#IF CYRUS' SHIELD LEAVES HIS HAND ITS BECAUSE HE'S DEAD

[thedragonagelesbian]

also can i have a hater moment here shield throwing is stupid. wtf is this a marvel movie.

[viridiave]

octoparallels

My brain refuses to work in 37 degree heat so this is me retaliating and now it’s gonna be EVERYONE’S problem as I spitball themes and parallels with the Octogang

Massive spoilers incoming by the way

OPHILIA and CYRUS (For Meaning) - The Transience of Life - Both of their final chapters feature themes of everlasting life in two forms. Mattias promises functional immortality in bringing the dead back to life, and Lucia has synthesized a blood crystal that would enable her to live forever. Ophilia fights against Mattias's promises, because the transience of life is what makes it worthwhile instead of worthless. Lucia is proof of the converse of this argument, when she had planned to become immortal and consume knowledge to hoard it for herself- a motivation that Cyrus finds hollow and unfulfilling.

OPHILIA AND PRIMROSE (For Family) - Family and Faith - Ophilia and Primrose's families are fundamental parts of their lives. The love that Ophilia experienced with Archbishop Josef and Lianna pulled her out of the darkness that came from losing everything at a young age, meanwhile Primrose's love for her father was what kept her from falling into darkness when she dedicated her life to avenging him. If faith is Primrose's shield, it is Ophilia's spear. They have shared faith in what their fathers have taught them, with Ophilia depending on it to save her sister and Primrose drawing strength from it in order to finish her journey.

OPHILIA AND H'AANIT (For Life) - Life, Death, and The Cycle - Ophilia and H'aanit have both lost their birth parents from a young age, and have both gained a father figure who would teach them meaningful lessons about loss and the nature of life. It is from Z'aanta that H'aanit has learned all she knows about the cycle of life and its importance- where every living creature returns to the soil eventually, and in this lesson H'aanit finds peace. The beasts that become her quarry are treated with the utmost respect, where the rule of the forest is to waste nothing and live on lest the life of the slain beast is wasted. Ophilia has a similar lesson on death, learning that living in memory of those she has loved and lost is the greatest gift she could grant them.

H'AANIT AND TRESSA (For Legacy) - The Storytellers - H'aanit and Tressa are both people who find joy in and are inspired by stories told of great people and their exploits, and are partially motivated by the thought of telling a story all their own. It is in this pursuit of a personal tale that they learn and grow stronger, earning their experiences and the retelling of it all. They follow their trade in earnest, hoping that one day they'll be able to tell stories just as great as the storytellers before them.

OLBERIC AND PRIMROSE (For Acceptance) - Revenge and Redemption - Olberic and Primrose share common themes in the pursuit of revenge- Olberic for his fallen kingdom and Primrose for her late father. But while Primrose is looking to avenge her father and fully intended on staining her hands with blood, Olberic sought answers instead- and in the end, doesn't spill blood in his search for meaning. Therion shows concern for both of their quests for revenge, often expressing doubts in their place about where this bloodlust would leave them after all is said and done. Olberic found acceptance and meaning after confronting the source of his grief, and Primrose is in the process of doing the same after her own tale- though it is left ambiguous. - Erhardt is the what-could-have-been for them both- left hollow and listless after he achieved his goal of taking down Hornburg.

OLBERIC AND CYRUS (For Future) - The Future of Mankind - Olberic and Cyrus share in the ideal of a better future. While Olberic's past may haunt him it is a lesson that he keeps going forward- pushing him to resolve to do better. Cyrus analyzes and studies the past with fervor in order to better serve the future in a similar fashion. They both acknowledge their strengths and aim to use it in order to protect and breed new and better generations to succeed them, with Olberic offering his sword and Cyrus offering his knowledge. Their promises are made to the present in pursuit of the precious future, believing that no one should be left behind. - Their final chapter bosses Lucia and Werner both ask them to abandon their ideals and to join forces in vain, not being able to understand that what they view as Cyrus and Olberic's weaknesses are where they draw their strength from. Cyrus does not give up on mediocrity. Olberic is insistent on standing by those he swore an oath to protect.

[chaniters]

Intermission

Cyrus agrees to modify Riley's feelings, gets confronted by her, then remembers some of his worst moments at the farm and discovers Ortega's Epilepsy. All in the same evening. TW Suicidal thoughts. TW Motorbike accident. ------------------------ “Are you sure you want me to do this?” you ask, hoping he’ll change his mind.

The look in his eyes tells you he won’t take no for an answer on this.

“Please don’t get cold feet on me now Cyrus. You already told me you’d do it...”

“Yes, I did…  Fine. I’ll do it. Whatever.” you shrug as he stops the bike.

The mansion is far from the city. A little spot of private heaven, paid for with taxpayer dollars by the look of it. The Carters have been in politics for long, and public officials are often very rich in Los Diablos’ corporate government.

You can’t help feeling out of place here. Every time you’ve been at a place like this, you were wearing a disguise, maybe a junior janitor, bellboy, or waiter. Always an extra layer of protection to keep people from looking at you.

But coming here in a hero suit, drawing everyone’s eyes?

That’s… something.

The door opens as you approach, with who you assume to be Riley walking outside, a wide smile on her face.

“Ric, so glad you stopped by...!”

“Sorry I didn’t call first, I was in the area and…-”

“And you wanted to apologize for what you said last time! It’s ok silly, I forgive you!

” she says, wrapping her arms around him and giving him an intense kiss that he doesn’t seem to be returning, not that it's stopping her, with her hand going lower and onto his butt.

“Rye, I just wanted to … Rye… Rye, I didn't come to apologize. I told you it's over… we need to talk...” he keeps trying to talk through the awkward kiss.

“I know you didn't mean it!" she laughs "Come on, say it! You missed me!”

“Rye… please cut it out...”

“Hmm.. now why would I do that…”

This is new. You’d have never expected to see Ortega look so helpless...

You imagine this would be what Anathema calls cringe.

She pauses as she opens her eyes, noticing you standing right there, staring at them. Her smile suddenly loses its intensity, looking just like something that’s splattered on her face.

“Oh. And you brought Sidestep.”

“Hello” you wave, trying to fit into the awkward moment, extending your hand.

“Hi. Riley Carter pleased to meet you” she replies, putting herself back together and letting Ricardo recover his breath. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“He’s my ride,” you point at Charge. He’s the culprit here, not you. Her mind is far too intense, and this is going to be hell…

“Like I said, Riley… I need to talk to you about something. Something important.” Ortega says, his voice more serious now.

Coward. Is that another reason he brought you, to rescue him? “Oh” Riley seems to have finally paid attention to what he was saying. “I’ll give you two some space,” you say, returning to the bike. Ortega looks alarmed by you leaving, but you have enough range that you don’t need to be right next to her to do it.

You lean on the motorbike, taking some chewing gum from your pocket as they start walking around the gardens, your mind following hers, and the conversation from her end. Ricardo tells her about the last events, how Psychopathor managed to assemble a tank in prison and blow the walls in his escape, the clash that happened afterward, and how some heroes and villains ended in the hospital. Or dead, like Darkfist, and Dr. Incredible who were vaporized in a plasma blast when the tank exploded. He then goes over the investigation that determined it was built using nano-construction techniques, and how the only portable device available for something like that was in the rangers HQ before it got stolen, without anyone knowing who told the thief it would be there. The trail ends with her... She stops him there, asking what does any of that has to do with her, asking him if he’s accusing her of something so ridiculous. Shouts at him that she didn’t know about any of it, and that’s when he decides to bring it out to show her. The bug that was placed in his communicator. The expensive, unique bug that was made to blend with his insulated tech. The bug that could only have been placed by someone really close to him… A pause in her mind. Hesitation…

She denies it. He insists. He tells her Steel had everyone’s hardware analyzed and only his costume was affected… and that there was only one person he had left the costume with.

That’s when she breaks. She tells him how she got tricked, how someone she met at a party told her he was cheating on her. How they told her where to get the bug… how to apply it… He yells at her, and you begin to feel like perhaps you shouldn’t be watching this, you shouldn’t be listening in…

But he wants to know, and you said you’d do it, so you stay hooked to her thoughts, like a parasite, feeling emotions you’ve never experienced herself. Guilt. Remorse. Shame.

She tells him she’s so sorry, that she didn’t mean for this to happen, that it’s all her fault… She starts crying, apologizing, asking him not to leave her…

Thinking she should kill herself.

The thought doesn’t get said out loud, but is so intrusive and enforced by so many negative memories that you have to block it out, pull out of her mind, run away, hide inside your own thoughts and lock down your shields so it doesn’t follow. You got the answer he wanted, so you can go back to feeling like the little guy chewing gum by the motorbike. But you’re crying too now. You’ve heard similar thoughts before, but not without the drug cocktails they gave you. Not without a team of specialists helping you scrub your mind of awful thoughts you took from people.

Your trainers told you plenty of times that humans get too emotional about their partners, and that you should stay clear of such thoughts. You should have listened. Now that you had a taste, you can tell they were right because It’s terrifying.

You open your eyes to see Ortega hugging her as she keeps weeping.

Blinking doesn’t make it go away.

Why? Wasn’t he angry at her a moment ago? You can’t understand it...

But you have to go in again.

You agreed to do this, and the answer was only half of it. You can’t walk back now…

Can’t help asking yourself again why did you agree to this...

Gathering all your strength, you focus and plunge deep into her thoughts once again.

It’s terrifying in there, like a building that’s falling apart, only held together by Ortega’s arms, or at least that’s what she thinks. She thought they would get married. She thought they would have children.

SHIT.

It’s getting to you, like a flood, and you’re drowning under it…

Is this love? Why can’t I be without him? Why does it hurt so much?

She doesn’t know, and you have no clue about these questions. “ Have you ever been in love?”  She asks.

“No. I haven’t” you reply, because she’s right there. She can sense you now because you’re lost, and your training is useless here.

“But you have,” she says, pulling one of your own memories. One that you locked deep below, where it would never see the light of day. “You were in love and you made him go away.”

“ Stop. That’s not true! ” “ You loved him and you made him go away because you were afraid. And now you are going to make me go away because he is afraid. Afraid of me. ” This shouldn’t be happening. She shouldn’t be able to hurt you like this! But she isn’t… she’s just making you remember… You’re the one hurting yourself.

“ Oh my god, he’s such a coward … so you’re going to do it, no? ” she asks, bitter and relentless.

“ I told him I would,” you reply, elevating yourself above the flood that is her defense. Regaining control. Out of her grasp. “ Then do it,” she asks. “ Make me stop hurting .” Standing tall now, you can look down and see that the demons in her mind are many… Ortega is wrong. How is this going to help at all? “ DO IT, YOU FUCKING COWARD !” she dares you. “ DO IT !” The waters begin rising, trying to drown you again, but you’re ready this time, holding her back. burning deep, modified thoughts into her mind.

Turning her love to indifference. Annoyance to hatred. Breaking down her image of Ricardo to pieces, and scattering them through the waters, where they’ll never get put together again.

How far can you go?

Not much, you can sense an incoming migraine, a hard stop to your powers.

You keep going as much as you dare and then erase your own presence as well. Just like they trained you, replacing your thoughts with a tired rage aimed at the horrible boyfriend that made her cry.

You retreat for the second time, feeling your head hurting as never before. Your pain gate is no use, there’s no stopping it once it’s already inside the brain.

With a last effort, you awaken her, bringing her back to reality.

She stops weeping immediately, pushing him away, staring in shock.

What have you done?

You’re tearing up, as she looks at him with eyes that show no little recognition, before muttering a curse, telling him to get off her father’s property and going back inside, leaving him alone at the footsteps.

Why did you do this again?!

It made sense last time. You would have been discovered and reprogrammed. He wouldn’t stop having feelings for you. It was wrong.

So you reprogrammed him yourself because you couldn’t bear them doing that to him… NO!

No, you were just trying to save yourself. There’s nothing else to it.

Why did you do it again this time? Just because he asked? He’s not your handler! You know that.

Should have said no… why agree? You don’t have an answer.

His eyes are reddened as he gets closer, and by the look on his face that he’s equally shaken.

“Let’s go,” he says, without another word. You’re too weak to argue, and so you sit behind him, as he starts the engine, speeding you both away

________________________________________

The Carter mansion soon disappears in the distance, wind flowing heavily against your suit as Ricardo goes full throttle. Too fast to be able to talk normally, so you switch on your helmet’s intercom.

“We’re going really fast… are you ok?” “No I’m not ok” the reply comes a few seconds later. “Did you get anything?”

“I did,” you reply “Then hit me.” “As far as she knows, she didn’t lie, so they must have manipulated her into planting the bug..” He relaxes slightly as you say that, slowing down the bike. “That’s… good to hear,” he says at last.

“Did you really suspect her of being behind this?”

“Not her. Her father… he’s dirty and…” he sighs. “Mierda. That’s why it’s so hard to be in a relationship, you know? They’ll use anyone against you. They’ll do anything to get an advantage over you.” “She was still spying on you.” you point out. “And you still hugged her after she confessed.”

He doesn’t say anything else for a while, so you focus on the road ahead. It’s dark, and you can’t see much beyond the bike’s light. The city lights shine in the distance, but you still have above an hour to get there.

“Did you do it?” he asks in a shaky voice when you had started to think the rest of the journey would be silent.

“Yes. Yes, I did.” is all you can say.

“Thank you.” he lets out as if this had been a simple favor. Just some mind-trick, like making someone’s gun point the wrong way. Like finding out who’s looking at us…

“How was she?” he asks, not letting it go.

“What do you mean?”

“Her mind… how was it from the inside?”

“It was… I… You know I’m not a shrink, right?”

“Just tell me, Cyrus. Please” Shit.

“It was… bad. Like real bad.”

“How bad?”

You tighten your lips. That isn’t your memory...

“Cyrus, I'm only asking because I want to know if she’s going to hurt herself!”

“I did what you asked! I’m not a shrink, I just changed her feelings! She’ll stop trying to get together with you. That’s all I know!” you repeat, a lot louder this time. “Just answer the fucking question!” Deep breaths. “You don’t get it,” you complain, to no one in particular, because of course, he will never get it. Doesn’t he understand that you don’t want to think about this? It’s her thoughts, not yours, and you want it to stay that way!

“Tell me Cyrus, or we’re going to have a problem.” Your handler’s words coming from his mouth, making your skin crawl. Making you want to throw up.

Tell him. It’ll be easier.

But it’s not easy. The thought is charged with deep shame, now your shame and she rattled your own memories...

“Yes, Ric! Yes, she thinks of it sometimes. She thought of it today when you started yelling at her! Is that what you wanted to hear?!” “Yes.” he croaks through the intercom “Yes, I needed to know,” he says, the life sucked out of his voice.

“Fuck you.” you let out, feeling the beginning of the migraine, overloaded with too much baggage that doesn’t belong to you. “Can you help her with that?”

“FUCK YOU!” you scream louder.

“Cyrus, if you can help her with this then…”

“Help her with this? Listen to yourself!”

“I just want her to stop hurting!”

“And what? You want me to rewrite her into a better person, is that it? Newsflash, I can’t! I can’t handle my own problems and you want me to fix hers?” “But…” “You think I have some fucking magic wand? You don’t know what it’s like! It hurts both ways!” “I just wanted to help…” “FUCK YOU! All you want is to feel better about yourself!” Your head is about to explode, and you’re tearing up under your helmet, your eyes drifting onto the white lines on the road, going one after another in quick, endless succession. Focus on them. That’s safe. You can feel him sigh as you hold on tighter to his skinsuit, feeling him take a curve, with another incoming in the distance or so the signs say.

“Slow down. I want to get off…”

“We’re still far from the city.”

“Do you think I care? Let me off!” “I… I’m…” he’s mumbling erratically, the white lines on the road losing cohesion.

... something’s wrong! Your eyes widen as his hands begin slipping from the handlebar. There’s only a massive surge of static where his mind should be. Not normal, even for him.

“Wait, don’t do that!”  You try to wrest control of the handgrips, but you’re not fast enough, and the bike goes sideways on the incoming curve, off the road, and down the cliff.

Down the cliff.

You barely manage to brace for impact, covering your head during the fall, bumping and rolling several times until you land on your stomach, the bike falling next to you. You stay there, immobile for a few seconds, internalizing what just happened. Wondering if this is where you die…

The question lingers until you struggle to sit up, finding you are still pretty much in one piece. Taking off your helmet reveals it’s cracked on several spots.

Shit.

Standing up is a chore, but your pain gate hasn’t activated. The suit must have spared you the worst, it would seem.

“Charge?” you ask, looking around in the darkness. The motorbike’s nearby, and you walk towards it, struggling to get it back to a standing position. You maneuver the wheel to point the light around, looking for him in the direction of his static, until you find him lying on his back.

You leave the light pointing at him as you get closer. “Are you ok?!” you ask, but there’s no answer. His neck is trembling, as are his hands, emitting pitiful noises… You try to hold him down, but a bolt of electricity almost catches your hand. It takes a moment before you remember that your suit’s gloves should be sufficiently insulated.

You kneel next to him, making sure only the gloves come into contact to take off his helmet, cracked just like yours. Underneath, his face is contorted to the side, trembling and breathing noisily.

“Seizure,” you say, immediately starting to follow the guidelines they implanted in you. Left arm bent to the side and out of the way, right hand on his cheek, right knee raised and bent, and then roll him over on his side, then steady his chin up to clear the airways… That’s about all you can do without getting caught in the current… but what if it doesn’t stop? What if sets his emitters to a higher setting and fries you?

No. That shouldn’t happen, he can’t accidentally change the power setting in this state.

“Breathe. Breathe. Keep breathing” you say, holding his hand, going wildly against yours.

You keep him steady, hoping it does stop, until after two minutes, he finally does, going limp,  breathing noisily. His emitters die down too, thankfully.

“Hey…can you hear me?” you ask, tapping his arm.

He can’t, so you repeat the question a few times,  waiting. Waiting for him to come back until he finally answers with a quick nod, pressing the hand you’re holding.

It’s a relief to see him coming back to his senses somewhat, but it presents a different challenge because he’s also been in an accident on top of the seizure and you need to check if he’s ok. So you start asking him questions about his arms and legs, getting one-word responses with a delay, as he’s close to non-verbal.

Head hurts. Both arms fine.  Chest fine. Right leg fine. Left leg hurts.

Nothing seems broken, which is a relief.

You try your intercom, but the pieces are broken and you can’t reassemble it without tools. You take his helmet but the inside smells burnt, he must have fried it.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, stepping up to drag the motorcycle closer to see what the damage is. That’s when you notice the rear wheel is completely bent.

Great.

“Now this thing has to have a radio…” you begin checking the features “YES! Here!” You kiss the small device, looking for the on the switch to…-

“Wait,” he says, a hand extended towards you.

“Wha… why?”

“They can’t know I had a seizure…”

“You don’t want me to call?”

“Please no,” he asks.

You look at him, finally starting to understand what’s going on…

“You're epileptic!”

“I just missed a few doses! Haven’t had one in years! If you tell them...”

It’s all too clear what would happen. If the media found out the Marshal had a seizure while speeding on the highway...

You keep staring back at him, in shock, before tossing the radio down and sitting back next to him.

“Alright…  I won’t call them. It’s ok” you reassure him. “It’s going to be fine.”

He replies with a pained “Thank you”

“I’ll… I’ll fix this. Somehow.” Why are you doing this after what he just pulled on you earlier? Why do you care so much about this asshole?

Why do any of it? The answer comes almost immediately. It seems you’re not THAT dense.

It almost makes you laugh, with the absurdity of it all.

Luckily it takes you less than an hour to get a car to stop to take you back to town convincing the driver that you’re just wearing costumes for a party and crashed on the way. He asked you what kind of party this late at night and Ortega decides to intervene, claiming you’re strippers for a bachelor’s party.  That works like a charm, he can make up all the answers he needs in his own mind. Ricardo is silent through the rest of the journey, you don’t know if he’s still recovering or if he simply has nothing else to say. It doesn’t really matter, because you couldn’t be more thankful for it, as the migraine explodes in full force. ____________________________ My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero world. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for his wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist. Full fic is on AO3 as well https://archiveofourown.org/works/30292125/chapters/81514135

[annoyinglyjovialbird]

Voltron: Next Generation

Zealous Approach: II

Word Count: 3050

Dark gray ships sailed over the third floor of the space mall, blasting the fountain into rubble. The shaking was from a wayward blast to one of the support pillars above the food court. With a quick glare from Kova, Shiro had deactivated the bracelets on Cake and Kenny. Shiro and Cake climbed and jumped over the high seat around their table. Kova and Caleb ran to the source of the shaking, seeing the massive battleship sail overhead while firing. 

At the top of their lungs, they shouted at the mall visitors to take refuge in the stores and bathrooms. Allie and Liz managed to herd the food court visitors to the kitchen. Sal protested. Liz used a little used line. 

"As the Paladin of the Green Lion, I'm ordering you to take in these people." Sal's eyes went wide, finally seeing the giant V on Liz's chest plate. He nodded his head, stepping aside from the door to allow entry to the herded visitors. 

By the time Liz joined the fight, Kova and Caleb were in a shooting match with another pair. Kova blocked the heavier blasts from Caleb, who was on bent knee and holding his gun. Allie had managed to make it to the third floor, firing a quintessence arrow at someone. A groan was heard and Liz ran. The soldier wore Fire armor, laying on the ground and holding their head. Liz had summoned her weapon, whacking the soldier until they convulsed. Liz stared at the end of her staff, noticed that it had electricity coming from it. 

Cool. 

On the other side of the mall, Cake rushed to the Coeus, trying to avoid the random blasts from the battleship overhead. Another blast struck a support beam above his head, sending debris to the floor below. Cake had just missed it. 

"Super random question." Cake said, panting for breath. The other four Paladins listened, ready to strike or already firing on Fire soldiers. "What if the blasts aren't random?" 

All at once, the Paladins' eyes widened. 

"They're trying to collapse the space mall." Kova looked up at the remaining support pillars that lined the third and second floors. Those were the ones receiving the most damage, as they were the closest to the battleship. 

"I'll try to get to my Lion, but I think we have to work on summoning them." Cake said breathlessly again, ducking to avoid another blast. 

"I need to get to high ground," Caleb said, side-eyeing Kova. She nodded in response, stepping in front of Caleb. He stood and ran towards Allie's location, using his jetpacks. Kova began to retreat further into the food court as more blasts came from the upturned dust created from the rubble. More soldiers appeared, gaining ground. Kova looked on, shield still activated while she figured out something. She couldn't go into the bathrooms because there were civilians in there. She couldn't fight them in the food court stations because there were civilians there. 

Time to die, I guess. 

In a bold move, Kova stopped her retreat, fighting against the force pushing her back. The soldiers didn't stop, pushing forward. In a heartbeat, Kova lowered her shield and ran at the soldiers. Her bayard appeared in her hand, activating itself as she ran. It had turned into a pole, and in using her momentum, Kova had vaulted over the soldiers and quickly fired at their heads with the gun her bayard changed into.

With a sound that would make a bass drum proud, the three soldiers that had been pushing Kova back were down the ground.

On the second-floor, Caleb could see the fountain that used to sit in the middle of the mall. Beyond that, he could see the Coeus. 

"Sound-off," Kova ordered, her voice hard. 

"Sec here." Caleb had used an overturned table to stabilize his sniper rifle. 

"Griffin here." Liz had beat another two Fire soldiers until they were down, making her way to the Coeus. 

"Yellow here." Cake had made it, taking off. The Lion sailed under the battleship, trying to find the civilians and where they had hidden. 

"Smythe here." Allie had been running across the third-floor, shooting quintessence arrows at Fire soldiers who had been deployed. It was getting harder to hide as the dust settled. 

Wait, the dust is settling. 

"They stopped firing!" Allie shouted.

"More troops are being deployed!" Cake announced immediately after. From Cake's point of view, another ten soldiers jumped from the battleship to the mall below. Right where Liz was passing through. "Griffin, watch out!"

"I saw it!" Liz ran faster, sliding into a hallway. The team of Fire soldiers split up, with five of them going after Liz. When they slid into the hallway after her, she was gone and the hallway was a dead end. All Cake could see was a flash of green light and Liz coming out of the hallway. "Can I get a lift?" She said, looking at Yellow. Yellow lowered itself to the ground, with Liz flying up on her jetpacks to catch Yellow's paw. 

"By order of Emperor Yorak, I order you to surrender!" A disembodied voice announced. It must've been on a loop because it repeated it. Kova almost wanted to demand who this person thought they were. 

Kova had ducked into a different hall, catching her breath. While muttering about her little lungs choosing the worst times to malfunction, another heavy blast shot more dust and debris into the air. That wasn't helping. In a moment of desperation, she looked up to the small sliver of stars to her right, pleading for their assistance. As she closed her eyes, focusing on regulating her breathing, it came. A distant roar in the back of her head. 

Caleb hadn't been doing very well. He was starting to regret not taking Uncle Lance's lessons. He had climbed onto the third floor, looking out for Kova. He could see Allie, Liz had hitched a ride on Yellow, and Cake was piloting Yellow. He saw her black and white armor dart into a hall, and he was about to join her. 

Another blast from the battleship above had struck the mouth of the hallway where Kova had hidden in. To say Caleb lost it was an understatement. He saw red. 

"Allie, shoot him in the head!" Kova ordered from the Black Lion. Allie, following through with the command before it fully registered, called out to Caleb too late. The quintessence arrow dinged into the side of Caleb's head, knocking him out. "Grab him and let's go!" Kova shouted again, and Allie had to drag Caleb to the Black Lion. The Black Lion floated underneath the third floor, with Allie and Caleb hitching a ride on its head. Somehow, while dragging Caleb along, she managed to enter the space inside the Black Lion, joining Kova in the cockpit. 

"What. Is. Happening?" Allie asked with every step, staring out the windows and purple screens. Kova was breathing heavily, barely heard from under the blasts. 

"I'm dropping you at the Coeus. Get to your Lions." Kova stared ahead, maneuvering around the collapsing pillars and violent blasts. 

"Caleb is still unconscious!" 

"Do you want Keith piloting the Red Lion?" 

"Allie, please say no," Cake pleaded. "We have enough half-breeds as it is."

"Why did you say my name like it's a bad thing?" Keith asked, now connected to the Coeus's drive. Allie watched Kova mouth a response, saying nothing in return. The Black Lion hovered over the Coeus when a blast struck the Coeus, missing the Black Lion entirely. 

"Allura, now!" Kova all but yelled, leaving the girl to launch herself out of the Lion. Caleb was learned against an inner wall. Kova piloted the Black Lion to a safe location, underneath the swap moon, hopefully keeping it safe from harm's way. She had crouched to be face-to-face with Caleb, who was making groaning sounds as Kova moved his head. Taking off his helmet, Kova did something you should never do to an injured person. 

If you thought 'slap them', you would be correct. 

"Wake up or I'm telling Pops about what actually happened to the rabbit," Kova said after slapping Caleb. The other Paladins winced as the slap echoed in their ears. It made Allie wish there were healing pods on the Coeus. She should really talk to Romelle about that. "I'll tell Dad about the bottles." Nothing yet, but he was starting to move his eyes. "Cyrus."

"Cyrus." Caleb muttered weakly, gingerly touching the side of his head. "Please don't tell Pops about the rabbit." Kova nodded and helped Caleb stand. 

"You okay there, Cap?" Liz asked, sailing around the battleship, narrowly avoiding the blasts directed her way, 

"I'll live. Where's my Lion?" 

"With Cake. He dragged it out before the particle barrier got activated."

"Perfect." 

"Green, what are we looking at?" Kova asked, returning to her seat. Caleb hung on, trying not to fall as the Black Lion manuevered around smaller ships blasting at them. 

"Uh, you might might to look at it yourself," Liz said, sending a blueprint to the pilots and the Coeus. 

What they had thought was a massive battleship was built to look like a giant cockroach, with an outer shell made of layered steel. The base, where the bigger random blasts were coming from, was where the giant metallic bug stood on. Every automated footstep it took, another blast was fired, and it took many steps. The smaller ships were being deployed from somewhere underneath the roach. 

"Get ready to jump," Kova said to Caleb, who stumbled his way to the drop hole. As the doors opened, Caleb replaced his helmet and held his breath as he jumped. Caleb landed on Red's head, watching as the Black Lion sailed by with two smaller ships on its tail. 

"Sound-off!" Kova yelled, narrowly missing a stray meteor. 

"Red here!" 

"Green here!" 

"Yellow here!" 

"Blue here!" 

"Alright team, converge in front of the bug!" The Lions, stopping their onslaught against the smaller ships, followed orders and flew to the front of the cockroach. "Form Voltron!" 

With a bright light and interlocking of parts, the Lions had turned into the fabled robot. The smaller ships that had followed the Lions tried to turn tail when they saw Voltron, but unfortunately for them, they never returned to the ship. Between the Red and Green Lions, the three smaller ships were blasted into nothing. Voltron looked up as a wayward blast missed Voltron's head by several meters. 

"We have to get him out of the way," Kova voiced the other Paladins' thoughts. "Ready?"

"Yeah!" The other four Paladins replied. 

With a boost from its thrusters, Voltron flew around to the roach's side. Like a football player, Voltron flew into and tackled the roach. More smaller ships were deployed, but there was nothing they could do to stop Voltron from carrying the roach away from the space mall. The only thing visible from Voltron's position was the Coeus's bright orange particle barrier. Caleb inserted his bayard into its port and turned it. With Red and Green, a long saber formed in their mouths. Voltron angled the sword so its face was parallel to the blade. With a wide sweep and a turn, the roach groaned as the blade cut through it like butter. Escape pods were launched, but enough for the amount of soldiers were suspected to be onboard. With Voltron's back to it, the roach exploded in a shower of light. 

"Great job team," Kova said with a smile. 

"We still don't know how to disband," Caleb pointed out. 

"I know." 

"Well," Shiro said, coming on the call from the Coeus. "While you figure that out, look at this." He uploaded a transmission to the teens in their Lions. It was a video of Voltron floating dramatically in the dark and empty space. In its hand, or the Red Lion's mouth, was the long saber that had cut through the roach. With a flex of its hand, Caleb willed the sword to disappear by deactivating the power move. In the video, the sword also disappeared. They were live. 

"No way."  

"Pidge and Pops helped," Shiro said, listening to the astonishment in the voice. "Everyone at the Garrison and some of the planets in the galaxy saw the transmission." 

"Everyone who has a phone would've also seen it," Caleb said. 

"I know." Kova looked at the Coeus from her seat. "Which means—"

"We're going to be hounded when we return to the space mall." Liz finished, eyes wide. 

"We're going to have to focus, team." The Paladins perked up when they heard her commanding voice. "Close your eyes. And split!" 

In a flash of light, the five Lions flied around the space mall, with celebratory roars. People were emerging from their hiding spots, looking up at the Lions. They cheered, gawked, or whooped at the sight. 

As the Paladins worked to land their Lions, automated cleaners were dispatched to clean up the dirt and debris that had formed from the battle. Varkon emerged from his hiding spot, probably his office, and was directing people to their ships. Many of them stayed, hoping to catch a glimpse of the new Paladins. Everyone had seen Kova, from her first transmission, but no one had really seen the other four. The Paladins came out of their Lions, helmets on and half-screens activated so they could talk to each other. Allie's barely visible markings had many Alteans gasping. An Altean was the Blue Paladin. 

Vatos, the Altean boy from earlier, pushed his way past the crowd, ran past Varkon, and into Kova's arms. Kova had seen the little boy and crouched to catch him. The little boy was sobbing, little arms wrapped around Kova's neck. 

"Hello, Vatos," Allie said, crouching to the floor. Vatos looked up from Kova's shoulder with tears streaming down his face. "Where's your mommy?" 

"I-I," Vatos tried to speak, hiccuping. "I don't know!" The little boy sobbed again, hiding in Kova's shoulder. With ease, Kova stood with the little boy in her arms, patting his back while he sobed. Caleb and Liz were trying to diffuse the crowd, while Allie was trying to look over the heads of the excited crowd. Cake looked from Kova holding the little boy, Caleb and Liz further exciting the crowd, and Allie trying in vain to look for someone. He decided to look up at the support pillars when he realized something was wrong. The support beams weren't sound anymore. The entire second-floor could collapse, bringing the third-floor with it. Cake got Kova's attention, nodding at the building. Kova nodded, and turned to Allie. Vatos was put into Allie's arms and Kova turned to address the crowd.

"If you are uninjured, have functioning transportation, and do not need immediate assistance, we ask you to return to your home planets until the mall is repaired." Kova's voice echoed in the empty space. "There will be a place and a time for formal introductions, however, we need to ensure your safety before we move on." 

"You all heard the Paladin!" Varkon yelled. "Get moving!" The mall visitors looked between Kova and Varkon and left. By the dozens, the crowd dispersed, returning to their various ships. Liz and Cake were instructed to follow the crowd to make sure everyone got to their transportation safe. Caleb and Kova wound up with a dozen or so kids who lost their parents in the chaos. Vatos was the youngest of the lost kids, with a Balmeran child as the oldest. Allie had managed to gather the kids into the food court, sitting them in a circle and told them a story about a princess trapped in her castle. 

As the other Paladins searched through the mall, they found that many of the collapsed walls had trapped the people inside. The bathrooms were relatively untapped, but some of the stalls had become trapped by the doors. It took too long, even with Kenny and Shiro helping the teens out from the Coeus. Hunk and Pidge helped Kenny where they could, looking for lifeforms in the building. Allie was in the middle of the story, where the princess had managed to scale the unclimbable wall when Kova came over her earpiece. The parents, distraught and panicked, had been found. There were also several injured. 

Allie didn't know what to do with the kids looking at her expectantly. She asked Kova if the injured could be sent to her. Kova agreed, on the condition that Allie finishes her story. 

As children and parents were being matched together, Vatos was the only child left. His mother wasn't able to be found, and the poor boy had fallen asleep. All the injuries were mostly scrapes and bruises. The worst was a fractured rib from a line cook who had become trapped under some rubble. The families were sent home with pictures and a story, many of the younger kids asleep. 

Team Voltron had searched the entire mall, every store, every bathroom, every hallway, and dead-end. They couldn't find Vatos's mom. 

By then, the Coeus's particle barrier had lowered and the teens had a choice to make. Bring Vatos along since they were now responsible for him or leave him with Varkon and hope he returns to Altea. 

Kenny wasn't happy with the response. 

"Why my room, again?" Kenny asked, arms crossed. He stood in the doorway to his room while Kova set up a bed and Allie held the boy. 

"Your room is the only room with secured furniture." Kova didn't look at Kenny, tucking in the sheets. Pulling back the outer layer, Kova motioned for Allie to lay the little boy down. As she did, Vatos stirred. Unintentionally or not, the three froze, holding bated breath. As Vatos turned to his side so his back was to the trio, they sighed. 

"What if he wakes up?" Kenny asked, looking at the girls. Allie walked past Kenny. Kova stopped in front of Kenny, meeting his eyes. 

"You're the most experienced with soothing a four-year-old." Kenny's eyes softened, looking down. Kova walked past him, opening the door. "Besides, he's four. He can't be worse than me." He scoffed. A quiet 'Yeah right' was heard under his breath as the door closed.

[fallenhero-rebirth]

200 subscribers! (actually 208)

I’ve pondered long and hard what to do, and came to the realization that I did not have time to write anything since I am right now working on book two. But, I wanted to give you a bit of fun, so I went back through my archives and found some outtakes. You remember when I said that Fallen Hero was originally meant to be a novel? Well, I thought I’d share some scenes from there that hasn’t made it into the game (yet). Be warned, this is from 2011, first person, Cyrus and Yasmin, a male Ortega and Dr. Mortus (not Mortum) and in no way canon anymore. Also a lot more swearing.

Snippets under the cut:

1: Yasmin runs into problems (cut from book one)

I am insane. It’s not the first time I have thought that in the last year, and it will probably not be the last. How did I ever imagine that I could pull this off? My mind is fire and ice as I face the gun aimed at my face, but Yasmin’s lips simply curls in a smile. “This is a mistake” I assure the gun, and the masked man behind it, my voice a honeyed mumble.

“No mistake bitch” the man with the gun replies, a faceless goon with high-tech weapons that rings bells I can’t quite make sense of. In Yasmin’s body I can’t read thoughts, only the body language of a man that really doesn’t care whether I live or die. “Word has it that you were the one that made off with the Aipherion, and I’ve been hired to retrieve it.”

The gun beckons, and I take a step towards it, flirts with death and pain as I let my eyes widen a little, confusion vying with worry on my face. “I had nothing to do with that” I lie, because stealing from heroes was one thing, but the mystical gem called the Aipherion had belonged to Lord Modius, and one did not play games with him. Who had talked? Dr Mortus? It seems unlikely, if he had I would be dead already and the gem returned to its owner.

“I am sad to hear that” the goon replies, the gun never wavering from my face. It’s large, imposing, and like all guns overtly phallic. “Because my sources all point to you being involved.”

I am growing annoyed at the presence of the gun by now, so I do the only thing I can. I take a step forward and lick the tip of it, whispering into the barrel “Listen, I don’t know what magic eightball you’ve shook to have my name come up, but you are barking up the wrong tree. I’m a tech-girl; the mystical is wasted on me.” As if to prove the point I wrap my lips around the barrel and is rewarded with a shiver I can feel through my lips. I pull my head away, glistening strands of saliva still connecting me to his weapon. My smile has turned sensual, as I slide my tongue down the gun, softly stepping even closer as I nudge the weapon to the side. Sucker.

“My sources…” he starts, voice distracted, and this is the chance I need. The gun was aimed past my head now, not at it, and I move fast as a rattler as I grab his hand and punch his elbow hard enough to almost dislocate it. His words turn to a scream and the gun drops from dead fingers.

“Fuck your sources” I swear, driving my fist into his stomach as hard as I can, but he’s a big man and well armoured, and doesn’t fold like I want him to. Damn. This could be bad.

“Bitch” he growls, left hand snatching out and grabbing my hair. I should have seen that coming, but I’m not Sidestep now, I’m Yasmin. I can’t see what people will do; I am no longer three steps ahead. I am caught, and he has longer reach and is stronger than me. I am fucked. He knows it. I know it. His knee catches me in the stomach and I fold, gasping for air. “You will pay for that” he snaps, and I don’t doubt his word.

“Wait” I manage to get out before his next kick drives what air remains from my lungs. I curl up on the ground, trying to protect my face. But he leans in and traps me against the ground with a knee, slaps my face a few times hard enough to make my ears ring. He doesn’t even take fighting me seriously, and the shame of that makes my cheeks burn from embarrassment as much as pain. I feel more helpless than I’ve felt since the farm, and I want to run and hide, withdraw and leave an empty doll for him to play with. But if I do, I can’t be sure if I would find my way back to her. I would have to give up two years of plans so very close to fruition. I need her, I need my Yasmin.

“Did you have anything to say to me?” He has me pinned down now, captured beneath his weight. I don’t need my telepathy to see that he is enjoying this. That he is enjoying my swollen lip and tearful eyes. He has me now, and he knows it, his gloved left hand caressing my bruised cheek.

“I’m telling the truth” I sob, deciding to play up the fear if I can’t escape it. “I don’t have it. But I can find out. People tell me things…” it is my final gamble, to play the girl to the end. To not be important, to be pretty and smart, but never dangerous. I was not the threat; I was a norm, a tool, like his gun. A sexy girl employed by somebody, just like he was. I did not know now, but I could find out.

“I’m sorry hon, that just ain’t good enough.” He backhands me again, and I taste blood and metal as bright spots distort my vision. “Can’t take the chance of you running off to Dr Mortus for help. I don’t care what the pair of you is cooking up together, but my instructions were clear.” He reaches down and grabs my dress, my breasts spilling out as the fabric rips in his hand. The sight distracts him momentarily, and I know I won’t get another shot at this.

I yelp and move up an arm to shield my nakedness, but the moment he reaches out to grab my wrist I lash out with my other arm and jab a piece of broken bottle into the side of his thigh. It doesn’t penetrate deeply through the coveralls, but it makes him shift his weight enough for me to crawl away as he struggles to pull it out. I crawl fast, on knees and elbows with the tattered remains of my Ungaro around my waist. I don’t get far before I feel his hand around my ankle, pulling me back. I didn’t get far, but I got far enough and oh God how I enjoy the look of terrified surprise on his face when I roll over on my back and shove the gun he dropped back in his mouth. I know I should say something witty in the line of ‘suck on this’ if I want to have a future in this profession, but my hands are shaking with rage so I simply pull the trigger and nearly deafen myself at the roar the gun makes in the narrow alley. Idiot. He didn’t even have a silencer.

I lay there on the ground, his bleeding corpse draped over me, ruptured head leaking brains over the remains of my dress. I should reach for my phone and call the police; I am clearly the victim here. But that would mean more exposure than I would like. Instead I swallow my pride and calls Dr Mortus. Let the man earn his keep and damn my dignity.

2: Yasmin and Ortega at the bar (Might happen in book two)

The bar is filled with the muted hum of drunken conversation, unrecognizable through the rockabilly blare of the speakers. The green velvet seats in the booth are greasy from decades of the unwashed and uncaring, and the light that filters down, does so through a haze of cigarette smoke. In a corner two men in purple suits are having a pantomime argument, while the hunched bear of a man at the bar hides his gang colors under an oversized trench coat. I don’t even want to know what else he has under there.

I shouldn’t throw stones.

We must be quite a sight where we sit in our booth. A bedraggled young woman in ill-fitting lab clothes and messy hair, and a middle-aged hispanic man in blue coveralls and stolen wellingtons. Honestly, it’s a miracle that we’re sitting here at all; I didn’t expect to escape from Dr. Mortus lab this easily. Granted, Liz had told me that he was gone for a few days, but in the back of my mind I expected him to pop up behind us with a plasma cannon just as we were getting out of there. He probably didn’t think I would try to escape. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he trusted me. Maybe he really wanted to help. Or maybe we were lucky. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Ortega keeps staring at me in silence, and I keep the gun aimed at him under the table.

In front of us, both our beers remain untouched.

Not that anybody cares to take a closer look at us. That is the reason I dragged Ortega here at gunpoint. It is one of the many villain bars I combed through before settling on Joe’s as my favored haunt. This one, aptly named Garage Sale, always felt too low-brow. The people I wanted to meet didn’t go here; this is a place for the down and out, for the upwardly mobile henchmen and supervillains on the skids. In here, nobody cares and nobody smiles. Neither do we.

“All I have to do is make one phone call and you’ll be safe.” Ortega does his best to sound calm and convincing, but he just doesn’t look he part right now. His age has caught up to him and weights heavy on his brow, black rings shadow his eyes and he’s mottled with bruises where he had been hooked up to Dr. Mortus generator. That is the only reason I’m able to threaten him at all, his powers still hadn’t recharged, and for the moment he’s just as ordinary as I am.

But I have the gun.

“I won’t go back to jail,” I reply, my voice as cold as my face. I have no idea what I am supposed to do now, my brain has locked itself into a death spiral, and I don’t know how to get out of it. The crash seems inevitable, and the ground is painted with prison bars. That’s why we ended up in this bar; I needed someplace safe and neutral, somewhere where nobody would care or ask questions. And Cyrus would never come here. At least I hope that whoever stole his body still has an interest in keeping up the charade that he is a good guy. It’s too valuable to waste. I hope.

“It was a hospital, not a jail,” Ortega tries, raising the beer to his lips for the first time since we got here. As he moves he makes me tense up and I clench the gun harder, which makes him tense up, and the beer shivers a moment before he puts it down again. Very gently.

“It would have been. Once I’d recovered and given up whatever information I had. I’m not stupid, I know how this works.”

“Why do you still protect him? You said it yourself, the Annihilist threatened you, and you had no choice.” I almost feel sorry for Ortega, it is obvious that he wants to believe that so badly.

“It’s… complicated,” I sigh, the gun heavy in my hand. Part of me wants to let it go, wants to just confess and ask for help. I think I need it. But I know it’s never that easy. If I told Ortega about Cyrus, about who I am and what I did, would he believe me? Even if he did, he would be disgusted. I am not a victim, I’m a villain, and my acts are conscious choices. Nobody holds a gun to my head.

“Life is complicated,” Ortega finally admits, looking into my eyes. “I don’t believe you are an evil woman. You didn’t have to rescue me; you could just as easily have left me there.”

I could just as easily have killed him too. That would have simplified things. The thought nauseates me, so I distract myself with words. “It’s just that…” I have lowered the gun now, but he doesn’t know that. “It’s not loyalty, but you’re asking me to give up my life and my freedom. You can’t stop him, I’ll either end up in jail for what I’ve done, or I’ll end up dead. I don’t think he’d let me live through a plea bargain.”

“And what if you go back to him? Do you think he would ever trust you again?” His words hit too close to home, even if it is for the wrong reasons. I hope it doesn’t show. Because he is right, I can never return to what I was. Not without a means to get my body back. And to pull that off I need contacts and friends. I just crossed Dr. Mortus of the rapidly shrinking list. Ortega is about the only one left. The one bridge I’m finding it hard to burn.

“I can’t go back, but I can’t go to jail either,” I repeat, as if words would somehow fix the world. The situation is rapidly turning into one of those nightmares where it’s just too hard to continue to struggle. It’s much easier to just go limp, roll over, pretend to be unconscious and accept what is coming to you. But in this nightmare, I am the one holding the gun. I am still in control.

Things change so quickly.

“Hey, isn’t that Charge?” Words strike like a lightning bolt from a clear sky, and suddenly all eyes are on us.

“I always said you were an idiot for not wearing a mask,” I snap without thinking. Cyrus’ words from Yasmin’s lips, but there is no time for more than a confused look on Ortega’s face. I’m on my feet with the gun pointed at the men that spotted us, but a well aimed bottle from the bar knocks it out of my hand.

All hell breaks loose.

Ortega is on his feet and we’re back to back against the surging bar. It’s late enough for most of the patrons to be desperately drunk, trying to escape from the drudgery of their existence. But they are many, and I’m just happy that Ortega holds his own, because giving up is not an option. I knee a CerberUS henchman in the groin, slipping sideways as he crumbles. Ortega matches my step; moving into the spot that I left. I had forgotten how good it felt to have someone watch your back.

Someone you trust.

I am no longer a telepath, but apparently my reflexes are not gone. A movement in the corner of my eye makes me turn; reaching up to grab the descending arm before I even register what happened. His lack of balance makes it easy to turn his punch into a throw that sends him flying over a table. Bottles crash like firework.

I had forgotten how much I missed this.

I break into a smile as I break someone’s nose, the bottle splintering in my hand. People back away from my broken bottle, and I laugh in their faces, bolstered by the feeling of Ortega behind me, his back against mine. Then a sense of fearsome urgency hits me.

I’m not sure what it is that makes me push back hard enough to topple us both, but we hit the floor a moment before the blast hits the spot we just left. Suddenly the booth is on fire, the air aglow in freakish colors and I’m crawling for my life beneath the tables. The gloves have come off and the powers brought out, and if you shouldn’t drive drunk you probably shouldn’t wield biogenic flame or solid light constructs while wasted either. People are screaming, someone is on fire, the fight is escalating and it’s everyone against everyone.

At least until someone remembers that this wasn’t just about venting their frustrations, it’s about kicking a hero when he’s down and they can reach him. I watch Ortega disappear under a pile of has-beens wishing for a starring role in the story of Charge’s defeat. I don’t think I screamed his name out loud, and even if I did, nobody heard me amidst the chaos. I scramble free from the broken table I’d been hiding under just in time to dodge and shield my eyes as every single light in the bar explodes in a shower of sparks and glass. The mob around Ortega falls away, twitching and screaming as if they’d just pissed on the third rail. I am probably imagining the ozone, there’s no way that could ever overpower the stench of cheap alcohol, unwashed bodies and voided bowels.

Ortega untangles himself, pale blue lightning arcing between his body and the now empty sockets. The room is dark, but his eyes are throwing sparks. He’s shed the guise that he belonged here, another has-been slumming with the losers. Suddenly nobody seems eager to continue the fight.

“I think we will be leaving now,” he says, gesturing in my direction. Nobody protests. I straighten my back and walks out with Ortega, my hair alive with static electricity. My skin tingles from his aura, but I don’t bat an eyelash until we’re well outside the door.

And gone.

Two blocks of frantic running later we’re both out of breath, and Ortega looks less than imposing as he leans against a dumpster.

“Would you please accept my invitation and stay in my apartment at least? I’ve had enough excitement for one night,” he gasps.

“Not one night. Weeks. Technically you’ve been a captive for a couple of weeks,” I say, because I realized he had probably no idea how much time that had passed. My hair is tangled and sticking to my face so I wipe it back with a look of disgust.

“Weeks. Right. That’s good to know.” Ortega takes a step back from the dumpster; the smell coming from it is not pleasant now that he had regained his breath.

“Your powers. How long has it been since they recharged?” I’m through resisting the inevitable, but I need to know.

“On the way to the bar. I borrowed a jolt from a badly insulated lamppost.” Ortega looks sheepish, as if he was a bit ashamed of his subterfuge.

“So you could have taken the gun from me at any point?”

“You… looked like you needed it. I didn’t want to push you into doing something rash.”

I nod, defeated. “That was probably very smart. I meant what I said; I won’t go back to jail.”

“It won’t be jail. It’s just my apartment. You can leave at any time, but I really wish you wouldn’t. You’re too interesting to end up just another statistic.”

“Thanks. I think. Just don’t tell anybody I’m there.” It sounds more like begging than an order, even though the ‘please’ remains unsaid, sticking in my throat. “I need time to think. Time to make my own choices.”

“I won’t tell anybody. I promise. I respect that you need time. Do we have a deal then?” He holds out his hand, battered and bleeding from the fight.

The sad thing is, I believe him. I know how this works, the sympathetic ear, the understanding friend. You catch more flies with honey and all that. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve let him save me enough time in the past that one more time won’t make a difference. It’s the least painful of my choices, so I sigh “deal,” then grabs his hand and shakes it.

Probably a little too manly again, because he gives me another look.

This won’t end well.