sensibilities, Jack is able to extract that Michael is not a big fan of the club’s owner and suggests that there is something fishy about Estefan which he wishes to uncover. An hour before he entered the club, Michael snooped around the perimeter of the building complex and discovered an odd shipment fill with exotic technology. When Jack suggests that it was surely items for the auction, Michael disagrees. However, before he is able to spill any more details, the waiter returns with a menu for Jack.

On the same floor, Kassie and Curt arrive at the entrance to the auction house where they spot a man by the name of Huey Ringwald. Huey is talking furiously into a portable radio, anxiously telling someone to make sure they ‘get it’. Spotting them, the distressed man waits for them to ask what’s happening. When the pair stare blankly at him, Huey laments that the pair do not immediately recognise him. He introduces himself as the organiser of the evening’s charity event and begins to talk about Estefan in high regard, saying it was gracious for him to allow Huey to hold his event at the Top Hat Club.

Kassie and Curt remain unimpressed.

Just as Huey is about to lament further, a man in a black suit arrives to deliver a briefcase. Overwhelmed with giddy joy, Huey is unable to contain himself and he reveals the contents to be a weathered, yet technological supreme pistol. Curt wants it. The pair enter the auction and prepare for the evening’s biddings to start.

Meanwhile, Sasha and Lotta head to the slot machines on the ground floor. Gambling was never a strong suite of Sasha’s; immediately after dropping a large amount of money into the machine, the ghoul losses after some badly placed ‘hold’ choices. Sasha’s losing streak is punctuated by the lighthearted chuckle of a large, boarding obese man, who wishes the pair better luck next time. After mistaking his chuckle as bullying, the man apologises and insists he was being sincere. He introduces himself as Ricky Houston, a large than life, successful singer who has been invited to play after the auction has finished. Sasha and Lotta stare blankly at him, and although he is disappointed to realise that they don’t recognise him or any of his songs, he still remains upbeat and invites them both to listen to him later in the evening. Although they are initially disinterested in holding a conversation with Ricky, Lotta realises that had they seated themselves in the more crowded areas, the snooty upper class would have avoided Sasha for his disfigurements. Ricky, on the other hand, seems to be relieved that he isn't sat next to rabid fans and seems to enjoy their company. He asks about their background, to which Lotta robotically states that ‘Dr Danforth had an accident’. Sasha emphatically nods, sternly underscoring the statement by saying ‘boom’. Ricky nods.

Winston decides to make a move for the hidden zip gun and unders the gentlemen’s restroom on the second floor. After opening the door, Winston unexpectedly discovers a middle aged man acting as a bathroom attendant, something which unsettles the mercenary. He decides to come up with a scheme to distract the attendant by breaking the toilet in the stall next to the one which contains the hidden zip gun. As he fiddles around with the water tank in the stall, removing vital components and preparing his story, Winston suddenly hears the restroom entrance door open and the attendant saying ‘Hello Richard, how’s it going--?’ The attendant is cut off by the unseen man’s curt stride across the tiled floor before he enters the stall containing the hidden zip gun. While Winston’s toilet is violently malfunctioning, ‘Richard’ uses the noise the mask what he is doing; removing the porcelain lid on the water tank and removing a plastic bag of some sorts, presumably containing the zip gun. Winston immediately steps outside of his stall to confront ‘Richard’. However, he is accosted by the attendant who asks Winston what is wrong with his toilet. During the split second in which he is distracted, ‘Richard’ leaves the stall and stealthily avoids Winston’s gaze. Though he didn’t see his face, Winston spots the mysterious man has slicked back blonde hair and is wearing what appears to be a waiter’s fatigue.

Thinking quickly, Winston informs the attendant that he wishes to make a complain about the dangerous conditions of the bathroom stall and demands to know why the other employee (Richard) did not stop to help resolve the situation. Flabbergasted, the attendant is at mixed odds before finally submitting to Winston’s demands after believing the man to be a victim of an unfortunate accident. Winston demands the name of the mysterious man but the attendant only knows him as ‘Richard’ and that he works in a different department to him. He then suggests to Winston that he reports the incident to one of the many hospitality representatives dotted around the club, asking him to refer the them to Mr DeWitt (the attendant) who will verify Winston’s complaint. Winston gives a half-hearted ‘very good’ before abruptly leaving in pursuit of the mysterious man.

Balint’s relaxed investigation of the first floor is suddenly thrusted into tumult when he hears an ear piercing shriek. Across the room, a small crowd has formed near a janitor’s utility closet hidden away neatly in a side corridor. When someone cries out for a doctor, Balint comes forward and discovers a gruesome sight. A body, covered in stab wounds has tumbled out of a locker and sprawled onto the floor. The doctor immediately recognises the hospitality representative who greeted the Misfits at main entrance when they passed through security. Studying the body further, Balint determines that the man died roughly 20 minutes ago and was not killed at this location…

Security soon swarms the crime scene and a the striking sound of metal shutters unspooling across the windows can be heard. Lockdown has been engaged. A gentle voice over the PA system announces that, for their own safety, a security incident has occurred and that no one will be allowed to enter or leave the building until the matter has been resolved. The music in the dining room resumes as a concerned Alyssa tells Pandora that the place has never gone into full lockdown before...