#Psycopathor

[extreme-neutral]

Feels good to be back

[punkranger]

would be funny (not for step) if psycopathor got out and saw who got the rat king

[chaniters]

MOTHER’S DAUGHTER

________________________________ Sorry about the long delay, writing comes and goes for me and last time it went away for quite a while. I’m trying to get back into the mood and finish amazing @kruk-art‘s  Awan Cormac fic! It’s been a long time so here are the previous chapters.

1 https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/185591914314/only-human

2 https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/185662034909/crisis-control

3 https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/185824503359/reaper

4 https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/186475284144/sunken-town

Hope you like this, and as always there might be spoilers for Fallen Hero ahead.

Added a new villain in this.

_________________________________

“Seriously?”

“This tunnel’s the best way to get inside unseen” Elyise answers.

“Best way to get crushed to death you mean!“

“The other side is safe” she replies as her powers methodically remove the debris pieces blocking the tunnel

“You know there’s not a single safe thing in here!” you say amazed that it’s you concerned about safety for once.

“Well we could always go back to the main entrance and knock,” she says smiling.

That’s a no-go. You took a brief peek at the facility, and the place is swarming with guards and cameras. Someone took the time and money necessary to restore most of the ruin and turn it to a death trap to infiltrators such as yourselves.

“This is a bad idea” you concede walking trough.

“Well it’s the only idea”

“Not sure if suicidal ideas count”

“Oh, they totally count believe me”

You have to turn back the night vision mode since the way ahead is pitch black. The tunnel Reaper’s console detected goes through several sections of different collapsed buildings. As you advance you go trough a ruined subway tunnel, then to a cracked apartment building corridor, then a set of bent scaffoldings on top of a seemingly bottomless pit and finally a collapsed staircase.

Advance is slow, as the way is littered by all manner of obstacles, random debris, furniture, and even some rusted cars. Elyise goes on ahead since her powers can clear the way.

“So how did you get involved in this mess?” you ask breaking the silence

“What do you mean?” she says

“You must have been following a different lead into the kidnappings?”

“Oh. Yeah, I have” She nods

“...so?”

“So what?”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Alright, hmm... Let’s just say I'm mostly interested in finding the villain behind this”

“Void or Psycopathor?” you ask

“Neither. Those two don’t normally assault hospitals for a living. They’re working for someone”

“And you know who that is?  

Elyise doesn’t answer, focused on clearing out a broken wall. You have to get into it and aid, pulling some rocks by hand to create a passage wide enough to come through.

The other side seems to be a store-room, pitch black, but relatively clean. Several boxes are piled up against a wall, bearing logos of pharmaceutical companies.

“We’re in” she states, hopping trough the crack and landing on her feet. You follow closely, studying the room.

“Ah, there she is” she says pointing to a graffiti on one of the walls. IT looks like a masked nun holding both hands together in prayer, in red paint. Some melted remains of candles lying on the floor next to it.

“What.. is that?” you say walking closer.

She takes a few seconds to answer that.

“Have you ever heard about… Mother?”

“Mother Superior you mean?” suddenly remembering the urban legend

“Same one,” she says walking on

“Yes, I’ve heard about her. Mostly that she doesn’t exist.”

“She exists,” she says pointing at the graffiti, which on closer inspection looks more like an improvised shrine ”And I’ve been after her for a very, very long time”

You struggle to keep up her phase as she turns and walks avoiding piles of boxes towards the door

“Alright. Let’s say she’s real. They say she has the power to save people from hero drug secondary effects. That she’s created of a lot of villains. And that her costume looks sort of like a nun.”

“You got two of those right”

“Which ones?”

“Her outfit does look like a nun. And she’s generated a lot of villains. But she doesn’t have powers”

“What? So how does she do it?”

“She’s a scientist. And she’s figured out how to calculate the odds anyone has for surviving hero drugs. All she does is find people with good chances and use them, then pretend she can do the same for everyone else ”

“If she can do that, why aren’t the pharmaceuticals doing it too?”

“What makes you think they aren’t? They just can’t talk about it, because hero-drugs are illegal outside labs and the military, and no one can be 100% accurate either.”

“Alright… so what is she to you?”

“It’s personal”

“So It’s all about her then? That’s why you contacted Reaper?”

“That, and Reaper is one of the few people who actually knew her”

“What? How?”

She sighs looking at you. “You ask a lot of questions, you know?”

“Well, I like to know what I'm up against”

“Alright fine. She’s been active since the ’70s. She worked on the original drug, became the pharmaceutical’s scapegoat and then pariah in the scientific community. So she went into the black market, providing aid to anyone wanting to take the drugs. Claimed she wanted to atone and end all hero-drug deaths with her illegal research. Lots of powerful people saw her as a saviour”

“So when did she meet Reaper then?”

“Rich guy wanting to take hero drugs? What did you think he just bought some in a dark alley? No way. He paid her a small fortune and she tested him in every way possible before he took them.”

You can sense her mind’s holding back something else. But now ‘s not the time to push.

“What’s your interest in this?”

“It’s personal too” you answer drily. They attacked the Hauswald hospital.”

“Oh. I saw those promos. Didn’t think it was more than publicity”

“Well, it is. They do amazing work there. I’m going to rescue those patients.”

“We are going to rescue the patients” she corrects.

“Hold!” you say in a hushed voice pulling her back behind a corner.

“W…” she mumbles before a pair of masked, robed figures, a man and a woman walk through the corridor you were about to go through.

“Hurry up! Mother needs these samples right now” the woman says moving forward as the man struggles to follow carrying several vials of fragile chemical samples

“What are they wearing?” you whisper. Dark robes, hoods, masks, metal necklaces…

“Sorry. When I told you she’s seen as a savior I should have actually said “Big and crazy cult-leader. Wherever she goes these guys follow. I’m not sure how are we going to get close enough to...”

“Hm... that’s going to be the easy part. Take this and follow me” you say before handing her a metal pipe from the floor before rapidly closing the distance towards the two cultists. You know your infiltration techniques well.

………………………………………………

“I think I'm allergic to this fabric” Elyise complains whiles scratching her neck under the stolen robe “And it smells funny too”

“Shush,” you say while scratching your own arm. You’re pretty sure you’re insulated under your nanomesh but somehow you’re feeling itchy as well.

Cultists seem to be wearing their own individual masks, so you and Elyise are just keeping your own costumes under the hoods. Your powers are making up for anyone noticing something odd, and this plan can actually fool the numerous security cameras as you go deeper into the facility. If you had known about these costumes before, you could have just walked through the main door.

Black curtains cover the next tunnel and a couple of guards wearing the powered suits stand at each side. They let you pass as soon as you present the samples they were expecting.

A stair opens up into a huge open room, probably the lunch area for the workers that used to work in the plant. Unlike the rest of the facility, it seems to be pretty much intact. It’s been refurbished as a small amphitheater, with numerous robbed figures attending some sort of event.

You instinctively raise your shields as you notice the giant standing over the improvised stage.

Psycopathor, talking to a few guards. He briefly looks your way but his gaze doesn’t linger. Whatever is going on it hasn’t begun yet and the audience is scattered talking among themselves.

“Let’s split… I think there’s a small bathroom there” she points to a line “I’ll get in and try to contact Reaper again, see if he could call the rangers You see if you can find the hostages?”

“Alright, we meet here in 15’t” you whisper back before walking into the crowd.

Performing a scan with so many people around is awful, but on the bright side, there’s little chance of Psycopathor noticing anything wrong since he must have the same problem. You end up sticking to a corner next to a chatty group after implanting the suggestion that you’re part of their clique.

Only as you wander through the minds of those around is that you begin to understand the scope of this “Cult”. THere’s not only the desperate but also the super-rich. Fanatics and working people looking for some excitement. The disillusioned mix with the optimists in Mother Superior’s cult as they all look up to her to do something that will change the world.

No. Not something. They want her to change their lives. Change them personally. Make them better… make them… the idea reveals itself as you dig deeper...

Boosted. The realization comes as a bucket of cold water. Every single person here hopes that Mother Superior will give them boosted powers without having to take any risks. That somehow she’ll magically make hero-drugs safe and let everyone realize their dreams. They have absolute faith in her plan.

All of their thoughts go in the same direction, and simply following the flow lets you find the mind you’ve been looking for. The cult leader.

“Found them?” the hand on your arm startles you bringing your mind back inside your skull as hard as a rock. “Sorry! Are you ok?”

“Yeah... I'm alright,” you mutter struggling to recover. Now’s not the time for a migraine. “Mother Superior’s behind the stage, and the hostages too. She’s about to start the show”

Mother Superior is behind the curtain on the stage where Psycopathor’s standing. Ready to start the show. The hostages are with her”

“The rangers are in the area but they’re having trouble tracking our location inside the facility and they don’t have Reaper’s tech. There must be some sort of jammer working here. We need to…”

“Everyone, be seated” Psycopathor interrupted her with a commanding voice aimed at the audience.

“This way,” Elyise says pulling you to the side behind a few columns and out of immediate sight as everyone heads for the stands.

The curtain opens, revealing a tall, thin masked figure. It is wearing a powered suit, but unlike the guards, Mother’s power suit looks really advanced. Behind her, in a semi-circle facing the audience are the hostages, tightly secured to rectangular slabs with medical tubes attached to each of them. All of the devices are connected to a central machine at Mother’s right side.

A large table stands by her left, full of… syringes with a blue transparent liquid. You almost choke as you realize what it is.

Hero drug doses. Hundreds, ready to use. You can sense the crowd looking at them as well, in anticipation.  

She steps forward, up to Psycopathor. Her suit seems to include a pair of mechanical arms with claws that seems deadly to anyone with skin. A faceless white mask with a golden crown on top of it looks onto the audience. The rest of the armor is covered by an elaborate black dress over it, though it’s layers are still revealed where it’s bare. You can tell high tech from miles away and this is top-notch.  She has clearly spent a fortune on it.

She taps something in her mask -possibly activating the mic- and speaks in a clear, warm voice. A distorter is clearly at work.

“My brothers and sisters! Thank you for joining us tonight. I know it is difficult to reach this spot, but it is what the government has reduced us to. Hiding in the shadows, while we struggle to perform the work that they have refused to do for decades. But we never surrender!”

The crowd cheers loudly at that.

“Thank you… thank you” she goes on as the cheering dies out. “Tonight, as was foretold by our precognitive allies, we take the first step towards a new beginning as a species! Yes, my brothers! The time for ascension has come!”

You’re not sure what “Ascension” means but when a madman speaks about it to a room full of fanatics over tables full of hero drugs it sounds really concerning.

“This…” she says motioning to the machine “...is the culmination of three decades of study on one particular problem. How to materialize a boost without risk to human life.” you can sense every single mind enthralled by her words “For a long, like others, I worked in perfecting the drugs themselves. It took me a long time to realize, there is nothing wrong with the chemistry of it. It is not the drugs, but the human body which is at fault. Only now, I have the means to correct this injustice!”

Two women whom you can only assume to be her lab assistants walk on stage and begin operating the device.

“Not every individual exposed to our holy drugs can produce every power. Each strand of DNA is unique and will react differently, we’ve known that for a long time. These individuals…” she now focuses on the hostages to her left “... each of them possesses unique DNA strands that prevent them from developing dozens deadly boost, the kind that would cause immediate death. These others…” she turns to the other half of them “...have each developed antibodies that make them immune to different hero drug reactions that would poison their bodies in a matter of hours. However, individually, none of them stand a chance to be immune to hero-drugs. They just have a better chance than average, that’s all.”

Your mind finally grasps the reason behind Void and Psycopathor’s kidnappings. They weren’t taking boosts at random... they only wanted ones with complete medical records for Mother’s crazy experiment. She’s truly the one behind this all.

“Oh no,” you whisper realizing what she’s about to do. Elyise frowns as Mother Superior’s exposition reaches its high point.

“However, if all of their uniqueness was to be combined into one individual,” she says as she approaches the seat by the central device “... then complete immunity would be achieved.”

“Shit,” Elyise says. She now realizes it too. The crowd has gone completely silent by now.

“You shall all be witness to my ascension. I will drain what I need from them, produce a hybrid DNA infusing their life energy with my own. I will make my body a temple ready to receive the gifts of our greatest evolutionary science!  Once I undergo Ascension, I will be Immune to the danger of our sacred Drugs. I will become more than human! I will be an angel from the heavens, able to take on as many powers as I choose to boost myself with… and I will invite everyone here to drink from this chalice  after me!”

The crowd erupts in deafening, fanatical cheering of their self-proclaimed savior angel.

“We, are made of light, and today, we all become better! Today, we all shine together! Today, we become gods!” she cries out to her followers.

Psycopathor seems interested as he observes… maybe he’s even considering it as well. Just what the world needs.

“She’s gone completely nuts. We need to stop her long enough for the rangers to get here” you say bringing Elyise back to earth.

“I’ll distract her. You just find a way to show the rangers the way.”

“Distract her? How are you going to…”

But she’s already walking towards Mother Superior, making her way through the crowd.

“You are not a prophet or an angel. You’re no savior! You’re just lying to all of these people! You will only bring death!!”

Mother stops her speech turning towards Elyise as she climbs the stairs onto the stage.

“So you wish to interrupt me, young one. Why don’t you tell us all your name?”

“Gladly!” she answers, removing the robes in a swift motion letting the crowd gasp at the reveal.

The villain studies her up and down.

“Elyise… I should’ve known. You’ve been tracking me and my church for years now.”

“Let me take care of her” Psycopathor says walking forward, ready to take her down right there. Elyise raises an arm preparing her powers, but Mother motions for Psycopathor to stop.

“Stop. Let the fool say her piece. This ought to be interesting” she says with soft laughter, the crowd focused completely on the stage. “I’m attempting to stop the killing and bring a new age of free access to boosted powers to mankind. What right do you have to stop me?”

“You’re insane, and you’re dangerous.  You are making everyone believe they can be boosted when you know it’s a lie! You hear me?” she speaks to the crowd ”She’ll just get you all killed!”

The crowd doesn’t respond the way she expects tough, eyeing her with hostility. They’ve bought Mother’s lies for a long time now to trust a complete stranger over her.

“You’re wrong, hero. No matter the lies of the government, I know everyone CAN be boosted, and I’m the one who will make it happen. Lead mankind into its next stage! It is the only logical consequence of human intellect. Artifical, endless, precious evolution”  

“You’re killing people! Is that part of  your vision too?”

“Necessary sacrifices! So-called Heroes like you have far more blood on your hands, and you will bring no end to the scourge of boosted deaths. Only I can make hero-drugs safe for everyone!”

“Your vision? Don’t make me laugh. You’re just a fake, a liar, and you are… you are...“ her voice breaks.

“And what.? Can’t even finish your own insults?” she says laughing again

“... you are a murderer!  A terrible person. And a horrible mother!” Elyise says defiantly, removing her mask.

Mother steps back clearly shocked, and uncomfortable silence lasting for a few seconds. “R.. Riley?!”

Wow. You knew something was up between those two but you didn’t see this coming... A second reveal?! And she’s her daughter? That’s just nuts.

No one stops you as you make your way to the control booth since as far as distractions go, Elyise has gone above and beyond.

“Elyise… Riley… Was that some sort of failed attempt at an anagram?” Mother seems to say finally regaining some momentum.  “Nevermind child… It doesn’t really matter. What do you expect to accomplish?”

“You know precisely what I’m doing. I’m ending this madness!”

“Selfish brat! Can’t see beyond yourself and your misguided feelings! You should be helping me! You know the importance of my work! Why I have to do this!”

“The only thing I ever learned from you is that you need to be stopped!”

“Stopped? You can stop me, ingrate! I’ve almost delivered my dream! After tonight, boosted deaths will be a thing of the past!!”

“And how many will you kill for this?” Elyise points at the hostages behind her “How many will it be this time Mother? Have you told them about your OTHER experiments? Have you showed them how many of them failed?!” she says turning to the cultists who look like they’re caught inside some sort of soap-opera dimension. Some do actually seem a bit unsure now.

“All will be will be worth it after tonight!” she says in a confident, reassuring, angelical voice.

“You experimented on me! Your own daughter!”

“I made you BETTER! That is what everyone wants. You just can’t appreciate the gift for what it is! If anything you’re proof of my abilities! You have some of the strongest powers i’ve ever given to anyone!”

You finally reach the tech-booth. As fascinating as this is, you need to actually tell Ortega where you are Elyise’s family reunion will go badly.

“Move,” you say holding a hand over the guy’s shoulder. Your tone is soft, but the mental command is irresistible. He simply stands and joins the others as they watch the scene, Elyise (Or Riley) and Mother throwing barbs at each other.

It takes a few moments to find the Jammer controls and deactivate it, setting up a beacon instead, hoping the rangers will find it. You manage to turn off the alarms too.

You focus on the rest of the systems and realize you can access Mother’s DNA machine from here. The computer shows the status of each of the hostages' slabs, and the patient's life signs are indeed dropping as the process has already begun some time ago. The devices must definitely be extracting something out of them and concentrating it on the central device for Mother’s “Ascension”.  You have to be quick, yet you’ve no idea how this. The first few attempts at canceling the extraction fail, as prompts immediately pop up stating that it can’t be done at this stage.

Your fingers race trough the keyboard exploring alternative routes and nothing seems to work until…

You can sense the mind standing behind you. Masked among the crowd, he approached knowing you’d be distracted. Your hand reaches for your targeting scrambler but he is faster, holding your wrist.

“Stay still and don’t do anything stupid. Nobody knows you’re here, at least not yet”

“Void” you grumble.

“Oh, not calling me Nath anymore Sidestep?” he says mockingly.

“Why are you helping madmen? I thought you were in it for the money”

“There is money in this. More than you’d possibly think”

“Well I'm stopping it,” you say ready to rain fists upon his face

“You’re too late. I’ve already done that” he says tapping the screen. Your gaze turns to it, and you can see one of the pods is reporting a critical error… and then another.. And another. All of the patient’s slabs are failing, one after another as the process reaches 50%. “I set a virus to shut it down after half of it is complete so Mother won’t be able to tell the difference. It’s going to be a blast when she fucks up her own DNA up on that machine for all her followers to see.”

“You sabotaged this?” you say incredulously “What’s your angle?”

“So many angles. I’ve been paid by Mother to help keep her base secure, I got paid by Psycopathor to help him on the kidnappings. Also, I'm getting paid by three different lobbies that want Mother’s illegal research into hero-drug immunity to fail publically. Big-Pharma shares would crumble if suddenly anyone could get boosted without risks And I’m keeping a copy of her research too, in case I need a bargaining chip later, so I might get paid again later If I find the right buyer. All in all, it’s been VERY good business to visit in this hell-hole.”

“So you’re betraying everyone at the same time. For an asshole, you’re really consistent. And you’re telling me this why?”

“Because I’m going to be extremely rich. So, rich, I could even afford to forgive you. One last chance. We could be a team again. Join me, we get out of here together, and forget about all that nonsense” he says motioning to the escalating confrontation

Your gaze falls upon Elyise, who’s keeping back a few cultists with a telekinetic shield as Mother commands them to capture her, then back to Void.

“You know I won’t do that”

He sighs and pats your back, which makes you cringe on the seat.

“Suit yourself. When you realize your mistake it’ll be too late... Anyways, I’m leaving. Between you and me, I don’t think Psycopathor will the patient once Mother’s big experiment fails, so if you want to save anyone I'd hurry up,” he says turning and walking away before disappearing as his cloaking device activates.

As he goes out of sight, Psycopathor steps forward, going through Elyise’s telekinetic barrier and punches her chest while Mother simple observes how her own daughter is sent flying into the crowd.

She sits on the central device’s chair, steepling both pairs of hands in a decidedly diabolical gesture.

“Beggin Ascension” she orders her assistants who promptly remove a piece of her armors back, needles coming into her exposed skin while Psycopathor jumps down the stage approaching the fallen hero. The crowd moves out of his way.

“Shitshitshitshit,” you let out before rushing to stand in his way, taking off your hood and robe, not very sure about what to do next as he stares at you with incredulity before giving you a murderous smile.

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

My fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

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

[deviant3lover]

Sidestep asks: 3,17 & 32?

3. What is their villain name? Why did they choose it?

Knight. Both as a play on ‘blood knight’ and the morals he still upholds as a villain. He won’t target civilians. 

Of course, it’s a placeholder name for now… 

When he confronts his abusers, his true villain name reverberates throughout the nets of their fearful minds: 

Hericide. 

(He didn’t choose this name yet because it would reveal too much about him as a villain. Besides, he’s been out of the fighting scene for years: Hericide is too forceful for him to have done justice in his debut. 

Consider it a late-career name change if he ever goes down that particular line of theatrics. 

Certain conditions have to be met to achieve that, but right now, he’s enjoying the process that comes with gaining enough infamy to make something as innocuous as ‘Knight’ become a word associated with power, respect, and dread.)

17. What is their ultimate goal?

Revenge against his abusers. They’ve gotten away with too much. Especially ‘Mother.’

…at least, that’s what he’s aiming for as of Retribution. He never intended to live beyond their deaths. His run-in with Ortega at the diner threw a wrench in his plans. 

(He’s still furious at himself for that stupid slip-up.)

If there’s a Redemption arc on the horizon, depending on how things play out, he’ll have a new goal that’s far more wide-scale than his current one. Think at least state-wide for size and scope.

32. Do they favour forceful mind control or subtle manipulations?

Subtle Manipulations baby. He favours its versatility compared to outright forcing and attacking others with Strength of Mind. Experiencing either can have the target brush it off as a weird experience, but Markus prefers to be cautious and will choose Subtle to lower the chances of anyone adding up clues. 

Subtle has much potential, and he’s actively practicing it so that his telepathic manipulations go unnoticed: both from his victim and anyone who’s checking for foul play.

On the other hand, if he wants someone particularly depraved to suffer, (e.g. Psycopathor) he’s more than willing to telepathically torture them with Strength of Mind.

[sky-scribbles]

Some Chargestep cuddling for warmth because it’s cold, I’m sappy, and I was begged to write it. ~1400 words, nb!Sidestep x m!Ortega, Sidestep days, Ortega POV. Tw: mentions of canon-typical injury.

You hate waking from unconsciousness. But this isn’t so bad.

There’s no pitched battle seething around you, like usual. Instead there are arms, familiar arms, holding you still as you move to rise. A groan slops from your lips and the arms squeeze tighter. A voice says, ‘It’s okay. I got you.’

You breathe, blink, and the grey fuzz of your vision resolves itself. Into Wren. They’re kneeling, mask off, face smeared with bruises, and you’re draped over their lap with your head against their arm. The dull concrete walls of a warehouse surround you, and the air against your face is cold - but Wren, Wren is warm.

‘Hey,’ you manage, and their lips flicker into a smile.

‘Don’t move,’ they say.

Their eyes are fixed not on your face, but on your arms, where they’ve peeled back your suit to above your elbows. A tangle of cables snakes from the exposed ports across the room and into a fuse box. It’s a bizarre awakening, finding yourself at the centre of a labyrinth of wires, like you’re the product of a bizarre summoning circle.

(Your suit is unzipped at the back, too, baring the spinal ports. Which means the skin there is separated from Wren’s skin only by their coat and suit. Your breathing hitches in a way that’s nothing to do with the beating you took.)

‘Your mods went into overload.’ Wren’s arms uncoil from around you, and you almost grab them before they can let go. But they move too fast, and your limbs are too heavy, and a second later they’ve propped you against the cold of the wall, not the warmth of their lap. ‘I dragged you here, dug up some cables, and plugged you into the mains. Switched on your emergency venting.’

‘Mierda,’ you say, with feeling. Because that’s closer than even you usually come to death. ‘What would I do without you?’

‘All kinds of dumb shit.’

This time, you catch the nervous tremble of their lip, so you squeeze their arm. ‘Wouldn’t want that. Thanks, Wren.’

They look away, wrapping their arms around their body as if your gratitude is somehow dangerous. ‘Epsilon got away. You fried her armour with that last hit, and she ran. I could have gone after her, but you were…’

They gesture at your jury-rigged charging ports, your bloodied knuckles, your bruised face.

‘Don’t beat yourself up. Not for saving my ass.’ You give their arm one last squeeze before letting them go. ‘I mean, it’s a good one. Someone’s gotta keep it intact.’

Wren rolls their eyes, but there’s the faintest of smiles on their face as they reach down to detach the wires. ‘You’re back to full capacity. If you’re okay to move, and you’re not too worried about your ass, we should get after her.’

You push yourself a little more upright. ‘Wait. How long was I out?’

‘A few hours. It’s past midnight.’ Wren doesn’t look up from the cables. ‘I let her get away, and now she’s ahead of us, we need to –’

‘Have you slept?’

This time they do look up, and you know those eyes well enough to see the tiredness in them. ‘No. She might have come back to finish the job.’

You’re still groggy, because your body feels how nearly it died – but that’s not what makes you shake your head. It’s the darkness seeping in through the windows, the fact that you’re close enough to the desert and deep enough into winter that the night is biting. That Wren’s shivering under their coat. That they stayed awake for hours, cradling you, guarding you, keeping you warm.

‘Not a chance,’ you say, and pat the floor beside you. ‘You need to sleep.’

‘That could give her time to fix her armour -’

‘And it gives you a chance to not fight her half-asleep.’ They hesitate, and you roll your eyes. ‘Jesus, Wren. You don’t get to keep my dumb ass alive if you won’t let me keep your dumb ass alive.’

A half-second where they hover, biting their lip, watching you. Then they tuck their gun back into their belt and slump onto the floor beside you. ‘Ricardo Ortega, are you seriously arguing for caution?’

‘Where you’re concerned, yeah. Always.’

They raise their eyebrows, and you shrug and smile. Some things are not negotiable. Wren’s safety is one of them.

(You found that out after Psycopathor. After the way they screamed as the wreckage shifted and crushed them further into the ground.

Did they feel like that today? Burn like that, hearing you cry out, watching you fall?)

They fold their mask into a pillow and curl into a ball, drawing their knees against their chest. Still shivering, and you roll your eyes. ‘Wren. Don’t lie there on your own, it’s freezing.’

‘I’m good.’

You’re not having that. ‘Well, I’m cold.’

You lift one arm, and they glare at you for a second, then huff. ‘Do not make this weird.’

Which, fair. You kissed those bruised lips, after you dug Wren from the rubble. And then you never talked about it, because you were too afraid to hear them tell you it was a mistake, a brief madness, it won’t happen again. You’ve kept up the flirting and the grins, and Wren hasn’t stopped you. But every day you both act as if you never found out what it was like to feel the other’s breath in your lungs. That definitely qualifies as weird. 

But Wren shifts over anyway, rests their head against you, lets you drape your arm over their shoulders.

They’re a quick sleeper. A few minutes and their breathing’s different, slower, softer. And you hold them against you, wishing things weren’t weird so that you could play with their hair a little. You settle for watching their face, mapping out imaginary constellation-lines between their moles. An hour in, and the rhythm of your breathing has steadied to match theirs. You’re not close enough to feel their heartbeat but you can somehow sense it, as if every inch of your body has attuned to them.

It occurs to you that you’d really, really like to kiss them again.

But even more, you want to not do it, so they can sleep. You want to let Wren rest, hold them and feel their heartbeat, not because you think they’re fragile but because you know they’re strong. And you want them to be strong when you find Epsilon again, because then they can’t be hurt. You want them to never hurt again. You want  –

Shit, you want so much. You want everything. You don’t ever want your lungs to stop matching Wren’s breathing. You want to stroke their hair away from their face. You want to warm their body against yours until they forget what it was ever like to be cold.

A breath leaves you, slow, crystallising in the air before dispersing. It’s cold, and Wren’s warm, and you –

- You’re in love with them, of course.

Now how the hell did that happen?

Wren stirs in their sleep, and you let out another breath. Later. Later, you’ll give a damn. Later you’ll second-guess and soul-search and flail over what you’re supposed to do about this. But right now Wren is asleep against you and there are goosebumps running through your insides, and you’re smiling, you’re full, and you love them.

And maybe you run your thumb over their cheek. Ever so slightly. Barely enough to feel the friction of their skin against yours.

When they stir awake a few hours later, there’s a moment where they look at you. And you’re still looking at them, and you both know why you’re looking, and it would be so easy to lean a little closer and –

But you’re pretty sure that would qualify as making it weird, so you just smile and bop their forehead with one finger.

And it doesn’t feel all that strange, walking out into the morning together, laughing with them and fighting with them and knowing that you love them. You’ll deal with it later, so for now it just feels a little breathless, and a little cosy. Like jolting from unconsciousness into warm and waiting arms.

[fallenhero-rebirth]

Who caused the most damage to life and property overall? A.-Catastrofiend, B.- Psycopathor, C.- Heartbreak, D.- The Nanosurge or E.- Hollow Ground?

D

[ladyintheattic]

yo i’ve been writing alot this month and all i can think of is my poor pre-heartbreak sidestep dealing with the fact she actually has friends haha

_______________ ship: none (barely implied chargestep) words: 1,541 tags: f!sidestep, pre-heartbreak, pre-psycopathor battle, canon typical violence tw: trauma?? possibly ptsd stuff?? ————————–

It was a mistake. You messed up. Misstepped.

The man was probably drunk. Seemed like an alright guy, if your careful scan of all the bar’s patronages upon your entering can be trusted. If it can be trusted. He must have been tripping, falling over his laces, grabbed for your elbow, wanting to be steady, wanting the room to stop spinning.

You bet it spun worse when you flipped him, throwing him over your shoulder into another patron’s table, cracking it in two. You hadn’t meant to; it had been instinct. Reflex.

Your heart stops, your mind finally catching up with your body. The table had hardly finished breaking into splinters before you felt someone’s hand gather up your collar, yanking you upwards, upwards into the face of a man twice your size. The drunk man has a friend. Your feet dangle inches off the floor, and you taste his breath as he snarls at you, his face too close. You also taste ozone.

Ortega’s fist is a blur, and so’s your new enemy’s head. You hear Anathema yelling on your right, and you wonder for a split second if you can somehow stop this imbroglio: halt the ensuing chaos. A foolish thought. You’ve messed up. You’ve messed up, and now you have to pay for it.

Mistakes are not to be tolerated.

You tug your bandana over your nose, hearing the man’s head make a painful sound as it collides with the bar. Chairs scraping the floor as others stand, every muscle in every body in the filthy old bar tense and ready to fight. They don’t know what they’re in for: who they’re looking at. Or maybe they do, and are just too excited or stupid to understand how outmatched they are.

“Come and get it, pendejos.” Ortega’s grinning, but it’s not the same gleeful one he normally wears to bar-fights. He’s usually the one who picks them, so often you swear it’s damn near a hobby or a pastime for him. This grin is wrong, manic. Angry.

They do. They do ‘come and get it’. The noise is overwhelming: fists everywhere, chairs flying, bottles breaking against skulls, screams as Anathema’s acid eats through someone’s skin. Reflexes kicking in once more, you find yourself landing hits; surface-reading the minds of your combatants just fast enough for you to dodge, block, dance around the damage. You’re good at this, at fighting multiple opponents, it’s what you’ve trained for, but even you would’ve ended up a bloody smear on the floor without the Rangers’ help.

You make out the solid presence of Steel behind you as your kick sends someone somersaulting over another table. Ortega on your left, Anathema on your right. You’re boxed in. Defended.

Protected.

The crack of wood against body startles you out of your reflections. To the far left, past a pile of chairs and bodies, you catch the last moments of a man crumbling, collapsing onto the cold floor, the remains of a table laying in pieces all around him. Ortega’s work no doubt.

You freeze. Everyone freezes. The room is silent but for the odd shuffle of nervous feet or the huffing of a particularly heavy breather nearby. It seems Ortega’s last act of brutality sent them back to their senses. You’re still not sure if you’re back to yours.

Almost before your mind can catch up with this second wave of shifting mood, Steel steps out form behind you, fists already unclenched and a face passive, but firm. “Everyone stay put,” he pulls his badge from his pocket and nudges Ortega to do the same. Anathema follows. “We need to sort this out.” His eyes flick to Ortega’s a for a split moment. “Officially this time.”

You can’t help it:  you feel yourself slinking back behind Steel and Ortega’s taller, more noticeable forms. It’s no good. Face still covered, you still feel the heat of the stares, hot like high-powered laser pistols. Your skin crawls, prickling like needles. You don’t produce a badge like your compatriots, you can’t, and you can feel the whole crowd taking note if it. Fuck.

Steel has already moved into action, Ortega at his hip, standing at the bar talking to the barkeep, who is also probably the owner, and probably wanting to keep this whole Rangers incident as off-the-books as possible; Ranger fights in your pub can’t be good for business. You wonder if they will oblige him. You wonder if they’ll clean this up. Clean up your blunder. You doubt it.

“This will not do.” A cold sweat breaks out over your brow. A mistake. An error. A mess. The Directive will not stand of it. Many more of these, and you will be up for some reeducation. Up for poking, prodding, cutting. Cutting away. Changing you.

“Your performance was… less than adequate. You make mistakes like this out there… well, we can’t have that.” No movement. Hardly even breathing. You know better than to try and excuse it or explain yourself. Or attempt to apologize. Apologies don’t happen here. Being sorry isn’t encouraged. After all, tools can’t be sorry.

“Never. Again. Do you understand, Unit B74-”

Hand on your shoulder, you nearly jump, nearly attempt the same over-the-shoulder move you had implemented on the stumbling drunk man. You’re glad you don’t, although you feel your heart in your throat. It’s Anathema, looking at you with an odd, pinched look across her features. “You alright Becky?” She tugs gently on your bandana, though not enough to pull it down, she knows better. “Are you hurt?”

“I understa- I mean. Yeah I’m. Fine.” The cracks in your voice surprise you, as does the hammering of your heartbeat in your ears.

“You look really pale,” her hands find yours as she attempts to lead you to one of the few upright chairs. “And you’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.” You pull your hands from hers; you can’t sit down yet. Too much adrenaline still pumps through your veins. Too much fear. No one had a camera on did they? No one pulled out their phone and started recording the fight for some soon-to-be-chain-email, right? Did anyone note your face? Would any of them recognize you if they say you on the street now? What about the bar’s security cameras? What if someone-

“You’re not fine,” startling again, you feel her sharp gaze looking your face over despite most of it still being covered. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I-”

“Beck!” Ortega is at your side, his arm gently brushing against you. You can practically feel the effort he’s exerting to keep his hand out of yours. “We think we’ve got all this sorted out,” his mouth spreads into an all-too-familiar smug smile. “The Rangers gotta shell out a bit of cash for the chairs and tables, but other than that it’s like nothing even happened here.”

You’re frozen again. Wait, so the Rangers are going to waste money on this? Is that even allowed: you aren’t even a Ranger, and only debuted as Sidestep a few months ago. It’s not like you’re particularly valuable to them, at least not yet.

“But… Can you? Do that?”

“Of course!” He raises his hand to his chest in mock indignation. “I’m the marshal, and I’ve had a few more bar-fights than you I’ll bet. Not the first time Wei’s had to deal with cleanup either.” He winks past you, at Steel, who only gives an annoyed grunt in return.

“Yeah, but-” You stop yourself. Why are you arguing with them? Probably because you don’t believe it; when you do things wrong you get punished for them, not just by the Directive, but also by life in general. Life doesn’t work like this, at least not for you.

No one has ever done something like this for you… but then again, you’ve never had friends that would jump headlong into a bar-fight for you either. Never had friends before.

“It’s really okay Becky,” Anathema nods over to Steel. “We saw the whole thing. We know how it is: sometimes you get jumpy, instincts kick in and, well, this is usually the result.” She shrugs, as though she were talking about breaking a mug or slipping on ice. As though it was fine, expected, normal.

“I was getting tired of this dive-bar anyway,” Ortega claps and hand on your shoulder, almost knocking you over for how faint you feel. “And it’s still pretty early, so lets try the next place! I heard one opened last week a few blocks down!

Nod. You’re trying to nod, or smile under the bandana, or do anything. You can’t. You’re body is still waiting. Waiting for the punishment. The fear still hasn’t run its coarse, but something new is blooming in your chest. You can’t name the feeling, or even describe it.

All you know is that you want to cry.

“Th… Thank you, guys.” You swallow hard. “And… sorry. About the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he gives you a light shake and a wink before letting your shoulder free, heading for his jacket he has slung over the bar. “We’re a team nowadays aren’t we?”

Finally. Finally, you smile. “If you say so, old man.”

[punkranger]

The bruises are the easy part

Sidestep days, Chargestep, 2.3 k. Some mention of injuries and self-surgery, but mostly I'd just warn for the awkwardness...

Ortega and Antoine get back to training after the Psycopathor fight and try to (badly) navigate whatever the hell their relationship is after they kissed.

You walk into the Ranger Headquarters' training room a little later than usual. The wound you got from the car Psycopathor threw on you hasn’t quite healed yet, but you were finally able to remove the stitches so it should be fine to start training.

You think.

It’s not like you have been able to consult an actual doctor, you just sewed yourself up and hoped it wouldn’t get infected. The fact that you actually spent time in bed to let it heal is more than you usually do, but Ortega had called you to say that you wouldn’t be let into the Ranger Headquarters for a week; to make sure you stayed at home. At first you’d just resigned yourself to staying at home, but after a few days you’d started contemplating trying to sneak in. In the end you decided against it since it would have just ended with Ortega walking you home and you were definitely not ready for that yet.

You’re not even sure you’re ready to see him now, not after what happened after the fight…

...the pain spikes for a moment and you almost pass out. At first, you think Psycopathor had gotten back up again, but then the pain lessens and you realize the pressure on your legs is gone and light is shining behind your closed eyelids.

When you open your eyes you’re blinded for a moment by the sun, then it’s covered by a familiar face - dark tan, with too brown eyes, though without the usual confident smile. Ortega’s brows are furrowed in concern, but his eyes are relieved, as if he’d expected something truly bad.

“There you are, seems like I saved your bacon again… ” Ortega’s voice disappears for a moment as he helps you up. The world turns black for a moment and you bite your lip until you taste blood. He holds you close, keeping you supported while your vision slowly returns and the pain recedes to a dull throbbing in your leg.

When you've recovered a little you attempt to move away, because being embraced like this is starting to feel more than awkward. Even though moving causes the pain in your leg to flare up again, it's preferable to feeling Ortega’s warm body so close to yours, one arm around your waist and one on your arm, your body pressed to his side, his thin skinsuit hiding nothing…

You try to move anyway, but you almost lose your balance before Ortega catches you.

"Shit, are you okay? Antoine?!"

"I can stand on my own." You say, attempting, out of habit, to push him away. But Ortega doesn't budge, nor does he tease you as he usually does, pointing out that you clearly can't stand on your own. Instead he keeps looking at you with that expression of mixed worry and relief. Or that's what you think it is, you can't read his mind and you've never seen that expression on his face before.

"But you don't have to." Ortega says, smiling a little and you lose your train of thought as he puts a hand on your cheek, bringing your faces closer. He keeps looking at you with that expression that you can’t place.

“What?”

"I want to kiss you…" He whispers. You barely hear the nervous tremor in his voice over the sound of your own heartbeat roaring in your ears. It takes you a second to even realize what he'd said, but when he continues there's no doubt.

"I've never kissed a man before."

"Scared?" You taunt him, to avoid your own nervousness, thoughts racing yet your mind is completely blank. You’ve got nothing to lose, why are you so nervous? It’s just a kiss.

"No." He smiles and you don't know if he's lying. Does it matter? It’s just a kiss. It’s just a kiss and Ortega is just your friend. Just? One friend is more than you’ve ever had…

That’s why you didn’t expect your flirting to lead to anything… aren’t expecting this to lead to anything…

It’s not just a kiss though, and Ortega is not just your friend.

Then Ortega kisses you and you forget everything about what it could mean for the future...

...But that means you have to deal with the consequences now instead.

However, it’s Ortega who looks more nervous to see you. For a moment you see him freeze, then he covers it with a frown.

“You shouldn’t be here yet, your leg looked pretty bad.”

“It’s fine now, see.” You make sure to not wince when you deliberately walk around to demonstrate, putting your whole weight on the wounded leg too.

Ortega doesn't look convinced, but you’re relieved he’s keeping to this, much safer, subject. You also try to keep your thoughts on the present. And not look at how tight his shirt is.

"Did you go to the doctor like I told you?" Ortega asks worriedly, he hadn't been able to go with you as he had to deal with the aftermath of the battle. "I'm sorry I couldn't go with-"

"Ric, it's fine, I know. Besides, it really wasn't as bad as it looked." You don't say anything about not going to the doctor, hoping he won't ask again and force you to lie. Because you doubt he'd be pleased to hear you'd gone home and sewn yourself up before passing out on the floor for a few hours.

He doesn't ask again, but he looks at you skeptically.

"You know, as Marshal I could throw you out for disobeying orders." He says, but his expression is no longer serious as he starts walking towards you.

You just snort, standing your ground, even when he steps up so close that you have to look up at him.

"I don't work for you. Also, you're gonna look like a hypocrite doing that, when you're never in bed more than a day after getting hurt."

"Maybe so, I'll take that if it means I can get you to rest, though."

"I don't need rest, I need to get back in shape." You glare at him, then take a step back, tossing your bag aside and getting into a fighting stance. "How about you fight me, and if you win I'll go home and rest."

Ortega looks like he's going to turn you down first, but you see his eyes light up - he can't resist the challenge.

"And if you win? Not that that is likely of course." He taunts you, with a big cat-like grin, but you easily ignore it.

"Since you think it's so unlikely; If I win, I'll get an undisclosed favour from the Marshal." You smile back and wink. That seems to get to Ortega - he flounders and doesn’t answer for a while, then he nods, face looking slightly flushed. Feeling triumphant for more than one reason, you prepare yourself-

But Ortega is already moving forward.

"Hey, don't cheat!" You yell, barely sidestepping his attack as he throws himself at you.

"Having trouble keeping up, eh? Perhaps you should take a rest!"

As usual Ortega tries to rile you up, it's as much a part of his strategy as anything else he does. You don't have any trouble returning in kind, however, as you let your body do the thinking, retaliating by reflex and scoring a hit since he's left himself open in his haste.

"I think you're the one who has trouble keeping up, old man!"

Or so you thought, your hit is merely glancing as he twists away at the last second. You’re ready for his next attack though, slipping through his grasp easily and ending up behind him.

He throws himself away at the last second, getting some distance between you and turning to face you just as you come up to him again. You notice your leg is already beginning to slow you down.

So you take to holding your place, grappling with him instead of moving around him like you usually do.

It's far from ideal and of course he takes note of it.

"Getting tired already?" Ortega taunts, though you notice a strange hesitance in the way he moves. Is he afraid to hurt you because you’re wounded?

"I'm not tired, I just thought I'd go easy on you."

Ortega grins at your obvious blustering. Thinking he's won, he tries to take you down.

But you're ready for it, and not as tired as you made it seem. So you're the one who ends up on top when you both fall to the floor. You quickly pin Ortega’s arms down.

"I win!" You declare triumphantly and Ortega laughs, looking up at you with a far too pleased expression. You look at him suspiciously, daring him to make a move.

“Alright, let me go then and name your price." He says.

You don't release him, instead you make a show of thinking about it. To be honest you hadn't thought of any price, you just needed to win so that you wouldn't be sent home. Although there is something you want…

"A kiss perhaps?" You almost fall over when Ortega speaks exactly what you'd been thinking. You don't know if he's joking or what you should answer. Do you want it? Yes. Does it matter what his intentions are?

Your grip on his wrists have loosened enough that he can move his arms. But he doesn’t try to get up, just winds one arm behind your neck.

Pulling you down.

Your hands are in his hair now and you stare into his eyes - they look equally as terrified and excited as you feel…

For about half a second you contemplate running away. But you squash that feeling down. You’re not running anymore.

Instead you kiss him.

It’s different this time. Less pain to distract you. Less desperate bravado on Ortega’s part, though you’re sure there’s still some, he wouldn’t have the guts to do this without the kick of adrenaline that’s left from your sparring.

Nevertheless it feels good. A trail of static follows in the wake of his hands, down your neck, your lower back…

Somewhere in the back of your head, alarmed thoughts are swirling around, yelling stop, he’s too close, you’re leaving yourself open… But those thoughts are drowned out by the impenetrable calming buzz that is Ortega’s mind.

You have to pull away eventually, however. To catch your breath and to keep yourself from getting completely lost.

When you do, you see Ortega looking just as dazed as you feel.

That’s new. Interesting. Seeing his expression after is almost as good as the kiss itself and you can’t keep the smile from your face.

Ortega mirrors your expression, then laughs a little awkwardly, but doesn’t look away from you. Eventually you have to look away, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

You kissed Ortega, again. Did it mean anything?

“Hey… so…”

You look back at Ortega, who’s looking about as confused as you feel. That’s good, at least you’re not the only one.

“That happened…” Ortega continued.

“Yeah…” What do you even say in this situation? What do normal people say in this situation? You’d have thought Ortega would know.

Perhaps you should just ignore it then, and continue as usual.

“Back to training?” You say, preparing to get up, which is not the easiest task, since sometime while kissing you’ve both gotten quite tangled up.

Ortega raises a brow, half a smile on his lips.

“Sure… but are you ready for it?”

“Of course.” You glare at him - he’s not going to still worry about your injury is he? Admittedly your leg is feeling a bit stiff and the painkillers you took earlier might be wearing off but...

Your thoughts are interrupted as the world suddenly turns upside down.

Ortega looks down on you with a grin.

"Getting a little lax are we? Guess I win after all!" He says, eyes glinting in an especially infuriating way.

"I had already won!" You move to take him down again, he's not pinning you down, but he still manages to keep you down.

"I guess we both win then…" He says, leaning down, then stops. You have a split second thought of headbutting him, then you pull him down the rest of the way.

You feel slightly miffed because you have a feeling he’s distracting you from the fact that you’re not getting back to the training.

But you don’t mind it that much.

BANG!

The door bursts open and a cheerful voice enters at the same time.

"GOOD MORNING- oh!" Anathema trails off as he sees the two of you on the floor and then his already bright smile widens.

"Well, well, well! The Marshal and the Vigilante huh! I can already see it," He gestures in front of him, as if envisioning a big movie-theater title, "It'll be terrible for sure, but I'd go to the premiere anyway because apparently that's what I have to do to find out two of my best friends are dating!"

While Themmy's theatrical monologue continues, you attempt to dislodge Ortega, but as Anathema says the last part both of you freeze.

"We're not dating!" You say at the same time as Ortega says "We're just training as usual."

Themmy looks between you with a look of utter disbelief. "Sure, and I'm Lord Ember in disguise actually."

You and Ortega get up, speaking over each other.

"Actually I forgot something at home-"

"I've got to finish some paperwork-"

You hurry out, barely managing to avoid bumping into Ortega in the doorway, then he heads off to the showers and you go toward the exit while trying to not look like you're fleeing.

Neither of you say anything as you part and you try not to think about how much more awkward things are going to be tomorrow.

[fallenhero-rebirth]

Do we/Sidestep have any information on the Rat King's origins? it doesn't seem like Psycopathor would've had the skills to engineer them, so did he find them somewhere? or does his psi-sensitivity give him the skills he needed to make them?

The Rat-Kings origin is a mystery, they remember a lab, but Psychopathor was the one that stole them and brought them into the outside world.

[fallenhero-rebirth]

So, Psycopathor vs Catastrofiend, who would win?? and how much destruction would they cause in the fight?

Hmmm I would have to say the Catastrofiend, and the damage would be huge. No holds barred there, and Psychopathor tends to cause property damage in the millions.

[chaniters]

Training Montage

Next part of @kruk-art’s Awan Cormac fic.

Heavy Chargestep in the Ranger’s training room.

 Anathema in here too. 

Mild spoilery stuff 

Enjoy!!

___________________________________

You gasp for breath, lying motionless on the ground. That actually hurt. 

“I DID IT!!!!” Anathema cheers loudly. “I really did it!”

“Of course you did” you grin weakly “Ouch”

“Darn are you ok?” he says turning to you

“Yeah, I'm ok, don’t worry. That’s why we’re using a matt” 

Anathema extends a hand to you, smiling broadly. You get up only to get hugged

“Thanks!” he says

“Anytime” you chuckle. It’s weird but you never feel uncomfortable when he’s around. There’s something in his mind that inspires safety. That should make him dangerous in your book but it’s actually the other way around. Or perhaps you just enjoy taking a break from being suspicious of everyone and everything.  

“I need to take a break,” he says heading for the large couch by the pool.

“Oh you’re the one tired?” you say smiling.

“Well, it was me doing all the job! I was the one learning the throw, remember? All you had to do was fall flat on your ass”

“Fair point” you laugh taking a water bottle from the fridge. 

You always loved training, but you’ve never done this with an actual friend. The closest was learning with Nathaniel but he never really saw you as an equal. There’s something intoxicating about it. 

“What are you two up to?” a voice comes from the elevator. Ortega, wearing no shirt -because Ortega-, training shorts and a towel on his neck. 

“He just taught me the throw he did on Psycopathor!” Anathema answers excitedly.

“Oh, he did…?” 

“Yeap. I can throw anyone now. I don’t even need superpowers anymore.”

“That’s not fair!” he says turning to you, and stepping into the combat training matts the two of you assembled

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask 

“I want to learn that throw too. You know, for super-heroic purposes. Also, lots of people who need to be tossed around. ”

“You already have enhanced speed and strength. And you can fry opponents who get too close. Why even train martial arts?”

“There’s always someone stronger or faster than you. Just want to be ready, isn’t that why we train?” 

“It is” you concede 

“So teach me” he grins confidently, facing you.

“I don’t know... It’s getting late“ you say, though there’s no one else for you to be right now. Still, you start walking away. 

“Oh, I understand… I mean, I get it, if you’re not confident in your combat skill enough to teach me just because I'm stronger or faster than you then you don’t need to....”

You turn to face him again, your lips moving before your brain has time to process.

“Who said I'm not confident in my combat skill?!

“Well, I don’t know… You’ve been training with Anathema a lot, but you always leave when I come down here.  Sounds like you’re avoiding something. But it’s ok, you’re sort of good with martial arts,  and it’s probably easier to train with someone with your same build, losing’s not fun after all”

“Sort of good? Losing?” You say, venom dripping from your lips “You know what?  Maybe I can teach you that throw right now.”

“Maybe I can teach you a thing or two as well!” he says, the smile still stuck to his lips. It’s infuriating. 

“I doubt it. Also, I have terms. If I do this, I get to use this training room whenever I want. And I get free energy drinks from the fridge. And Steel doesn’t get to kick me out”

He flinches before smiling again.

“You know the fight with Steel I'll have about that?”

“Take it or leave it!”

“Fine, you’ve got a deal. But my Mom’s home meals in that fridge, are off bounds, you monster!”

“We’ll see about that,” you say as you motion for him to come closer. “Let’s go. Hit me”

“I won’t hold back” 

“It’d be your funeral if you did” you grin.

“Someone’s confidence is high. Let’s see how that holds up!” he charges at you.

He’s fast. Really really fast, very strong, and you can’t read his mind. On the other hand, his posture is sloppy, the attack reckless and his movements careless. 

You deflect him with an inner forearm block, immediately pulling his arm around with a circular motion as you move in, shoving your back against his chest as fast as you can, grab him by the shoulder, and then simply tip him over using his own impulse. 

He looks completely confused as he lies down on the matt. 

“Ow?” he asks tentatively. 

“Hey, that wasn’t the Psycopathor throw!” Anathema points out.

“You’re right. That wasn’t Aikido. It was Krav Maga”

“… how many martial arts do you know?” Ortega asks as he takes your offered arm and stands up.

You’d rather not answer that one. He really has no idea. “Let’s try again!” you say with a mischievous grin.  “This time I'll show you the actual throw”

You gon on explain the move, letting him do it on you a few times slowly. Then Anathema joins in, and they both practice together for a while before he heads towards the treadmills. 

You keep training with Ortega, and you’re surprised to find he’s a really fast learner, taking in the basic moves much faster than you expected.  

Minutes go by faster turning to hours. Anathema’s comings and goings are your only time measurement in here. He comes back to do some weights, then boxing practice against the punching ball, finally heading to the pool. Steel shows up to do some treadmill too, staying only for a short while, observing you an Ortega with mild disapproval before heading back to the quarter’s area. 

There’s something joyous about this that you can’t outright explain. It’s exhausting and you’re getting all manner of bruises by competing against Ortega’s mods (which he keeps apologizing for) but there’s nothing you’d rather be doing. Your mind starts to wander into the past, to the long training with Nathaniel and other instructors. 

But this is infinitely different. Even if you liked the training, it was always about punishments or rewards. Beat enough of your peers and Nathaniel would arrange for you to get the violin lessons you wanted. Fall down on your ass enough time, and you’d be downgraded for weeks. Be the worst, and you’d be the automatic volunteer for every experiment they needed. 

You really hated losing.

But there’s no punishment now. Training with him is its own reward. He looks so darn pleased when he gets a move right. Because you taught him. Because he actually likes you. 

A really close friend. You’ve both saved each other’s lives more than once now. 

You notice you’re losing focus as the training goes on. You can’t manage to time your breathing right, you’re getting clumsy and your stomach keeps tingling inexplicably. More worryingly, you don’t want it to stop.   

By the time Anathema comes back from the pool and sits on the couch to watch some TV you’re both exhausted. 

“One last round?” He asks panting

You just nod, too tired to speak. You walk to the center of the matt, and get ready, inviting him to try to attack you again, just like when you started. 

He comes at you with a feint to the side which you see coming, forcing you to step back. He throws a few punches, much shorter and fast this time, not giving you a chance to close in the distance. You take your time, until you see a mistake on his posture, and move in to try to knock him off his feet… 

… and then you’re lying on your back. It was so darn fast you couldn’t even see it. He did the Aikido throw on you.

He pins you down, holding your arms to the side as you struggle fruitlessly.

“HEY! ANNIE! I DID IT!” 

“What?” Anathema asks without taking his gaze from the TV

“I fucking got him! Look!” 

“Good on you Marshal,” Annie says dismissively.

“Noooooo you have to look!” he goes on, while you struggle fruitlessly under him. “I need a witness!”

Something’s definitely wrong, and you’re feeling weirded out by the second. 

His hands holding your wrists apart, his bare chest against you, his legs against yours…  It’s not the first time you’ve been pinned down but you’ve never felt this. Something’s making your stomach tingle and you’re getting really scared.

You’re panicking, and your struggle becomes more desperate.

“Hey hey, don’t be a sore loser!” he says turning to you, his leg rubbing against your thigh...and then both of you freeze on the spot.

 You’re trapped. Trapped in a way you’ve never felt before. He’s shocked because he’s clearly seeing something in your own expression that he didn’t expect to see, and you realize too slow that you’re blushing intensely. 

His grip softens and you feel yourself trembling, but you can’t bring yourself to try break free… he opens his mouth, about to say something…

“Hey, guys! Guys! Come see this mess right now, it’s all over the news! We might need to do something. There’s a new villain lose!”

“W...What?” Ortega asks distracted letting go. 

You take the chance to quickly crawl from under him, your whole body still tingling for whatever reason.

 He turns to you but you quickly turn away, focusing on the TV screen. You have to look away. 

You can’t let him see your face like this. You never want anyone to see you like this. 

You hate whatever *this* is. 

_______________________________________

My fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

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

[chaniters]

Fallen

Sidestep makes his case against Elyise before Reaper, and reveals the data rod. Things take a twist for the worse.

Following @kruk-art Awan’s fiction i’m writting! Only a few more parts to the end.

_____________________________________________

His empty skeletal sockets stare right into you, a red shimmer the only indication that there’s something inside. He listens to you without saying a single word. You can sense his mind rushing to assimilate all the information you’ve brought to him.

Reaper’s angry… no, he’s furious, but doing everything he can to remain calm. 

You’ve told him everything, laid out all the evidence. He’s the one who handed Elyise her new costume, gadgets, a new suit, a movie, sponsored her to join the rangers... 

Of course, he’s mad at the possibility that he got played. 

“I’m glad you brought this to me first Sidestep” he in a glacial, calmed tone. “But there must be some other explanation… Anyone could have just bought those drill drones, my company sells them everywhere.”

“I’m sorry. I know how much you appreciate her, but you have to face the facts…  I wish it didn’t have to be like this”

“No. I refuse to believe this Sidestep. It’s can’t be...!”

“That’s not all Reaper. I’ve got this,” you say extending your hand. “The Loanshark had a data-rod with her name on it. It’s encrypted and I couldn’t open it so far”

He runs a hand through his white forehead, before letting out a long sigh. 

“This just keeps getting worse,” he says frustrated, shaking his head. “Fine. Give me that” he states in the end.

“Here,” you say passing it over. He studies it with his skeletal fingers, before pushing the lever that makes his wheelchair move forward towards the mainframe. A panel opens revealing a slot, in which he inserts the rod.

“Charon, can you identify the encryption in this rod?” he asks.

“Of course master. Processing.” it states. It takes much less time than you’d expect. Charon must be more advanced than anything the farm had before you left. 

“It corresponds with an outdated version of an encryption system originating in the Ministry of State Security of China, master”

“Good. Please begin decryption protocols and show us the contents once you are done.”

“Processing” Charon replies, the red logo on the screens flashing a few times.

He seems really devastated. You can’t bear to look at him in this state, trying to deny Elyise’s involvement with all his being. You wander through the room instead. 

You’ve never seen an Artificial Intelligence before, and Charon does not disappoint. Your hacking toolkit of a phone looks childish compared it with the futuristic mainframe. So this is what money can do...

As the story goes, this one was created by the Defenders Society former scientist, Vitruvian, before he decided to switch to the dark side. 

There are all kinds of memorabilia in the old Headquarters of the Defenders Society, including old pictures of the team’s composition through the years. 

Reaper looks… skeletal, just like now in them, though his bones look whiter in the past. He’s surrounded by legendary heroes. Miss Luck, Vitruvian, Hood before he joined the Rangers, Captain Blaze,  Lady Airstrike… the list goes on. The last one has only a handful of members, the year Hood left to turn into a Ranger, and then there are no more pictures, as the team dissolved after Reaper retired.  

He waits by the mainframe while you examine the trophies until Charon announces the decryption’s complete.  

“Let’s get this done,” he says disgusted “Charon… whenever you’re ready”

“It would seem to be video footage master. Allow me to play it”

_____________________________

The screen lights up with a black and white video, displaying an unsteady visual from what seems to be some sort of hovering drone camera, filming an alley with a small store on the left. 

A limousine stops on the street at the far end, the doors opening. A man and a woman come down, their backs to the camera. The man wears a suit and a round clear mask, and as he turns to say something to the driver, you can see  it’s a smiley mask. 

He wraps an arm around the woman, who seems rather reluctant, motioning her to walk forward. She looks back at the limousine with concern in her face… and there’s no doubt about her being a younger Elyise. She says some words to the man, who simply shakes his head and keeps motioning her forward, his other hand in his pocket…

Suddenly the glass window of the shop explodes, as a hulking figure comes trough, falling flat on the pavement. It tries to incorporate letting you take a good look at it. It’s a man inside a power suit that becomes easily recognizable. Psycopathor. 

Another figure comes trough, walking over the glass. Marshall Hood, arms raised. His powers make the debris start floating around Psycopathor, who looks to be about to get it. Hood doesn’t seem to have noticed Smiley man or Elyise…

The Smiley man shoves Elyise forward, and she stumbles a few steps ahead. She looks back at the Smiley man as if to plead for something, but he simply looks at his watch. She has a defeated look on her face as she turns to face Hood. 

Extending both palms towards him, she advances, making all of the floating debris falls down back to the floor. Hood turns to her, startled, but quickly responds, waves his own palm in her direction forcefully. The camera shakes violently. The Smiley man takes one step back, as everything in the alley seems to be vibrating. 

Hood and Elyise stare down at each other as their powers clash. Several empty glass bottles on the ground explode under pressure.   Hood looks as if he was exerting an incredible amount of strength. 

Elyiss falls on her knees, visibly screaming something, but the Smiley man steps behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder as if to encourage her to continue. 

She stands up and manages to advance again onto Hood, who seems to be weakening by the second. Finally, it’s Hood who stumbles backward, his abilities negated. 

Psycopathor, having had time to recover, gets to his feet and leaps at  Hood, who’s too slow to avoid him while resisting Elyise… Psycopathor takes Hood into the arms of his power suit, in a brutal bear-hug, crushing him. Hood seems to be screaming something… 

Psycopathor finally lets go of him, his suit bloodened. Smiley man pats Elyise’s hair, satisfied with her work, advancing onto the fallen Hero as he tries to crawl away from Psycopathor. Smiley sends a few kicks at Hood’s stomach. 

Elyise leans on a wall and throws up on the floor as he does.  

Smiley forces Hood to roll over with his shoe, as he screams in pain. He kneels to whisper something in Hood’s ear before standing up again. 

He puts on a pair of gloves from his pocket… and then produces something else… a gun. 

Two quick shots, one to the chest, one to the head, and Hood is put out of his misery.  It’s over.

Smiley hands over the gun to Psycopathor, who crushes it with his powered gauntlets and throws it aside. Smile walks up to Elyise, pointing at the limousine. 

Elyise takes a last look before rushing behind them.  

The car starts, and they are gone. A few minutes after, you can see another man walking up to the fallen Hood. It’s Charge, who tries to reanimate him. You can see him looking for a heartbeat in his chest… crying for help… 

The drone turns and flies away, following the limousine. It comes down to its level, next to the back seat. Smiley opens the window, catching the camera with his hands, and the video ends.  

_____________________

You are speechless.

“Who… “ you start.

“Hollow Ground”. Reaper answers drily. “Smiley mask was his thing for a short while back then. He likes to follow trends”

“So Elyise…”

“And Psycopathor yes…”

The slot opens once more and the rod comes out, Reaper taking it back in his hand. 

“Alright, you’ve made your case Sidestep. We need to arrest her. Do you believe she’ll resist?”

“Given everything she’s done…” you say still looking at the black screen. “If she’s using her own mother as a weapon then I wouldn’t take my chances.” 

“I understand. Tell me, does that gun of yours, have a stunning setting?”

You nod slowly.

“Let me see it… I’m not sure it can go through her suit” he asks, his mind unsettled by the idea of shooting an ally.

“Here,” you say.

He fiddles with it for a moment, before raising his glowing gaze.

“I’m sorry, Sidestep”

“For what…?” 

Too late you realize his thoughts of regret were never about shooting Elyise. 

The blast is almost instantaneous, making you recoil with every muscle as you watch him hold the smoking gun, still aimed at your chest.

“I’m afraid I already knew about Riley’s past sins. She was so eager to achieve some form of redemption… Her mother used her, then Hollow Ground did the same... and when she decided to stop running and face her demons, she came to me. People looking for a savior are very easy to manipulate you know? She was the perfect tool, but it was her mother who became the true star in the end.” 

You try to move, but your arms are legs don’t respond as they should and your suit smells of burnt plastics and nanofabric. You are struggling as it is to cling to consciousness and the words coming from Reaper’s mouth aren’t helping. 

“I’m sorry for the charade... should have knocked you down sooner, but I needed to see how much you knew… Also, I had never seen how my friend actually died,” he adds looking at the data rod. “This was a good reminder of what’s at stake”

You try to speak, but your mouth’s completely numb. 

“I’m impressed that you went this far, even if you were following the wrong lead. Didn’t think the Loanshark would be in good enough condition to rat on Elyise, I mean Catastrofiend hit him really really hard! Got to love the miracles of modern medicine, right?  This will force me to rush my plans quite a bit”

“W.. why?” you manage to gurgle, your tongue still numb with static.

“That’s really your question right now?” he says rising from the wheelchair he clearly doesn’t need. “What happened to the more obvious stuff like ‘What are you going to do with me, Reaper?’ Shouldn’t you be worried about that instead?”

“Tell me… w... Why…”

You can sense he is smiling, as he kneels down to talk to you.

“I really like you kid. Why… alright, I’ll tell you why. I’m doing this because this country is going straight to hell, and I’m the one who’s going to save it. I’m doing this because people like Hollow Ground...” he says pointing at the screen “...still exist unchecked! But no more. In just one month I’ve slaughtered his entire organization and run him out of town. This city is now drug-free. Catastrofiend is the future! It can sense the drugs wherever they are! Just Imagine the possibilities.”

There is something different in his mind as he speaks. Something new, unraveling like a nightmare that had remained hidden… 

“Y..ou are … mad.”

“That’s a funny word Sidestep. Perhaps I am. Perhaps I’m mad with rage. Perhaps these drugs ruined everything I’ve done in my life. All my friends, dead or turned to criminals and murderers. All my aspirations ruined. I don’t even have a face to look in the mirror thanks to them…  And I tried to convince myself I could achieve my goals through peaceful means, but you saw how that ended, right…? Didn’t it make your blood boil? I sensed the fire in you, that day the hospital burned down. It’s time to take the gloves off and let everyone get what they have coming. The Corporations, the politicians, the cowards like Hollow Ground and Psycopathor… I will make them all pay. Their power comes from drugs, so I’ll take it away.”

“You can’t... do that...” you say almost in whisper. 

“Oh I can. With the Catrastrofiend’s help, I’m going to ignite the flame and start a war on drugs the likes this country has never seen. I’ll save the whole world If they let me, Sidestep. I really hope you’ll want to be on board with it.”

His mind is different. Something happened to him… something bad. It reminds you of… that monster’s thoughts. Whatever he’s planing it will make the massacres look tame. 

 “I trusted… you…”

“I haven’t changed. It’s this world that keeps sinking lower and lower. You must have seen it already…”

F… fu... ck… you…” is your best answer, given the circumstances.

“Shame. That’s the same thing Elyise said. You have really bad timing, you know? If you had joined forces this could have gone very differently. I just hope that the two of you’ll come to your senses eventually. I’ve got places to be so sweet dreams” he says pointing the gun at you once more. 

All you can do is close your eyes as the second painful blast puts your lights out.

______________________________________  

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

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

[sky-scribbles]

That conversation about the first time Ortega asked Sidestep out always intrigued me, so... ~1600 words, nb!Sidestep x m!Ortega. Tw: mentions of blood and canon-typical injury. I honestly don’t know if this is soft or angsty.

‘You have a visitor, Mr Ortega.’

You drag yourself up into a sitting position, and instantly regret it. The Catastrofiend really did a number on you.  The stitches are fresh, and even the smallest movements send pain lancing through your abdomen – but you grit your teeth and manage to grin at the nurse. There’s only one person who’d be visiting you at this hour of the morning. ‘Tell them to come on in.’

He nods and heads outside. Voices murmur in the corridor. Then the door opens, just wide enough for Wren to slip through.

They push the door shut so carefully you nearly joke that a loud noise won’t reopen your wounds. But you don’t. You’re not sure they’re in a mood for jokes right now. Because hey’re not coming any further into the room, just leaning against the wall, hands stuffed into the sleeves of their much-too-big-hoodie. Frowning at you. Specifically, at the bandages constricting your entire chest below the ribcage.

You glance down, and see to your relief that they’re not bloodstained. You’ve torn out stitches in the past by thrashing in your sleep, but these are holding.

Good. They need to hold. Because once the Catastrofiend was down, Wren cried. They cried as they scooped you up in their arms and you lay there, a puddle of blood and limp limbs. You’d never seen them cry before, not even after the Nanosurge, but as they clamped their hands over your wounds and begged you to hold on, they cried.

You don’t want to see them cry again. Not over you.

So you smile at them. ‘Hey, Wren-bird.’

‘Hey.’ Barely more than a whisper. ‘You look a mess.’

‘Well, so do you.’ You don’t just mean the bruises and cuts from the fight; there are deep shadows clinging beneath their eyes. ‘Did you even go home after they brought me in? Have you even slept?’

Their eyes flicker aside. ‘Um. No. I mean, I didn’t sleep, but I did go home. Just to change out of my suit and get something to eat.’

‘You didn’t have to come straight back.’

‘No. But I wanted to.’ Wren takes a step closer. Eyes fixed on your bandages again, not moving up to your face. ‘How bad is it?

You run a cautious hand over the places where the Catastrofiend tore you open. Then you stop, because mierda, your abdomen really doesn’t like being touched. ‘They haven’t given me the full damage report. All I know is that it hurts like hell, and it’s going to leave some very impressive scars.’

A moment later, you realise this was a mistake, because Wren’s gaze drops right down to the floor.

‘Not that I mind adding to the collection,’ you say. Too quickly, because you need to make sure they know that everything’s okay, because you will not make them cry over you again. ‘It’s just proof that I’ve lived, right?’

‘Proof that you nearly died. I should’ve got there faster.’

And their words are sharp and brittle, their fists are bunched so tightly that their hands are shaking – and suddenly you’re reaching over, ignoring the scream of protest from your lower chest as you stretch out to snag their hand in yours.

‘Wren. Hey.’ You give their arm a little tug. ‘Come on. Sit down. I’m not worth crying over again.’

And they do, dragging a chair over and slumping into it. Small fingers gripping yours so tightly that you can feel their pulse.

‘I’m not going to cry,’ they say, and thank god, they’re smiling a little. ‘I already let you get beat up. If I cry over you, I’ll probably short out your mods to boot.’

You chuckle and squeeze their hand. ‘You didn’t let me get beat up, you saved my ass. I was never worried.’ Not really a lie; you were scared that you were going to die, but you were never scared that Wren wouldn’t be there. ‘I trusted you, and you proved for the millionth time why that’s the best decision I ever made. Why you’re the best decision I ever made.’

Which makes their smile widen, just a fraction.

And you understand, of course. You know why they’re kicking themselves and staring at your bandages, why they waited all night and wouldn’t let themselves sleep. They thought they were going to lose you. Like you thought you’d lose them, back when Psycopathor bore down on them.

But they’re here, and they’re alive, and you’re alive, and it feels suddenly important to do something about that. Like reach out with your free hand (shit, shit, moving is not a fun experience) and tuck your fingers around their head. Give them the lightest pull. And they roll their eyes, but lean in and kiss you all the same.

Soft. Careful. The warmth of their breath and the press of their lips reminding you that you’re not dead. Not alone, either. 

And it’s that last thought that makes the words slip out as the kiss breaks. ‘Hey. Once they let me out of here... do you want to get dinner with me?'

Well. Okay. You just said that. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, because you’ve been planning to say it for months, but you didn’t plan it like this, and you can hardly blame Wren for blinking at you like a bewildered owl. ‘Are you sure you can even cook in this state?’

Talking keeps you from thinking too much about this whole situation, so that’s what you do. ‘I was thinking dinner dinner. You know. Somewhere nice.’

‘You mean…’ The confused-owl-look twists into a frown. ‘You mean like… a date?’

‘Well. Yeah.’

Wren holds the frown a moment longer, then screws up their face as if you’ve just announced that you’ve decided to grow a moustache. ‘Why?’

‘Because I want to take you out to dinner.’ You trail a fingertip over their cheek, mapping lines between the moles. ‘You and me, we’ve been… well, we’ve been something for the last few months, right?’

They nod, but their gaze is guarded. You know this expression. It’s the one they get whenever they complain about the static that hides your mind from theirs. ‘Why are you asking me?’

A slight stress on me. Your guts twinge, and you don’t think it’s to do with the Catastrofiend’s handiwork.

‘Because... because you don’t put up with my bullshit. Because you’re smart as hell. Because of that cute little I’m-concentrating face you do when you’re reading your precious Shakespeare or solving a crossword in thirty seconds. Because you never leave anyone behind. Because you care about everything, more than anyone else I’ve met.’ You flash a grin at them. Reach up to twirl their hair between your fingers. ‘Because you’re you, Wren-bird.’

They have to say something now, surely. They’ll return your smile, any second now. But they don’t. They don’t even look at you. Their free hand runs over the sleeve of their hoodie, nails raking at the fabric as if they’re trying to reach through it and tear something out of their skin.

‘Wren.’ You give their hand another squeeze, try to get a look at their eyes. ‘Are you even hearing what I’m saying?

A shrug. ‘I guess.’

‘Do you believe that I mean it?’

They’re pressing their lips together, so hard that it looks painful, and they still won’t look at you. ‘I don’t know. And… I can’t. Go out with you, I mean.’

You feel oddly as if the Catastrofiend has just made another attempt at removing your intestines.

‘It’s just that… you’re Charge. You attract attention. And I’m not good with attention. There’s a reason I wear a mask, I just… I’m not… I can’t.’

They stop, eyes still fixed on the floor, biting their lip. Shit. You messed this up, somehow. They don’t believe you. They don’t believe that you care enough, and you can’t blame them, because you’ve never made it clear. Not aloud. You’ve kissed them so many times over the last few months but you’ve never told them –

Because you’re scared. Scared of how things will change. You’re not ashamed, not of Wren, not ever of Wren, but… you know there’ll be eyes weighing you up. Voices whispering things you shouldn’t care about but do. And you’re selfish, you’re a coward, and you want your world to stay the same. For the way people see you to stay the same.

But you want Wren more.

So maybe it’s time to get your act together. There’s a lot you’re not ready to say yet, but you can say a little. Take the first few steps. Make them know how much they matter, how much you care. You open your arms, and they eye your bandages dubiously, but lean in anyway to wrap careful arms around your neck.

‘No one can know.’ They mumble the words against your shoulder. ‘Whatever’s going on with us, I can’t… I can’t be public about it. I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid, but –’

‘It’s not. Of course you don’t have to –  if you don’t want to, I mean, I know you’ve got your reasons –’

You’re babbling, and you’re afraid that if you keep talking you’re going to misstep, so you just shut up. Time to say the things that really matter. ‘But I mean it, you know. Every word. And if you don’t believe that right now…’ 

Shifting around to kiss their forehead causes another angry complaint from your stitches, but it’s worth it. ‘Then I guess I’ll just have to keep saying it until you believe me.’

They look at you at last. Lips slightly parted, eyes full of startled warmth. The ghost of a smile tugging at their lips.

‘Idiot,’ they mutter, and shove their face back against your shoulder.

[chaniters]

HALLOWEEN -Part I

The next part of @kruk-art‘s Awan Cormac Series I’m writing. About to close this one! Never thought it’d get this long!!!!

________________________________

Awan and Elyise reach a truce, as the disastrous events leading up to what would be later be known as Phoenix Halloween Massacre begin to unfold. 

________________________________ Not a word comes out of your lips even as Ortega’s glare digs into your skull. Your skulls, Elyise is right beside you. 

Eventually, he looses at his own blinking contest, rolling his eyes. 

“You two… I don’t know what happened between you two at Reaper’s manor, but you’ve been at each others’ throats since. Could knock it off already? He’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do about it right now with this whole mess going on”

“Nothing happened,” you say, arms crossed, defiant look… yeah, he’s not going to believe that in a million years.

“Like he says” Elyise answers, equally annoyed.

“You’re my girlfriend, and you’re my best friend, and I’d really like it if you two could get along again? Just talk to each other?” The two of you do actually share a brief look before Elyise jerks her head around to look in the opposite direction. You turn your gaze towards Ortega with a half-assed ‘I tried’ expression. 

“No. I’m not having this,” he says, snapping now “Everything’s a mess, we’re on high alert and we’ve only returned to active duty last week. I need the team at the top of their game. It’s up to me if you can tag along, and If you don’t fix your issue and they end up calling for us, you two are not coming, understood?! So, fix this right now because I might need you for real” he says pointing at each of you before walking back to the briefing room quickly, to make sure none of you reply before he’s away so he can have the last word. 

You absently look at the TV screens in the lounge as he leaves.

 They are still showing reports of the riots in Phoenix.  It’s been going on all morning and now deep into the afternoon. The images are surreal, with protesters on gas masks and costumes indistinguishable from mere partygoers and the riot police and independent heroes fighting all.

Right now you can see a biker gang, tearing up shops apart, the background colored by the ashen cloud of malevolent smog that’s engulfed the whole city. If you know anything about these things, It will get a lot worse before it gets better. 

One hell of a Halloween. 

“What’s your game Awan?” she finally asks

“My game? Since when is this ‘my game’?” 

“Just … say what’s on your mind already! Or do you need Reaper to chain us up again so you can speak up?”

  “Fine. You are dating my friend and you helped kill his fucking mentor. You were a villain and now you’re pretending to be a hero.” It sounds so hollow when you say out loud. You’re pretending to be his best friend and you’re not even human. She wants to know your game, it seems it wasn’t a game, just unbridled hypocrisy.  “And I haven’t told him a word about it. That’s what on my mind. There, I said it, happy now?”

“Why? Why on earth didn’t you tell him? Are you expecting me to do it? Because I won’t!”

“I know you won’t I’m not stupid”

“Then what the hell is this Awan?”

What is it indeed? You’ve played the scenario in your mind. Telling him. He would not believe it at first. And once he did, he would want to know how you found out. And If you told him that, he would ask why did you suspect her all along, and not Reaper, when all your evidence pointed to him. 

And then he would know why you wanted it to be her. 

He would know that all those sweaty weekly training sessions weren’t just training for you. He would know why you resented her. He would know that you can’t stop thinking about him and that you’d have happily ruined her because of it.  

You still could. You are not the saint Anathema likes to pretend you are. You would just throw her under the bus if… 

… If it didn’t make you feel like garbage. 

What if the roles were reversed? What if she knew what you are?

You saw the video, you know if she had told Hollow Ground no, then she would have been the next one to get shot. You saw his hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to do it, even while she looked sickened… You’ve been there. Only it was Nathaniel’s hands then, reassuring you. Telling you it was ok to kill. Telling you they were criminals anyways…

“I’m not going to tell him,” you say finally making up your mind.

“Be serious… ”

“I’m not. Going. To tell him.” you repeat slowly. 

“That’s just rich. You expect me to believe that?”

“I mean it”

She gives you a long stare, and you can feel her mind trying to probe your emotions. You close your shields tighter, making her attempts break against them. 

She narrows her gaze.

“I’m not sure how you do it, but you’re psychically cheating me somehow.”

“I could cheat… If I set up my mind to it” you say with an unintended pun that she doesn’t find funny. “By the way, your scanning is really sloppy,” you say adding a barb.

“My scanning is just fine,” she says irritated. Little does she know… literally. “In my experience, men who act nice always want something in return. I’ll ask you again. What’s your game?”

“If he finds out later, he’ll be dead set on hunting down Hollow Ground, won’t he?” you say trying to rationalize it. 

“I’d say he’s already set on that”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have any proof or leads. If I tell on you, he’ll be convinced to follow this through and…”

“…and Hollow Ground killed the last Marshall” she finishes your sentence. “So you want to protect him, that’s it?” she says appraising you once more. 

You can feel your shields flinch for a moment at the pressure of a surprise-scan from her. Shit, she was much faster this time, you underestimated her like an idiot… she’s been watching you and learning, while you haven’t practiced with other telepaths in years.

“You’re not fooling me. This isn’t that simple, you’re not that much of a good friend, are you?. You want something else…“ 

“Ok, you’ve got me. I want you to… break up with Ortega. Today,” you croak, the words coming out too fast, too blunt. Why are you so out of your game? You never had a discussion like this before…

“Break up…? Really? What is it to you?”

“Look If he still finds out on his own, I don’t want to be the one who knew all along and said nothing, ok?” you lie. The chances of him finding out if you don’t tell him are next to nothing, but it doesn’t matter. She’s lived in fear of that truth for a very long time, her imagination will work against her. “And I honestly don’t want you lying to his face every single day, I don’t think he deserves that” you add. It’s ok if you lie, not if she does. 

Got to keep those double standards, Awan. 

She frowns, and you start a new blinking contest, she knows there’s more to it, and her scan is there, trying to go past your shields again, but you’re ready this time. You keep your shields together for the longest time, resisting and trying to put on a strained expression as she bounces off them again and again and again. She’s got good endurance but none of the training. Pretending that your shields are at breaking point, you let her pick up the truth you’ve placed for her to find on the deceptively brittle surface. 

Her lips smirk gently, looking at you in a new light. This isn’t what she expected but she seems satisfied with her findings. 

“I guess you are a softie after all… Really? You don’t want me to go to jail?”

“And what if I don’t?” you ask looking away. “It’s not like you had a choice in all of this. You don’t need to be punished again”

The gesture startles you. Her hand on your shoulder.

“It’s ok. You don’t have to pretend to be tough all the time, you know?. I’ll take that deal, Awan. It was a mistake to get so close to him… I should’ve known better.”

“Good that we’re on the same page then,” you say looking at the ground, trying not to get her to see your face. Let her think you’re thankful this is resolved…

It won’t be easy letting your friend go” she ponders. “He doesn’t quit on people”

“Man can’t stop flirting with everything that moves. You’re a good actress. Just add a bit of jealousy and then blame it on him. I’ve seen it done before, many times” you say. 

“… you’re a little puppet master in there huh?” 

“Whatever. It’s just advice, take it or leave it”

“I hear you. Loud and clear. I’ve got some advice for you too if you want it.” 

“For me?” you ask surprised.

“Yes. You’re really good at that … barrier thing you put around yourself all the time”

“Shields,” you say, too impulsively. Why did you have to tell her? That’s dead-on farm terminology. Shit, what are you even doing?. 

“Uhu. Well, that thing… I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed, but it gets in between you and the people around you. You should try to learn and live outside of it some time.”

“Thanks for the advice,” you say quickly wanting to end the conversation. If you had lived outside your shields you’d be dead by now. Or caught, you’re not sure what’s worst. 

“As you said… take it or leave it,”  

“I think I’ll just…” 

“Hey, guys? You’ve got to come to the meeting room in a moment. We’ve got the call from Phoenix”

“Already? What happened now?” you say looking back at the TV. 

Oh. 

You can see footage from one of the news helicopters, and there he is, Psycopathor, now leading the riot and blowing up police cars with grenades as the crowd cheers.

You turn up the volume…

“… there is a very unstable situation on the ground, that is unfolding very quickly” the reporter explains. “Psycopathor has wrested control over the riot and marches towards the GeniTech’s HQ. The Executives said their Arcology project and main research facility, the so-called “Bastion for Humanity” can endure any and all attacks and calamities and will not evacuate their employees, saying that it has been built to endure all eventualities, including the toxic spill, the rioters, Psycopathor or anyone else thanks to its advanced technology. They say the events tonight will demonstrate the safety of their design. They are not even canceling the planned Halloween celebration. Not everyone wants to stay or trust their message, but many celebrities are stranded inside, as the spills and then the riots have cut them off from the exterior world”

The view zooms in towards Psycopathor

“Let us hear what the self-proclaimed monster has to say about it”

Psycopathor’s voice sounds strong, under the helicopter’s rotors.

“…because It is time for us to march! To fight! To take down these capitalist fuckers, staining our skies! We are going to have to act right now if we want to live in a different world!!” he says raising a spiked fist, with his Vulcan cannon in hand. The crowd roars and resumes marching against the police cordon, aided by a minor hero team, the Revengers. You can see the fear behind their masks as Psycopathor approaches, taller than life surrounded by villains and a huge angry mob.

That’s not going to end well. What is he up to now? Does he really care about pollution? Or does he just want to use this as an excuse to rob the tech the company’s said to have inside that place?

You turn it off and hurry to follow Elyise and Annie trough the corridor. 

Steel and Sentinel are already sitting around the long table, along with is Ashfall and the newest member, Sunstroke… or was it Sunstream? Shit, you can’t remember… 

Ortega’s standing, waiting for the three of you to enter. 

You take your usual place, the seat by the door. 

“Ok people, our newest status update is that we’ve got an epic clusterfuck on our hands. Brace yourselves.” Ortega says starts his debriefing, classy as always. “Let me show you the situation on the map and…” he fiddles with the control, and it fails miserably, the 3d map on the center of the table spinning out of control. Ortega and tech never got along.

“Allow me,” Steel says, quickly taking over the controller, the map almost instantly focusing on a scaled image of Phoenix.

“Right. Thanks.” Ortega goes on with a frown. “As you know, there has been a series of toxic spills trough the several industrial complexes surrounding Phoenix.” several red dots appear surrounding the city “The spills caused red alert levels of smog and airt toxicity, which, in turn, started the riots. The authorities are trying to distribute mask filters to the people, but there are simply not enough and the situation on the ground is a mess.”

You nod trough it. You’ve been following up on it on the news. 

“Psycopathor reappeared and is now leading the main riot. People are marching towards the GeniTech Arcology Project. The people are furious, and since most of those toxic spills belong to  GeniTech subsidiaries, they want them to pay. Psycopathor is banking on that to cause mayhem, but we still don’t know his goal. Oh, and It’s Halloween, so half the protest is wearing gas masks and the other half is on their Halloween costumes. The mayor prohibited the masks or face paint, and it only got worse, everyone’s covering up their face and torching shops ”

“That… is one bad mess Marshal,” Sunstroke says with a frown.

“Worse” Steel interjects. 

“What about the Phoenix Rangers?”  you ask.

“That’s the worst part yet…” Ortega says turning to you. “They were investigating the spills, and they managed to catch the culprit behind it all. 

“Who was it?” Elyise asks.

“Not what. It. Catastrofiend was there.” Ortega adds, causing your jaw to drop. “There was a fight… then an explosion. Aurora and Dr. Simov have been hospitalized and should recover, The Question managed to predict how to save them, and he’s the one calling the shots and directing every independent hero right now. They are overwhelmed, and so he is asking for our aid. He’s now the acting Marshal of Phoenix…”

“You don’t mean…” Anathema starts. 

“Yes. Atalanta and Captain Glory… the… they didn’t make it” he finishes grimly.

___________________________________________________ 

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

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

[ladyintheattic]

look......... i swear i’m writing stuff that isn’t chargestep. but like.... they’re so easy to write my dudes. also as it turns out i’m not good at writing kiss scenes so like, there isn’t much of that sadly lol

_______________ ship: chargestep (m!ortega x f!sides) words: 1,559 tags: f!sidestep, pre-heartbreak, post-psycopathor battle, smug asshole behavior tw: none ————————–

“You know it’s fine if you can’t fix it, right?”

“Shut it.”

“Look, it’s old, its mangled, it’s broken Beck. We’ll just get a new one.”

You huff, wiping the sweat mixed with dirt off your brow. Yeah, the circuitry is pretty fucked, but you’ve fixed worse than this, and Ortega’s lack of faith in your abilities is starting to piss you off. Everything’s been pissing you off recently, ever since that damn Psychopathor battle a few weeks ago. Maybe because of his mind canon? The rat-brains had made you pretty itchy.

Or maybe it was the fact that Ortega had kissed you. Kissed you, and hasn’t said a damn word about it since.

To be fair, neither have you, but since when was it your job to bring up stuff like that? And since when did he not? Forgetting about is it probably for the best, nothing can ever really happen between the two of you anyway, and kissing alone was a misstep on both of your parts. You know all this, but none the less you feel a new twinge of annoyance in your gut every time the both of you speak as though nothing had happened.

“You know the Rangers can afford a new car, right?”

“I’m aware,” you narrow your eyes at him over your shoulder. You’re more than a little knowledgeable about their funding, and where exactly all that money comes from. Hopefully, you know far more than Ortega does. Very hopefully. “I’m just not about to be outsmarted by a damn computer.”

“Says lady Walkman. ” he smiles, smug as ever.

“There’s nothing wrong with cassette-tapes.” Truthfully you just aren’t comfortable with a digital music-player on your person, not with what you know about tech. It would take nothing at all for some Prime Directive member to hack and track your phone, or anyone else’s in Los Diablos for that matter. Not that you could explain that to him.

“Ha. Hipster.”

You don’t reply, just glare back down at your new electric foe. The car itself is pretty beat up after the battle, but the only thing keeping it from starting up is the mangled mass of wires poking out of the dashboard, mocking you. Hooked up by a long power chord, it’ll play music and blink blue and orange if you hit it, but heaven forbid it let you turn the key without it making alarm noises at you. Whoever first started hooking up car functions to computers was an asshole.

You sense him open the opposite door and begin to fiddle with the radio, flipping station to station as you untangle more of the wires. You know he’s trying to irritate you, and hoo boy is it working. You grit your teeth, focusing so hard on the wires your vision starts to blur.

Flip. ♪-est Virginiaaaaa! Blue ridge mou-♪ Flip. ♪-since you looked at me, cocked your head to the side and said I-♪ Flip. ♪-awty got low low low-♪ Flip. ♪-squeezed by sexy cupid, guess he wants to play, wants to play, a love ga-♪

You can’t help it, you tear your eyes from the mess too glare at him. He grins back, dark curls draping in front of his brown eyes as he cocks his head at you. Of course. “Charge, if you push that button one more fucking time I swear I-”

Flip. ♪-ing all my breath, making love to you was never second best...♪

“Oohh here’s a good one.” To your continued annoyance and dawning horror, Ortega hops out of the passenger side and begins to half-walk, half-dance around the front of the vehicle, smile still plastered on his face. “Pretty sure this came out in my birth year.”

An unsettled, warm feeling begins to settle in your stomach, different from the tightness of annoyance from before. You’re not sure if which is worse.“Figures,” you manage a cruel smirk as he makes his way to the mangled door to the driver’s side, “This is the ‘Oldies’ channel after all.”

A mildly vexed smile settles on his features as he comes to a stop in front of you. It’s a small victory, getting under his skin, but you know you’ll have to take what you can get at a time like this. He’s impossible to talk to when he’s like this, looking so confident and wicked and much, much younger than you know he is.

“Everything’s an ‘Oldie’ these days Beck... and you,” he reaches out, taking your left hand off the dashboard. “Look like you could use a break.”

You don’t pull your hand away, but you do pull your face into an agitated frown, your face warming despite yourself. “What do you think you’re doing?” As if you don’t know.

“Come on, it’s been a long day, you’re frazzled and I’m bored.” Ortega tugs at your hand, lurching you forward slightly as you set your jaw and press yourself harder into the seat. Resolute. He’s not winning this one. Not without a fight. “Dance with me.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Asshole. “You tell me.” Your voice is more serious than you mean; probably because you’re tired, defeated, and covered in grime, but even more likely because you’re recognizing the look in his eyes. Half lidded and too brave for his own good. The same look before he kissed you.

“Beck?” His brow pinches together in a confused frown as he leans into the doorway, and you have to fight the instinct to lean back. Or, worse, lean forward. “Are you actually mad at me?

You feel your eyes narrow, but say nothing. You’re not even sure you’re breathing. You’ve never been like this, not ever, not with anyone, and the very last person on earth you should be like this with is the marshal of the Los Diablos Rangers. How did this even happen? How could you let him kiss you like that? You can blame him all you like for attempting it, but you weren’t so injured that you couldn’t have put you hand up; stopped him.

And you certainly didn’t have to kiss him back.

“If you can’t dance, you can just say so.”

You blink stupidly up at him. Did you hear that right? You couldn’t have. “I...what?”

“It’s fine if you can’t,” he’s smiling again, smugger than you’ve ever seem him. His hand leaves yours only to land on his hip, posing to look as self-satisfied as possible, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I... I’m not-!” How does he do that? Get you to play his stupid games, let alone switch the rules up on you mid play? You curse his static brained mind as you pull yourself out of the seat to get in his stupid handsome face. “I could dance circles around you if I so chose, Ricardo Ortega. Don’t try and change the damn subject!”

♪...there's nothing you and I won't do...♪

“Prove it.”

♪...I'll stop the world and melt with you...♪

You aren’t thinking anymore. If you were, you wouldn’t be grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the car, a light spin in your movements you haven’t done in years, not since the Farm. Back then it had been training: you’d needed to be able to fit in with the right people, rub elbows with people your handlers wanted you to. Now, your using it for yourself. For this game the two of you are playing.

“Whoa,” he’s surprised, but catches himself before he trips. His free hand curls around your lower-back as his feet catch up with yours with relative ease. The man is a practiced dancer. “Someone’s wound up.”

“Shut up.” You can’t help it, your heart is hammering so hard in your chest you’re a little concerned you might get a bit faint if you don’t watch your breathing. He’s drawn you close, your chest pressing up against his warm body, skinsuits feeling too thin yet too restricting at the same time. Dangerous.

♪...the future's open wide

the future's open wide...♪

His face is too close, his bronze skin marred only by the settled dust of the previous battle. Eyes too dark. Hair too unruly and mussed. Breathing too careful, syncing up with your own. He spins you, your practiced movements coming back to you as though you’ve done nothing but dance your whole life.

♪...there's nothing you and I won't do...♪

“I was serious you know,” his voice, thick and deep, drops several octaves. “You have no idea how long I'd wanted to kiss you.”

♪...I'll stop the world...♪

His mouth is on yours before you can reply. Sudden, brazen, like before. You want to be angry, furious with him for playing with you like this, but for some reason you can’t work up that particular feeling. Another, foreign emotion is overwhelming you, numbing you to everything but the feeling of lips and stubble and fingers trailing up your spine.

Experienced. Careful. Wanting.

♪...and melt with yo-♪

Lightning bolt. Electricity rockets down your body, and you can feel yourself jump, almost into his arms, as you hear the car’s radio fizzle out, the electric motor blaring to life in it’s place. Your eyes and lips finally free from his, you now notice that his right leg is standing on the chord you had hooked up to the vehicle at the beginning of your chore.

What the hell?.. did he just...fix it?

“Well,” his breath is stuttered, yet somehow still smug against your ear. “Guess it wasn’t completely broken after all.”

[fallenhero-rebirth]

Good day! First of all I want to say, that you’re an amazing and talented writer. I’ve been absolutely enamoured with Fallen Hero and, i’m incredibly thankful to you for this amazing and inspiring experience! Also there is a question that i’ve been pondering on: what happened to Psycopathor? In flashbacks in Rebirth Sidestep and Ortega defeat Psycopathor, but now, up to 8 years later he still up and about? Did he go to prison, but escaped? Or is it spoilers?

Psychopathor has indeed been to jail but escaped. The old monster is hard to keep under lock and key, perhaps I’ll get into detail one day.

Also, thank you!