#Orange scaffolding

[metroscaff]

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[mumblelard]

i did felt more better enough to go to the store by myself or i does feel more worse enough to offer this failing body to our fungiform underlords for their nourishment and final descendance

[s2z]

Coode Island, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. 2023-01-29 16:26:49 by stuart murdoch

[daily-sloop-john-b]

I guess part of what I find fascinating about Gale is the difference between his breakup scenes v. how he acts when asking for items for the orb.

When he's asking over the orb, he's about as polite as one can possibly be while strongly communicating 'if you don't do this, it'll take you and everyone else with it in the radius of a large city'. He emphasizes the danger to his surroundings over himself, apologizes for troubling you, assures you he'd do anything not to cause collateral damage, lets you know he wouldn't blame you for tossing him out after this -- and he means it. I haven't spotted anything in the text that suggests otherwise.

...but something gives me the sense that this is kind software running on selfish hardware. He's deliberately holding himself back, making himself small, setting his fate in your hands. He's already decided what his response will be if you say 'no,' so he can make sure his is the right response. (Because he can get a Good Grade in Asking for Help.)

In the scenes when you break up with him or say he was 'fine,' he's blindsided by this. In the 'fine' scene, he spends the first 30 seconds soliloquizing about his newfound will to live. He's someone who puts deep, singular devotion into his relationships, and most people will assume that other people match their default. When you go talk to Halsin, he's projecting how he values y'all's relationship onto you. So when you tell him your decision, he doesn't have the "right" answer prepared; he defaults to his much more selfish hardware, and does whatever he can to protect himself from the pain of your decision. (Astarion does something similar, but his defenses tend to be dismissal instead of possession.)

astarion as your bg3 boyfriend is choosing active healing in all its difficulty and ugliness but it still speaks to the teenage girl in all of us who loves horror and safely exploring unhealthy relationship dynamics

gale as your bg3 boyfriend is slowly realising this outwardly sweet man is deep and dark and far from being attractive it's terrifying actually and his deep seated entitlement leads to some ugly interpretations of the player character on his part

halsin as your bg3 boyfriend is understanding that his calm demeanour belies righteous anger on behalf of poor people and children and he chooses to be kind despite it and peace is really important for your health and being gentle in a harsh world is a strength

[readyas]

Let me freak out about Murder Drones for a sec.

I am IN LOVE with this show! I have to be honest, I'm kinda slow so it took me a bit to understand what the show was about. BUT I LOVED IT ANYWAY!! The show feels like a middle school girls fantasy, but in such a fun and amazing way! Aaa! That final fight still has a grip on me, highly recommend!

I had an idea for a peice like this even before I watched the show (I kept seeing N and thought he was like a muderous winter tour guide or something,) but watching it just cemented it in my brain. I also just love N design; something about a top heavy, blue with warm orange/yellow design makes my brain happy.

I wanted this to be compistion heavy but... clearly it isn't. (I desperately need to work on my compstion) you can thank the scaffolding in the back for that one. Luckily the values and light saved it. Speaking of values I definitely went too dark, maybe it works for that creepy/low quality camera feel (???).

I definitely had a fun time rendering all the metal, the urge to use subsurface scattering lighting was strong, Yet I'm stronger! Speaking of rendering, the rendering in this show is god send. I know nothing about 3-d and rendering and stuff like that, but I can't imagine having so many strong direct light sources is eas. Especially with such shiny characters who move and shift so much.

[thoughtsafterdark]

Hospitals and Airports are the closest modernity can come to reaching the Divine

Have you noticed how some places seem immune to time and social conventions. Like airports, those monoliths of now. Harsh lights burning and souls criss-crossing, tongues melting together into a writhing throng of humanity, a steaming cesspit of consciousness. Steeped in camaraderie yet drenched in isolation. The electric blue arrivals sign glares with neon brightness at 3am, a beacon that signals the end of the road.

Here comes a family of 4 on their way home, crossing through automatic doors into the balmy drizzle of a British night, carrying their loot of straw hats and cheap pendants, tan lines and peeling red lobster skin. A girl no older than 5 limps after her parents and older brother. She lugs her bright pink unicorn behind her and hugs the hood of lilac pyjamas close, rubs the sleep out of her eyes whilst her mother shouts at her to hurry. Soon she’ll tuck herself into bed, in the attic of their ordinary red brick London row house, and she’ll watch the sun peak over the trees in the back garden for the first time in her life. It will become a core memory she will think fondly back on for years to come.

By the first class lounge they hurried past, a man in an impeccable suit (Sheep’s wool, the finest money can buy. The grey colour of the Thames on an early morning) paces back and forth restlessly, briefcase in hand, phone in another. Gold amber eyes like a hawk, close cropped black hair and neatly trimmed beard, square pocket matching the deep tan of his shoes (authentic leather). He is barking orders to someone in Arabic, closing deals, building empires. A bloodied napkin he used to stop a nosebleed earlier falls out of his pocket and winks up at the scaffolding exposed ceiling, high and arching like the dome of a cathedral. He’ll make the sale, then visit the airport bathroom again before hailing a cab to the closest 5 star. In the morning, the maid who took the job to send money to her ailing mother in the Philippines will find his cold stiff body and scream. She’ll call the police and be taken in for questioning. She never signed up for this.

At the hospital coffee shop – two streets and half a lifetime away - a 4th year med students sips on a cortado like her life depends on it. Caffeine surges through her veins, bracing her for the day ahead. Unbelievable how exhausting trying to take up as little space as possible can be. She hates the spiel, it’s the same every time. A new dawn, a new face, a new team. The introductions, the smiling, the grovelling, the headache. She’s 5ft flat with bright orange hair, aspirations for Neurosurgery and a bright pink notebook, so why would they take her seriously.

It’s 8:30, and she’s scheduled for 9am clinic, so she has time for a hurried breakfast today. (Eating any earlier makes her gag). Small mercies. The off-red stained scrubs she nicked from the theatre changing rooms cling to her like a second skin preparing to moult. She squirms in them, the comfort undeniable. They make her feel like she belongs. They make her feel like an imposter.

Her table – she comes here so often; she thinks of it as hers - sits right by large windows overlooking the main entrance and staircase. She sees it all from here, her quiet unassuming throne. The doctors and nurses, physios and pharmacists. Rushing rushing, running, stressing. Wishing, hoping, waiting, waiting, waiting. For the shift to end, for the time for bed. For this rotation to change, for the exam to pass. We’ll go on that holiday next month, next year. When money isn’t tight, when things are more settled.  Before they know it they’ve wished their lives away.

Their patients understand, all too well and all too late. The same father with the IV drip and the metal stand comes down here every morning to see his daughters. They run up to him, he holds them close and beams. But his grip is getting weaker, smile is getting thinner. He doesn’t answer when they ask when he’s coming home. It’s funny what we can’t hear when we’re too busy wearing stethoscopes. Next month she (I) will be stationed on the Psych ward. We’ll have to do it all again, but maybe they’ll hear me this time. Maybe it’ll get easier.

Between them all and among them, if you squint and unfocus your eyes during one of those ungodly hours at the Starbacks across from Boots and WHSmith, leaning against a grey white pillar you might see him.

He is the spectre that haunts airport lounges and waiting rooms alike, the handsome stranger with the black snapback and the beats headphones and the khaki shorts. The one who lives out of a rucksack and wears a travel pillow like a crown. With the kind eyes and crows feet, and honey chestnut curls. He is that boy from your high school everyone liked, with a kind word for everyone; the one with a charmers smile and the charisma to bullshit his way through anything. The one who – when pressed for future plans, would laugh and shake his head, looking down bashfully. “I just want to travel for now, see where it takes me. I want to see the world”, he’d say, eyes twinkling with the possibilities. On someone else, the words would likely merit a telling off, they’d be seen as the paper thin excuse to fuck around and get high. But he seemed so genuine, and his teeth were such a dazzling shade of brilliant white when he smiled, even the strictest careers advisers couldn’t resist.

He lives in those moments, the liminal fabric between worlds that’s so hard to put your finger on. Blink and you’ll miss him in the old alleys of Rome, the spark of his cigarette lighter blending amongst the city lights.

You’ll find him among the most remote hiking trails of the Peloponnese, laughing with local shepherds and German tourists alike, sitting on jutting rocky cliffs and admiring the blue Mediterranean below. If you really pay attention, you’ll see his staff isn’t like the others. Something suspiciously like a pair of snake slithers up and down. You could swear you heard them whispering just now, but when you look again it’s just a wooden stick.

He is the patron of us wanderers and travellers, those of us with movement in our blood and restlessness in our hearts. The ones who beget the will of changing winds and shifting tides. The ones who can’t allow themselves to sit still, lest the dust settle and the coffee get cold. The mortifying ordeal of being seen and known. Or the ones that carry a hearth with them, in the bottom of a suitcase, in the heart of a trailer. The ones who move and weave through the Earth not because they are running but because they are coming home. He dances and jokes with the kids amongst campfires, always welcome, always a pleasure. And if he helps them pick the odd lock, swearing solemnly to secrecy, who are we to judge.

His bronze skin smells of cinnamon and nutmeg, vanilla and cedar and a thousand other spices. He reeks of incense and market stalls, moles and freckles tell the story of trading routes and old silk roads, of cotton shawls from Alexandria and silk from Pekking. His fingers and eyes twinkle with the good-natured mischief of petty thieves and sleight-of-hand magicians, tricksters and circus performers. He picks apples from behind ears, presents jewel necklaces to his lovers.

She sees him now, amongst the patients. He helps an old lady up the steps, pulls a balloon out of his back pocket to the delight of a sick child. She locks eyes with him and they nod at one another She has been seen now, and known. Perhaps she’ll find him again one day, if either stop running.

[soarrenbluejay]

Can’t remember where I’ve seen the idea first but I’ve had this idea of Regular Clowns taking offense to joker’s bullshit for a while now and exacting Vengeance. The man doesn’t even has an egg! His ass never been to clown school! He’s a disgrace to them all!

So four buddies leaving the traveling circus business decide as people who have loved every second of this and are Deeply Insulted by this wanker to Do Something About It.

Three of them are showmen- an acrobat, a juggler, a fire fanatic, the works.

The last one, Jerry, is a stage hand. He is their most powerful member- not only does he have the superpower of self care, but he’s a meta! Minor telekinesis is actually really useful when shuttling stuff around in a stage in a hurry! (And that whole thing of our idea of ninjas coming from stage hands in all black being ‘invisible’ yeah. Cryptid vibes, except it’s just Jerry)

So. A clown car pulls up in Gotham, in the middle of a Joker attack, presumably despite ever Gothamite on the road who saw it making their best effort to take one for the team and mow them down. This is a no good awful sign for Gotham.

But it gets better.

Because out does not step a bunch of goon reinforcements in masks, or some jokerified poor soul, but instead someone in one of those historical jester costumes, bells and dramatic ass sleeves and all. Also, they’re bright orange. It is slightly eye searing. In one hand is the end to a long line of tied together handkerchiefs in clashing neon colors which appears to be infinite bc it just keeps coming. In the other is a comedically oversized hammer with a squeaky sound effect installed but no spring to soften the blow- it in fact has spikes with little Mayfair banners hanging off.

They immediately attempt to strangle/bash Joker to death with a winning smile firmly in place, and actually survive the attempt of which by apparent virtue of being made of rubber or something. And out slides our fire master, in all teal for contrast, who promptly throws smoke bombs at the crowd of goons around and starts all but boa staffing them down with his fire wand, paired with a dramatic speech about how Joker is in insult to the idea of circus and also the most unfunny bitch to ever walk the earth.

Lastly, the juggler. They have come armed. With glitter and hackysacks. A dramatic beatdown ensues, with much shrieking and yelling on all sides. A gif is made of Joker being bonked right through a concrete wall with a move right out of a video game. Several goons get concussions a la bowling pins. It’s all being live streamed by someone through their apartment window and is rapidly going viral. It’s a good time mostly because this attempt at vengeance against the Clown Bitch Gotham did not immediately involve some one getting very anticlimacticly shot.

No really takes note of the guy in all black and ski mask, calmly standing in the middle of the flaming chaos. He occasionally holds out a new set of props for the juggler, an oversized great sword for our acrobat jester, some nitroglycerin for blowy uppy efforts, the works. Until he starts calmly putting together a three story set of scaffolding for the gang to use for the purpose of beating the crime king’s skull in in even more ridiculous ways and also so jester can showcase their absolute lack of a spine.

And Jerry goes back to standing in the middle of this chaos, apparently unaffected by Literally Everything going on. His friends are fucking crazy, he’s used to it.

Meanwhile, Ghost King Danny gets a new urgent appeal at his ghostly royal desk- someone is attempting to enact vengeance against the joker and move approximately 46363883 souls along doing it, except it’s not the Red Hood this time! It’s Some Random Guys that a minor mischief god is now attempting to fast track layering with blessings! Said minor god is officially appealing for the Ghost Monarch’s support. Danny is conflicted- on one hand, he Fucking Hates Clowns. And has a major hero worship thing going on for Red Hood, a fellow supernatural hero (in the dead’s eyes) much his senior. However, the idea of a bunch of nobody’s beating the joker to death at the same time as declaring how shit of a clown he is IS pretty hilarious.

He gives it the stamp of Yes, provided others seeking vengeance (aka red hood, the thousands of joker victims in Gotham, anyone who wants to go spectacular viral) can still intervene to catch some own hands, a minor merriment/will of the people god does a jig on the spot, and back with the Justice Circus Brigade, ghouls and Spectors alike start popping up to join in on the fun! Which our beloved ren faire rejects are actually pretty okay with- big enough circus events in the DC universe have a bad habit of becoming possessed/very obviously haunted/Ooky Spooky like, every few months. And these guys look much friendlier than whatever the hell has been in the house of mirrors these last few months!

Red Hood isn’t sure how he’s suddenly in the middle of upper Gotham when he’s was decidedly Nowhere Near three seconds ago, but that’s a problem for later when the Bitch Ass Clown Extraordinaire is Right There!! So he tables it to be very paranoid about later, shrugs, and starts shooting. Jester starts shouting out points for accuracy/comedy, Jerry calmly asks if he wants some of their backup silver bullets just in case The Target really is an unholy being of some sort. (They have taken Precautions. For Everythinf. Or at least Jerry did.) Jason can’t say no to free extra ammunition and also That’s Hilarious, man he has to hire these guys!

Then fire juggler molotov’s the joker, and he decides these idiots are ABSOLUTELY worth saving from the big bad bat. Fuck it, this morons are the BEST.

[aiartwerk]

Carpenter A confident female carpenter working on wood in a workshop. With her curly hair tied back, safety glasses, and tools in hand, she is fully focused on her craft. Wood shavings and sparks surround her as she smoothly planes a piece of wood. Her robust physique adds to the image’s emphasis on empowerment and craftsmanship.

Construction Worker This image portrays a construction worker standing proudly on a construction site, donning a hard hat and tool belt. Her dusty outfit and powerful stance amidst cranes and scaffolding show her strength and dedication to the job, surrounded by a backdrop of a large industrial site under construction.

Crane Operator A woman sits inside a crane cabin, wearing a hard hat and work gloves, operating heavy machinery with intense focus. The interior of the cabin is filled with dials and switches, capturing the mechanical aspect of her job. The background is a vast construction site, highlighting the scale of her work.

Race Car Driver A striking woman in a yellow racing suit stands confidently in front of a Formula 1 race car. Her stance is powerful, with arms akimbo, as she commands attention amidst the high-energy backdrop of a race track. Her sleek outfit and the car’s detailed design contribute to the fast-paced energy of the scene.

Electrician This image showcases an African-American woman working as an electrician, kneeling down amidst a tangle of wires and cables. She holds a tool in her hand while sparks fly around her. Her expression is calm and composed as she works with precision in a high-stress environment.

Firefighter A fierce female firefighter stands in front of a blazing fire, exuding strength and bravery. Her orange firefighter suit is charred, and her face is determined as she readies herself for action. The flames in the background highlight the danger and intensity of her profession.

Pilot A stylish and commanding woman stands in front of a large airplane, dressed in a crisp pilot’s uniform. Her tailored black jacket and cap emphasize her authority and professionalism. The jet behind her and the blue skies reflect her role as a leader in aviation.

Lumberjill A woman in plaid and work jeans is in the midst of chopping logs in a forest clearing. Her strong arms grip an ax as she focuses on the task at hand. The sunlight filtering through the trees adds warmth to the image, emphasizing her connection to the land and hard work.

Mechanic In a garage setting, a female mechanic works on a car, her hands covered in grease. Her denim overalls cling to her toned frame as she holds a tool, surrounded by equipment and automotive parts. Her intense expression shows focus, dedication, and passion for her trade.

Soldier A soldier stands at attention amidst a battlefield, her body armored and weapon at her side. Her camo fatigues blend into the war-torn environment, while her fierce, unyielding gaze suggests experience and readiness for the challenges ahead.

Plumber A woman kneels beside a kitchen sink, tools in hand, as she works on the plumbing. Her determined expression and sturdy overalls emphasize her hands-on approach to fixing things. The homey kitchen setting contrasts with her industrial tools, blending domestic and technical elements.

Power Line Worker High above the ground, a woman works on power lines, equipped with a tool belt and safety gear. She balances on a wooden beam, her face focused as she repairs wiring. The towering power poles and bright sky in the background add scale and drama to the scene.

Spaceship Pilot Inside a futuristic spaceship, a young woman pilots the craft, surrounded by high-tech controls. Her white and black spacesuit glows in the colorful lights of the console, and the cosmos stretches out beyond the window. The vastness of space outside complements her focused expression as she navigates.

Submariner In the depths of the ocean, a woman operates the controls of a high-tech submarine. The control room is dimly lit with screens glowing, showing the sea life outside. Sharks swim past the large windows, creating a mysterious and adventurous atmosphere as she guides the vessel.

Welder A woman stands confidently in front of a welding torch, sparks flying around her. Her protective gloves and helmet highlight the dangers of her job, but her composed expression suggests mastery of her craft. The industrial setting around her adds a sense of strength and power to the scene.

Each image is crafted with ultra-realistic detail, featuring vivid 3D rendering and high-resolution 4K quality. The colors are bold and striking, with detailed lighting that brings out the textures in their environments, outfits, and the characters themselves. Each woman is depicted with strength and beauty, emphasizing her role in her respective profession while challenging traditional gender stereotypes.

These characters not only represent women of power but also pay homage to diversity by showcasing African American women in impactful, aspirational roles.

[britt-kageryuu]

Those who came to the stream were greeted to an interesting sight. And not just the large stack of various boxes labeled 'Christmas/Winter' either.

Mikey is sitting on top of a stack of precariously placed chairs, boxes, and a few wooden planks. On top of multiple spread out drop cloths.

What was he doing on top of this stack? Painting the ceiling.

The audience sadly can't see what Mikey is painting, and he isn't telling them either.

Though he was chatting with them while doing so. Leaving them to guess based off of the colors used.

"While we don't really follow other VTubers, it's kinda impossible to not hear about things that go on, and I don't just mean some drama. I'm talking about those fancy full body mobile screens that came out more recently. Though Dee says they're kinda impressed, they don't trust leaving the thing alone at an event."

Mikey pauses to lean back a bit to look at his progress, "I need to grab some more Starry Blue, and Glow paints. BRB!" He then jumped off the pile, without knocking it over somehow, and went to grab the paints he wanted.

Suddenly the infamous Roomba started up, going slowly along the edge of the studio. The audience watched what they could of its movement, because they couldn't move the camera, no matter how much they wanted too.

They watch as the Roomba gets close to the stack of makeshift scaffolding, only for an orange blur to appear and smack the Roomba into going a different direction.

The orange blur turned out to be a lovely orange cat, known to many as Sunny.

So of course the chat is filled with many cat emojis, 'shouts' of Kitty!, and 'cat streams!'

Sunny prowls around making sure the Roomba doesn't get close again.

A few minutes later Mikey returns with multiple containers of paint, "Sorry that took so long. I had to mix some of these myself and that takes so much time. Hey Sunny! How's the most beautiful kitty doing today?"

He puts the paints down and gives the Kitty some pets, scratches, and quickly grabbed her a treat in the form of a big piece of dehydrated meat. Sunny accepted the offering and continued to keep watch for the Roomba.

Mikey grabs the Paints and gets back up the stack to continue with his ceiling mural.

"Yeah, Dee barely trusted having their 'small scale' setup at the Convention we did, especially after all those stories of theft that was going on at other events. Though given they put tracking devices on pretty much everything, the thieves wouldn't get far. Though getting Dee to not harm them will be the real hard part."

There are multiple emojis being thrown about like 'CainInstinctDee', 'DeeBite', 'FeralDee', though some newer people were a little confused.

Mikey moves over a bit to work on the next spot, taking care to watch his footing, while also freaking the hell out of some people watching that didn't trust the construction of the stack.

"This part is actually pretty much done, so in a few minutes I gotta move this over a few feet." Mikey says while crouching down and looking at his 'scaffolding', "I never planned on this kind of thing, so we don't have a 'scissor lift' that would make this so much easier."

The stream then watched Mikey dismantle the stack, and put it back together about 4 feet to the left. And continue with his painting while chatting with the audience.

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

Masterpost

[cf8wrk4u-us]

How The Lost Light Canceled The Hunger Games

Summary: To a Cybertronian, 200 years is nothing, barely a foot note in this peaceful time where bot are trying to rebuild their world and society.

But 200 years is a lot to humans though, 200 years is a lot for Earth in general.

Things change, humanity changes.

And as Cybertron will learn, not for the better.

But this is something the members of the Lost Light wouldn't stand for.

(Based on these ask given to @yes-i-write-fanfiction

https://www.tumblr.com/yes-i-write-fanfiction/735322098308890624/in-honor-of-the-ballad-of-songbirds-and-snakes?source=share

We're on a flat, open stretch of ground, a plain of hard packed dirt. 

Behind the tributes across from me, | can see nothing, indicating either a steep downward slope or even cliff. To my right lies a lake. To my left and back, spars piney woods. This is where Haymitch would want me to go.

 Immediately.

I hear his instructions in my head. “Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water”

But it’s tempting, so tempting, when I see the bounty waiting there before me. And I know that if I don’t get it, someone else will. That the Career Tributes who survive the bloodbath will divide up most of these life-sustaining spoils. Something catches my eye. There, resting on a mound of blanket rolls, is a silver sheath of arrows and a bow, already strung, just waiting to be engaged. That’s mine, I think. It’s meant for me.

I’m fast. I can sprint faster than any of the girls in our school although a couple can beat me in distance races. But this forty-yard length, this is what I am built for. I know I can get it, I know I can reach it first, but then the question is how quickly can I get out of there? By the time I’ve scrambled up the packs and grabbed the weapons, others will have reached the horn, and one or two I might be able to pick off, but say there’s a dozen, at that close range, they could take me down with the spears and the clubs. Or their own powerful fists.

Still, I won't be the only target. I’m betting many of the other tributes would pass up a smaller girl, even one who scored an eleven in training, to take out their more fierce adversaries.

Haymitch has never seen me run. Maybe if he had he’d tell me to go for it. Get the weapon. Since that’s the very weapon that might be my salvation. And I only see one bow in that whole pile. I know the minute must be almost up and will have to decide what my strategy will be and I find myself positioning my feet to run, not away into the stir rounding forests but toward the pile, toward the bow. 

I notice Peeta, he’s about five tributes to my right, quite a fair distance, still I can tell he’s looking at me and I think he might be shaking his head. But the sun’s in my eyes and-

CRASH!

A symphony of broken glass and metal erupted across the arena, the once sunny and clear blue sky darkens into a mess of pixelated screens and  crumpling scaffolding. But that's not what had our attention. 

From the growing crack in the forcefield  was a large aircraft, far bigger than the Capital hovercraft that had brought us to the arena. It was colored in a bright orange red and yellow with tinted dark glass on its front, so massive was its size that it literally scraped the sides of the entrance it cashed through. Sending more of the broken structure to crash down.

My breath picked up, heart hammering in my chest as I saw the craft get closer and closer to us,  I noted absently how its shadow easily shaded over me the rest of the tributes. Practically eclipsing the whole arena. 

A part of me screamed to move, to run, I thought of images of a hawk as it swooped over a desperate rodent. But the rational part of myself firmly and calmly reminded me that I needed to stay still on the circle before me or I would end up in pieces from the land mines.

But even that became a physical struggle as the aircraft landed sending a heavy gust of wind that threatened to blow tributes back from their stands. I braced my knees and even as I couldn’t stay on I grasped to stay right on the circle. In fact I noticed how others did the same , but a few weren’t successful. Such as one male tribute, from District 5 I believed, who was sent tumbling off. I gave a quick look from my position, ready to hear and see a mess of explosions…but nothing happened.

Even the District 5 tribute, whose face had paled, was now looking confused at the fact he wasn’t a mess against the grass.

The gong hadn’t gone off, yet the mines were not active, so what had the trigger time run out?

Has the Hunger Games begun?

In my head the passing thought came of how this could just be a scenario made by the Gamemakers. 

That perhaps the games already started and here I was just standing like easy prey.

But as I heard another groan of metal from the collapsing field above, even I had to admit that was a stupid idea.

Even so, then what was happening?!

Finally the craft opened and a bridge slid down, then stepping out with a thump of metal and heavy footsteps were what I can only name as giants.

Giants covered, no, made of metal!

Then it barely took me a second to recognize what these beings were.

Transformers.

In our history books it always seemed that throughout Panem past and even before the creation of the country, humans have always been each other's greatest enemies. But as stated in our history books, thousands of years ago, there was another race of beings that almost wiped out the planet and the entire human race with it.

Aliens from another world, giant transforming robots known as Cybertronians.

Beings of metal brutality and cold indifference, a warring species who brought their conflict with one another to Earth and put humans right in the crossfires of it.

Only leaving once almost irreparable damage was done to the planet.

As a child and learning about them in class I sometimes would look to the night sky in terror at the thought that these aliens were still out there. Just hiding among the deceptively beautiful stars.

But after losing my father, struggling to hold what was left of my family together, and the helpless dread that came with the annual Reaping; I learned rather quickly that the monsters in real life were far scarier than that of thousand-year-old metal terrors that hadn’t been seen in ages.

What was there to fear of beings who hadn’t been interested in Earth for centuries?

How ironic that my only fear had been my fellow humans when it came to surviving the arena.

Four stepped out from the ship, taking the lead was a fiery red and orange mech whose colors matched the design of the ship. Next to him came the largest of the group was colored a deep blue and red with white high shoulder guards on each side. Besides them was the shortest of the group of Cybertronians, his dark armored body barely reaching the orange one's waist and who unlike his companions didn’t have a visible face of sorts but a blue visor that fitted their red and white helmet. And finally from behind was an imposing gray and black figure, whose armor may appear more subdued in coloring and design than his group, his helmet a simple flat triangular design, nonetheless was buff and strapping. Power practically screaming from just his image alone, and when his red eyes gazed over to us I couldn't help but shiver under their intensity. Not feeling any better when I noticed a sort of dark blaster on its right arm.

He seemed familiar, his image perhaps one I had seen in my aging textbook?

I didn't have the time to ponder further as they finally stepped away from the ship and made it to the grassy field of the arena.

Like earlier I shifted my legs for a sprint, forgetting all about the food and weapons, my eyes shifting to the large expanse of forest that would be the only way to try to avoid whatever these stalking giants had in stored for us.

It was the only plan I could think of, the safest choice, and I’m sure Haymitch would agree.

Is he seeing this? Is the Capital? The whole country? Do they know where being invaded-

“Hello, there”!

I was taken off guard as the orange and red Transformer, the presumably leader of the group, called out to us. His voice was jovial and the smile that spread across his metal face was friendly.

Nothing that gave me a reason to trust him.

His grin persisted as he marched closer only shifting as several tributes cried out and scrambled to escape.

“Wait! Wait”! The giant robot hurriedly said “It's okay”!

I didn’t stop in my sprint  till I made it to Peeta, not complaining as he firmly grasped my wrist and pulled me into a hurried pace.

We needed to leave, put as much distance as we could from these metal monsters.

“We're not here to hurt you”! The Transformer said in a surprisingly desperate tone “We're here to help you! Save you! Too Stop The Hunger Games”!

I nearly fell as Peeta stopped.

“Peeta”! I hissed trying to tug him towards the forest, but he refused to move instead looking dumbfounded at the robot. As if he believed what it was saying.

But as I looked around I could see the other tributes had stopped as well, with the ones who made it to the woods actually peeking from the edge of the treeline.

The red and orange robot's face morphed into a softer expression before he went down on one knee. 

I gestured I couldn’t help but recognize from my sister Prim when she approached the small scared animals she nursed back to health or in my mom to the anxious sickly children that were brought to be treated at our home.

This Transformer, this giant of a being, was trying to make himself smaller so that the tiny humans before him wouldn’t be frightened. 

That…didn’t sound like the hostile warring species from my history class.

I stopped trying to move Peeta.

Seeing that he had our attention the robot spoke again, his voice soft but clear.

“We're here to save you, you won’t have to die today, not for some game, and especially not for your Capital” he stood up before looking at the smaller Transformer “Rewind, are we ready”?

“Just about” they, Rewind, answered “Though before we start mind stepping a little to the left”?

“Huh, why”? Asked the leader

“Because captain, if we were trying to sell the whole “we don’t mean any harm” image maybe we shouldn’t be showing how we trashed their enclosure”? Rewind said 

The apparent captain looked to the shattered entrance they had created before sheepishly smiling “Yeah…better not let them see that yet”

“Doubt it will make much a a difference” said the gray and black Transformer, his voice was sharp and curt “No doubt their Capital already knows about the damage done to their little arena”

“This difference is Megs is that we're making a statement” said the Captain “One that has to be said as soon as possible, ready Rewind”?

“Whenever you are” said the smaller bot, tapping the side of his helmet.

I was confused why he did that till I noticed a redlight shinning on the side of his helmet, a video recorder perhaps?

With that the red and orange giant stood straight ahead, his gaze intense as he looked at Rewind “Citizens of the Capitol and Panem, we come in peace”!

CRACK! CRASH!

At that moment more scaffolding and material decided to come tumbling down into the arena as if to loudly object to the statement.

I winced at the noise and off to the side I could see the largest of the Transformers actually pinch his brow in an exasperated manner. A scene I could almost find funny.

 Despite this though the captain gave only a nervous chuckle before speaking again “This is Rodimus Prime, and despite our rather abrupt entrance, we have only the best of intention for our arrival” he face then became more serious “While I understand that as of now most of the citizens of this country recognize us in a hostile light, we Autobots,  many members of the Cybertronian race have viewed Earth and its people as sentient like minded beings. Ones who needed protection and safety when our war did unfortunately touch your planet. With some humans even becoming valued allies who fought besides us during such a perilous time” Rodimus stopped then, his blue glass eyes dimming even “After the war we left Earth, both out of a need to protect this planet from any further conflict we may have had  and out of respect for humanity who wanted to independently run their society once it was rebuilt, a wish we were determined to honor” his voice then harden as he continued “But recent discoveries and findings have forced us to decide to break this arrangement, this biggest being your so called Hunger Games” Rodimus practically spat that word out “A society whose higher caste who not only feeds greedily on it’s citizens but demands blood tributes out of its children, making a game out of their very lives! It will not continue! Not if I can help it”!

I watched transfixed as he raised a fist to his fiery chassis “I call an end to the Hunger Games! Starting now”! He calmed “Again this isn’t a message made out maliciously, I want more than anything to resolve this peacefully, I hope you can believe me citizens of Panem”

Rewind then made a gesture and Rodimus visibly relaxed, even giving a small laugh.

“So did we get all that”?

“Sent it right to our sources, hopefully it was enough to get it to the other Districts but you can bet those big cogs in the Capitol must have seen it”

“That's good” Rodimus nodded before beginning to walk “All we got to do is wait for now”

“You know Optimus Prime isn’t going to be happy about the stunt we pulled today” the gray and black one, Megs, spoke again.

“Well Optimus shouldn’t have been dragging his pedes over this,” responded Rodimus “But if anything just say you were following the captains orders, I’ll take the fall”

“I highly doubt he believed that” the blue and red Transformer said

Rodimus actually shrugged before looking our direction again, he gave another reassuring smile “Just hang tight” he said “I almost got you all out of this”

No one responded for the longest time, till in a quiet voice spoke out.

“Is this really happening”?

I couldn’t pinpoint who spoke, but that voice echoed a question I was asking myself.

Was this really happening? 

I recalled the proclamation made by the Transformer not even a minute ago.

An end to the Hunger Games.

No more Hunger Games.

The games were canceled.

Was this really happening? Barely a few minutes earlier I was ready to run for my life and fight against my fellow tributes in a bloody arena, but now I was being told that we didn’t have to fight by a giant metal alien.

I felt Peeta shudder beside me and when I looked at him I could see how wet his eyes were getting, he covered his mouth trying to muffle a sob. Without thinking I pulled him close and let his weight sag against mine.

I was ready to let our time in the tower be our final goodbye, knowing that the chances of us making it from the Cornucopia was slim at best and remaining allies had an even smaller chance.

But saying I wasn’t relieved would be a lie, I was relieved that the games hadn’t started, relieved that Peeta and I were still together, relieved that we were going to be okay.

And if a few tears and raspy breaths left my mouth I wouldn’t find myself ashamed for it.

When we were calm enough to pull away I looked to the other tributes; most  stood with their Districts. Some crying and clinging to one another, a few who decided to look through the packs of supplies littered around the arena, but most just staring at the Transformers that stood by their ship.

Well most of them.

The apparent captain, Rodimus, was actually walking leisurely towards the pond. Then literally popping open his chest cavity pulled out a pole of some kind that had a string at the end of it.

It took me a second to realize what he was doing.

“Is he…”? Peeta started

This Transformer, a giant metal warrior, a captain that led his own crew, and just broke into the Capitals arena and called an end to the Hunger Games; just plopped himself at the end of the water and began to fish!

Peeta actually coughed a laugh besides me “Can robots even eat fish”?

I didn’t know and wasn’t sure to find out.

But surprisingly enough Peeta let go of my hand and actually got towards the robot!

“Peeta”?! I whispered harshly “What are you doing”?

“I want to get a closer look at them” he said 

“Peeta, wait”! I said urgently “They’re Transformers, it might not be safe too-”

“They saved our lives Katniss and you heard them, they don’t want to hurt us” Peeta said but before he kept moving he held out a hand to me, encouraging me to take it.

I hesitated though.

Despite what these Transformers had done for us, despite their promises, I still didn’t feel comfortable putting myself in a squishing range of them.

Peeta gave me a disappointed yet understanding look and continued on. Surprisingly even some tributes began to take his lead, forming a small crowd.

The bot, Rodimus, began to notice their approach and gave a large smile at them. 

“Hello there,”!  he said 

None of the tributes worked up the nerve to greet him back verbally but I could see Peeta giving his own smile in return along with an energetic wave of his hand.

A part of me had to keep myself from rolling my eyes, it was just like Peeta to try to get people to like him. The games may have been over and these giants claimed not to mean any harm but Peeta was still trying to play it safe.

He really was clever like that.

But ultimately it wasn’t Peeta who opened up to the metal giant.

“You know how to fish”?

This came from the young 12 year old from District 4.

“Yup” Rodimus said “Back when I was stationed on Earth a good friend of mine taught me, I got really into it after that” He ended that by adjusting his line a little.

The District 4 boy's eyes widened before giving a curious gaze at the pond next to them.

“Do you think there’s anything in there”?

“I hope, in either case I’m just glad to be fishing again”! The robot said “I told myself that if I ever came to Earth again it would be one of the first things I did”! He stopped before asking the Tributes besides him “Do any of you fish”?

Again most stayed silent but the District 4 didn’t hesitate to raise his hand and say “My district is responsible for most of the fishing done, some of my father and uncles are even allowed on the boats to go to sea for the bigger stuff, we even have competitions during the season”

Rodimus' eyes seemed to glow brighter “Oh, so you're a bit of an expert huh”? He asked leaning closer “So what's the biggest fish you’ve caught so far”?

The young boy's face went red, from the freckles of his nose to the bouncy curls on his head.

“Um, just a couple of mackerel with my dads old fishing rod ” he said quietly almost embarrassed “I catch a lot more with nets with my friends”

“Mackerel! Wow that impressive”! The giant robot expressed eagerly “Most of my fishing is done in freshwater, I say the biggest I got was just  5 pound bluegill but boy was he a tough one-hey I didn't catch your name by the way”

“Luca” said the boy “Luca Alberts”

As the red and orange Transformer continued to chatter on about his fishing experiences the group of huns around him seemed to relax more and more, feeling at ease his casual attitude. And it seemed to affect some of the other tributes too who had previously kept their distance.

I moved closer to where Peeta was in the group, catching more of the conversation made by Rodimus to the District 4 tribute.

“So do you really hope to catch anything”? Asked the boy, Luca

“Who knows? Best way to pass the time anyway” Rodimus responded

“You might want to be careful” a voice suddenly said

It was one of the male tributes, I didn’t recognize him initially given he looked like another of the 14 year olds that were taken into the games. Then recalling a yellow suit I realized this must have been the tribute from District 3, his bright yellow dress shirt being the only thing that stood out in his rather dull interview with Cesar.

“You don’t know what might be inside the pond” the District 3 Tribute explained “The arenas are supposed to be set up with all kinds of traps, ones operated by the Gamemakers and ones set loose like the Mutts”

“Mutts” Rodmius said quietly “Right, those lab made animals they make” his happy expression turned into a somber one before his smile returned “Well, it’ll be fine! If there's anything dangerous lurking in these water, just trust your friend Rodimus to help”

He added a thumbs up that honestly felt corny, but seemed to please the younger tributes.

“I’d like to fish too”! Luca announced

Rodimus hummed unsure “Well, I only have one-”

“It’s fine” he stated before going to the nearest pack and rummaging through it “There pretty simple to make if you have the right supplies”

Rodimus nodded “Then I'll trust the expert on this”

The boy gave a proud grin though mad a disappointed sound at not fighting anything before moving onto the next pack.

From where I stood I gave another glance at Rodimus and his robotic teamates.

To be honest it wasn’t enough to say these were robots, the Capital miniature cleaning or delivering drones definitely fit the definition. There movements stiff and uniform, moved with purpose in their singular task.

But these Transformers, they moved as a human would. Maybe not with the same fluidity but unrestricted, like the armor they were wasn't just something attached to their bodies but actually a part of them. Even the metal on their faces, despite how alien they looked,  moved so easily. And given Rodimus examples, with so much expression and versatility.

How could metal and gears and inanimate material move and soften so much like flesh, like actual breathing beings.

Because they were alive obviously….

For years I had it in my head that these aliens were nothing but cold hearted machines of war. That's what our history books told us, showed us.

But then again those books were written by the Capital.

And the Capital says a lot of things.

 I looked at the large Transformers before me; Rodimus chatting with the other tributes, the smaller one Rewind holding the side of his face as he gazed around so obviously still recording, and finally to the two largest bots who stood rather detached from the rest of the group.

I part of me wondered how different things have been if Rodimus and his people had come sooner.

Would the first Rebellion have been successful, would the Capital still have demanded to Hunger Games, would their even have been a Hunger Games, would-?

My hypothetical thoughts were cut short when a piercing scream went through the air.

Turning I could see some of the tributes scattering away from the Cornucopia as the male District 2 tribute came barreling out of the entrance swinging a large sword.

“Stop! What are you doing”?!! cried Rodimus, quickly getting up and abandoning his fishing pole “Why are you fighting! Your free now! No one is making you kill anyone”!

The brutish tribute, Cato if I member his name,  looked at the robot and actually gave a snarky smile.

“Are you stupid”? he asked “Do you really think you can stop the games? That we'll let you”!

From behind him I can see more of the Career Tributes gather behind him, each brandishing their own weapons.

“We're here for a reason! And I'm not about to let you take that away from us”!

More tributes scattered as the pack of Carriers ready their weapons and stalk forward.

Despite everything, despite all of Rodimus hopeful promises, I'm sure that there's going to be death even if these aliens did call for an end of the games.

Really how stupid was I to believe them, how stupid I was for not grabbing a weapon, or not just running when I had the chance.

“That's enough”! Rodimus ordered taking a step forward, barely restrained anger in his voice “Stop this now or-”

But already Cato was rushing forward sword already at the closest, hapless target.

Luca.

The District 4 tribute quest for fishing line and other supplies had put him just close enough to Cato line of attack, he kneeled by an open bag, to startled or afraid to run.

Rodimus quickly moved , the ground quaking in his hurried step forward. Avoiding get accidentally trampled on I didn't notice when Peeta left my side till I saw him rushing past Rodimus bright orange feet right for Luca.

The instance was too fast and too slow at the same time, Peeta running to the boy, taking him his arms to try and pull him away from the attack, the sword swinging down and blood sprinkling out.

I can feel myself yelling, Peeta name clawing its way out of my mouth as I saw the sword about to swing back down again.

BOOM!

A roaring blast echoed through the air as a bright hot beam of purple shot over the heads of the Carrier tributes.

The arena grew hot, it felt like the very air was singed from that one blast. Leaving A smoking crater in the far off distance that no doubt could have easily sizzled away any puny human in its path.

It felt hard to breath and my stomach threatened to lurch the meager breakfast I stomached back at the tower. But still I turned my head to look at the cause of the blast.

The gray and black mech.

Everyone was silent, afraid too move. Even the Carrier tributes, who had been a savage pack thirsty for our blood were left shaking. The District 1 tribute actually scared off his feet, ass to the ground as he look terrified at the glowering red eyed Transformer.

"You wanna try that again”? the Transformer said, his voice like a rumbling storm, his still smoking cannon leveled at the group of Carriers “I came here because I thought I was saving innocent humans from a cruel game made by a tyrannical society, not a rabid creature who sees fit to attack his own kind" 

Cato stupidly tries to argue "Its the Hunger Games-"!

"And as my captain stated, there are no more games from here on out" said the bot, but his face actually looked to soften a bit "Your a Carrier tribute, from what I understand, you were raised for this, all of you" he cast his eyes to the rest of the group "Raised to murder, slaughter, and entertain...but understand that from here on out the games are done….but if you feel so free to continue fighting than do it" 

The cannon lights up.

"Come forward and strike, make your District proud, make your owners proud" 

Cato seemed to be hyperventilating, he turned to his fellow Carrier tributes but they were all shrinking away under the gaze of the giant robot aiming their weapons at them.

All of these Carrier tributes, made into these roughness killing machines for the benefit of the games, reduced to scared children.

I find it laughable if I wasn't fixed on a moaning Peeta lying on the top of a silent Luca.

But I didn't dare approach till Cato, with an almost wheezy cry, squeezed his blade one more time before throwing it away.

The others following his example.

I rushed forward trying to evaluate the damage, kneeling besides Peeta I carefully tried to move him on his back and off of Luca. The boy looked fine but I startled to see that Peeta had a long slash cutting across his right arm. Cutting deeply by his elbow before becoming shallow by his shoulder. Bleeding very heavily.

I did my best to press on the wound, the warmth stickiness of it pooling between my fingers.

Peeta eyes were open with pain but still he managed a strangled “Katniss…”

“You idiot”! I couldn't help but snap “What were you thinking”?! 

He was so close to getting out! Getting out alive at least!

A shadow overtook us and I looked to see both Rodimus and Rewind staring down at us.

Rodimus was clear with horror as he looked at Peeta's wound.

“Scrap” I heard him mutter, I didn’t know what it meant but couldn't help but share his sentiment.

The sleeve of my coat was already soaked with blood. I knew I couldn't continue on like this, then stupidly I member there was a pack besides me.

I grabbed at it hastily looking through, cursing as I only found a few crackers, a empty canteen, and a pair of socks.

Despite this I stretched the socks as far as I could, rembering from my mother and Prims work that no matter what I had to press to keep the blood in! Huh, even with something so obvious I still was failing.

“Here” a voice said and I felt a weight besides me.

It was the young girl from District 11, Rue, and in her hands was a roll of bandages.

Quickly grasping it I thanked her and made to work trying to wrap the wound. Rue wordlessly held up the arm gently to let me encircle it further, though Peeta gave painful gasps still.

“Let's try tying part of the arm” said Rue tapping just above his elbow “It'll help with the bleeding” 

I nodded following her instructions, just like I would if it were my sister and mother. I was never a gifted healer like them and I didn't have confidence in the wrappings as I still saw red peaking through the white of the bandages. But I was still too glad that it stopped spilling on the grass.

The shadow above us got bigger and I felt Rue press up to me while Luca fliched.

“Will he survive”? asked the gray and black Transformer

“I-I don't know” Rodimus said “Oh, slag, we really should have brought Ratchet”!

“To be fair he may nor have been as helpful considering this is a human and not a Cybertronian patient”

“Yeah but-will you put that thing away Megatron”! Rodimus suddenly yelled in frustration 

Megatron.

I felt my blood run cold as I finally realized why I recognized this specific Transformer.

Images of him, him and his Decepticons, littered the chapter of my history book.

Describing one of the leaders of the two waring Cybertronian factions, this bot name was meantioned as to put a face to the carnage that was the species of Cybertronians. Deemed so evil and callus for his not only his utter disregard of human life but in his delighted in the utter suffering and destruction to the organic life on this planet. Pictures and accounts left no room for nightmarish imagination.

He barely looked any different,  I could still recognize him.

This was him.

This was Megatron.

I didn't hesitate to push myself in front of Peeta and the younger two. Despite knowing I was helpless to anything he want to do to us.

“It was just too prove a point” said the metal ravager “Wasn't even looking to maim”

“That's not the point Megs-”! Rodimus would have continued if the whole arena didn't begin to shake causing even the giant robots to become unsteady on their feet.

Suddenly the forest erupted in a burst of flames! And the once tranquil pond bubbled ominously, growing inside till literal waves were sloshing closer to the field the stood.

“I believe the Gamemakers are not too happy with us interrupting there game” said the blue and red bot named Mags as he approached his captain.

Getting a serious face Rodimus loudly ordered “Grab the humans, were getting out of here”!

Rodimus kneeled before us “We got to leave” he said before cupping his metal hand and holding it low “I know your friends hurt but we gotta move you guys”

There's a lot I can distrust Rodimus for, being a Cybertronian for 1. and having Megatron on his crew for 2.

But seeing the earnestness in his blue glass eyes and knowing staying in the arena meant only death, I could only silently shuffle Peeta onto the bright red metal with Rue and Luca following behind us. The metal felt oddly warm beneath me.

“That's it little buddies ” Rodimus said encouragingly “There we go” 

His fingers curling as the only warning before Rodimus lifted us up to a dizzying hight, from their I could see the other bots Mags and Rewind collect the rest of the tributes with surprising gentleness.

Something I also noticed is Megatron himself, simply standing there and staring at the Carrier tributes who panicked as the ground around them began to muddy as the tide of the water lapped at their feet.

I guessed that the metal destroyer maybevwanted to finish the job,but to my surprise he leaned down and scooped up the scared tributes. 

Soon enough Rodimus and the others rushed us towards their ship

It started dark before opening to a control room full of machinery and screen monitors.

“Magnus, get us ready for lift off” said Rodimus before going towards a large glass tank and gentle settling us inside there. Rewind did the same to the two tributes he held and the bot Mags/Magnus set down the rest.

There was some hesitancy as Rodimus saw Megatron with the Carrier tributes but he only made a clicking noise before jumping into one of the seats, no doubt the Captain chair.

“Are we ready”?

“Thrusters on captain”!

I barely felt the ship move but on the monitors is clearly showed us soaring above the almost decimated arena and lift towards the dome. I shuddered and continued to hold Peeta as once again the ship jolted as it scrapped against the size of the force field.

“Rodimus, I'm detecting several hostile flight carriers coming our way”

“Guess they really didn't appreciate our little peace demonstration” Rodimus said dryly as he gripped the steering device.

The monitors showed what was obviously Capital shuttles coming at the ship. 

There was a violent shudder from the side of the ship.

“Rodimus…should we engage” said Magnus quietly 

Rodimus voice was determined as he said “No, we agreed we weren't taking any lives today” but then an almost cheerful tone came to his voice “But I got something else in mind”!

The ship gave a jerk and I felt myself bracing against the surface of the tank.

“They want to chase us, then we'll go somewhere they can't follow”!

Despite the optimistic way he spoke it was becoming worryingly hard to breath.

“Rodimus” Megatron said in a stressed tone “Rember the elevation, the humans-”

“I think I know how to transport humans” Rodimus said sarcastically, but I couldn't help but notice that it was getting easier to breath.

I coughed and checked on Peeta, concerned how paled he was though with how alert he looked I was still hopeful.

The jostling stopped and soon it was a smooth ride. Though not a comfortable one as Megatron gazed at all of us within the tank.

I did my best to meet his gaze fearlessly, my eyes flickering to the scared Carrier tributes still in his hands. The squirmed and cried, terrified to be in the hands of a titan who could easily squish them.

The one-sided stare off was broken by Rodimus hysterical laughter “We did it! We did it”! the bot practically leaped from his seat to fist pump the air “We saved the humans and showed those higher cassette up”

“Yes” Magnus said in a tired voice “With 23 anxious young humans and 1 injured tribute in our care”

“Well, we can figure it out” said Rodimus jovially “Doesn't this prove we can do anything”? 

“Rodimus-” started Magnus 

“Oh, we need to get ready to dock”!

The way Magnus sighed you would think he was a  tired parent to a rambunctious child and not the crew member following his captain.

There was another shudder and soon a bright light entered the hall we had come from, soon Rodimus left his seat to the tank we were in.

He was all smiles as he began to roll the very platform our tank was on towards the entrance.

“Your safe now, your safe” he kept murmuring.

I wondered if it was more for his assurance then for our sakes.

The light at the end of the hall was blinding but when we emerged from it a roar of cheers followed.

“WE'RE BACK”! yelled Rodimus

As my eyes adjusted to the light I could see we were in a large hangar of some sort and inside it a group of Transformers stood, bots of versions colors and sizes all whooped and hollered in congratulations to Rodimus and his group.

Once we got closer several of them surged forward.

“You actually got them”? said one with sharp helmet a grey face and red marking around his eyes.

“Ha! I wish I could have seen the faceplate of those Capital jerks when you burst in there” said one bot who only had a single yellow glass eye that made up his greenish blue helm.

“Are these humans”? one small white and blue bot asked as they struggled to look at them from the height of our platform “They're so cute”!

A purple Transformers with a narrow face and red eyes leaned forward “One of thems injured”

“Scrap”! Rodimus said “Ratchet?! Where's Ratchet”?

“I'm here”! called a gruff voice, a red and white mech pushed through the crowd “What happened”?

“Um, we ran into some complications” said Rodimus gesturing to Peeta “Can you help him”?

“A human patient” the robot frowned “I can try, but I can't promise I'll be as much use given how long it's been and what supplies I have ir should I say don't have”

“Haha, he just being modest” Rodimus said nervously looking at Katniss “But he'll be in safe servos” 

That obviously didn't assure me and both bots could tell as I held Peeta close to me.

The one called Ratchet came forward before lowering his hand into the tank, tributes did scramble back till it was only me and Peeta before the metal hand that was as big as a storage door.

“I see your worried for your friend, I understand” he said “ But I need to take a  look at him, it's the best way to ensure his wound is properly treated”

“Your not a human” I found myself saying “You don't know what your doing”

“This isn’t my first time with an injured human, it's just been some time and I don't exactly have what I need….” He stopped before saying “He looks like aid was administered, was this your work”?

I nodded but admitted “I had some help”

Ratchet hummed and nodded before nudging his hand more instantly towards me “You can come along, perhaps you could help me treat him”

I gulped looking between him, the hand, and a grimacing Peeta. Then finally helped push Peeta onto the outstretched hand before placing myself onto the cold metal of the palm. I braced myself as once again lifted by a metal giant.

Ratchet began to quickly walk away with us, but I could still hear Rodimus speaking.

“Megatron make sure you keep those tributes separated” he instructed curtly, obviously talking about the Carrier group.

His voice became more lighter as he said “As for the rest of you, I want to welcome you all to the Lost Light”!!!!

[justathingfromthebrainvoid]

Wild Life Episode 2 Items and their corresponding effects (to the best of my knowledge, there are definitely errors and missing bits): (under the read more because there was a lot)

Original: Sugar Cane- Jump Boost, Cobble- Nausea, Dirt-Levitation, Seeds- Water Breathing, Pointed Dripstone& Dripstone Block- .5 Food, Diorite- Night Vision 3, Stone Shovel- 3 Food, Copper Ingot- Absorption 5, Diamond- Infested 2, Cobble Deepslate- Jump Boost 2, Raw Iron- .5 Food, Pale Moss- 1 Food, Gravel- Speed 2, Granite- Weakness, Andesite- Nausea, Polished Deepslate- 2 Food, Grass Block- Portal Sound, Short Grass- .5 Food, Stone Hoe- ? Food, Dandelion- Health Boost 5, Cornflower- Levitation 3, Seagrass- ? Food, Allium- Health Boost 4, Redstone Dust- .5 Food, Redstone Torch- 3.5 Food, Tuff- Health Boost 4, Lapis- 1.5 Food, Obsidion- 3+ Food, Wooden Shovel- Haste 4, Torch- Infestation, Ladder- Hero of the Village, Sugar- Darkness 5, Paper- Infested 2, Stone Axe- Blindness 3, Skulk Vein- 2.5 Food, Oak Planks- Mining Fatigue 5, Crafting Table- Blindness 4, Birch Slab- Glowing 2, Polished Deepslate- 2 Food, Stone Bricks- Oozing, Yellow Dye- Elder Gaurdian Sound, Light Grey Dye- .5 Food, Sunflower- Infestation 4, Bonemeal- Poison, Oak Log- Ivisibility 4, Clay Ball- Night Vision, Calcite- .5 Food, Smooth Basalt- Poison 2, Pink Peatles- Wind Charged, White Tulip- Regen 5, Rose Bush- Wind Charged 5, Liliac- Water Breathing 4, Oxeye Daisy- Oozing 4, Wheat- Darkness 3, Sand- Levitation, Arrows- 2 Food, Blue Dye- Night Vision, Cobblestone Wall- Jump Boost, Pumpkin Seeds- Levitation, Bone- Nausea 4, Stick- Blindness 5, Iron Axe- Resitance 5, Gunpowder- 1 Food, Orange Tulip- Hero of the Village, Red Tulip- Instant Health 4, White Tulip- Regen 5, Stone Pickaxe- 2.5 Food, Gold Ingot- Oozing, Clock- Condiut Power 3, Name Tag- .5 Food, Skulk Viens- 2.5 Food, Red Dye- 3.5 Food, White Dye- ? Food, Iron Nugget- .5 Food, Bamboo- Resistance, Campfire- Night Vision 3, Light Blue Dye- Jump Boost, Polished Deepslate Wall- .5 Food, Scaffolding- 2.5 Food, Stone PIckaxe- Silverfish Sound Effect, Torch- Infestation, Feather- Glowing 5, Amathyest Block- 4 Food, Coal- Wind Charged 5, Raw Gold- Slow Falling 5, Pale Moss Carpet- .5 Food

After 1st Randomization: Pointed Dripstone- 3 Food, Short Grass: 2.5 Food, Oak Sapling- Strength 5, Peony- Speed, Polished Deepslate- Infestation 4, Cobble Deepslate- Water Breathing 4, Tuff- Invisibility 3, Torches- Weaving 4, Redstone Torches- .5 Food, Cobblestone- Slow Falling 2, Iron Chestplate- ? Food, Chisled Deepslate- Slowness, Deepslate Brick Wall- Night Vision, Cobble Deepslate Stair- Infestation, Cobble Deepslate Wall- Mining Fatigue, Deeplate Brick Slab- Night Vision, Deepslate Brick Stair- Mining Fatigue, Deepsltae Wall- ? Food, Polished Deepslate Stair- ? Food, Polished Deepslate Slab- ? Food, Lily of the Vally- Streangth, Pale Oak Leaves- Haste, Lilac- Glowing, Seeds- Darkness 3, Dark Oak Leaves- "Spooky" Sound Effect, Pink Peatls- Health Boost 3, Oak Planks- Posion 2, Birch Slab- Health Boost 3, Sticks- Wind Charged 2, Pink Peatl- Health Boost 3, Seeds- Darkness 3, Ladders- Infestation 4, Bowl- Slowness 5, Obsidion- Streangth 4, Stone Shovel- .5 Food, Pink Dye- .5 Food, Birch Leaves- 2 Food, Grass Block- .5 Food, Azure Bluet- Levitation, Dripstone Block- 2 Food, Amathyst Block- .5 Food, Oak Planks- Poison, Ink Sack- Blindness, Redstone Dust- Weaving 3, String- Poison, Lapis- .5 Food, Diamond- .5 Food, Iron Ingot- 1.5 Food, Cherry Sapling- Piglin Noise, Stone Hoe- Infestation 2, Wooden Shovel- 2.5 Food, Dirt- Blindness, Gold Boots- End Opening Sound, Crafting Table- Health Boost 3, Stone Pickaxe- Levitation, Rose Bush- Nausea 3, Raw Gold- 3.5 Food, Raw Copper- 2 Food, Birch Sign- Water Breathing, Gunpowder- .5 Food, Dirt- Blindness, Scafolding- .5 Food, Deepslate Bricks- Jump Boost, Barrels- 2.5+ Food, Arrow- .5 Food, Spruce Planks- Dolphin's Grace 5, Spruce Lop- Glowing 5, Gravel- .5+ Food, Wheat- Oozing 2, Dandelion- Night Vision 4, Clay Ball- Slow Falling, Pale Moss Carpet- Portal Sound

After 2nd Randomization: Seed- Jump Boost 5, Short Grass- Weaving, Dripstone- 1 Food, Chisled Deepslate- 3+ Food, Pointed Dripstone- ? Food, Coal- Regen 5, Raw Copper- 1 Food, Tuff- Hero of the Village, Cobblestone- Water Breathing 2, Pale Oak Leaves- .5 Food, Copper Ingot- Levitation 4, Pale Hanging Moss- ? Food, Stone Bricks- Condiut Power 5, Cobblestone Wall- Invisibility 3, Amathyst Shard- 2.5 Food, Dirt- Slow Falling 4, Birch Leaves- Ender Dragon Death Sound, Pale Moss Block- .5 Food, Stone Brick Wall- Oozing 3, Oak Log- Weaving 5, Dripstone Block- 1 Food, Cherry Leaves- 3 Food, Red Dye- .5 Food, Azure Bluet- Condiut Power 5, Light Grey Dye- 3 Food, Redstone Dust- Dolphin's Grace 5, Oak Sapling- .5 Food, Peony- Slowness 4, Pink Peatles- Streangth 2, Amathyst Block- Sheep Sound, Stripped Cherry Wood- Dolphin's Grace, Music Disk- .5 Food, Flint- ? Food, Gunpowder- 2.5 Food, Glow Lichen- Mining Fatiuge 2, Chest- Dolphin's Grace, Cobblestone Stairs- Regen 3, Spruce Leaves- .5 Food, Oak Sapling- .5 Food, Flower (Red Tulip?)- Blindness, Spruce Log- Water Breathing 5, Granite- Invisibility, Polished Deepslate- 2.5 Food, Raw Copper- 1 Food, Iron Boots- Resistance 4, Iron Pants- Instant Health 2, Iron Chestplate- 1+ Food, Gravel- .5 Food, Stone Shovels- .5 Food, Magenta Dye- Wither Sound Effect, Peony- Slowness 4, Bonemeal- Darkness 2, Sugar Cane- Night Vision, Dandelion- Poison, Clay Ball- Wololo Sound, Red Mushroom- Blindness 3

After 3th Randomization: Cobble Deepslate- 1 Food, Redstone Torch- ?? (Bad), Chisled Deepslate- Weaving, Cobblestone- Health Boost 4, Cobble Deepslate Slab- .5 Food, Raw Copper- 1 Food, Tuff- Weaving 4, Pale Oak Leaves- Fire Prot 4, Short Grass- .5 Food, Redstone Dust- Jump Boost 4, Sticks- Speed 3, Dirt- Posion 2, Torches- Weaving, Cobble Deepslate Stair- Conduit Power, Diorite- Infestation 4, Diamond Helmet- Anvil Sound, Iron Pants- ??, Pale Hanging Moss- Sound Effect, Iron Sword- Slow Falling, Dripstone Block- Posion 2, Stone- Slowness, Raw Iron- 4 Food, Peony- Regen 5, Clay Ball- 2.5 Food, Seeds- Levitation 2, Wheat- Night Vision, Pale Moss Block- End Open Sound, Stone- Slowness 3, Cobblestone Slab- Mining Fatigue 2, Pointed Dripstone- 2.5 Food, Birch Planks- Levitation ?, Copper Ingot- 1.5 Food, Polished Deepslate- ? Food, Sprunce Log- Jump Boost, Sugar Cane- Weakness 4, Lapis- Sound Effect, Blue Dye- Hero of the Village, String- Mining Fatigue 5, Arrow- 2.5 Food, Cobblestone Stair- Glowing, Scafolding- 4 Food, Bamboo Planks- ? Poison, Pink Petles- Haste, Amathyset Block- Dragon Sound, Birch Leaves- Poison 2, Spruce Leaves- 2.5 Food, Cobblestone Stair- Glowing 4, Arrows- 2.5 Food, Stone Sword- 1.5 Food, Pale Moss Block- End Open Sound, Birch Sapling- .5 Food, Polished Granite- .5 Food, Polished Granite Slab- Nothing??, Polished Diorite Slab- Firework Sound Effect, Sugar- Slow Falling, Red Tulip- Instant Health, Magma Block- Haste 4, Bonemeal- Health Boost 3, Pale Oak Slab- Hero of the Villiage 3, Gold Ingot- 2.5, Red Mushroom- Resistance 5, Gunpowder- 2+ Food

After 4th Randomization: Gravel- .5 Food, Short Grass- Abosrption 5, Cobble Deepslate- 4 Food, Clay Ball- .5 Food, Clay Block- 4.5 Food, Diorite- Health 2, Sugar- Resistance 4, Cobblestone Slab- Levitation 5, Dirt- Jump Boost 5, Torch- Night Vision 5, Cherry Planks- Water Breathing, Wooden Shovel- Nausea 4, Cobblestone- Resstaince 3, Stone- Weaving 3, Dripstone Block- ? Food, Pale Oak Planks- Invisibility, Bowls- 2 Food, Peony- Dolphin's Grace, Redstone Torch- Minecart Noise, Sand- Wind Charged 5, Polished Diorite- Darkness, Birch Leaves- 1 Food, Copper- Bell Sound, Pale Moss Block- .5 Food

[wazzappp]

Ok @moosemonstrous here we fuckin go.

OK SO. I apologize if it comes off more Evangellion than Pacific Rim but I thought that making The Charger more slender would help to differentiate it and allow for a focus on agility (also helps it to look more skeletal and unsettling).

The Charger is built in layers. An outer layer that constitutes the armor, a thinner covering, metal scaffolding, secondary thin covering, and then finally the essential wiring that makes the 'nervous system' of the Jaeger. Most of the damage (corruption scars, nicks, paint chipping) is just cosmetic, and the structural nature of the Jaeger is intact.

HOWEVER. The same can not be said of the reactor core. At some point (maybe during Eli's death?) corruption made its way behind the main fans of the outer engine and into the main reactor that powers the Jaeger. In theory this should lead to a catastrophic failure, but in this instance Im thinking there was a chemical reaction that essentially stabilized the corrosive nature of the Corruption (were gonna circle back to that).

For the most part my version of Robbies suit is fairly standard. I added an orange tint to his helmet screen for flavor because hey. Why not.

The spine of the suit is probably newly integrated to allow for an updated interface, I imagine theres at least a little development in the technology between the time Eli dies and Robbie comes into play. That would make the suit a weird mishmash of past and new technology which could be VERY fun.

Also I LOVED the white accents @cicada-candy added for their design but I didn't want to steal ideas so I just added it in my own places. Your art fucks severely bro I just wanted to make sure and let you know that <3

TIME FOR MY FAVORITE PART: SPECULATION ABOUT THE CORRUPTION AND ITS THEORETICAL GENETIC EFFECTS IN DOSES ON A SUBJECT!!!!!! (AKA self indulgence part 2 electric boogaloo)

I believe you mentioned the Corruption being a Neurotoxin which would be Very fun and VERY cool but I also have a suggestion. Mainly because you also referenced an increase in Robbies strength, as well as another person who got fuckin deaded shortly after.

A rapid growth in muscle density to allow for this strength would be very interesting, but why would the Corruption cause that? Simple answer; it isn't. At least not intentionally. Whats actually happening is a kind of nerve damage that changes the brains regulation of muscular exertion. Our brains really only let us use a certain percentage of our real strength, because if we just let loose and used it all we would cause significant physical damage to ourselves. Like. ripping your own tendons free from their anchors. you could break your own bones. you would die SO fast bro.

Now it is POSSIBLE to access this strength in situations of extreme stress and thats how you get people lifting cars off of loved ones, but this does still cause damage. It also gets more complicated when you consider Fast Twitch muscle reactions but for the sake of simplicity: You Would Die.

So a release of cortisol and other stress hormones, combined with a lessened ability to control strength. This means they would be USING that strength A LOT against ANYONE AND EVERYONE. But maintaining this sort of metabolism is not reasonable. Someone suffering from Corruption would likely also suffer from Hypoglycemia fatally. So extremely strong, extremely scared, and extremely short lived is the kind of deal we would be talking about here.

SO. Having said ALL OF THAT. WHAT IS ROBBIES DEAL. Well heres my proposal: The Corruption is a virus that causes neurodegenerative disease.

If Robbie was exposed to very small amounts of it as a child, it's possible it was inactive or defective, which would have allowed for an immunization point. Its also highly possible that this is a virus that can not survive (well i say survive very lightly. theres significant debate as to wether viruses are actually alive at all but I digress) outside its usual area AKA Inside a demon. He could have been exposed through contaminated water, direct contact, maybe even breathing burned version through the air. Either way, he came into contact with a weakened version of the virus and it helps him later on.

As he comes into DIRECT contact with Corruption via plugging into The Charger this is when we would start to see some more interesting effects. This Corruption would still be different though because of the aforementioned stabilizing chemical reaction in the reactor. Also, because I think Eli's DNA would be integrated into it. This provides Robbie with genetic compatibility for the virus to jump off of. Remember, viruses don't want to kill a host, they just want to reproduce as much as possible (which does end up killing a host but still). And a fun fact about viruses is that we never actually get rid of them, we just get rid of the symptoms. Once you have it its in you forever.

SO. 1. Immune response from Robbies body begins to cause the nervous damage that would allow for his rapid increase in strength. 2.Immune system recognizes the genetic material is familiar (Eli doing something good even inadvertently I guess). 3. Immune system neutralizes the virus and incorporates it into Robbies genetic coding. All good right? Happy ending? WRONG.

BECAUSE WHEN THERE ARE COPYING ERRORS IN YOUR DNA (SOMETIMES FROM VIRUSES) WHAT DO WE CALL IT?? DING DING DING 10 POINTS TO THE MUTUAL THAT SAID ✨MUTATION✨

This virus still carries genetic material from demons, this would also be getting integrated into Robbies DNA. Places like his spine which would have the most regular contact with the Corruption would probably take the brunt of these changes. It's possible that the nerve damage never truly goes away and he continuously tears and then rebuilds those muscles, resulting in overall increased strength thats technically?? stabilized?? Also I could totally see his body going 'oh shit were finally growing with decent access to fuel? BET' and just. Reactivates the growth plates in his bones ('Look! I've fixed his runt of the litter insecurity!' 'YOU FUCKED UP A PERFECTLY GOOD PILOT IS WHAT YOU DID. LOOK AT HIM. HES GOT ANXIETY ABOUT THE STATE OF HIS HUMANITY').

Oh yeah its also worth noting that this would be like. Pretty painful. We're talking constant soreness, cramps, deep aches that just won't go away. General suffering <3

Of course tapetum lucidum OF COURSE TEEF obviously as if I could go without it. You can get funky with mutations because hey. fucky wucky demon genome integration whoop whoop. Also could be interesting to see damaged areas on the Charger manifest on Robbie as damaged tissue. His skin says 'AH. Damage' and copies itself as scar tissue instead of the usual.

Oh god Ive been writing for a solid hour and a half I was supposed to be asleep a while ago ok. Moose I love this au and its making me unwell thank you for sharing with the class I hope you will consider my virus proposal for body horror purposes.

[edupunkn00b]

Meus ex Machina, Chapter 19: Silvertongue and Hesper

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Silvertongue and Hesper - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 2689 - Rated: T - CW: non-graphic torture, blood

Where Janus went in the pre-dawn hours. But first, what happened to Lucas after he left HQ on Remus and Roman's 21st birthday. If you haven’t yet read Progression, stop here and read it now for maximum impact. The flashback at the start of this chapter takes place two days after the end of that story.

For at least the hundredth time and for the second time in the past 72 hours, Lucas punched in the coordinates to The Inn. This time, though, he made the trip out to their old watering hole alone.

The ghost of Re’s giddy nervousness bounced around the ship. 

Really? You’re gonna let me have a drink tonight?

Sure, Re. You only turn twenty-one once…

Banking around the scaffold of the Newland Towers, Lucas jumped at the static he picked up from the construction site. For the past three days, Lucas had stayed up, listening, waiting. He’d kept the aircar radio open the whole way out, childishly hoping Jan or Pat or anyone else would reach out. Tell him it was all a mistake. Ask him to come home.

No-one did.

He set down behind the bar and circled his and Jan’s old haunt. A flashing ‘closed’ sign shone in the darkness, and the landing pads out front were vacant, but Andrew’s movement behind the bar cast long shadows in the back windows. The gate was down in front so Lucas returned to the alleyway.

Shiny, new, and with five layers of encryption, the deadbolt on the backdoor was impressive. The rusted screws holding it in place, however, were not and one swift kick opened the door.

“What the hell—” Andrew’s tough guy shout from the bar dropped to a whisper when Lucas came into view. His eyes darted side to side, searching for someone in the empty bar to rescue him.

“Lucas! Hey… hey, um, no hard feelings, right? You know I didn’t call the feds on Re… they just… they just showed up and took care of the body, I…” He stepped back, fumbling along the railing under the taps for his emergency call switch. “But y—you got outta here way before they got here, right?”

“The call button’s two meters to your left,” Lucas responded, flipping a bottle sealer at the powerbank just above the switch. It exploded, sparks raining down on Andrew’s hand. “You wouldn’t want the corpos to just show up coincidentally again, now would you?”

“No, Lucas, no…” He shook his head. “Of course not. C’mon, man… You know it’s not like that. You and Jay have been coming here for years… You all are like family to me.”

Lucas’ voice was quiet. “You took my family from me.” He unbuttoned his coat and peeled it off, revealing a harness with an antique taser and five extra charge canisters. “You took my brother.” Gaze focused on his coat, Lucas walked to the rack next to the front doors and hung it on the closest hook before drawing down the window shade and checking the locks on the door. 

“You took my boys.” Andrew’s eyes widened and he slowly straightened, shaking hands raised near his head. Lucas snapped a fresh charge into place and watched the standby light stutter to life. “You took my love.”

Finally he looked up, eyes ablaze. “I’ve lost everything.” Andrew began to tremble, sympathetic nervous system rooting him in place, full freeze mode. As though that could do anything to help him now. Lucas absorbed the fear pouring out with his rank sweat and smiled. “Just as you’re about to.”

Lucas unlocked the taser and flicked it on. A sharp buzzy whine filled the room, followed by the trickling sound of urine dripping from Andrew’s pant leg. Lucas tsked. “So soon? Very well.”

“No, no, no… Lucas… You don—you—you don’t wanna do this… This—this isn’t you.” Lucas aimed the taser and the man’s words jumbled, hands out as though he could stop the assault. “Wha—what would Jan think if he—”

Lucas’ eyes brightened, orange fire pushing away his doubt. “Jan already thinks I’ve been purchased. He already thinks I betrayed him. To you.” He grinned, his smile broad and easy. And empty as the bar. “Let’s show him who I really answer to, shall we?”

“No… no, please, Lucas, no—” With a bang, refurbished guidewires shot out and embedded in the man’s neck. 50,000 volts cut short his pleas, the bright white glow rivaled only by Lucas’ orange eyes.

~

The slow death of Andrew’s brain ripped away the last shreds of Lucas’ control. Eyes squeezed shut, he doubled over, arms crossed over his head as the bartender’s dying cries shot through his heart. Seared flesh set fire to his nerves. Andrew’s fear his pain would never end. The fear of what would happen when it did.

And Andrew’s last thoughts, the tiny spark of relief that it was finally over.

Lucas slumped to the floor, barely noticing the knot on the side of his own head. He lay there for as long as he dared before pulling himself to his feet and staggering to the toilets.

The lukewarm recycled tap did a poor job on his hands and no matter how hard he scrubbed with the bar’s watered down soap, bits of Andrew’s blood clung to his knuckles and under his nails. In the engraving on his ring.

He took it off, twisting to get it past the callouses, and held it up to the light. Dingy rust filled in the swooping cursive ‘Ja’ on the engraving. Shoulders slumped, he fought the tightening in his throat, the burning behind his eyes. 

But he was spent. His eyes flickered weakly under the dingy bathroom lights. A sob ripped up from his throat and hot tears spilled over, dripping down his cheeks and his neck as he rubbed at his stained wedding ring under the faucet.

His wrist buzzed and hope sparked in his chest.

Hope quickly doused by the message on his comm. Instead of a message from Jan, from Pat, from the boys, a bold proximity warning scrolled across the tiny screen. 

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 100 YARDS AND CLOSING…

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 50 YARDS AND CLOSING…

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 10 YA—

A small blast was followed by the crash of the front door coming off its hinges. His ring hit the basin, rattling as it rolled around and down the open drain.

“Come out with your hands up! Come out—shit! Look what they did to him! Dear god…” The buzz of a dozen tazers more advanced than his own couldn’t cover the tremor in the pig’s voice. “Arms up! That’s an order!” 

Lucas’ comm hummed quietly, a constant vibration against his wrist now.

Auto-distress alert enabled. Contacting HQ in 30… 29… 28… 27…

“We have you surrounded!” Jackboots tromped down the old hardwood floors and came to a stop outside the locked bathroom door. Dust sprinkled from the hinges as they banged on it. “Come out or we’re coming in!”

Lucas turned off the water and watched the numbers tick before tapping Disable just as the distress call countdown hit 1.

His comm screen went dark and he wiped his hands on his pants. “Be out in just a mo’!” he sing-songed. Only Jan would’ve caught the hitch in his voice. Well, Pat, too, most likely. But they weren’t here to care.

He checked the mirror, drying his face and smoothing back his hair. He smiled at the dim but growing amber rings around his eyes, then turned and opened the door.

~

Rain and hail drummed against the hull, a syncopated beat that dragged Lucas from a deep sleep. He’d been dreaming of home again, of the boys chasing each other through the halls. Pat’s more Teddy Bear-than-Papa Bear warnings to slow down. Re promising Pat they’d try before erupting in laughter with Ro, a soft, calm laugh, nothing like his laughter the last time he’d seen him. 

Jan’s smooth hot toddy voice, spice and heat and comfort. His hand, ungloved, unshielded, carding through his hair. 

Lucas leaned back and shook his head to clear away the clingy wisps of dream from his mind.

But Jan’s voice only grew louder. 

-”We need to talk, Hesper. Where can I find you?”-

Amber light bled through his eyelashes and he smiled. -”Mmm… So formal, ma cheri,”- he purred back. -”And yet so rude! Not even a ‘good morning, how did you sleep? How would you like your tea?”-

Jan’s shield was strong, nothing but a faint buzz was his answer.

He was close. Lucas checked the local time. Technically morning, though the sun wouldn’t be up for hours. It had been winter when they’d met, too. He shook off the thought and lit up the room with his eyes. 

-”Is it actually morning where you are?”- Jan asked as though he didn’t know. As though he wasn’t close enough for Lucas to smell his cologne.

Or maybe he just imagined it.

-”I have risen with the light…” Lucas pushed a memory of Jan’s smiling face back at him, hair mussed and splayed out on his pillow. He wasn’t sure how much got through Jan’s shield. Or who he was trying to hurt more. -”Does that count as morning in your calculation?”-

-”I wish to speak with you, Hesper,”- he sent, dull and flat and cold.

Lucas checked the sensors. The others weren’t with him. Jan had actually come alone. He chewed at his lip. Whatever this was, the platform was already dotted with intent detonators. If this was some surprise attack, Lucas would soon know. He sighed, his curiosity getting the better of him, and he lowered the gangway. 

“Welcome aboard, ma cheri,” he called down the open ramp. An elegant shadow in grey and yellow stepped into view and Lucas bowed, one arm sweeping out. “Wipe your feet before you come up, s’il vous plaît. It’s simply filthy out there.”

Hurrying back to his bunk, he pushed up the platform to hide his bedding and flipped down both benches on either side of the little table where he ate and planned and built most of his tools. He started to sit, then rose again and dispensed two cups of hot water for tea, dropping in sachets from his dwindling stash and set them down across from each other.

By the time Jan turned the corner into the main area of the ship, Lucas was sat back, right arm hooked over the back rest, left leg crossed over the other, ankle to knee. He lowered orange-tinted lenses over his eyes and smiled.

“Welcome aboard,” he repeated, biting his cheek when he realized he’d already run through his script.

“You already said that,” Jan replied, voice smooth. Well, mostly smooth, with only a tiny catch at the end which could just be a bit of his old morning hoarseness. Jan’s mind was completely shielded—fuck he’d gotten good at that—but there was a twitch in his left pinkie and he hesitated before sitting. “I appreciate the hospitality,” he nodded before switching their cups and taking a slow sip from the one that had been in front of Lucas.

“Ah, ma cheri, you wound me…” He shook his head and took the other tea cup, blowing away the steam. “You still don’t trust me.” Lucas clucked his tongue, grateful he’d thought to don his glasses as his eyes burned in the attempt to keep his voice light. “Well?” He looked up over the lip of his cup between sips. “While your company is a pleasure as always…” They could both pretend Jan’s cheeks warmed from the heat of his tea. “You said you had something to discuss with me.”

Jan set down his cup and watched the steam rise. “To be completely honest with you, Luc, I’m not entirely sure why I’m here.”

All Lucas’ powers couldn’t stifle how much he wanted Jan to say his name again, how much he needed Jan to say his name again. He hid his face behind his cup and took another sip to buy time to settle his heart. “Interesting,” he murmured, cracked voice betraying him. Jan’s eyes shot up.

Lucas sat, silent and pinned down by his gaze, until Jan finally continued. “I suppose given everything that’s happened, I…” Jan addressed his cup, lifting it up for another slow sip. “I was so sure we’d done everything we could do to help Re. That we’d given him every safeguard, every protection possible. But…” He shook his head. “If I was wrong about that,” he whispered, more to himself than to Lucas. “What else have I been wrong about?”

“What’s happened?” Lucas leaned forward, reaching for Jan before he could even think to stop himself. “What’s wrong with Re?”

Jan leaned back, eyebrow raised, and sipped his tea. -”You don’t hear him?”- he asked silently.

Brow furrowed, Lucas closed his eyes and reached out. There was the buzz of Jan’s shield, a dark, staticy hole where his feelings should be. A couple asleep in their ship two platforms down. The rumble of families in the surrounding shelters. A little boy crying from a nightmare. And then…

Lucas gasped. Like finally noticing a song playing in the background, he suddenly registered the touch of Re’s mind in the distance. His cup clattered to the table and he leapt to his feet. Re! “You left him alone? Unshielded and alone and—”

“And happy,” Jan murmured to his cup, seated serenely across from him. “And not alone.”

Lucas slowly took his seat, stretching, feeling for any sense he could detect of Re’s thoughts over the distance. He’d moored this ship on the knife’s edge of his own abilities, near enough to hear everyone in HQ. Far enough he wouldn’t be too tempted to listen.

Re was completely unshielded but… he was calm. His thoughts rippled around him, gentle and rhythmic drops on a pond. Sleeping? Given the hour and the wordlessness of his thoughts, probably. A light sleep, no dreams yet, nothing that would trigger a strong emotional response at least. He was calm and content and… happy.

And Jan was right. Re was not alone.

“Is Ro—” He shook his head, answering his own question. No, if Ro had been with him, the boys most certainly would be up and making good trouble around—or outside—the house. No, he was with…

“He’s with Machina,” Jan answered.

“You left him alone with your twitchy bot?” Again, Lucas was on his feet, stomping toward the controls. “You trust him not to hurt him? I know you remember what hap—”

Jan followed and caught his arm, pulling him away from the pilot’s seat. His hand was warm through his gloves, gentle as it lingered on his forearm. “The Muse would never hurt Machina. Never intentionally.”

“I’m not talking about your fucking robot getting hurt! How do you know it won’t hurt Re?”

He never got to answer.

Lucas’ wrist buzzed half a second before a charge rocked the ship. “Get down!” he ordered and pushed Jan to the deck. Another blast hit the other side of the ship. 

The glow of his comm screen peeked out from under Jan’s sleeve and he pushed it back. Jan swore. “They’re close. Too many to count.”

Lucas nodded, shifting to tap at his own wrist. Bright white dots surrounded their location. The hull clanked, hurricane clamps tearing at the fuselage. “Damn.” 

Jan twisted beneath him, eyes wide and staring at his wrist. “You still wear your—”

He ignored the question and pushed to his feet before offering a hand to Jan. “You turned off your proximity alarm.”

“Had to,” he muttered, brushing imagined dust off his cloak. “It went off every day at the DC. Don’t avoid the question. Why do you still wear—”

Another blast rocked the ship. The corpos were getting bolder. And closer. A second blast was followed by a pained cry. They were now near enough to trigger the intent charges.

Lucas shook his head, eyeing the roof hatch. “We need to get out of here.”

The outer hull blew and jackboots tromped up the gangway, comms crackling. Lucas dropped the inner blast door just before they reached the top, then grabbed Jan and a pack. He sealed off the corridor from the inside just before the corpos entered the main control room.

They were now trapped inside the ship.

-“We need help,”- Jan corrected and pressed the HQ alert on his wrist. -“Now.”-

[othernaut]

Character Creation Challenge 2025, Day 6: Lancer

"Hey, Temp, can you get that fucking Everest out of the launch bay? We've got the pattern saved if you really need to -"

"Hey, Shred. Hey. Back off, she's drunk. Not okay kind of drunk."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You remember that data bundle we pulled? The dropship?"

"Oh."

"Wound up with a full profile on Serapis, including what happened to the Cause after she went offworld."

"... Oh. Oh, shit. Do you need me to -"

"Nah, it's all right. Just give it time. She's a tough old girl. She'll pull through."

"Okay. Yeah, sure. Hey, do you want to... get a... thing? That isn't here?"

"Sure, Shred. Let's go do that."

And then the doors hissed closed, the low light faded, and Harriet was left alone with her misery and nostalgia.

//ailure of the Unified Body of Serapis to come to a resolution on the issue of Central Nations independence, a stalling action was performed in UB caucus. During that time, several failed assassination attempts at Central leading figures escalated the internal violence to an all-out war that swiftly spilled across the borders. The Dominion of Regis, for purposes of professed morality, pulled out of the discussions, and no further resol//

Fuckheads. The UB lasted five years, enough time for everyone to get comfortable with the idea of a moderated world government - enough time for it to sting when the rug was pulled. People are going to act like people, no matter how noble or responsible they profess to be. They fall to infighting for no reason and then it's the communities, the little people, her, her friends - they're the ones with their water cut off, with no medical supplies inbound, with nothing but the bare matter of the world and themselves.

Idiots. Everyone. Her especially. She scrolled quickly past the political lead-up; the memories it evoked weren't ones she wanted to relive. Another pull of clear brandy. It didn't burn anymore. Probably a good thing.

There we are. Port Harrow. Dockside steel ramping into the black bay. Old stone-brick buildings encased in scaffolds of exostructure. Orange sodium lights in long lines in the sky, making every season into autumn. Kids chasing fluffy gulls along the Char River outlet. Four bad bars within a two-block walking distance of each other along the Hyde Park strip, so if you got kicked out of one you could stumble to another before your buzz even dreamt of wearing off. A stiff bed and a paycheck and a night full of people arguing outside.

//racturing of communities in Regis as the supply shortages continued, leading to tacitly independent, anarchist city-states as it became clear the people had no one to rely on but each other. In Port Harrow, the history of heavy industry in the city led to a wealth of industrial equipment that could be repurposed for war, agriculture, reconstruction, and mobile community support. As the government shutdown entered its third year, Port Harrow was one of the more successful of these communes, successfully managing both a mass agriculture and self-defense project by retrofitting industrial frames into multipurpose, proto-mech units//

The years coming in like a flood, dulled by both alcohol and time to a prosaic wash of color. She'd been in an agbot at first, but even the agbots needed some self-defense capability, as the raiders neither cared about growing seasons nor common sense; they just took whatever was to hand and fuck everyone else. At time went on, the attacks ramped up - but the people back home in the factories managed even more inventive fuckery in response. God, the thump of the rivet gun, how it'd hiss on a miss in the wet dirt of the fields. Petrochaff'd fuck up the old-school oil bikes they were using, leave them baking on the asphalt with the smell of a spilled deep fryer. The damn things came with caution paint on the legs, but the kids still climbed her anyway. They liked to sit on her head as she scanned the hills.

Then she read a name and it all soured instantly. More brandy. A wretched turn in her stomach.

//Union Far-Field Teams arrived just after the burning of Concord Square, when it became clear that the remnants of Unified Body governance could no longer hold even a suggestion of power. Crisis management NHPs were deployed in places of deepest anarchy to prepare the ground for reclamation and reconnection squadrons, which arrived later that year. Even deeply independent-city states, like Rouge Mountain and Port Harrow, capitulated after a brief exchange, bringing an end to the crisis before the next yea//

I mean, how could they resist? They had agbots and heavy industrial frames; Union had fucking mechs. They had rivet launchers and digging tools and junk-data ewar modules taped together from pornbots and netmail viruses; Union had AIs, for fuck's sake. Even if they blew a mech with a lucky shot, fuckers just printed another that same night. It was unwinnable. That beautiful thing they made, that open garden where everyone was for everyone else, where everyone had enough and the only thing you answered to was your neighbors...

It was unwinnable.

//sequent years saw a formal capitulation by autonomous zones, a return to Union-led Unified Body governance and entry into the embrace of galactic civilization. Reconstruction efforts began immedia//

They had pictures. She couldn't even recognize the streets.

//iolent holdouts retired to on-world educational facilities and, for the more extreme ideologies and antisocial dispositions, off-world contain//

What the fuck's so extreme about it? Help out your neighbor, you don't need anything else.

//ishment of permanently stationed Serapis Coordination Force to track down and pacify remaining violent bands and promote the ideology of unifica//

They held a gun to her head and asked her what she believed. Of course she lied.

//dless, a managed diaspora in subsequent years//

And no matter how you love something, there's a time, always a time, when it's not worth it anymore.

Harriet leaned back. Her head swam. The hangar blurred in front of her eyes, more than usual - she didn't fucking need glasses, not yet, she wasn't that old. Upside down, the team's mechs hung like rainbow stalactites, a row of independence splashed in bright colors and bristling weapons and anime boobie-girl decals. Why shouldn't she leave a place that didn't need her anymore? Fuck, she had enough experience for any lancer squadron. Anyone. Best of the bunch, this, and yet. It was like the carnival sideshow version of home, some punk-fuck pageantry of the anarchy she fucking lived for years, for years -

But it was better than what was left for her on a home now staffed with strangers.

Lurched forward. Stomach definitely did a thing there. Maybe call it a night. Finger wiggling to the little red X.

//spite media management discouraging public displays supporting 'non-standard political philosophies', shows of support for community leaders and organizers during the crisis remain standing in areas most strongly affected by the supply disruption, including Steeltown, Port Harrow, Perrbroke, Rou//

She squinted into the blown-up, artifacted image. Unfamiliar street, but that was a fucking agbot. Held up, scaffolded in steel. Sodium lighting. Big rock in front of it, sanded down, pocked with names. No laser etching, all hand-carved. Blurry, but she thought she could recognize some of them. That smear of shadow might have been a friend, a lover, a co-worker. Might've been her.

Stomach lurched like a sick generator. One little tear, big as a lost world, tracked its way down her cheek and died in the collar of her jumpsuit.

Yeah. Time to call it a night.

*****

Harriet Spall Callsign: Temperance Background: Worker (heavy machine operator) License Level: 3 Licenses: Nelson III Grit: +2

Pilot Skill Triggers: +2 Assault, +2 Hack or Fix, +2 Invent or Create, +4 Read a Situation, +4 Take Control Pilot Stats: Size 1/2, 10 Evasion, 10 E-Defense, Speed 4, HP 6 Mech Skills: Agility 2, Engineering 3 Core Bonuses: IPS-Northstar (Sloped Plating)

Talents: Juggernaut: Momentum (when I Boost, the next Ram I make gains +1 Accuracy and knocks the target back an additional 2 spaces), Kinetic Mass Transfer (when I ram a target into another target, the other must save Hull or be knocked prone; when I ram a target into an object or structure, they take 1d6 kinetic damage), Unstoppable Force (1/round and for 1d3+3 heat, I can supercharge a Boost to ram through people and objects). Nuclear Cavalier: Aggressive Heat Bleed (first attack I make on my turn in the Danger Zone deals +2 additional Heat), Fusion Hemmorhage (first attack I make on my turn in the Danger Zone is Energy damage and deals +1d6), Here, Catch! (gain the Fuel Rod Gun integrated weapon).

Mech: Goodbye Paradise Frame: IPS-Northstar Nelson Frame Traits: Momentum (1/round, when I Boost, gain +1d6 bonus damage next melee hit), Skirmisher (may move 1 space after attacking, ignoring engagement and not provoking). Frame Core System: Perpetual Motion Drive (Active - for the rest of the scene, Skirmisher allows me to move 4 spaces instead of 1)

Mech Attributes: Size: 1 Structure: 4; HP: 12, Armor: 1 Stress: 4, Heat Cap: 9, Repair Cap: 5 Attack Bonus: +2, Tech Attack: +0, Limited System Bonus: +1 Speed: 6, Evasion: 13, E-Defense: 7, Sensor Range: 5, Save Target: 12

Equipment Loadout: Main/Aux Mount: Tactical Melee Hammer (Threat 1, 1d6+2 kinetic +1d6 explosive damage), Mod: Thermal Charge (Limited 4, expend a charge to activate its detonator, dealing +1d6 explosive damage) Main/Aux Mount: Pistol (Range 5, Threat 3, 1d3 kinetic damage) Flex Mount: Power Knuckles x2 (Threat 1, 1d3+1 explosive damage, knocks prone opponents on a crit if they fail a Hull save) Integrated Mount: Fuel Rod Gun (Limited 4, Range 3, Threat 3, 1d3+2 energy damage, clears 4 heat)

Systems: Thermal Charge Mod (included in Tactical Melee Hammer attack) Ramjet (activate as a protocol, apply 2 heat, until the start of my next turn gain move +2 spaces when I Boost in a straight line with melee attacks gaining Knockback 2) Armor-Lock Plating (can Brace while Grappling, applying 2 Heat and ending the grapple; until the end of my next turn, attacks against me receive +1 difficulty, I can't fail contested Agility or Hull saves, and I'm immune to Knockback, Grapple, Prone, or being moved by any external force smaller than Size 5) Personalizations (+2 HP: safety signs and up-to-date hazardous materials notices) Custom Paint Job (when taking structure damage, roll 1d6, ignoring damage and returning to 1HP on a 6: caution yellow-black patterning)

*****

I got lucky. This isn't my first brush with Lancer, nor my second. Like a lot of the games I'm making characters for this year, I got Lancer some time ago and bounced off of it for reasons I couldn't really articulate. I think, at the time, it was a clash between expectations and reality. I had been pitched Lancer as a system where you could tell any of a variety of mech stories, a wide universe where conflicts could take any shape and theme and, at the time, I had a real taste for scrungy, scavenger-ass mechs scrapped together out of car batteries and nuclear paperclips. Lancer, apparently, doesn't tell that kind of mech story, and with the system's native complexity and its major favoritism for tactical combat over personal stories and gritty campaign play, I bounced.

But I got lucky. Later, during a lull in my weekly role-playing, a friend offered to run a one-shot, two-person session of Lancer with pre-built mechs, and it was a god damn hoot. Having someone there to walk me through how the systems interacted, through the joy in building complex machinery and then bashing it against one another - that very much helped. Any system, no matter how much it might not appeal to me specifically, is improved with the spice of enthusiasm. I went home and immediately, badly tried to put together a Kidd dronebot before learning of this challenge and saving my enthusiasm. And now here I am, and here's my machine. It wants to run into your shins and hit you with an exploding hammer.

Lancer's one of the few systems I've run into on this journey to which I can't really say, "It's good, but." Lancer does precisely what it intends to do, and if that's a thing you also want to do, then you're going to have a fantastic time. It doesn't fully stay in its lane - there's enough storygame swerving to allow a full Shinji Evangelion arc, if that's the thing that floats your artillery platform - but it puts a hell of a polish on the thing it wants to do well. Each little bit is comprehensible at first glance and clicks together satisfyingly. The machine it creates is beautiful and deadly, though you have to want it in order to run it at peak efficiency. Also, shoutout to COMP/CON, the free online character-building tool, for being way more organized than me hanging out with an open notepad file and a PDF.

Next up: The laughter of thirsting gods.

[afreakingdork]

Attempted Execute of Non-Executable Memory - Chapter 4

RotTMNT Michelangelo x Kendra

I'm totally off the floor by this stunning chapter art by @acidichcl

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings/Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Revenge, Falling In Love, Love, Romance, Dating, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Love Confessions, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Step-Parents, Neglect, First Kiss, First Generation Immigrant Kids, Acculturation, Loss/Removal of Cultural Identity, Prison Time

Synopsis: After hitting the lowest of lows, Kendra has carved out a simple life for herself. She’s content enough to live this way until opportunity walks through her place of employment in the form of an orange turtle mutant. She just needs to get close enough to him to plant a virus in his infuriating brother’s servers, but will she be infected long the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 🧡 Previous

“Is this better?” Mikey’s voice came through the phone line.

“Yeah.” Kendra glanced around where she was walking. “This will work.” 

While there was a certain level of touristy tidiness near the Museum Mile, there was also a ton of ongoing construction and foliage. It made for any number of places for a wacko to jump out and the hour certainly wasn’t helping. Kendra glanced up at the darkened sky as it no longer held its colored highlights.

The fading hues reminded her of her hair. 

She really needed to touch it up.

There was little time or money with Mikey’s constant appetite for these ludicrous dates.

Even when he paid for them, she inevitably had to spend funds of her own. 

“You good?” He spoke as if hearing her thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah. Just trying not to get mugged.”

Mikey audibly sucked air through his teeth. “Keep talking then. You're almost here, right?”

“You could at least apologize for making me walk alone. You’re a real piece of work.”

“Nah, we’ll see those soon.”

She rolled her eyes and checked the street before crossing.

“I needed to be here ahead of time. To… get our spot, yeah, that. Besides, we’ve been meeting at locations on purpose, haven’t we? Don’t you not want me to see where you live or something?”

“Yeah, well.” A few men were grouped up under some scaffolding and Kendra curved outward away from them. “What do you expect? Jury’s still out. You’re really pushing psycho territory with these weird plans of yours. I need to do what I need to to stay safe. ”

They didn’t look up at her.

She picked up the pace.

“No, that’s good! You should do that!”

“Then don’t complain.”

“I wasn’t. I’m accommodating.” He sounded more proud than perturbed. “I’m your safety net on the phone and we’re meeting at a real place this time! A totally normal date place! A museum date!”

“The Frick, yeah.” She glanced into the tree line of Central Park and hurried down the sidewalk. “I guess you get some non-murderer points for that if you’re counting.”

“I am not because I don’t have to worry about that.” Mikey’s voice hit a delay and she glimpsed him about a block away. 

He waved immediately and pulled his phone from his head.

She ended the call and heard him yell. “Since I’m not one!” 

By the time she reached him, her head had drifted toward the lit up exterior of the Henry Clay Frick House. “I didn’t know they started late nights.”

Mikey hummed and folded his hands on his hips to regard the building as well.

That wasn’t confirmation; Kendra’s lids lowered.

If Mikey got a chance to talk, he was going to take it and then some.

Something was wrong.

She took one breath before she scanned for the entry that led into this place.

She located the large double doors just off to the right.

They didn’t appear chained, but there was a comically small sign on a podium in front of them, presumably saying the opening hours.

Which she highly suspected it wasn't.  

She turned a slow menace toward him. 

“Michelangelo…”

Mikey was grinning plastic.

“It’s not open…?” She barely kept from hissing. “Is it?” 

“Maybe I needed to be here because I was totally watching the guard station and the spot I was saving was the one where their schedules lap!” Mikey quaked and awkwardly shuffled forward. “But think! The entire museum to ourselves! To look at in our time! How about that!?”

Kendra dug her nails into her palm beneath a fist.

There were so many things wrong. 

She started with one. “You thought it would be a good idea to take someone you just found out was a convicted felon to break into a museum full of priceless art?”

Mikey’s eyes widened and sat like two white beacons for a little too long.

When he blinked it was out of reddening pain and guilty recognition.

“When you put it like that…” He turned to her with an apology oozing off of him.

“Why do I put up with you?” She flexed her fingers.

The virus.

Ruining that which ruined her.

Perspective.

This wasn’t about Mikey’s incessant attitude.

She could stop all of this any time she liked.

She had seen enough to know he would respect at least that.

“I wonder sometimes.” He admitted with that painful amount of honesty he carried.

She sighed once.

Avoid crime.

Commit crime.

It seemed like an easy enough set of choices.

“Fuck it.” She caught his hand and pulled him further away from the entrance. “Dish. What do you know about the guards?”

He was immediately game and leaned into her for a huddle. “Who’s on duty. Guard rotations. Where security is. Blank spots in cameras. Turning off security. Turning on lights. Confusing the guards in the process.”

“You have that much of a plan?” She narrowed her gaze at him.

“I’ve been breaking into antique stores, museums, and auction houses since I was 14.” He grinned.

“Is that because of the mutant thing?”

“Kind of?” He thought for a moment before swiping over his person. “It also just depended on my sleep schedule which was reversed for a long time. The mutant thing was secret, then everybody knew, then we got weird notoriety? Everything’s kinda evened out in the last few years and we’ve gotten our rights secured.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“And you were serious about the whole being a ninja thing? I’m serious. If I get in trouble for this…!”

“You won’t.” He squeezed where she still had his hand. “You’re my top priority. I’ll throw myself under the bus if I need to. Heck, you can do that if you need to.”

She frowned and tapped her foot for a second. “You aren’t even sure about me.”

She removed herself from him before he could respond.

She could feel his eyes and was glad when he stayed silent.

He walked back up to her side and only shared how best to enter. They would be hopping a gate near one of the lawns and they headed in that direction. It meant passing those men under the scaffolding a second time and they took quiet notice of her new companion. They didn’t share words loud enough for her to hear, but Mikey was put into higher alert.

He cautiously scanned the street and seriousness soaked into his posture. It made him stand a little taller and nearly eradicated his dopey persona. For a moment she felt like she might be able to trust his plan, but she squashed the feeling as he slowed. There was no getting comfortable around this man and he did a quick spin to check all viewable points before ducking down. Once he was sturdy and knelt, he offered her a step with threaded fingers that would give her a boost.

“How are you with landings?”

“I’ve done the jet pack deal more than once.” Kendra slipped her foot into his hold.

“On three.” He counted out and then tossed her up like she was nothing.

The upward arc pulled her innards down before descent pushed them back up and she prepared for a roll. She touched down with a spin of her center of gravity and let the momentum carry her into a single tumble.

Mikey dropped down with only a hop and a squat behind her. 

She stood and dusted herself off. 

“You do parkour?” He wondered appreciatively. 

“I prefer tech to do my physical labor.” She rolled her neck as cover to twitch away from him. “What now?”

“Entrance to the side is open for guards to walk.” Mikey pointed and led with that ever roving eye he now had. “Stay right behind me. I’ll go slow.”

She gave a tight nod.

It felt strange.

They crept through some immaculately cut greenery with Mikey leading toward a walkway.

Kendra was supposed to take point.

Mikey held up a hold and seemed to see something she couldn’t.

Kendra was never one to follow orders.

He lowered his hand and crept forward while gluing himself to a wall.

Kendra was meant to lead.

Her back pressed to concrete and she almost thought she could see the dawdling figures of Jase and Jeremy following her.

She paused.

How many years would it be until she stopped seeing their ghosts?

They weren’t even dead.

She’d just seen Jason at her pak’s birthday dinner not that long ago.

They hadn’t spoken.

Not really.

Nothing beyond what was necessary to get the cake ready.

Perspective, she reminded herself.

She’d been a Purple Dragon for roughly 16% of her entire life.

That was nothing.

A pitiful number.

Who got stuck on that sort of percentage? 

Mikey touched a finger to hers.

She’d missed a signal.

She looked up and readied herself.

His face held concern.

She glared and tried to step past him.

“Wait…!” He hissed.

Her shoe tapped down on the path and it made a noise that echoed against the building.

A man’s gruff voice sounded a, “Huh?”

Mikey had her shoulders and was pulling her through a door.

He then steered her on her screeching soles several feet before scooping her up.

They bounced off several walls, before landing behind what appeared to be more greenery, although they were definitely indoors.

Kendra blinked up at a domed ceiling that was knit with metal grates.

“Okay… We’re in the courtyard and security is…” Mikey turned his head. “That means we need to-”

He mumbled and Kendra forced herself to be present.

She could treat this like a gig.

It was a mission.

She wanted to smack herself.

There was no past.

There was only present.

There was a scheme already happening.

Infiltrating this museum was part of it.

If she had to defer to Mikey, she could.

She deferred to her boss at the coffee shop.

Putting herself into that mindset, Kendra focused on her date.

Mikey had been drawing spirals to himself for the layout and slowed at her continued eye. “Uh… I’m hurrying. Sorry. I had a plan but-”

“Don’t rush and get me caught.” She gave a single encouraging nod.

“Right…” He accepted it and turned to speak his thoughts with her.

He did have the layout, but by distracting one of the guards, there was a possibility that all their movements had been shifted if they employed their walkie talkies. With three of them roaming, Mikey wasn’t sure where exactly they were and it would be easy to get bottlenecked in any number of the museum rooms if one of the guards happened to be there.

Kendra’s first thought was distraction, but she kept her mouth shut. There was a chance they could damage the property which would then leave evidence and their goal wasn’t just to get to one room. They were supposed to be enjoying this space for whatever reason. Mikey had gone on about the art for some reason, but Kendra hadn’t understood. It was mostly paintings by or of dead rich white dudes so it mattered little. Mikey seemed insistent as he always had and she guessed that had worked out so far.

There was a churning of static and the pair ducked down.

“I swear I heard an eagle.”

“An eagle? Really, Tony?” 

“Yeah!” The man did his best impersonation of a screech.

Mikey wrapped the whole of his hand over his face.

Night guards were forms of pure stupidity and Kendra rolled her eyes.

“We looked all over. No birds, man. Hugo’s in one of the far rooms.”

“Can we check again?”

“Bro, what?!”

“Just one more time? They’re predators!”

“Yeah, for fish!”

There was a beat of silence.

“Please…?”

“One more time!” There was a jingling.

“Thank you!” Two pairs of feet trailed off.

Mikey wiped down his face, shrugged, and signaled to the left.

Kendra stooped to follow and in quick succession they ran through a few rooms, a lobby, and then into security where Mikey blocked the door off behind them. “Weird, but whatever works!”

“You’re too ‘go with the flow’, you know that?” Kendra eyed the monitors and located the two guards arguing they had seen now outside with flashlights near where they had hopped the fence.

“Flexibility is good for a plan.” Mikey walked past her.

The screens turned over and there was a far lazier guard standing almost idly in an ornate room. “Is this an art museum or a history one?”

“Both.” Mikey searched over the panel.

“What do you need?” She stepped up, ready.

“Place to plug in.” Mikey held up a USB. “I need the cameras looped.”

A purple stick drive.

A purple stick drive with an obnoxious ‘D’ logo on it.

“No.”

Mikey’s hand lowered. “Uh…?”

“I’ll do it.”

“I don’t think…”

“I can!” She seethed and shoved him out of the way.

He stumbled, but didn’t fall.

“It just depends on how old the system is. It’s easy.” She clicked through the one computer monitor that was fixed.

“But Don already-”

Kendra banged her palms against the desk one single time.

Mikey silenced.

She continued clicking through to the system. “I can reflash the firmware. No need to upload a modified one. I just need…”

She looked around the desk.

A sticky note with the network and admin passwords was clearly stuck to a wall.

She snatched it with a click of her tongue and entered the information.

“The quintessential movie line: ‘I’m in.’” She swallowed bile at the joke.

As soon as she got access to the firmware, she wrote in the modified command. After that it only took entering a few necessary prompts before all the screened flickered. The loop had begun by the look of the static, but she waited to make sure the time signature was still ticking away correctly before allowing herself to sneer. 

There was still the issue of the guards stuck in two of the feeds. She tucked into the database to pull older footage and took a moment to delete the video of them entering. There was now no evidence of them having been there and she switched to finding suitable stock footage. She swapped the frozen guards with empty rooms and when all the feeds were satisfyingly stagnant, she turned to Mikey with an outstretched palm.

“See. Easy.”

“Cool, I guess…” Mikey rubbed his neck.

“What?” Her guard flew up.

He shook his head.

She stalled. 

He was clearly upset, but she couldn’t read how. 

It also didn’t make sense as to why. 

She had done what they needed.

She did it without any infuriating help.

She had been fast.

She got results.

Why complain?

She was about to demand what his problem was when a lone walkie talkie in the room clicked to life. “Uh… There’s… a guy here with four pizzas…?”

“That’s the next step in the plan! We gotta go!” Mikey flew to remove the barricade from the door.

“Pizza? Again?”

“Yes, pizza!” Mikey cleared a table and then set it up at the ready. “Everyone loves pizza!”

He shot out and gathered up the rolling chair at the computer and then a few folding ones that were propped against the wall and set a scene.

“Looks good!” Mikey turned to the walkie. “Take the bait… Come on…”

“The pizza?”

“Yes, the pizza!” Mikey responded a little more harshly then Kendra was used too.

She stood off to the side and the tense air between them was palpable.

She wasn’t used to this.

Not like this.

When this happened it was because others hated her with reason and she despised them in return for their insolence.

She couldn’t handle a standoff without reason.

Mikey didn’t even appear mad.

If anything, he looked agitated and betrayed.

Why?

It didn’t make sense.

“Another prank?” A voice came on the walkie talkie.

“Nah, it’s for you Hugo. There’s writing on the box too. ‘Happy Birthday.’” Another answered.

Mikey held his breath.

Kendra used all her willpower not to yell at him for such a stupid ploy.

“You guys remembered?” The voice that was presumably Hugo’s came in small and timid through the static.

Mikey willed the walkie talkie with his very being.

Silence beat on seconds like a drum.

Then there was a crackle.

“Yeah, man!”

“Of course we did! Totally!”

“Guys!!”

“It’s your birthday, dude!”

“I can’t believe you guys remembered! I know I dropped a few hints, but-!”

“We work together every night, how could we forget?!”

“Let’s take 15!”

“It’s the man’s birthday, that’s at least worth 30!”

“Heading back to security now!”

“Copy.”

“See you there.”

“Let’s go.” Mikey started to reach out, but turned it into a thrown thumb.

Another spurned movement.

For whatever reason, this man’s delicate feelings were hurt.

Kendra stared at his arm for a little too long.

“Kendra.”

Did she bruise his pathetic ego?

“Kendra.”

It wasn’t even his work.

“Kendra, they’re heading here. We gotta go.”

It was his brother’s.

“Kendra!” He snapped his fingers in front of her face.

She saw a customer do the same to her.

She saw an inmate do the same to her.

She saw a teacher do the same to her.

She slapped his hand away.

Mikey should have been the picture of offense.

He looked scared.

“Let’s go.” She moved her body to take a step before something held her back. “The lights. You said something about lights.”

It took Mikey a second. “Right.”

He returned to the panel and studied a few switches before he flicked one.

Nothing exact happened, but he then breezed past her without making any contact. “Got them. Let’s go.”

He opened the door and she shadowed him.

They just barely dodged the guards mingling in the hall.

The three men were now a joyous trio and their voices disappeared behind a closed door as Kendra and Mikey walked back out into the courtyard. He veered off to one side and she took in the space now that she could. A fountain was delicately cycling water in the center of the room and the space had the faint chill of humidity from it. The plants were snoozing dark leaves in rows around columns and benches. The skylight above had murky panels to keep direct sunlight at bay without trading natural light.

It probably had a stale white glow during the day.

At night it sat a shallow husk of itself.

“You didn’t have to push me.”

Kendra was slow to turn to him.

Mikey was rubbing the arm that she had shoved. “It didn’t hurt, but it sucks. It wasn’t nice.”

“I’m not nice.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say.”

“Isn’t it? Funny how fast it turns. You say that me being mean is fun and refreshing right up until it isn’t, huh?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Didn’t you!?”

“I guess I said something about intrigue, but I exclusively said I didn’t think you were mean!”

“Well, surprise!” She threw out her arms. “Here it is! The real Kendra! You’ve finally opened your eyes.”

“That’s mean!” Mikey tossed his arms similarly, but at her.

“Yes! We just confirmed that, you dunce!”

“No!” Mikey stormed up to her. “It’s mean to you. You’re being mean to yourself.”

“No, I’m not.” She held up an arm to dismiss him. “I’m being real. Welcome to reality.”

“Then where do you keep going?”

She turned on him.

“Because it’s a different reality than mine and each time you’re gone you come back hating yourself more.”

She swung that same arm up, ready to strike.

He stood there staring straight into her eyes.

She reared in warning. “What do you want? You want me to? You want that excuse? That out so you can leave your poor charity case?!”

“What? No! You can keep making up lines for me, but that won’t make them true! I don’t think that! I never have! I know you know that! I’m not saying I know what’s going on! I’m not trying to fix it! I don’t even know if you’re hurt, but I do know that you’re hurting. I’m… I’m…” He grew quieter.

“You what?” She didn’t bring down her arm.

Mikey itched his cheek. “I can’t do anything about before, but I’m here. Right now. We can do this again and again. The conversation, I mean. Shoving me though? That’s a line. You can hit me when I egg you on. Those are love taps. Those are fun, but what you did earlier wasn’t out of anything other than anger and you took that out on me. I’m not going to let you.”

Her fingers twitched.

“I’m not trying to break down your walls.” He took a few wandering steps away with his thoughts. “I mean, have I thought about how cool it would be to get through to you? Sure! Mostly because it would be nice for you to trust me, but I’m not trying to rush the process. I’m not trying to be a wrecking ball. If I’m rushing that’s because that’s how I am in general. I’m trying to give you space!”

He swung his leg wide to return to her and she lowered her arm.

“I am really not eating much humble pie with this explanation, huh? I sound like some nice guy jerk off.” 

“A little.”

“I’m over explaining! At least, that’s what I’m trying to do. I’ve been misunderstood a lot and it’s a reflex…” He heaved a big breath. “I’m sorry for talking too much, but I’m not sorry for saying what you did was mean. That’s the gist.”

“I got that.”

He attempted to talk again, but shoved a silencing fist against his lips.

She tapped her thumb to each of her nails one at a time to process in a way that felt like clicking keys.

When she reached the eighth one she felt a certain amount of settled. 

“You’re interested in me because you have some weird sense that we’re alike. Is that right?”

Mikey moved his fist only a little. “Pretty much. You’re also interesting, like in general.”

“What about the parts where we’re different?”

“I don’t have a problem with it…?.” Mikey shrugged his limb away. “I sort of chase feelings. I was never really into examining why.”

“Isn’t it enough that I want to go out with you?”

“Woah…” His hands came up. “I didn’t ask for you to-”

“But it’s there! You need to know because it’s making you self conscious and that is feeding my doubt.”

The way his head bobbed said she was right.

“I need to give you some kind of reason why!”

“Don’t… force yourself?” he grimaced.

She shook her head. “I don’t-”

But, she did.

She did every single day.

She forced herself to do everything beneath her.

To do her job.

To use her decade-old phone.

To keep from overclocking her ancient laptop because it would explode.

Even now.

Even this.

It had gotten easier.

The owner’s praises helped at work.

The bibi’s food helped her wallet.

Not cussing her landlord out helped her get her shower drain cleared.

Since when had the line become so blurry?

It was less that she forced herself these days and more that she saw the exchange.

There was point A to B.

She had to do something to get something in exchange.

Long gone were the days she could coil others around her fingers.

These dates were a perfect example of that.

Mikey wasn’t dumb enough to let her in.

She had to play the part of the date.

She had to show her actual interest.

He could tell otherwise.

He was able to tell right now.

His earnest nature wasn’t just central to him.

It was his viewpoint.

He saw everyone else through that same lens when he looked.

He was looking at her.

Even now.

Even while she did this.

“I don’t like that we’re alike.” She started.

His head tilted ever so slightly.

She guessed that was confusing.

She was supposed to be saying what she liked about him.

He also frustrated her to no end. “But… I do.”

His lips parted.

“I don’t like admitting that! It’s soft! I don’t like soft! I’m not soft! I’m a hardened criminal!”

Mikey softened with understanding.

“You’re doing it again!” She lit with embarrassed flames. “Stop that! With your face! You’re too squishy! Soft! I hate that! You were handsome when you were serious!”

She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Mikey’s smile spread like wildfire.

“When was I serious!?” He had stars in his eyes.

“Never!”

“I was! You said!” He bounced toward her. “You think I’m hot!”

“Never!!” He was a fly for her to swat at.

She hit him directly in the face and jarred for it.

He seemed unaffected and caught her wrist gently.

He removed it and looked at her with bright eyes.

“Sorry…” She mumbled out.

“I think I get it.”

“What?” Her wariness returned in droves.

“You’re like… Oh what’s that Japanese concept? They mash like cool-cute…?”

“You think I’m cool-cute?” She deadpanned.

“No, you’re like, hot and cold? Oh, wait, that’s a thing in English.”

He wasn’t wrong, but she still soured.

“In Japanese, it’s like a homomatopoeia...”

“Onomatopoeia or Homonym?” Her head shook with confusion. “Which one?!”

He saved her off.

“Micheal!”

“Tsun… Tsun…”

“Do I need to hit you again?”

“No.” He shook her hand where he still had it cuffed. “Oh! That’s it!”

“What?!”

“Tsundere!”

“Tsun-!” She yanked her hand from him. “Don’t you put your anime crap on me!!”

His eyes immediately thinned out into smarmy lines. “You know it’s an anime thing!”

“So!?” She smashed a hand into his face to cover it. “Watching anime as a kid is normal! They’re cartoons!”

“But do kids get that particular concept?”

“Are you teasing me or not!?” She smeared her palm over his beak.

It tipped him backwards and he easily bent with a surprising amount of core strength. “Bit of both!”

“You’re not getting to dere!” She chased him to find the limit.

He laughed into bending further.

“This is not a romantic comedy!!” She shoved far enough onto him that she went up on her tiptoes.

“It’s not? Could have fooled me!” He slung an arm around her waist to steady her.

“I will wipe that stupid smile-!”

“Miss my manly features!?” His brow ridge wiggled.

Kendra screamed and shoved both her hands into his face.

Mikey’s laughter exploded between bouts of suffocation.

“There! That is someone talking! I told you!”

They both froze.

“The guards!” Kendra dropped to a bitter whisper.

“Yeah, stuck footage isn’t going to cover us screaming.” Mikey returned a sheepish grin.

She didn’t miss the way he took part of the blame.

Footsteps pounded down a hall signaling the guards were getting closer.

Kendra fumbled to move only to realize she was fully off the ground and on Mikey’s chest. “Down! We gotta go!”

“Or… hold on?” He sent her a look that dared her to trust him.

He had gotten them away from the guards in an instant before.

She prepared herself for the head rush in a countdown from three.

“Do it!”

Instead of immediate movement, he bent further back.

Farther than his shell should allow.

Kendra’s eyes widened as her gaze hit the floor, but his arm was a safety bar around her.

She felt one of his legs come up behind her and it was a move she felt she had seen on some kind of stage.

Everything then sped up because in a perfect arch, Mikey’s leg swept over his head and she was turned upside down. She was then immediately righted and still pulled to his chest when his gaze shot out. His head jarred left and right as if tracking a thrown ball before he dug into his person. He came away with a shuriken and tossed it in a wayward way. The weapon clinked with several bounces that he had seemingly mapped out and some soft sounds leaked out from what had to be the lobby.

Before Kendra could process how, she was flung out from him in a way she could only recognize as a dance move which was cemented as he reeled her back. His face was all confidence as he twisted her again, but this time took on a new style. The first move had been a warning of what was to come and she was swung out of the way. Through his legs and then tossed up into the air over some plants, he was immediately there to catch her and twirled her straight down to the floor. He covered her, keeping his body weight chaste and sent his attention out at the ready.

“Run if I pop out. Same door should be open where we came in.”

He was going to do just as he said.

He was going to take full blame so she wouldn’t get caught.

She stared up at his grave features from where she was laying on the ground.

The pale light of the courtyard almost carved a chisel out of his softened cheeks.

“Over… What? What is that?”

“Is that the radio?”

“What the hell?”

“This wasn’t what I heard!”

“It’s so loud!”

“You kidding me?!”

“It was a scream! Like a phantom, bro!”

“A phantom!?”

“Phantoms and eagles, huh?”

“I’m not kidding!!”

“I bet this was your bird too!”

“We were in here! We were just here and didn’t hear anything! This radio wasn’t on!”

“Yes, we did! We went searching because you heard something! Sound bounces in the courtyard, stupid!”

“It’s not acoustically tuned!”

“You don’t even know what that means!”

“I do! I took choir!”

“Yeah, 15 years ago!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you!”

“Why don’t we-!”

Footsteps came clear through the columns to signal the guards were in the same room.

Mikey flexed his elbows where he was holding himself up at the ready.

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you!”

“BOTH OF YOU FUCK EACH OTHER AND SHUT UP!!!” The man in this room screamed.

Kendra grabbed Mikey’s biceps.

He nodded for her to wait and his gaze hadn’t moved from where it was glued to the bushes.

There was a tense moment of silence.

Breathing felt too loud so Kendra held her breath.

The soft sounds of the radio obviously echoed from the lobby and into this room.

“It’s the fucking radio! What did I say!?” The man stormed back to where he’d come from.

The others continued to bicker through one room and far down another until their voices couldn’t be heard anymore.

Mikey blew out a breath. “Okay… Maybe the pizza thing didn’t work.”

“Did you hit the radio with your dumb ninja knife?”

“Yes.” Mikey swept down to her. “I came here the other day to case the joint and the front desk guy was listening to it then.”

“And you knew it was that idiot’s birthday?”

“That’s why it had to be tonight.”

“There were so many ways your stupid plan could have gone wrong!”

“But a quiet nighttime museum date? Just the two of us? Think of how romantic it could have been if it worked! Plus, the back-up was always my million dollar smile.” Mikey did a pushup with one arm so he could tuck his chin into his purlicue and flash her a huge grin.

She grabbed that hand and yanked.

It threw him off balance and he flailed as he tipped down into her.

She came up just enough to meet him in a kiss.

It locked all his muscles and he went perfectly rigid.

It was a breath of fresh air relief in the face of all her irritation.

A pinprick to the balloon of her anger.

A whistling release of pressure.

She pulled away with an actual smack before shoving him off.

He fell over in a heap.

“We’re leaving this dump.” She stood and went straight for the exit.

She heard Mikey scramble after her.

“No apologies. Date’s not over.” She told him when she caught the door.

She opened it for him and he slipped by with growing understanding.

“There’s a place I want to eat near here. That’s it.”

“Sure.” He passed her to the fence and got in position to help her over.

“Catch me.” She told him as she stomped her foot into his hand.

“Gladly.”

She soared much higher and this time it was exhilaration.

Mikey appeared beneath her and plucked her out of the air.

She was lowered to the ground in yet another dance move. “Where’d you learn all this?”

“Took ballet as a kid.” He made sure her feet were flat before letting go.

She grabbed his hand to pull him the direction she wanted. “That wasn’t just ballet.”

He followed after. “Good eye. It was ballet, salsa, tango, merengue, swing, and a bit of freeform jazz dance.”

“You didn’t take those as a kid.”

“Nope, most were as an adult. I got into helping at the community center and picked it up while I was stacking chairs. Always with the chairs, I swear. I hate them.”

“Explains how you set that guard’s party table up fast.” She checked the street for both of them as Mikey was blindly following her tether.

“They say a smile is its own reward, but getting to take all the classes for free was pretty great.”

She flicked a wry glance back at him. “It’s a community center. Shouldn’t the classes be free?”

“Right! They are for kids! Adults have to pay!”

“Annoying.”

“Yes!”

“I had group at one.”

“Part of your parole?”

“Bingo.” A few more people were popping up.

“How was that?”

They came to a crosswalk and she pretended to think.

Mikey stood dutifully aside and adjusted their hand hold so their fingers were entwined.

When she checked in on him for the move, he purposefully looked away like he was examining pedestrians.

She rolled her eyes. “It was a lot of chairs.”

Mikey chuffed his attention back to her.

“And whining.”

“I bet.”

“You wouldn’t call it that.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He agreed. “What kinda food?”

“Sandwiches. It’s 24 hours or something, had a pretentious name, and looks like a flower shop.”

Mikey pondered.

“You can’t know the owners.”

“Maybe don’t say ‘can’t’ until I’m sure.”

“Ugh! How do you know so many people? Don’t you get tired of the blah blah talking all the time!”

“Really?” The light changed and it was his turn to send her sarcasm as he now led.

“Just because you talk others’ ears off, doesn’t mean you want to hear it.”

“I want to hear you.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” He shot her a heated look.

She ignored it. “It is. Now tell me how you stand randos.”

“Okay so sometimes they go on a little too much about themselves and it gets boring.” Mikey admitted like it was a weight off his chest.

Kendra let the sentence breathe because it seemed to need the air.

Mikey returned to himself after taking a breath. “I don’t think I’ve told anyone that.”

“You didn’t even hesitate.”

“We have banter. Have you noticed? Like we can go back and forth really fast?”

“I guess.” She hadn’t thought about it.

“I prefer that. It feels like you can keep up with me.”

“You’re surprisingly self-centered. It’s like you can’t talk about anything without relating it to yourself.”

He hummed. “It has more to do with craving a connection to others. It’s sympathy and compassion that leads us to wanting to commiserate. I try not to raise the bar because the point is sharing joy or grief.” 

She eyed him. 

“Sounded a little too intelligent, hm?”

A grunt popped out of her. 

“I know you don’t think I’m very smart. I’m not trying to argue; just saying I noticed.”

“You still take offense.”

“Oh, for sure. I love impressing people to shut them up!”

“That why you were going for breathless and all that other crap?”

“You took my kiss so maybe I’m salty about it.”

“Oh no! The girl you’ve been out on a few dates with kissed you!” Kendra put on fake horror.

“The girl I like kissed me, actually!” He corrected with a pointed finger.

Her lips made a noise when she closed them abruptly.

“See?” Mikey spun around her to block her path. “Impressed!”

She pulled her hand from his.

“And with honesty too!?” Mikey feigned his own surprised expression. “Your description was good.”

She didn’t let understanding blossom on her features and instead turned to predictably find the deli she picked out ready with an open door beside them. “I told you I wanted to eat here.”

She entered first and he followed after. Ordering took a few minutes at most and they were soon outside with crinkling paper. The flowers at the entrance put out a light scent and mixed with the aroma of fresh bread. Kendra inhaled deeply as she peeled back her paper for a teeth wide bite. She was saving what was left of her lipstick.

Mikey was already halfway down his sub and swallowed hard to speak again.

“What’s your favorite anime?”

She pursed her lip and almost smiled. “Dragon Ball.”

“A classic!” Mikey chirped.

“We could only pick through pre-made designs for our jackets. School budget if we wanted satin and the color.”

“Huh?”

“Purple Dragons.” Kendra stared into the ingredients piled between bread.

“What’s that?” Mikey spoke through another mouthful since he apparently couldn’t wait.

She looked at him.

He chewed and met her gaze openly.

He didn’t know.

A strange part of her liked that.

She didn’t. “A tech club I started in high school. The name of my group.”

“Oh yeah, Washington Irving High School’s mascot.”

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“Wait, are you saying your dragon was Shenron?!”

“I mean the colors were wrong!” She huffed.

“You were stuck with school colors.” Mikey shrugged. “I’sh still cool!”

“I guess. I liked his red eyes. He was all powerful, but wouldn’t do shit until you went through his trial.”

“Collecting the dragon balls.” Mikey nodded.

“Yeah…” She widened her jaw to take another bite. “You had to earn it.” 

She could feel him watching.

“Knock it off. I’m eating.” She sent him a glare.

“Your lipstick.”

“What about it? It’s not on you.” She addressed him with a slight turn of her body.

“Dragon tech genius…”

She narrowed her eyes to parse out where he was going.

“The color.” He pointed to his own mouth. “It’s Bulma, isn’t it?”

Her face flooded with heat and she felt her back snap straight.

Mikey zeroed in on her embarrassment. “Oh, you really like her!”

“She’s whiny!”

“I bet you modeled your whole thing on her when you were young!”

“Mikey!”

“I was into Krillin myself. I would spend hours trying to do the Destructo Disc.”

Her irritation halted. “How old?”

“Tiny, like five.”

“You can throw fireballs now.”

“Isn’t it funny how those things work out?” Mikey gleamed a knowing grin at her.

She scoffed at him and finally ate more of her food.

“You’re way hotter than milf Bulma, by the way.”

“Boy!” She threw up her bread to toss at him.

“Don’t waste good food!” He gasped.

“I bet you’ll lose your hair and go bald just like your hero!”

“Stop!” Mikey immediately broke into distress. “Too real!”

“What!? Why!?”

“Uh…” He strung out the phrase before launching into an absurd tale about time travel and the Krang.

Kendra was just inclined enough to believe it.

(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon. You can follow me there, here, or the tag #AENEMfic for updates)

My stomach hurty but I still appreciate my betas @tmntxthings  @thepinkpanther83 and @unrestrainedhotsoup

[its-all-or-nothing94]

Like a Hurricane // JJ Maybank x OC - Part 1

Summary: Sky is a Pogue through and through. No one would doubt that. But what will happen if her Dad just disappears, and after nine months, she and her brother face the consequences with DCS? Sky tries to manage her way through a literal storm but also the storm of secrets, confessions, friendships, and... summer.

Masterlist

Warnings: language, use of alcohol, talk of death

Pairing: JJ Maybank x OC

A/N: And I'm back with an all-new Outer Banks story :) Yay! I got so invested in that show that I couldn't just binge-watch the whole show, as I didn't want it to end. And yes this is more a "reimagine". Don't @ me ;)

Summer.

Finally. We've waited a long time for the summer break to finally arrive. No more school, no more responsibilities. Not that my brother would care about that ever since our father went missing.

But hey, we're the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time all the time.

On the terrace of their new hangout, the Pogues lounged, beers in hand, basking in the golden-orange hue of the setting sun. The vibe was effortlessly relaxed and warm.

"That's what, a three-story fall to the deck?", Pope questioned, eyeing the boy teetering on the rooftop, beer casually in tow. "I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival."

The blonde girl with the side braid perched on a scaffold nearby, beer can in hand, gazed upward nonchalantly. "So?"

John B paused, wetting his finger and testing the wind. "Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump", urged the blonde boy with the cap, sitting next to Sky.

Pope, brandishing a drill playfully, aimed it at John B. "I'll shoot you on the way down."

"You'll shoot me?"

"Yep", he replied with a shrug.

John B mimed a gun with his hand, pointing at Pope. "Pow!"

"They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," Kiara announced, stepping out. She was striking, her light-dark skin and wavy hair catching the last light of day.

Beside Sky, JJ chuckled. "Of course. Why wouldn't they?"

Sky shared a knowing look with JJ, a sly grin on her lips. "You know what's next," she whispered, sparking a grin from JJ.

"This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess?" Kiara lamented.

"Poor turtles", Sky responded with playful sympathy, standing up.

JJ shrugged. "I can't have cold towels."

Kiara ignored him and looked up at John B. "Can you please not kill yourself?"

Sky jumped down from her perch, finishing her beer with a swift gulp. "I mean, one less Routledge, who gives a shit?" she said sarcastically. "Oh wait, me! I would give a shit. Get the fuck down, JB!"

"Don't spill that beer. I'm not giving you another one", JJ warned his best friend.

Unfazed, John B balanced precariously, but a sudden gust of wind caught him off guard. His beer plummeted to the terrace below.

"Of course you did," JJ grumbled.

Kiara turned away, shaking her head. "Smooth..."

The blonde girl sighed and rubbed her face. "Dumbass..."

Pope, peering over the balcony, spotted a security guard emerging from a parked car.

"Hey!"

"Hey, uh, security's here," he informed the others. "Let's wrap it up."

JJ looked around, glanced quickly at Sky, and smiled. "Boys are early today."

"Humpty Dumpty, let's roll," Sky said smugly.

"Yeah," John B agreed, walking down to the others.

"Let's go, boys," Kiara smiled, and they started to hurry.

JJ, teasing as always, exclaimed: "Gary, is that you?"

"Get down", Sky said to her brother.

JJ, still in light spirits, laughs as he sees that it is indeed Gary. "Gary, good to see you, man!"

They made their way downstairs, JJ's leaking behind. "JJ!" Sky laughed and pulled him along.

With Gary's backup close behind, the Pogues had to swiftly escape, leaping fences and dodging the guards. John B had the Twinkie, his van, revved up and ready. They piled in, laughter and adrenaline mixing, as one guard gave futile chase.

"Come on guys, you're giving him a heart attack," Kiara laughs, and Sky nudges her.

In high spirits, they sped off into the summer night, the promise of adventure ahead.

The Outer Banks, Paradise on Earth.

It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island.

The nice side of the Island is called Figure Eight. It's the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don't live.

And then, there is the south side or the Cut. Home of the working class who make a living busing tables, washing yachts, running charters.

The natural habitat of... drumroll please... the Pogues. That's us. Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest member of the food chain.

Okay. So, the downside of Pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of Pogue life? We're ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want.

But who are we?

There's JJ. My brother's best friend since the third grade. Meaning that I couldn't get rid of him even if I wanted to.

He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Best male surfer I know. But don't tell him I said that. I wouldn't hear the end of it. Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat, for sure. And then there's his secret – a massive, undeclared crush on me. Of course, I'm totally oblivious to it. No one knows about it. Well, that's the story, as my brother would probably kill him anyway.

Then there's Kiara, or Kie, as we call her. My best friend and the only other female Pogue apart from me. When not saving turtles or, listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo (which, for the record, I totally didn't convince her to get – okay, maybe I did), she hangs out with us. We are all not really sure why, though.

So, she's a rich kid, actually. Foot in both worlds. Her family owns The Wreck, my workplace, this Outer Banks institution. Total cash cow with the tourists. We are not really sure how her parents feel about us, well at least about the boys, as I think they kind of like me.

All of the guys had a thing for her at least once.

And then there's Pope. The brains of the operation... finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And probably the smartest person I know. He's a little bit of a weirdo, to be honest. His father's this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Heyward could get for you.

Now, I'm not sure Heyward knew what to make of his oddball son, but it didn't matter. He was a Pogue, just like the rest of us.

There's John B – my twin brother. At first glance, no one would peg us as twins. John B, with his dark hair and deep-set eyes, starkly contrasts my light blonde hair and grey eyes. But beneath these superficial differences lies an unbreakable bond. John B and I have always been incredibly close, sharing a connection that goes beyond mere appearances. He's the undisputed leader of the Pogues, a role he takes as naturally as breathing. In his leadership, there's a sense of adventure, a hint of recklessness, and a deep-seated loyalty that binds all of us together. His presence is both a guiding force and a constant reminder of the unspoken understanding and support we share as twins.

And then there's me, Skylar Artemis Routledge. Or Sky. Talk about a mouthful of a name, right? Thanks a bunch, Mom and Dad. As I mentioned earlier, I'm the younger twin sister of John B – younger by a mere four minutes, a fact he never lets me forget, flaunting it like a badge of honor. My world? It revolves around the thrill of surfing, the freedom of skating, and, of course, my fiercely loyal band of friends. Oh, and about the infamous "no Pogue on Pogue macking" rule? Guilty as charged. That's on me. Or, more accurately, it's because of my overprotective brother, who's made it crystal clear: nobody messes with his "baby sister." It's a title I wear with a mix of annoyance and affection, but hey, that's family for you.

John B and I call an old fish shack on the marsh our home, fondly nicknamed "The Chateau" by our dad. That's how he always referred to it, with a hint of irony and a lot of love. Our dad... he vanished nine months ago while chasing the legend of a shipwreck. In this day and age, who just disappears at sea?

I miss him every single day. John B does, too, the weight of his absence hanging silently between us.

Our mom is a different story. She left when we were just three, a distant memory more than a mother. Last I heard of her, she was in Colorado, or at least I think it was Colorado.

But we've still got Uncle T. Ever since Dad's disappearance, he's been our so-called legal guardian. Right now, he's off in Mississippi, busy building houses. That leaves just John B and me free to roam with our friends, masters of our own little world.

Three months after Dad was declared missing, they wanted to pronounce him dead officially. But John B wouldn’t sign the papers. He's adamant that there's no giving up until he sees a body. As for me... well, as three months stretched into six, my hope quietly faded away. I hate to admit it, but I've stopped expecting a miracle.

John B and Sky found themselves seated in the stark, clinical setting of the sheriff's office, facing a social worker named Cheryl. Her gaze fixed on the twins, who wore expressions of casual, almost practiced boredom.

"John, Skylar, it's come to our attention that you're unemancipated minors living on your own," Cheryl began. At this, John B and Sky shared a quick, knowing glance before bursting into laughter.

"No... Not really," Sky drawled, slouching further in her chair, her face etched with defiance.

"No," echoed John B, shaking his head.

Cheryl sighed deeply, intertwining her fingers with a look of forced patience. "I need honesty to help you two. That's what we're aiming for, right?" she asked, her eyes shifting between the twins.

"We're being honest," John B insisted as Sky puckered her lips in a mock pout.

All too aware of the teenagers' evasiveness, Cheryl let out another sigh. "Okay, then, when's the last time either of you spoke to your uncle?"

The twins exchanged another glance, their silent communication a testament to their unspoken bond.

Sky glanced at her empty wrist. "Uh... 34 minutes ago, to be exact."

"And when did you last see him?"

This time, John B chimed in. "Two hours and, uh... 43 minutes ago?"

Sky couldn't help but chuckle, biting her lip – a habitual gesture.

"John... Skylar, we're planning to visit tomorrow to speak with your uncle. If he's not there, we'll have to proceed with foster care arrangements," Cheryl explained, her tone a mix of sternness and concern. Sky scoffed at the notion. "I assure you, our goal is to find you both a safe, loving home."

They actually thought we were gonna be happy to hear that. Bullshit! I knew that they would separate us, and, almost as bad, they would get us to the mainland.

And that's where this story starts. Our dad missing, our uncle MIA, and the bride of Frankenstein threatening us with foster care.

That evening, the Pogues sat by a fire at the beach. They had fun, but one was missing. John B sat a bit further away and gave in to his thoughts. Sky sat next to JJ, who causally had his arm around her shoulders.

"What's up with him?" JJ asked, and Pope and Kie were looking at Sky.

She sighed and shrugged. "It's his way of coping, I guess... They-" She gulped and sighed again. "They want to swing by tomorrow, talk to Uncle T."

JJ pulled Sky closer. "Come on, they can't just drag your asses away. You're Pogues. You belong here."

Sky's smile faded a little. "Tell that to them."

JJ's smile faded as well, as he looked down at the blonde next to him. Kiara couldn't help but smile at the sight. She realized, for some time now, how much JJ liked Sky. Not just liked, but liked.

"Have you heard about the hurricane? It's heading right towards us", Pope then said and showed them the news channel on his phone, and Sky looked at him, sighing.

She wiggled out of JJ's arm and stood up. "Well, at least one good thing comes of it." She took out her phone, and the others looked at her, confused.

"DCS, how can I help you?" Sky tipped her finger to her lips. "Yeah, uh... I think we have to reschedule."

As Sky was at home later, thunder was crackling, and the wind took off. JJ sat on her porch on his phone. Sky just looked out to the ocean, wondering where her brother was.

"Hey yo, you know where John B is?" she turned and looked at JJ, who looked up at her.

He shrugged. "Nah, but my guess..." He pointed his head towards the ocean.

"He's really going for it, huh?" Sky muttered under her breath, turning back to the sea again.

JJ stood up and put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, Barb. He's gonna be fine."

Barb. That was another thing. JJ called me that for as long as I can remember. Well, at first, it was Surfer Barbie, what many people call me, to be honest, so he just called me Barbie, and that morphed into Barb. He's the only one who calls me that.

Sky sighed once again and turned, walking into the Chateau. JJ looked after her with a questioning look, before he sat back down on the porch.

Shortly after, Sky walked out again with a Whiskey and two glasses. "Might as well..."

She poured some of the brown liqueur into the glasses and slid one over to JJ. He grinned at Sky and took it into his hand.

"The good glasses? What's the occasion?" he asked and winked at her.

"Don't know... When Aggie hits, they might break anyway..."

They clinked the glasses together and smiled at each other before taking a sip.

Forty-five minutes later, the almost full bottle was empty, and Sky sat on the porch bench with JJ, her legs over his lap. JJ has his hands on her shins and caresses them absently.

The conversation, deep and meandering under the influence of alcohol, takes a turn as JJ gazes into the distance, where lightning from the approaching Hurricane Agatha flickers ominously. "Barb," he slurs slightly, "have you ever thought about, you know, dating one of us Pogues? Like, hypothetically speaking?"

Sky, her head leaning back, a relaxed smile on her face, responds with a teasing lilt, "JJ, you know the rule. No Pogue on Pogue macking. John B made it pretty clear."

But JJ is undeterred, his eyes intense. "That rule is bullshit. It's just something John B came up with, so we don't mack on you. But seriously, what if? What if the rule didn't exist?"

Sky turns to face him, her expression softening in the dim porch light. "What if, huh?" she muses, the alcohol making her thoughts swim. "I don't know, JJ. It's a weird thought. We're like... family, you know?"

JJ nods, serious. "Yeah, I know. But sometimes, I think, 'What if.' What if the person you're supposed to be with is right in front of you, and you're just too blind to see it because of some stupid rule?"

The confession, raw and honest, hangs between them. Sky looks into JJ's eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity within. "JJ, are you asking if I've ever thought about you that way?" she whispers, the storm's energy charging the air around them.

JJ meets her gaze, his voice earnest. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm tired of pretending that I haven't thought about it. About you."

The intensity of the moment builds, mirroring the storm's crescendo. But then, Sky, sensing the conversation veering into serious territory that she's not ready to navigate, especially not under the influence, lets out a laugh. It's light, an attempt to diffuse the tension.

"JJ, you're drunk, and your emotions are all over the place. It's just the whiskey talking."

JJ's gaze lingers on her, a mix of longing and frustration in his eyes. "Maybe," he concedes, "but what if it's not? What if—"

Skye cuts him off with a light laugh, leaning in to bump her shoulder against his. "Oi, Bandolero, trust me. You're going to wake up tomorrow and realize you were just feeling extra sentimental because of the storm and the whiskey."

A little later, as the conversation drifted and the storm raged outside, Sky and JJ succumbed to sleep on the porch. Suddenly, Sky felt a persistent poking at her cheek.

Blearily opening her eyes, she was jolted awake by the looming figure before her, illuminated starkly by a flash of lightning.

"Jesus fucking Christ, are you out of your damn mind?" Sky exclaimed, her words directed at her drenched brother, who stood before her, surfboard in tow.

The commotion roused JJ, who blinked groggily at John B.

"That's your concern? What the hell are you guys still doing out here? Get inside!" John B barked, hauling Sky to her feet.

Sky, unimpressed, retorted as she was ushered inside, "Look who's talking, big bro. Did you seriously try to surf in this mess?" Behind them, JJ, barely awake, stumbled into the living room, collapsing onto the pull-out couch.

John B paused, eyeing his best friend's form. "What happened to him?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice.

Sky, smirking, replied as she headed to her room, "Dad's Highland Park. Turns out our Bandolero over there isn't as seasoned a drinker as he likes to claim." She paused at her door, glancing back at John B. "Good night."

"Night," he responded, his smile lingering as he made his way to his own room.