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saturnsstufff · 4 years ago

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The Empress pt.VII

Ya like weddings?

Warnings: Hinting to sexual Innuendos.

“I don't mind them” you said, taking your seat in front of him per usual. “Why do you ask?” you questioned, your head tilting slightly. your eyes watching his kind ones.

“General Hawthorne is marrying her lover, since she is a friend of mine since our early childhood, she asked me to walk her down the isle in place of her deceased father” you smiled gently finding that action very sweet. “Since I was going with my family... I was curious if you would attend as my date perhaps?” pink dusted his cheeks, watching your eyes intently for your response. your cheeks flushed at the question.

“I-Id love too” you said, eyes slightly widened. You could feel your heart beating faster, subconsciously you started to fidget with your hands. He asked you as his date. Phil’s words laced through your mind slowly.

Techno's form visibly relaxed at your words. feeling a major weight lifted off his shoulders. He had herd from Phil that you were quite soft with the thought of him, as was Techno of you. after your nightly snowball fight, Techno couldn't get you out of his mind. That night he thought for hours on the sight of you under him, smiling ever so fondly up at him. It had his heart in complete knots. He could tell you trusted him completely. For how you always put your guard down around him, it made it easy for him to read you. He saw your lingering eyes at dinners and the casual times you would reach out for him, hug him or just make attempts at contact. He could hear how your voice was when he had to leave. You wanted him to stay. Techno would admit, although he wasn't one for many gatherings. the idea of seeing you in something more formal had him rather eager. He never had a taste for the court women, there poofy frilly dresses, all the extra jewelry they would drape on themselves. He never found attraction to it. Yet when his eyes linger to you, he couldn't wait to see how you presented yourself. Would you wear jewelry? He thought back to the golden earrings you had made a while ago. his eyes lingered to his desk drawer.

“I suppose if your going as my date, you should have the finest things. correct?” Techno's eyes glanced to you. You looked at him doe-eyed, he had to clear his throat and glance away. His cheeks going pinker at the sight of you.

“I-I... I mean, I’ll be ok with what I have Techno” You watched him. He pulled one of his drawers out and taken something out.

Techno sighed. “(y/n) I'm gonna be honest with you...” He said walking to stand in front of you. He offered you his hand, when you took it you could feel how clamy his hand was. He was nervous. He gently pulled you up so you were standing in front of him. although he towered you, you were not scared by his presence. You actually found him very comforting. He gently let go of your hand and showed you a little velvet box. You recognized this box easily. It’s what you put the earrings you made in. “Do you remember these?” He asked. You nodded in response. how could you forget after all. “What was the ingot, and gem’s I gave you, when you made these?” You paused briefly. thinking back on this.

“It was a gold ingot, and emerald's” You said looking up to him, your eyes never leaving his.

“It wasn't just any golden ingot” He said, his eyes now finding yours. “Do you remember when I raided that Mansion? the night we found Tommy?” You nodded. again, how could you forget something that was important to you. Yes, you remembered it for Tommy, but it also was the day Techno said the two of you were friends. “That night I left with a totem of undying. That totem will guarantee that the person holding it will not die.” He pressed his lips. collecting his thoughts. “I..I-I don't let people very close to me... But you, Your just different. I-I, I cant put my finger on why. But you are, and when I say I will protect you. I promise, I will protect you.” His cheeks were a light red now. He was stumbling over his words as he opened the box to show the earrings you made. “I understand that at times, I wont be at your side. But I made a promise to your father, that at no point would I ley harm befall you” You gently rested your hand on his to reassure him. He was nervous, you knew he had no reason to. But that didn't stop him from stumbling over himself. “What I'm tryin’ to say is. Please... Please wear these for me...”

You knew Techno well enough to know that this was his way of saying he cared for you. He was asking you to wear something that would prevent your life from ending. You gave him a kind smile, almost a loving one. “Anything to make you happy” You said softly. His eyes softened by ten-fold. Oh you definitely had his heart in your hand. “could you put them in for me?” You asked, looking up at him. He gave you a slow nod. gently removing your studs, he placed them on his desk as to not loose them to the floor. You felt him put your new emerald earrings in. The Gold of them made with totem of undying. The earrings you now wore, were the same style ones that Techno and Phil wore together. The three of you now having matching earrings.

Techno’s eyes lingered as he put the earrings in. You were so warm to the touch, your skin ever so soft. when you looked up to him with innocence. He couldn't help but think of other things...

later that night you were sitting on your bed thinking. You had forgotten to ask Techno about himself. Far to lost with the moment he gave you, your new favorite earrings. You glanced to your clock. It was late. Your mind drifted back to Techno. You couldn't stop yourself, you wanted to see him again and talk to him more.

“maybe... just a quick visit...” you said to yourself as you got up, slowly waling out of your room. Heading for Technoblade’s room. You had never been to his room, of course you’ve passed it. But you’ve never had a reason to enter, until now. You knocked gently on the large door. waiting for a ‘Enter’ or some signal to go in.

When the door opened it was your turn to go speechless, and red with blush. Techno stood there lazily, his hair was completely down and brushed out of every braid he normally wore. He had no crown, and no shirt. You couldn't help how your eyes fell, I mean you already were chest level with him, but this did not help. He did go pink at your longing stare, choosing to tease you about it for more amusement. “You know my eye’s are up here Princess...” You drew in a breath and quickly spewed out apologies. only earning a fond chuckle from him. “I'm only kiddin’” He leaned on the door way well giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your blush never leaving. “what brings you to my room? Don't tell me your still tryna’ sleep with me now” You gave him a shy smile before starting.

“I uhm.. wanted to actually ask you a bit about yourself... I meant to earlier, but we were side tracked with the earrings.” You explained. He hummed and stepped aside for you. You gave him a quizzical look not understanding why he moved.

“I'm not going to talk to you at my doorway, Princess” You realized he wanted you to come inside. you slowly entered, having not expected this turn of advents. Well you looked around you realized he actually had a nice room. It was a decent size room. In the middle was a rather large, four-poster bed, the covers were pulled back a bit signaling he probably had just gotten out of bed to get the door. There was a fireplace across from his bed with two sofa’s placed in front of it. He had two doors made of glass that led to a rather large balcony beside his bed. Where the room looked natural, there were books lingering, and set aside everywhere, he had bookshelves against the wall. Somehow it fit for him. On one wall there were two doors. one probably being a bathroom and the other for a closet. His room was actually pretty cold contrasting to the way it looked. You assumed it was like this because his body temperature was hotter like Phil said. “Would you like to sit at the sofa or the bed?” his eyes lingered yours.

Glancing between the two you really didn't mind, your rubbed your arms from the chill of the room well you thought. Techno had noticed this and walked towards his bed, pulling the covers back more. “Here... clime in over here. If your cold now, your just going to get colder.” you looked to him and went pink. You chewed your lip a bit thinking, ultimately deciding it wouldn't hurt to sit beside him.

You walked over and climbed up onto his bed. it was so soft, you relaxed down and pulled the covers over your legs, praying for the heaviness of the blankets to rush forth their warmth. Techno climbed in next to you and got comfortable again. As he shifted he figured he would ask. “So what was it you wanted to ask me?” he moved his head to face yours.

You both were laying on your backs, loosely facing each other. “Well... I guess id just like to know more. You know about my childhood and stuff... I was curious if I could know about yours maybe” He pondered a bit, thinking about your words.

“I suppose that’s fair. It’s a bit lengthy though, princess” you shifted your body and faced him, showing he had your full attention.

“I don't mind. Your interesting, anything you tell me will be worth it” He smiled softly at you.

“is that so...” he mused. You nodded and he lightly chuckled, running a hand over his face well he thought. Your eyes lingered down his jaw to his neck. Without his usual pendants it looked bare, he had a prominent collar bone. His shoulder muscles also were very prominent. All in all Techno had a side profile of a god.

After Techno thought of were to start, he slowly began. “When I was about one or two Phil had found me in the Nether. I guess he was just making a supply run for some potions and I was just left behind. He couldn't leave me there so he took me home with him... That's when I met my Mother. She was a very kind and loving person... She always cared more about others than herself. She Taught me how to read, write, she basically taught me everything she could..” His eyes went a little sad. you watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed thickly. “She didn't care that I was a hybrid, she was always protective of me... If someone from the court made a comment on me not being a prince she wouldn't hesitate to stand up for my name. Of course Phil would stand up for me too, but mother was the most protective of her boys.” He took a deep breath pondering again. “when I was five Mother had Wilbur, it was a weird adjustment to being a older brother, but I didn't care, I took Wil with me wherever I could. He could be a massive pain, but he’s still my brother” You gave him a sweet smile, finding it cute of how he talked about his brother. “When Wilbur was Four, I was Nine.” he gave a slight pained laugh. suppressing his emotion. “It was right after my birthday... Mother and Dadza had sat down for a dinner. In the middle of it she started to choke. We knew there was a spy among us, after all we were in a rough spot with one other country." He let out a sharp breath "But those bastards targeted her." You gently rested your hand on his arm for reassurance, your smile having fallen. Gently rubbing your thumb over his arm. You didn't realize how strong he was until you felt his muscles under your hand. Slowly he continued on. "I had always herd voices.. they linger and get louder when they ban together... sometimes they request things... Other times just they talk among themselves...” Your brow furrowed as his tone lowered and slowed. His head turned to you, almost checking to make sure he didn't scare you with that information. He was tense, but as soon as he met your eyes he relaxed slowly. “When Dadza and I realized why she was choking... We found out my voices had a very keen ideal for violence... Her funeral was hard... The whole palace adored her completely... Not to mention Wilbur took it the hardest... It does still bother me on some days... But after a while I just came to terms she wouldn't come back." Your slowly rubbed your thumb over his arm again. Gently giving a squeeze to show some reassurance. He gave a soft slight smile. Resting his hand on yours. " When I turned Fifteen Dadza had stepped down from the throne and gave it to me. He said it was time to make a name for myself. About that time Sarah Joined the army. That's when we started turning our small kingdom into a expanding Empire. We had the same ideals and goals so we knew with each others support we could do it” you watched him. Unlike Wilbur who wasn't over his mothers death, Techno, like he said was over his stage of grief. He mourned, but knew nothing would bring her back. So it was best not to live in the past.

You adjusted your head on the pillows to see him better. "You said Sarah was a childhood friend?" He hummed, his hand still rested on yours. Offering warmth to your rather cold ones.

"I know I met her when my mother was alive. Sarah's mom was my mothers personal Knight, and best friend. Sarah's father was part of our court too, so she was always around one way or another." Techno subconsciously shifted closer to you. Your hand still beneath his. "The court tried to set us up, but Sarah made it clear that she was strictly devoted to her work. Well, she was. Couple months months ago she proposed to the jeweler's Daughter. So as of lately she's been trying to sort things out for the wedding." You smiled softly. Happy that she had someone to confide her love in. "Sarah's a good General... She has her blood thirsty tendencies, but she's a good woman. She just wants, what's best for the Empire and for the Royal family." He let your hand go and slowly turned to face you, now resting on his side. His eyes lingered yours and then slowly dropped down to your lips, and neck. He took your hand in his and and held it gently. Liking the feeling of your gentle hand in his.

Your hand wasn't soft, it was calloused with the hard work you put into your trade. Although Calloused they were ever so gentle. When Techno held your hand he could only marvel at how tiny it was.

Recently techno had started thinking. Especially after the snowball fight. You laced his mind before, but now it was becoming a awfully noticeable. You were actually the other reason Seraphina was in Techno's office. Techno had a feeling that what he felt for you, went beyond a casual friendship. But, he's had no prior relationships to base this off of so he needed a outside opinion.

He found himself pondering you quite often, whether late at night, when he was in his office. Ect. He had even talked to Phil about it. Sarah poked fun that Techno finally had fallen for someone, specifically you. Unlike Sarah, Phil was casual when talking to Techno. Asking if you made him happy, if your happiness was important to him. Techno knew he wanted someone strong, kind, and gentle. But also someone who could make a elegant, but confident Empress. When he thought of you, he knew you were everything he wanted. You were kind, gentle, hardworking, smart, and your confidence was growing daily. Phil had mentioned that he knew he had met the right person, when he couldn't see her with anyone else but him. When Techno tried to imagine you with a different man, he could feel his stomach twist into the beginning of jealously.

Well he pondered this, it hit him. Almost full force.

He wanted you.

After the talk of Techno's childhood, and Sarah's wedding. You two sat in a soft silence, having no urge to talk and disrupt it. The walls had the light of the fire dancing in front of you two. the light dancing over techno’s and your face. Your eyes flickered between each other, almost waiting for someone to make a move. Occasionally techno would glance to your lips or neck again. But you would also catch him looking at your earring. He was always hard to read, so you just sat admiring him. Wishing to wrap your arms around him in another hug.

Soon his hand let yours go. You gave him a slight confused expression, having loved the feeling of his hand on yours. you went to protest but you were cut off.

Techno cupped your cheek gently. Moving closer to press his lips to yours in a ever so sweet kiss. It wasn't forced, he allowed room incase you wished to pull back from him. But thankfully you didn't. You rested your hand on his and kissed him back with everything you had.

The kiss was worth a million words. Unspoken words. Techno had a hard time explaining his feelings. But his actions always shown where he stood with people, and where he wanted to stand with you, was right at your side.

He did slowly part from you, his eyes lingering yours for any sign of disproval or hesitation. But he saw none. You were looking up at him doe-eyed, he couldn't help but want to stare at how pleading you looked.

"May I.. k...kiss you again?..." He asked softly. You nodded, your cheeks far past pink and going to a hot red. You could only utter out a quiet 'please'.

He didn't hesitate to give you what you wished for. His lips were back on yours. To make it easier he sat up on his elbow a bit and wrapped his arm around your waist. Pulling you tightly against him, well his lips never left yours. He could feel your arm snake around his neck, the other one resting on his chest. your body was beckoning him closer. His hand held firm on your back, keeping you pressed to him. He didn't want to let you go, now that he had you. now that you were in his bed. He wanted nothing more than to keep you close and protected.

The kiss, although loving and soft, was deep and passionate. Something that you and Techno had wanted from each other, and now that it was a arm's length away, you were not going to let it go.

Techno had wanted this moment longer than he realized. The feeling of your soft lips on his was addicting, he didn't want to stop. Without much thought he gently moved his hand down to your thigh, pulling it closer so your legs intertwined with his. Only roughly a hour ago he was joking about you sleeping with him. But if you continued your grip on his shoulder he sworn he may have just went through with it. Techno couldn't deny it any longer.

He was in love.

@goldensunshineshit @snobunns @olyink @lolitsellieletsgobro @jackalopedoodles @angelic-scent @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @artsimatsu @justabalroginthenet @seme1e @fangirl570 @sweeetteaa @awlawdtheycoming @idkwhatusernametohave @sugarandspicebutnonice @bambibunz @lynnarts @buzzybeebee @feathersthewinged @prefesro @astroninaaa

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #techno x reader #techno x you #TE

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professortennant · 4 years ago

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Ok, how about Rebecca consoling Ted after the team loses a big game?

For a moment, just a moment, she--along with the rest of the AFC Richmond crowd--had thought they had pulled off a miracle, a Cinderella story that the press would be talking about for ages. Relegated only to win a Championship League final in the very next year, a team with a vengeance and a coach with a chip on his shoulder.

He hid it well, Rebecca thought. But now that she knew he hated being underestimated, counted out before the match even begun, she had seen a real change in him. She’d asked Beard about the change during a training session she was observing, the sun and blue sky too tempting to not go out for a bit. Ted was running right alongside his players, yelling words of encouragement and correction in equal measure.

“I think he’s realized he’s not in Kansas anymore.” A beat of silence and then, “And I think he wants to prove himself to y--everyone.”

She hummed in acknowledgment and watched as Ted blew his whistle, jogging to midfield, and animatedly demonstrating the run he wanted for his players. It seemed now that the team was on the same page, it was time to put the real work in.

But Lady Fate had other plans for AFC Richmond this evening, a night that should have been victory. A dirty tackle on Richard left him with a torn ACL, lifted off the field on a stretcher, a drizzle of rain made for less-than-ideal field conditions, and a series of simple turnover errors had left the team in disarray and confusion. It was over before it could start.

In the locker room, she watched as Ted tried to cheer his team up, noting that third place didn’t mean they were down and out for the Premier League, that they just had to work a little bit harder for a little bit longer. But even Ted’s heart seemed to be a little bit broken, a little disappointed.

“Ah hell, who am I kiddin’? This flat out stinks. I really wanted this for you boys, I really did. Maybe I let y’all get ahead of yourselves. Let myself get ahead of myself,” he amended, eyes flicking down to his Nikes. “And I’m sorry for that. I should have kept you focused on tonight’s game. We can’t help injuries and field conditions, but we can control energy and the fundamentals. We were sloppy tonight. That team wasn’t better than us. I know it. Y’all know it.” He sighed, looking around the room. “We are going to be promoted this season, fellas. But tonight: Be sad, be disappointed, be angry. Be whatever you gotta be tonight to light a fire under your butts because we are gonna work that much harder starting tomorrow morning.” He nodded his head at each of them before turning on his heels, shoulders hunched inward, leaving his players behind and Coach Beard to wrap up the evening.

Rebecca frowned, following him into his office, shutting the door with a soft click. It had become custom for her to join the team--win or lose--in the locker room, his words from so many months ago still ringing warmly in her ears. You liven up the place.

But this was not the Ted Lasso she was accustomed to seeing: not angry, not encouraging, not blissfully optimistic. Just wilted. Disappointed.

He looked up at her from his slumped position in his chair, a small, tired smile on his face. “Hey, boss,” he sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes and through his hair, ruffling it and making it stand up. “Not our best showing.”

She stood in front of him, hip leaning on his desk, as she considered him. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she teases. “There were some real lowlights last season. You yelling like a maniac about stopping the clock comes to mind.”

“Yeah, well, I still think it’s a stupid rule. Why keep the clock running when no one’s playing? Don’t make a lick of sense to me."

“You know what doesn’t make a lick of sense to me?,” she prompted, earning a delighted look from him for using his own phrase as a segue. She tilted her head towards the locker room where she could see players milling about, heading for the showers or crowding around Coach Beard and his whiteboard. “That speech out there wasn’t exactly the Ted Lasso motivational speech I’ve come to expect.”

He groaned and quite suddenly lurched forward, forehead smacking the desk with a loud thunk. She acted without thinking, hands immediately going to the back of his head, fingers sliding through the thick hair, rubbing his head. “Ted! What the bloody hell?”

“‘m fine,” he said, voice muffled against a stack of papers, still facedown. She laughed, relieved to know he hadn’t completely lost his marbles, and tugged gently on his hair, encouraging him to sit up.

Instead, he groaned appreciatively in a way that made her heart pound double time in her chest, fingers hesitating in their movement. She went to withdraw her hand but he turned his head to face her, the movement entangling her hands further.

She looked down at him, eyebrow arched. “Did you turn into a canine while I wasn’t looking?”

He panted at her playfully, a small, half-hearted woof escaping his mouth. “New deal boss: You keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll tell ya the God’s honest truth.”

“You’d tell me the God’s honest truth regardless of my petting, but go on,” she conceded. It was living out a harmless fantasy, she told herself. It wasn’t her fault his hair always looked as it did: perfectly coiffed and styled until it wasn’t, strands falling into his eyes, causing him to develop a new tic of running his hands through his hair, flipping it back into place. It had been maddening to watch and she was self-aware enough to acknowledge the urge to run her own fingers through his hair weren’t platonic in the least (the other images and fantasies accompanying the urge were definitely not to be explored in a packed locker room).

He grinned lazily up at her as she continued stroking his hair, nails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp, causing him to stutter as he spoke, eyes falling closed. “I let them down,” he confesses softly. “I let them get ahead of themselves, horse before the cart, counted those damn chickens before the eggs hatched. I let them think this one was in the bag--didn’t stop ‘em from goofin’ around at practice--training, whatever. I let them down.”

His eyes flickered open, peering up at her, sorrowful. “I let you down.”

Her hands tightened in his hair reflexively. “Me? Ted, how could you let me down? You’ve done everything I’ve asked of you.”

“I told you we’d win the whole fucking thing,” he reminded her. “Close but no cigar.”

"I never thought you’d be one to throw pity parties, Ted Lasso,” she reminded him, tugging at his hair once more before sliding her hand down to his shoulder and pulling, encouraging him to sit up. He did so, exaggerating the motion as if every movement cost him something. She bit back a smile.

He swiveled in his chair and it was only then she realized the position they were in: him in the chair, legs splayed while she stood between them, leaning back against the desk. Her cheeks flushed warm and she shook her head slightly, clearing the fantasy from between her ears.

She reached down to take his hand in hers, squeezing slightly. He clung back, fingers wiggling between hers so they were interlocked. She forgot sometimes that he was as desperate to touch as she was to be touched.

“You did promise me you’d win the whole fucking thing. But I don’t recall a timestamp on that promise,” she reminded him. “And this is not over, Ted, not by a long shot. We have one more chance to make it to the Premier League for next season. The season is not yet over, Coach. And I don’t want your players--our players--thinking it is, either. We have work to do and I need you pushing every single one of those men to believe in themselves and this team the way that I believe in you.”

The words came earnestly but awkwardly, a year of walls and shields and a lifetime of British distaste for sincerity and emotions making the speech stilted. It certainly wasn’t a patented Ted Lasso speech, but she thought it a rather good Rebecca Welton.

Ted was looking at her with something akin to awe, mouth parted and eyes bright and gleaming.

“Rebecca?” he asked, voice low, standing from his seat, still holding her hand. With him standing and her leaning against his desk, he towered over her ever so slightly, just enough that she had to look up to him. “I would really, really like to kiss you right now, if that’s alright.”

She blinked at him for a moment, mind racing, before giving a single, jerky nod. The moment she indicated her consent, he was there, fingers disentangling from hers so he had both hands free to cup her face on either side, cradling her gently as his lips pressed softly, quickly to hers. The combination of the warmth of his lips, the tickle of his mustache, and the sudden shift in action had her gasping into the kiss, her hands steadying themselves on his hips, clutching at one of his ridiculous jumpers, kissing him back as insistently as he was kissing her.

And then it was over.

But Ted kept his hands on either side of her face, thumbs stroking over the soft curve of her cheek, his forehead pressed to hers. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now, but, uh, never seemed like the right time.”

“And now was the right time?,” she asked breathlessly, her own fingers and thumbs making abstract geometric shapes along his hips and sides, tracing the lines of him.

He pulled back, grinning, and she was delighted to see that his eyes were once again gleaming with the positive, radiant, sunshine force she had come to associate with him.

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good pep talk.”

#ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted x rebecca #THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT #honestly regretted having the team around bc they woulda gotten up to a lot more in that office...#and rebecca's fantasies are my own my god that hair #andreasbayden

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curiosi-tea-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Letters from Home (One Survivor pt. 2)

Pairing: Din Djarin Cobb Vanth

Setting: Survivor AU / Modern AU (My previous fic of this AU can be found here.)

Warning: This is 3036 words of almost pure angst! Also, some cursing.

Summary: Din and Cobb are excited to go to a reward challenge together with Fennec and Boba until it’s reveled that part of the reward are letters from home. Then, Din asks Fennec to help him with a lie to Cobb that would advance one of them in the game while taking the other out of it.

@i-dnt-know-either helped me a lot with the last bit of this fic and @intricatecakes is very likely to put me in angst jail for this. I refuse to be sorry.

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“It wasn’t long after the merge. The final eight Survivors were split up into groups of four for a reward challenge, chosen by drawing colored rocks. Fennec, Boba, Din, and Cobb had ended up on the same team - Fennec and Boba rolling their eyes impossibly hard as the two younger men smiled brightly at each other.

“You’ve chosen your teams. Want to know what you’re playing for?” Jeff asked with a grin. When all the contestants nodded excitedly, he clapped his hands together. “By now, I know you would all like a nice break from the game. There are beautiful waterfalls just on the next island over. Winners of today’s challenge will take a boat over to see one of them.” There was ooh-ing and ah-ing amongst the Survivors. “And- because you’re all hungry, and I’m sure missing the states at this point- a BBQ. Hamburgers, hotdogs, chips, the whole deal.”

Din laughed as Cobb excitedly wrapped his arm around his shoulder and gently shook him.

“And one final thing,” Jeff began again. He pulled a cloth off of the table revealing a stack of brown envelopes. “Letters from home.”

Cobb stiffened quickly, his smile dropping. Din found it impossible to miss the look of near pity that Jeff threw to Cobb. He watched Cobb give a short nod in return as he pulled his arm off of Din’s shoulders.

“You okay?” Din whispered, leaning close to him. “Letters from home, that sounds amazing! I’m sure everyone back home misses you a lot.”

Cobb cleared his throat and forced a smile, one that quickly turned genuine when he met Din’s eyes. “Yeah,” he choked out, “I’m sure you’re excited to hear from your son.”

“Kiddin’?” Din scoffed out, looking away. “I miss him like crazy. Meanwhile, I’m sure he’s having the time of his life with his aunt.”

“Nah,” Cobb shook his head. “He misses you. And I’m positive you got a letter in there from him tellin’ you as much. Which is why,” he nudged Din’s shoulder to make him look at him again, “we gotta win this one.”

Din had the brightest smile Cobb had ever seen him give as they lined up to begin the challenge. It filled Cobb with the sort of energy that he felt like he could run a marathon. Which was kind of what they had to do, run a marathon- in an oval- in the water- carrying 20 pounds of sand each.

"For reward:," Jeff called from his tower at the center of the oval, "a taste from home with a BBQ by a waterfall and letters from home. Survivors, ready!"

Din and Cobb shared a smile of good luck as they had during every pause before they started a challenge since the merge. It always gave Cobb a lot of hope.

"Go!"

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"Cobb, Din, Fennec, and Boba win reward!" Jeff called as Fennec managed to tag a member of the other team.

Cobb cheered loudly in Din's ear as he threw his arms around his neck with a bounce. Din stumbled backwards with a laugh, wrapping his arms tightly around Cobb's waist. He buried his face in Cobb's neck, taking a deep and calming breath.

The promise of good food, a letter from his son, two of the best friends he had ever made, and the man who had somehow managed to win his heart. What could be a better afternoon?

The other half of the tribe was dismissed back to camp. The four friends boarded the small boat, Jeff following in behind them, stack of everyone's letters in hand. It was a quiet trip and Cobb was thankful for it. It gave him a chance to breathe and enjoy the feeling in his chest when Din slowly slid their hands together, interlocking their fingers. Cobb gave a soft squeeze which earned him a smile in return.

They were at the island far too quickly for either of their likings and everyone was leaving the boat.

"Before you go," Jeff said, separating the first few letters from the stack. "Letters from home, you can either share these with each other or keep them to yourselves." Fennec gave a small laugh of joy which made everyone chuckle. She was normally so serious.

"You'll notice, however," he continued, "there's only three letters here." He passed the stack of letters over to Boba who took them questioningly. Jeff turned to Cobb, the same look of pity on his face that he had before the challenge. "Cowboy, I'm sorry to say we didn't get a letter for you. I'm not sure if it just wasn't sent in on time or what happened, but I'm sorry."

Cobb nodded, straightening his shoulders. He tried to focus on Din's hand on his shoulder and not on Fennec and Boba's apologies towards him.

Jeff nodded and clapped his hands together. "You four enjoy your reward. See you at the next challenge!"

And then Jeff was gone and the four friends were left to walk the trail to the waterfall. Because it wasn't wide enough to walk even two across, Cobb let the three of them take the lead, choosing to stay a couple paces behind Din. He tried not to pay mind to the way Din glanced at him over his shoulder. He tried not to care that he had the same look of pity that Jeff had given him and, for the first time ever, Cobb wished he hadn't been voted back into the game. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have made it to this challenge and wouldn't have to be attempting to ignore looks and words of pity.

The sight of the waterfall was a welcomed one indeed. The four Survivors stopped and gazed at it, eyes wide, truly thrilled for the first time in so long.

Once sat around a small picnic bench, food laid out in front of them, Boba jumped right into strategy. The game never really stops. Cobb was the "outsider" of the tribe. All but Boba from the old Marseydotes tribe hated him because he got voted back in, while most of the old Noyapara tribe wasn't thrilled that he pulled Din into a separate alliance. Boba, Fennec, and Din all firmly believed Cobb could win the whole game and had decided right at the merge that they were going to make it happen. It was almost all Boba would talk about at this point.

Once the latest game plan was decided, the four of them fell into silence. Cobb knew that he didn't have it in him to keep them from the part of the reward they truly wanted to take part in. Everyone watched quietly as he stood and gave a small smile. "I'm gonna go up the trail a bit more, look around." He gave a small awkward wave up towards the waterfall. "You guys do your thing," he sighed, now gesturing at the stack of letters on the table.

Without meeting any of their eyes, he quickly walked away from the table and started up the path. He was happy that they all got their letters. But it still hurt.

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

Din found Cobb sitting on a rock at the top of the waterfall, fiddling with his scarf. He took the moment of being hidden from Cobb's sight to appreciate the way the sun hit his skin and the soft breeze pushed his hair to the wrong side.

He sighed softly and walked slowly to join him. He took a seat next to him and the rock and bumped his shoulder, which got him a chuckle.

"You didn't have to leave," Din commented quietly.

Cobb let out a shaky sigh. "I know. But you guys weren't going to open the letters unless I did."

"You know us too well." Din turned and looked up at Cobb who was only giving him a side glance. After a moment of silence, Din finally risked saying what was on his mind, "Jeff said it probably got lost in the mail or-"

"Nobody wrote to me," Cobb interrupted, taking his eyes off Din and putting them back on the scenery. He heard Din sigh beside him and could almost feel the questions that were surely running through his mind. Cobb took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I didn't have anyone to write me anything."

Din watched as Cobb's fingers tightened around his scarf the way he did when he was nervous at tribal council. He slowly raised his hand and brushed his fingers lightly along Cobb's. He smiled when Cobb quickly let go of his scarf in favor of Din's hand.

Cobb knew he could let it go. Din wasn't going to push him for any more answers than he was willing to give. He could leave it at that and they could get on with the game and Din didn't need to know. But it was Din. He was the most understanding person Cobb had ever met. If he couldn't tell Din the full truth, who could he tell?

With another deep breath, Cobb continued, and Din listened carefully, his thumb running along the side of Cobb's hand softly. "My parents aren't around anymore. They died a few years ago. I was an only child so it’s not like I had any siblings to write to me. The only real friends I have are at work and I lied to be able to get time off to come here so I couldn't tell any of them where I was going."

"So nobody knows you're out here?"

"Nobody but the show crew and the 15 other players," Cobb mumbled with a nod. He finally opened his eyes and turned to look at Din, expecting to see the pity. But instead all he saw was love.

Din tilted his head a little. "Why the confused look?"

"You-" Cobb stopped and shifted how he was sitting, facing Din more straight on. "You get it," he stated simply, knowing Din would understand.

And he did. Din nodded with a soft smile. "My parents died when I was a kid. Grogu is the only family I've ever truly known."

Cobb gave Din's hand a small squeeze and smiled, admiring the way Din's eyes always lit up when he talked about his son. "Did he write to you?"

Din grinned and nodded. "Yeah, Peli helped a lot, he's just learning to write. He drew some pictures too which were cute." Din's smile drooped a little and he looked away back over the waterfall as he realized he could have just answered Cobb with a "yes" and it would've been preferable. He couldn't imagine Cobb really wanted to hear Din go on about his son's letter right then.

"Could I see it?" Cobb asked, nudging his shoulder with a smile.

Din snapped his gaze back to Cobb, surprised. When he saw the soft look Cobb was giving him, he breathed a sigh of relief knowing he hadn't said the wrong thing. He nodded and pulled the folded up papers from his back pocket. He unfolded them carefully and passed them over to Cobb who took them and scooted closer to Din.

Their legs were pressed together as Cobb opened the papers. Din wrapped his arms around Cobb's middle and rested his chin on his shoulder, allowing him to look again at the letter.

The letter was written in green crayon which made Cobb chuckle, remembering Din mentioning Grogu's obsession with green. It was shaky handwriting but surprisingly readable. On the second page were small doodles of Grogu and Din and a few of Din on the island.

Cobb smiled and he refolded the papers and handed them back to Din. "He seems like a really sweet kid," he spoke softly. He turned his head just enough to place a small kiss to Din's cheek. His smile widened when Din turned and nuzzled his nose into Cobb's neck.

"He's going to love you," Din replied, voice muffled against Cobb's scarf.

Cobb froze for a moment, wondering if he had heard him right. They had never talked about what would happen after the game was over.

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

That night, Din and Cobb laid together in the shelter. They had spent every night since the merge cuddled close to each other and this night was no different. Cobb had his chest resting on Din's chest, listening to his heartbeat. He was sure that Din was asleep already, as most of the players were, but Cobb was wide awake thinking of Din and the game.

Would they still be together when the game ended? Were they together even now? Pairs can make it to the final two, but lovers can only go so far in this game before they have to decide if a potential relationship is worth a million dollars. But Cobb also knew that neither of them were in it for the money. Cobb just wanted an adventure and Din just wanted to make his son happy. Cobb supposed that was going to be something they would have to talk about sooner or later.

For now, he supposed, he could just be content knowing that he was in Din's arms and cared for in the moment.

But what Cobb didn't know was that Din was also awake, and thinking of Cobb, but not the game.

He was picturing loading Grogu into the car for a road trip to go see Cobb once the game was over. He was sure that Grogu was going to love him and not because Grogu loves everyone. Cobb was funny and smart and Grogu was going to adore that. He knew his son would hear him talk and ask him if he's a cowboy which will likely make Cobb laugh. Cobb would probably say yes just to amuse him.

He knew they hadn't talked about what would happen after the game. But he knew that he cared for Cobb so much that there was no way he was letting this relationship be just during the game, even if it meant not winning. He didn't really care about the money anyways, but he knew Cobb did, even though he wouldn't admit it even to himself. Din saw the way he talked about wanting to open up a photography studio and he knew the money would help him with that.

In the cold air of the night on a nearly deserted island, his arm tightly wrapped around Cobb while the other man traced soft patterns on his shoulder, Din made his decision on two accounts. He wasn't letting Cobb go so easily. And he would take the fall if it meant Cobb had a chance of winning this game.

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

Four tribal councils later, they were down to the final four. Boba had won immunity and, as a group, they had decided they would tie the vote between Cobb and Din. Or, that's what was discussed in the open. Before the day was over, Din pulled Fennec aside and told her what was really going to happen.

"So you're screwing me," Fennec nearly yelled. She was furious. "I don't have a chance in Hell if you quit."

"I'm not quitting, Fennec! Don't you think I've thought this through?" Din ran a hand through his hair and sighed when Fennec didn't answer.

"They're gonna kill me when we get back to camp," she whispered. "I'm the next one to go."

"No, I'm a sympathy vote. Tell them that, it’s the truth. You three have pissed off a lot of people these last few weeks. A teacher who's a single dad with a young kid sounds like a better winner of a million dollars, if you ask me." Fennec stayed silent. "Hey," Din whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder. "If we tie, and we draw rocks, there's a chance it’s you going home tonight too. This way, you have a third of a chance of winning rather than a third of a chance of going home."

She scoffed. "I still have a third of a chance of going home."

"Then win immunity." He sighed deeply. "Look, you’re my friend, and me and Cobb, we’re- well, I’m not exactly sure what we are. If you win, if Cobb wins- I'll be happy. I just want to see people I feel deserve to be up there winning the prize."

“If we make it to the final two, you’d have to choose between me and him,” Fennec pointed out.

Din sighed. “I know, and it will be the hardest decision I’ve ever made.”

She pulled him into a tight hug. “You’re gonna vote for him,” she whispered.

“Fennec let’s just-”

“Din.” She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “If you end up on the jury and he doesn’t. Regardless of who is sitting next to him, you are going to vote for him, do you understand?”

Din could just nod and give her another hug before they broke apart and headed back for camp. They had to prepare for tribal council.

That night, Cobb and Boba voted for Din, Din voted for Cobb, like they had planned. And-

"Eleventh person voted out, and the sixth member of our jury: Din. That's three, that's enough, you need to bring me your torch."

Din grabbed his bag and shook Boba's hand. He kissed Fennec on the cheek and finally turned to Cobb who stood. The betrayal was written clear on his face and it broke Din's heart. He was expecting a cold shoulder and was surprised to tears when Cobb threw his arms around him.

"I love you," Din whispered in his ear before pulling away quickly and grabbing his touch before Cobb had the chance to reply or even process what he’d said.

"Din," Jeff said sadly. "The tribe has spoken." Din watched his torch be snuffed and nodded. "Time for you to go."

Din turned and waved. His heart broke impossibly more when he saw Cobb wipe his eyes with his scarf. Din blew him a kiss and his eyes watered as Cobb blew one back.

He turned and walked down the steps. At least he would get to see him in the next evening where, for as much as he liked Boba, he hoped Cobb or Fennec would be the one wearing the immunity necklace.

#dincobb #marshmando #marshalorian #din x cobb #din djarin #cobb vanth #survivor au #the mandalorian #star wars #Han writes

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unicyclehippo · 5 years ago

Note

In the last Talks, Laura said she hadn't checked in about the Gentleman and his people trafficking deal, if he was still doing it. What if Beau figured out he was doing it still and confronted him so he wouldn't disappoint Jester?

the gentleman is entertaining at his table when the drifting waiter makes their way over with a new glass of wine and a brief, whispered word into his ear. the gentleman arches a brow at whatever is said, drags a thoughtful finger over his goatee.

[[MORE]]

‘gentlemen,’ he interrupts the conversation with the word, smiles winning around at his amassed guests. ‘if you’d excuse me for a moment?’

‘they might, aye, but what about the ladies?’ the dwarven lady—impressively muscled, impressively bearded—tosses a wink his way and smiles a toothy smile. ‘ah’m only kiddin’. we want ye to scarper—yer the only one we cannae take for all he’s worth.’

the gentleman laughs, quite genuinely. he stands, spreads his hands in a warm, welcoming fashion. ‘guests, i shall return shortly. until then—drink, dine...and gentlemen—do lose well.’

the sound of laughter follows him up the stone staircase that wraps around to the second storey of his den. it isn’t until he steps into his study that he allows his smile to fall away and the invisible form of his informant reveals themself, stepping up to his side.

‘through here? how did they—teleportation?’

‘doesn’t look like it. looks like they came through the tunnels.’

‘one of ours, then, to know the way in.’

‘not...exactly.’ under the gentleman’s stare, dunn continues. ‘a known entity, yes. but she’s a monk.’

‘of the reserve?’

‘yessir.’

jester’s friend, he thinks but doesn’t say. of all his close agents, dunn is the most level-headed, but the gentleman is not in the habit of pointing a knife at someone he doesn’t wish to be killed.

they make their way quickly through the tunnels to the gentleman’s quarters. his real quarters, not the false office he keeps by the bar. the door opens silently, hinges kept well oiled, and the gentleman’s gaze slips past the shelves of blood in their phials, past stacks of curious items, past several towers of gold and platinum, past the desk and chest of his most useful correspondence, to the familiar monk who stands in the centre of his trapped floor, unharmed.

‘thank you, dunn. i can take it from here.’

the hesitation is apparent to the gentleman and to the monk, who looks between them, no doubt looking for some kind of clue as to their relationship, dunn’s standing within his empire.

‘yessir,’ dunn says, and turns neatly on their heel.

the door closes behind, and babanon dusal—who wears the name so rarely it has begun to feel more like the mask than that of the gentleman—steps carefully from the entrance to his desk. he leans against it, folds his arms.

the monk doesn’t even follow his movement, not even when his stopping at the desk puts him out of her peripherals.

‘you had best have something very important to tell me,’ he warns silkily after a moment to let her sweat. ‘or else i may take this as some kind of...threat.’

‘you’re supposed to.’

‘beg your pardon?’

the monk—beauregard lionett, of the lionett family, kamordah, first child of thoreau lionett, the originator of the vineyard and brand—takes something from her pocket. a small phial. red inside. she throws it down to the floor, watches as it shatters with a crash and smear of red across the flagstones.

‘i said,’ she tells him, voice mild, ‘this is supposed to be a threat.’

‘fascinating way to go about it. trapped in there. destroying my belongings.’

‘the blood is jester’s,’ she corrects, and turns so very slowly that the trap doesn’t activate.

babanon feels a stirring of unease, glancing down at the red stain, the glass fragments.

‘i kinda have some father issues i’m working out at the moment,’ beau continues, mouth stretched in a grin that almost encourages him to laugh along. it doesn’t meet her eyes. those are flat and bitterly cold. ‘but i’m not quite done with that, so trust me when i say i’m fully invested in kicking your ass if it comes to that. he’s got ego too. i reckon it’d be cathartic.’

‘as terribly intrigued as i am to hear about your family drama, i’m far more interested in hearing how you found your way here.’

she shakes her head. ‘you think you’re all that. you’re nothing special. you’re the head at the top of a whole lotta worker bees and some are better at covering their tracks than others.’

‘for example?’

‘two in particular. a young human guy called suck my dick, and a half-elf lady called you piece of shit.’

‘ah. must be new hires.’

her eyes flash. a muscle that runs up the side of her cheek and temple jumps as she clenches her jaw tight; after a moment, a slow breath curls out from her mouth.

‘think of it as a threat, if you want. i think it’s a threat too. some of us would call it a warning, if they knew i was here.’

‘they don’t?’ it would be far easier to get rid of her if no one knew she was here.

beau must be able to read the thought on his face, or else her line of logic goes in much the same way as his own, because she says, ‘i wouldn’t try shit, if i were you. they might not know where i am but they’re expecting me back. and jester can get scry-happy when she’s worried so any minute now she’ll see where i am—and who i am with,’ she adds, and moves so very quickly that the trap that explodes behind her doesnt manage to catch her in the blast. she is at his throat—ignoring the prick of his poisoned blade at her gut—before he can blink, strong fingers pressed at some very sensitive points that have his own fingers useless, numb, around the hilt of his blade. ‘i don’t want her to see this, just as much as you don’t, because i don’t want her heart to break when she finds out you’re nothing like she thinks. one thing—one thing—she asked of you,’ she hisses. ‘don’t trade in people. something not even the lowest of the fuckin’ low would stoop to.’ she shakes him hard, throws him away from her as the numbing sensation wears off. ‘it hasn’t even been a year and you’ve broken that promise.’

‘the war has ended. profits are—‘

‘more important than your daughter?’

babanon remains stubbornly silent. he has worked to build this group up from dregs—and yet, despite all the work and the sacrifices, he cannot deny the connection. his own weakness.

‘what do you want? i presume since the traps did nothing, you have enough to have me arrested seven times over.’

beau fixes him with that cold stare. she makes a good partner to his daughter—he hadn’t missed the way she described her rebuke, all shards of blue ice.

‘i don’t give a fuck about you or your crime empire. i’m not here to arrest you.’

‘then why?’

‘i want the second phial. of jester’s blood.’

‘i don’t know what you—‘ a bladed item of some kind bites into the soft of his shoulder, thrown so fast the monk’s movement was nothing but a blur.

he throws his dagger and she steps out of its path, flings the other star of metal.

‘we each gave two phials,’ she says cajolingly, not the slightest bit winded or concerned by the rivulets of red that drip down each of his arms, down his hands, to drip drip drip upon the stone. she holds up a hand, wriggles two such phials toward him. ‘see? both of nott’s.’ these, too, she sends flying into the wall to crash. it won’t be long until the blood turns brown and dry and would be useless to anyone trying to use the samples. ‘but i found only one for jester. give me the second.’

babanon stares her down. considers his option. ‘what do i get?’

she favours him with a withering stare, one that makes it clear how very stupid she thinks he is being.

‘i won’t tell her what you’ve done. what you’ve agreed to. end the deal, denounce it. she never has to know.’

‘i—‘

‘they stole her,’ beau snarls. ‘kidnapped her. locked her up and killed her friend. slavers! how can you keep working with them?’

he bows his head very slightly. won’t meet her eyes as he lifts his hand to the silver chain around his neck, the small phial of red hanging from it.

‘end it. give me that blood. and fuckin’—‘ she hesitates and then presses on. ‘you need to actually earn her time—don’t just listen to her and send her off to have a drink. talk to her. be a dad for fuck’s sake.’

#cr tag #tagging my stories #prompt fill #very tired sorry i hope this is good

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kathyprior4200 · 5 years ago

Text

Cold-Blooded Hearts

In Episode One

Present day, episode one

Angel Dust spotted a flying metal aircraft, which was firing lasers at buildings. It looked like an industrial rocket ship made with gears and a steampunk style to it. A metal hook hung from the bottom of it. The lasers struck the buildings, which caused bright pink explosions to fill the air.

From inside the ship, a serpent overlord stood high above over the controls, laughing manically. Down below, his deviled egg minions stood and watched. Each of them wore black top hats and pinstriped round clothing. They were called Egg Bois.

The room had deep purple walls, cabinets for the minions and decorations of their leader along the wall.

The villain was Sir. Pentious. He wore a gray coat with yellow vertical stripes down the front. He had a black tail with yellow stripes and pink eyes all over. He wore a top hat with a moving pink eye and a grinning mouth of fangs. He sprouted a demonic grin of his own, his hood also full of several pink eyes.

Up on the platform, he oriented two levers in his hands, the control button in the center displaying a pentagram design.

“Those other cowardly sinners dare not hinder my territorial takeover! A wise decision. The power of my machines are unmatched! No other demon can compare to the likes of I!”

One egg minion with #23 on his back added, “Gee that was pretty swell boss!”

“Yeah!” another chimed in: #666.

“You really showed them what for!” called a third.

Another minion teasingly ran his fingers up the overlord’s spine. “I like it when you shot them with your ray gun…”

Sir Pentious punched a minion out the window and whirled around in anger. The other minions backed up. “I wish he’d shoot me with his ray gun,” a minion whispered, head lowered.

Sir Pentious rolled his eyes at his masochist minions. He turned back to the controls and grinned. Pentagram circles revealed the areas he had taken over and the other territories ahead. “At this rate, I will seize control of the entire west side of the Pentagram by day’s end!”

He laughed and bragged some more. “And nothing, not a single beast in this inferno of suffering, will be able to take back this empire from my constrictive grasp!”

As to prove his point, he grabbed a minion in his tail and tightly squeezed him.

Another minion blew a noisemaker and then popped open a blue bottle of a brown drink. The overlord threw the minion across the room as the eggs celebrated down below.

“Hell will be mine,” he declared, “and everybody will know the name of Sir Pe…”

“Edgelord!” yelled a voice.

“Pardon?!” Sir Pentious shot back in shock. “Who said that?!”

He leaned in close to two of his minions, not pleased.

“What did you just say to me, you fried chicken fetuses?!”

The minions shook in fear.

“Speak up!” he hissed.

“It wasn’t us, mister boss man!” said a minion.

Just then, an object shot through the glass at the front, creating a small hole. A small pink bomb with a black skull on the front, landed on the floor. Sir Pentious observed it for a moment…the bomb looked like a cherry…which could only mean…

The bomb exploded, covering the room in sparkles and thick red smoke.

Sir Pentious coughed and swiped some of the smoke away.

“You looking for a fight, old man?” a female voice challenged.

Sir Pentious spotted his rival standing proud and casually catching another bomb in her hand: Cherry Bomb.

Towering tall in pink high heel boots, ripped black jeans, a pink crop top with an x on the front, long strawberry blonde hair, a single pink eye with an x that took up most of her white face…a grin of sharp teeth…it was her alright.

“Why don’t you get that tinker toy bullshit off my turf before I smash it…” she declared before catching her bomb. A random barbell of metal crashed into the floor close to Cherri Bomb.

“…more.”

“Oh, you wanna go, missy?” Sir Pentious retorted. He flicked his hood back before opening it. Well, I’m happy to oblige!”

He let out another evil laugh as his minions closed in, holding stun guns, which crackled with yellow electricity.

But Cherri Bomb wasn’t scared. With graceful leaps, she avoided the blasts and threw down another bomb. She used the cover to escape, jumping down and swinging once from the anchor at the bottom of the flying craft. Landing gracefully on the ground, she continued her assault from below.

“Catch me if you can, snake man!”

“Get her!” he bellowed through the red smoke, the eggs quickly running around in a frenzy.

The minions jumped to the ground after her, the overlord following suit. Cherri Bomb dodged a blast, grinned and picked up the minion egg. She spun around and threw the minion straight into Sir Pentious’ face. He threw the egg back at her, and she caught it with one hand.

“Thanks for the gift!” she called out, before cracking the egg open with an evil grin. She placed a bomb into it, then threw it back at him...straight to his face. Sir Pentious could only make a face of surprise before the egg blew up in pink smoke.

“Why you little…”

Cherri Bomb ducked as another egg sailed over her head.

Just then, a familiar drug-addict white demon stomped on an egg minion and threw a grenade in the distance.

“Angel Dust!” called Cherri Bomb, happy to have her partner in crime arrive.

“Great to see you too, sweetie!” he teased.

Another pink explosion filled the air as the fight continued.

“Hey, thanks for the backup, Angie!” Cherri Bomb said as she fired a flaming red arrow with a large gun over toward Sir Pentious.

Angel Dust laughed, leaning against volcanic rock as cover. He threw a grenade over his head.

“You kiddin’? This is the best action I’ve seen in ages!”

A pink explosion rocked the streets.

“Where have you been anyway?” she asked. “I thought you up and died or some shit.”

“I wish,” he remarked as he lit another fuse and handed the bomb to his ally. She threw it forward, then ducked behind the rock next to Angel.

Angel continued, “I’ve been staying at this crappy hotel on the other side of town. Some boards are letting’ me stay rent-free if I play nice.” They covered their ears.

A column of green smoke rose into the air with a fiery whoosh. The duo leaped over the rock and charged at the army of egg minions. Using four arms, Angel Dust fired rapidly from a gun at the minions, making some of them explode.

He sighed, and used one of his hands to gesture. “Y’know, no fights, no pranks, no “problematic language.” Her words, not mine.”

He tripped an unsuspecting minion, sending him into the air and exploding in a yellow yok mess. He waved a spiked club and continued firing his gun. A pot shop stood in the background, with marijuana leaves near the sign.

“These bitches are no fun!” Angel complained in frustration. Splatters of yok landed on his head and face. “I’ve been clean for two weeks!”

“Holy shit!” Cherri Bomb yelled after avoiding a green explosion and leaping into the air.

Angel scooped up yok with his finger. “Well, sorta clean.” He smashed apart another egg minion with his club. “As clean as you can get with a shitload of Bolivian marching powder.”

Angel’s shadowy silhouette displayed sharp fangs as Cherri posed in the background, one of her boots missing. A sign read “50% off meth” above a small super market.

A black chain wrapped tightly around Angel’s waist and chest, sending him flying backwards. Cherri Bomb gasped as her ally was pulled away. Sir Pentious threw the chained Angel Dust hard onto the ground a distance away. He landed with a thud against volcanic rock.

“Oh, harder daddy!” Angel teased with a wide smirk.

Sir Pentious gasped, eyes tearing up. “Son?!”

Angel Dust stared blankly, one eye raised, a look of disbelief on his face.

Cherri Bomb rushed into action, landing a sharp kick to Sir Pentious’ back. The villain landed on the ground, then hissed threateningly.

“You whores have no class!” he exclaimed, standing up. “In war, the side remembered is the side with the most…style.” He straightened his black bowtie with a spring.

Cherri Bomb broke open an egg and tossed the shells aside. Angel stood up, freeing himself from the chains.

“Or the side that ain’t dead,” she added.

“Speaking of style, is your hat like, alive or something’?” Angel asked, wiggling his fingers.

Sir Pentious hissed. “Oh, well, that’s none of your goddamn business, now is it?”

Angel continued, “Would that make your hat the top and you the bottom?”

He and Cherri burst into laughter. Even a pink “loser” sign pointed at the oblivious villain. “Ooooh,” said a minion near him. “One hellish burn.”

“I’m going to blow you to bits!” Sir Pentious yelled, pointing at them.

“Hmm! Kinky!” Angel teased.

An advertisement displaying a plate of, sausage, eggs and a tomato slice stood halfway buried in the ground. A glowing pink sign pointing down read “pussy.” Another yellow sign read, “Sex here.”

“Not like that! Pervert!” yelled the villain. Cherri Bomb and Angel Dust held in laughter.

Angel suddenly pushed Cherri Bomb out of the way, as an egg minion shot tendrils of claws from behind them. The claws had eyes in the center and grabbed onto Angel’s four wrists. He struggled to free himself, the cords stretching.

Sir Pentious chuckled. “Not so cocky now, are we?”

“Y’know, you really need to watch what’s coming out of your mouth,” Angel remarked. “Cocky…cumming, you get it?”

The villain didn’t respond.

Angel sighed. “I’ve been making these sex jokes the whole time!”

A drill poked out from the ground, Angel avoiding it. A minion held a drill in his small hands at Angel. Two extra arms popped out from Angel’s body, holding his rifle.

“And it’s obvious you ain’t catching on.”

He cocked his gun. “I mean, it’s just sad!”

He jumped into the air, freeing himself and firing the gun. The laser hit Sir Pentious, and his gray top hat fell off.

Cherri Bomb popped up next to Angel. “So, think you’re gonna get into a lot of trouble for this?”

“Eh, what’s one little brawl gonna cause?” He shrugged his shoulders and retracted his extra arms. Sir Pentious lay fuming on the ground.

More egg minions scrambled over to the edge of a high cliff, overlooking the scene. Egg shells and yok puddles littered the cracked street.

Cherri Bomb playfully elbowed Angel. “Glad ya haven’t changed. You know you’re my favorite guy to party with!”

“You know it, sugar tits,” Angel replied.

“You ready to finish this?” she asked. She rolled a bomb from one of her shoulders to her other shoulder, then into her hand.

Angel cocked his gun again. “Born ready, baby!”

The duo charged at Sir Pentious. Everyone yelled. More egg minions fell and Sir Pentious realized he was running out fast.

After several more minutes of battle, Sir Pentious and his remaining minions retreated back to his ship. “This isn’t over, sluts!” he declared at his enemies. “I’ll have my revenge!” The ship hatch closed. The egg minions steered the ship and it rose into the air, almost sending the overlord flying out of the craft. He tossed out more minions in response before taking the controls and flying the craft away.

Angel and Cherri Bomb high-fived.

“See you around,” she said.

“Until the next brawl,” said Angel.

Cherri Bomb waved goodbye and blasted music from an Eye Pod (a device made from an actual moving eye. “Hello, daddy. Hello mom. I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb! Hello world! I’m your wild girl. I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!” she sang out loud. Angel Dust laughed and continued on his way.

After buying some more amino and pot from the 666 Shop, Angel met with Charlie and Vaggie in a white monster limo. A great day indeed for the promiscuous demon.

Later on, Alastor, Husk, Niffty, Charlie, Angel, and Vaggie, peered out of the hole to see what was going on. Vaggie had her weapon at the ready.

Looking skyward, the group saw a cracked blimp in the air. It had a small random band aid with a sad face on it along the rim. A familiar snake villain popped out of his hideout.

“Ha!” Sir Pentious laughed. “Well, well, well, look who it is harboring the striped freak! We meet again, Alastor!”

Apparently, he was also rivals with Alastor.

But Alastor simply asked, “Do I know you?”

The snake boss looked disappointed. Then he said in anger, “Oh yes you do! And this time, I have the element of…surprise!”

The villain raced toward his pink velvet chair and pulled a lever. A metallic cannon lowered to the ground. The cannon fired up with pink energy as pink smoke appeared around them.

“He laughed manically. “I’m so evil!”

Then he added, “I have an Egg army!”

“Well, we have an Alastor,” Charlie responded.

Alastor snapped his fingers, red tendrils of smoke rising from his hand. The weapon froze in mid fire and a fiery portal opened up below the blimp.

A horde of black tendrils rose from the hole, latching onto the ship. One tentacle ripped off the cannon and threw it into another smaller portal, causing it to explode in pink smoke. One of the tentacles had already smashed a hole in the large round window.

Sir Pentious looked on in shock as his Egg Bois slammed against the wall (one of them read #Ouch.) One of the eggs cracked open, spilling out yellowish brains and small organs among the stains of yok. Sir Pentious and another minion were thrown against the wall.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he screamed before he was slammed against the ceiling by a black limb.

“Oh, that hurt!” he cried.

Sir Pentious screamed as he was dragged along the floor and lifted up slightly. He was held in place, surrounded by the wrapped up tendril. At once, the tendril shrunk and squeezed the helpless snake. The Egg Bois ran around screaming as black cracks appeared on the floor and walls.

From the outside, more black tendrils were closing in. Red voodoo symbols appeared around the blimp.

Four horned shadowy spirits with red auras floated around, wearing toothy grins.

The tendrils were now wrapped around the entire blimp, holding it in place like thick black vines.

Red radio waves filled Alastor’s eyes as he circled his fingers and worked is magic. Voodoo symbols appeared all around him as he altered the state of reality. Radio static consumed the air.

The vines thickened and completely enclosed the blimp. The spirits swooped around it in excitement, with echoing shrieks. The aura around the tendrils glowed a fiery yellow, the same color as the portal rim.

Alastor closed his four-fingered hand which began to glow. The tendrils proceeded to crush the blimp. Pink rays of light shot from the center and the blimp exploded in a loud BOOM!

Pink smoke spread everywhere as the spirits sped away. The tendrils broke into severed bloody pieces that rained down to the ground. Alastor smiled victoriously, while behind them, the group of five stared in utter terror and shock. (Save for Niffty who had a small smile on her face).

Sir Pentious climbed out of the crater, hand shaking, tooth chipped, after the group had left.

“Now will you shot me with your ray gun?” asked the minion.

Sir Pentious face-planted on the ground in response.

Humiliating Defeat

Present day

A buzzing static sound came from a device on Sir Pentious’ wrist.

“Boss, do you read me? I just got done watching the princess on the news and I’m on my way to this so called Happy Hotel. Right next to my lab. I’ve already connected it. Apparently, this hotel is intended to redeem sinners and send them to Heaven. Implausible but not impossible. When you’re finished fighting, let’s meet up at the lab…the one away from the hotel.

“Sir Pentious, sir, are you there? I’m on my way there. Over.”

Inch by inch, the serpentine aristocrat heaved himself up and out of the crater. He slowly slithered on with his lower snake body. He had underestimated Angel Dust, Cherri Bomb, and Alastor. He had believed that with his inventions he could take over Hell and disintegrate all his foes with one press of a button.

Now his airship lay in smoking ruins at the bottom of the crater. He could still hear the faraway laughs and taunts of the shadow spirits as they flew off.

“Please, O’ mighty sir…just one blast?”

Sir Pentious glanced down at the Egg Boi and scowled. The egg minions thought of him as some kind of sexy intelligent deity. They praised him, ran around, and admired his inventions at every turn. With more than three hundred of the humpty dumptys constantly being made, it was surprising that the inventor hadn’t gone mad. Sure he would be fond of them at times, even reading them stories about villains taking over the world to help them get to sleep. But mostly they were annoying little tools who wouldn’t shut up. With dozens of eggs at his beck and call, came the cost of being an unofficial part-time parent.

Then again, maybe it was his assistant’s way of getting on his nerves. His assistant was Baxter, the blue anglerfish scientist, who had helped him make the Egg Bois. He had a few underground labs, including one under the Hazbin Hotel. While Sir Pentious conquered territory from above, Baxter lurked below and conducted unethical experiments on other unlucky sinners. He was a loner who didn’t like to be disturbed but he would go out of his lab on occasion.

But the minions had been very helpful at overwhelming demons who had tried to fight back. The eggs would keep them distracted while Sir Pentious would destroy the area with a fury of lasers while letting out an evil laugh. He had blasted one demon to bits after the youngster had mocked his hip outfit with an “ok boomer!” and flipping him the bird. Sir Pentious was mad that his rock star shirt and baseball cap were disregarded so fast. He even had a skateboard and sunglasses for show. But the minions had showered him with compliments, leaving him temporarily satisfied.

Plus, as eggs, the minions were also a suitable source of substance.

Just like the one near him.

Sir Pentious picked up the egg minion in his hands and stretched open his mouth.

Several minions who had tested his patience for long enough became part of his breakfast. He had swallowed them whole and licked his lips. Or cooked them alive in a frying pan, while making the other minions watch. He would say, “This is an example of what happens when you don’t obey my orders.” The rest of the egg minions would fall silent and quickly get back to work.

He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until after the smoke cleared.

He looked at the minion with one eye open and saw the minion holding in a giggle.

“Are…you blushing?” he asked, closing his mouth and facing the minion in his hand.

“I think this is even better than getting shot, now that I think about it,” said the minion, a big smile on his white oval face. “What does your tongue feel like on my hard shell?”

With a noise between a gasp and a yell, Sir Pentious tossed the Egg Boi into the air until he cracked open in a splatter of yellow organs and yok at the bottom of the crater. Sir Pentious’ gray top hat rolled its pink eye.

He scoffed, “I swear, Hell is just mocking me today!” Taped on his back was a sticky note that read, “I’m A Dirty Snake In Da Grass.” The top hat tried not to laugh. Sir Pentious glance down at his device and listened to it. As much as he wanted to see the hotel, he was not in the shape to take that risk. He would be noticed right away, and defenseless without his machines.

In many ways, he was lucky to have his assistant and spy around. He could only hope that he could find useful information for him. His mind was full of himself and his inventions most of the time…which led to him being slightly unaware of the proceedings outside. Forget about the fact that he didn’t know what cell phones or computers were. Being one of the oldest sinners in Hell had pros and cons. Many years of conquering territories and admiring himself…but also having to keep up with the ever-expanding technologies and cultures merging together.

Sir Pentious winced as he made his way back to his hideout on top of a volcano. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, save for glass windows at the very top of the structure. He glanced down distastefully at his outfit, which had been ruined in the battle. His suit would have to be washed and ironed as soon as possible. Even his bow-tie was lopsided. His lower snake belly, though it was thick and tough, was tired from moving over the hard ground.

A set of double doors lay behind a large black hunk of rock, unnoticeable to many passerby. He tapped it in a rhythmic pattern with his clawed fingers and the boulder moved off slightly toward the right.

After typing in a passcode on a keypad next to metal double doors, he walked up and a long scanner appeared from a small hatch inside the rocky wall. It hovered by his face and registered his yellow eyes.

“Match recognized,” chirped a robotic voice, before the scanner retracted back into the hatch. The set of doors opened.

Whirring and the sounds of rapid footsteps came from above. The floor was black onyx with several cracks and holes in it due to machinery parts that had fallen to the lower level in the past. The place smelled of mechanical machines, old furniture, and of course, eggs. The walls were purple with little golden curves shaped like snake scales. There were a few small lamps in the walls. Sir Pentious walked over to an old fashioned pulley-like lift connected with ropes and stepped onto the slab of square wood.

“Pull the lever!” he ordered a nearby Egg Boi. Two levers stood side by side, each with a red top part.

“This lever?” the egg asked. He pulled one. The pulley and Sir Pentious rapidly descended until it hit a floor covered with dark spikes.

“WRONG LEVER YOU IMBECILE EGG!” Sir Pentious yelled.

He pulled his hood free from the protruding spikes, blood spurting from his smaller pink eyes. The Egg Boi pulled the other lever and this time, Sir Pentious and the hole-covered slab of wood were slowly raised upward. The snake gave the egg a heated glare before he disappeared above.

He reached the top and opened the wooden doors in front of him.

A large dome had glass windows that allowed a view of Hell and the red sky outside. An overhead screen with a glowing red pentagram showed a map of Hell and Sir Pentious’ occupied territories. Adjoining doors in the far wall led to a small kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom. Metal and concrete pipes of various sizes intercepted in a haphazardly pattern close to the stone ceiling. Along the wall were gold framed portraits of Sir Pentious in various poses. In one, he was smirking while holding his wrist out, fingers pointed downward somewhat spread out. In another portrait, he stood with a cigar in one hand and a newspaper in the other. The headline read: “Sir Pentious Seizes Control of Styx, St. Peter Central, Brimstone, and portion of Pentagram City.”

The Egg Bois cheered and darted around when their boss returned.

“Welcome back, boss!” greeted one egg wearing pinstriped clothing identical to the one Sir Pentious was wearing.

“The takeover, how was it?” asked another one who popped up nearby.

“Oh, you look badly beaten,” remarked a third. “Perhaps a bubble bath is in order?”

“I don’t need a bath!” Sir Pentious snapped. “I just need to have a plan.”

“You sure, sir?” asked the egg with a grin. “I brought a rubber duck for the occasion!”

The egg held up a yellow plastic duck in his tiny hands, the ducks eyes demonic red, with small horns sticking from the top of the duck’s head. He began squeezing the toy with childish laughter. Sir Pentious swatted the egg minion aside with his tail.

He walked over to a desk made of snake skin. The desk had various tools organized in metal boxes: wrenches, screwdrivers, drills, pencils. An ashtray hung out on the top of the desk, extended slightly past the desk. He opened a drawer. A bunch of folders were inside, all with “Evil Plan” labels on the front. He sat down on a leather chair, took in a puff of smoke with his cigar and reviewed the contents.

“Cause mass hysteria with swarm of robotic snakes, check. Send egg army to infiltrate Vox’s studio, check. Lost a lot of minions that time. Hypnotize Katie Killjoy so she can mention my conquests on the news…easy enough. Apprehend Vox…not started. Poison Angel Dust, not started. Open up a coffee shop for fellow villains…also not started…”

Sir,” said a group of Egg Bois nearby, startling him. Sir Pentious burst into a coughing fit, circles of smoke floating from his mouth. “What?!”

“We are pleased to inform you that the territory near the West side of the Pentagram is now open for the taking.”

Sir Pentious cleared his throat looked at the map on the screen to the open area littered with egg shells. “That’s the area I was just at! The place where I fought that striped freak and his punk friend.”

“That’s the place!”

Sir Pentious grinned with a row of sharp fangs, rubbing his hands together. “Excellent! Send out the drones!”

The Egg Bois rushed down a slope shaped like a snake tail and configured with controls and buttons. Hatch doors opened and metallic drones armed with missiles and cameras whirred and flew out into the distance. The sounds of explosions and screams could be heard.

Sir Pentious chuckled. At least one good thing had happened today. Seeing the denizens get trampled beneath his inventions would give him a thrilling sense of dominance. During those times, he felt more like an overlord, despite not officially being one.

If he weren’t so tired, he’d burst into song. He let out a sigh as he stared at the mess of metal, screws, and weapons around the room. He had to get to work…it would at least keep his mind occupied and perhaps come up with another more devious plan.

For the next couple of hours, Sir Pentious worked on modifying a large tank that could ram through buildings and other demons who were around. The canons could shot out blasts and emit noxious gas. Of course, the gas wouldn’t kill demons; it would temporarily leave them gagging so he could either defeat them or sneak around them. Wearing protective face covering, he fused wires together as sparks flew from a tool he used. He narrowed his eyes at empty vials and flaks left over from Baxter’s last visit. There was also a partially finished fish robot underneath the arched desk.

“Blimey, Baxter, you always forget to take your things with you! Worthless junk.”

His first instinct was to chuck the robot and useless vials out the window.

But that would lead to a broken window…

And the possibility of being spotted…

And an angry assistant…

But why should he care about what Baxter thought? The fish man could just replace those items just like that. Besides, he was working for Sir Pentious, so Sir Pentious’ feelings were more important anyway. Outbursts were the norm in Hell.

Pushing aside his hesitant feelings, the snake resumed his work.

Next he worked on different types of guns that could shot venomous darts to paralyze demons.

At least he would have worked more on them without the Egg Bois pestering him.

“Hey boss, is it true that slutty spider flirted and teased with you during that battle?”

“Were you beaten by a red deer lord?”

“When will you sing us a villain song?”

“Do you really have a son? Is that Baxter guy your son?”

“Will Uncle Baxter teach me how to fish for victims someday?”

“Dad,” asked a little egg, “I need help using the bathroom.”

“Ugh,” he sighed lifting his mask and turning around.

“Do you fried chicken fetuses not know the meaning of “Do Not Disturb?!”

“I don’t think so,” said Egg #666, holding a red marker. He had crossed off “not” on a nearby Do Not Disturb sign.

“Why don’t you ask your hen mommy for help,” Sir Pentious told the little egg. “Oh wait, you don’t have one.”

The small egg burst into tears. “But…you’re my mom and my dad.”

Sir Pentious waved a hand. “Ask someone else, I’m busy right now as you can see.”

The little egg sighed in disappointment and grudgingly wondered away.

After Sir Pentious had some tea and washed up in the bathroom (his broken fangs would thankfully grow back) he traveled back to the pit to retrieve the broken airship parts, quickly and quietly. He made it back to his hideout and got to work.

The Eggs pestered him with more questions and even worse, poking and touching him. He hated being touched, and this resulted in many Egg Bois being slammed or flung against the wall.

“Clean up that yok mess,” he ordered the other eggs before going back to repairing.

“Egg 66 stole my toy train,” Egg 99 complained after a moment.

“I did not,” #99 shot back.

Sir Pentious’ hammering and drilling did nothing to block out the Egg Bois insistent, obnoxious wailing.

“You did.”

“Not me.”

“Yes you!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

The eggs rolled around in a fight, rolling into other eggs and knocking them to the floor.

One egg held up two top hats. “Which one looks better on him?” she asked. “This black top hat or this lavender one?”

“I think he’d look great in a dark cape and long black mustache,” said another egg.

“I think he looked like that in his other life,” said the female egg.

“You didn’t answer my question, sir,” said Egg A 113, “did you really get beaten up by the Radio…”

“We don’t speak his name!” Sir Pentious yelled in a high voice.

The fighting Egg Bois rammed into the tank, causing it to wobble. The tank leaned into a worktable, sending wheels, weapons, blueprints, and tools crashing to the floor. The tank fell to the ground, its weight causing it to crash through the onyx floor. The vehicle plummeted down through the lower level and into a large puddle of lava.

Sir Pentious hissed in anger, breathing heavily. All the Eggs fell deathly silent.

He grew in size, his hood extending outwards, pink eyes turning red. Even his gray top hat increased in size, turning into a small snake. Sir Pentious was as large as Boa Constrictor in his full demon form. His eyes glowed red and more sharp fangs grew from inside his mouth.

His low demonic voice was mixed up with the sounds of turning gears and clanking metal.

“What did I tell you fools about bothering me when I’m working?!”

The Eggs shivered. “We’re s-sorry, boss!” several called out.

“Yeah, we didn’t mean it!”

“You did, though,” said an Egg, elbowing another minion.

“I don’t care who started what!” he hissed. Green fire sprouted from his mouth, frying some Egg Bois. “Those to the left have ten seconds to start cleaning up this mess. Those to the right have ten seconds to go to your incubators before I eat you all.”

“But, wouldn’t your stomach explode?” asked an egg. “It would be kind of fun to see what in there…”

“SILENCE!” he bellowed, causing the room to shake. “Get to work and get out of my sight. NOW!”

The eggs scurried off as Sir Pentious reverted back to his regular form. Downstairs in a small area were rows of circular incubators, each covered by round glass barriers that could open and close. The holes filled up nearly every inch of the metallic wall in every direction. Inside the incubators were beds of straw, golden light, and vents to provide warmth. The eggs climbed up stairs attached to snake-like structures up to their assigned holes. Many of them soon curled up and feel asleep to the sounds of hens clucking and steampunk music emitting from nearby speakers.

Sir Pentious loved steampunk technology like gears, trains, airships and others, while Baxter preferred science, robots, computers, and modern inventions. While Sir Pentious relied on weapons and warfare, Baxter relied on research and data. Baxter deemed Sir Pentious’ inventions as outdated junk. In response, Sir Pentious perceived Baxter’s work as complicated and boring. Baxter may have been an expert in physics and science but he didn’t have the classic sense of style that Sir Pentious possessed. Baxter sat around, while Sir Pentious moved around.

Surely everything about Sir Pentious was cooler, he thought: his attire, his animal-like traits…and his name as well. Sir Pentious…a pun on serpent. Why would his assistant settle for a simplistic name like Baxter? Why not Angler-Inventor or Einstein Fisher? Or even Dr. Reducto?

But still, Sir Pentious couldn’t have created so many Egg Bois on his own. Not when he was busy claiming territory or fixing his machines.

Which reminded him that he needed to make a new airship and weapons.

Several hours later, Sir Pentious had completed the stun guns that shot venom darts. The exterior backbone of the airship was done but there were still many empty spaces. In fact, only the front part of the airship had been thoroughly repaired and worked on. Never mind the interior, weapons and engines…they would have to wait for now. An old grandfather clock in a corner let out a chime, signaling it was midnight.

“Guess I better go to bed,” he said groggily. He pressed several switches that locked more doors and a metal shutter that covered the glass windows. He wandered to the bathroom and did indeed take a bubble bath in the old claw foot tub, the rubber duck floating in the water. Sir Pentious’ top hat remained in his head.

Thankfully there were no Egg Bois around to disturb him.

Save for one, #666.

He had been spying on Sir Pentious when he had undressed and threw his suit down a chute to be washed. The inventor’s lower half was that of a black snake but his top half was more human-like. He looked similar to the mythical Naga, part snake part man.

The top hat growled and narrowed its eye, staring at the Egg in the corner.

“What is it?” Sir Pentious asked. The top hat turned around in midair, baring sharp teeth. It was then that the snake spotted the stalking egg.

His mouth opened in a vicious hiss and his hood extended out from his head.

“ARE YOU SERIOUSLY SPYING ON ME IN MY BATHROOM?”

Water splashed everywhere onto the white and black tiled floor. A gold toilet and sink stood nearby.

Smartly, the egg dashed out of the room.

“IF I EVER CATCH YOU AGAIN, YOU’LL BE MADE INTO AN OMLETE!”

Sir Pentious sighed in frustration, throwing the rubber duck across the room. It bounced and squeaked, eyes glowing. He sunk back into the water, long tongue flicking out. He stared into the water, the bubbles gradually clearing away. Staring at the liquid made him think of someone else that could aid in his plans.

“Of course!” he thought. “Going through all my old plans and I didn’t think about my assistant. I wonder what the little rascal has got for me this time.”

Sir Pentious got out of the tub and changed into his red pajamas, long pants and a shirt with pentagrams, gears and hazardous symbols on it. A nearby tea mug read “Hell’s #1 Villain” on it (though an Egg Boi had scribbled on the word “Dad” in black sharpie.) He sank into bed, admiring the large wall portrait of himself across the room. He was standing proudly with one of his airships in the background, rows of burning buildings nearby. The Egg Bois were cheering and standing beside him, one was on his shoulder and another got close to the old camera. Said old camera was tucked into his closet among the rows of suits, ties and fancy shoes.

Sir Pentious turned on the old fashioned TV and Katie Killjoy popped up on the screen.

“...and in other news, claimed king Sir Pentious recently got twisted in knots after a brief scuffle with the infamous Radio Demon.”

Several Egg Bois “Ooohed” from outside the door.

“Get to bed, you sacks of unborn chickens!”

“Indeed,” Tom Trench added. “Even the inventors have their limits…especially when it comes to overlords. He’s certainly no overlord.”

“I am too!” Sir Pentious yelled. “I’ve conquered the Eastern side of Pentagram City and I’m still not done! Plus I have an egg army. But no magic…yet. But then again, I don’t need any. All I need is my super intelligent mind!”

“Edgelord!” called Cherri Bomb who blew raspberries at the camera.

“That classless whore!” he exclaimed. “I’ll made her explode using her own bombs.”

Tom Trench gave her several winks while Katie glared.

“Get out of my studio, punk!” she demanded.

“Newsflash, bitch!” Cherri declared. “This is Hell! I go where I want, whenever I want. You’ll be seeing me during the next turf war!”

She threw a bomb onto the ground and vanished in the pink smoke. Katie coughed while Tom Trench mentioned, “She’s the bomb for sure. I could blow her mind!”

The gas mask news anchor got slapped by Katie. “You fucking would, Tom! You perverted little bitch.”

“Bah!” Sir Pentious spat in anger, raising a fist. “That Alastor ruining my plans to destroy that place of junk and that slutty spider. The nerve of him!”

Katie appeared back on screen. “Meanwhile, Hell’s princess has decided to pursue her passion project after all.” The screen cut to the Hazbin Hotel, a building with an old ship, a carousel and other odd structures attached to it.

“Look there she is, all high and mighty with that sweet smile on her face.” Katie’s voice was laced with disdain and sarcasm.

Sure enough, Charlie was standing underneath the circus stripped red canopy in her pink tuxedo and black pants. Her lips were black and her yellow eyes shone with excitement.

“Welcome to the Happy Hotel!” she said to three demons. “Vaggie will be with you shortly to discuss rooms and rules.” She held open one of the stained glass doors with an apple on it.

“Vaggie! We have three new guests coming in!”

“What? Already! Please don’t tell me they have creepy shadow powers.”

“Nope!” she called.

“Fuck everyone,” Husk called.

“I’d be glad to,” Angel replied.

“You’re a horrible sick spider,” Alastor remarked.

“I second that,” said Vaggie.

“I’ll go get their rooms cleaned!” called Niffty.

Charlie turned back to the visitors outside. “You’re just in time! Alastor finished making jambalaya for us! What are your names?”

“I’m Mimzy,” said a plump woman with pale skin, large hips, big breasts and short blonde hair. She wore a pink dapper dress and a headband with a feather in it. “I work at a jazz club in the city and I also sing at performances.”

“I love singing too!” said Charlie. “Have you met my friend Alastor yet?”

Mimzy’s eyes dilated. “Oh believe me dearie, I have.”

She walked inside before Charlie could ask what she meant.

“Crymini,” said a teen hellhound dressed in leather and ripped jeans. Rock music blared from skull earphones. “I like rock, metal, and looking at porn,” she said. “Don’t expect me to change those behaviors.”

“O-okay then,” Charlie smiled nervously as Crymini stepped in. “Be like Angel, I suppose.”

The last person had the appearance of a blue bipedal angler fish. He wore a dark lab coat with black gloves. Yellow goggles covered his eyes.

“I’m Baxter,” he said. “I’m a scientist and I prefer being alone. I just need a quiet place to…do some research for the time being.”

“Excellent, welcome then,” said Charlie as he stepped through the doors.

“By the way, why does it say “Hazbin Hotel” on the roof?”

“Baxter, it doesn’t say…” Charlie looked up and sure enough the words had changed.

She turned into her fiery demon form before slamming the door.

“WHO CHANGED MY NAME FOR THE HOTEL?!”

Alastor merely whistled a cheery tune.

“And there you have it,” Katie said. “A Hazbin Hotel for a bunch of Has Been freaks…all run by Charlotte! Stay tuned for more nightly news, reruns and more.”

Sir Pentious turned off the TV and lay down. All the work that needed to be done, the inventions to create, the plans to make…it would take some time for sure. But not if he had extra help.

Thankfully, no one else had noticed the recording device that Baxter kept behind his fin-like ear…a device used specifically to report to his boss…Sir Pentious himself.

Sir Pentious moved his hand to a similar device on his wrist.

“Blubberfish,” he hissed. “What’s going on over there?”

A European accent mixed with watery sounds came through. He appeared to be whispering. “Not now, boss. Too many subjects in proximity to exchange words.”

“Say what?”

“Can’t talk, now.”

“But you just did…”

Sir Pentious heard the hotel residents talking among themselves while Baxter sat and paid them no mind. He was very good at blending in for a few minutes before moving back into the shadows. After gathering more intel, Baxter stepped into an elevator and pushed the button for the basement. The doors opened again into darkness.

The vast basement had stacks of crates, rats, and old pieces of junk. Extra pieces of furniture lay here and there. Against a brick wall were skeletons attached to black chains. Bare round lightbulbs hung from the ceiling.

Baxter maneuvered around the chairs, crates, clutter, and cobwebs until reaching a small metal elevator in a right hand corner on the other side. He typed in a code on a keypad. Gently, he leaned forward and placed his esca into a small hole below the set of numbered buttons.

An affirming beep sounded and the metal doors opened. Baxter stepped in and the doors closed. He felt the elevator descending before coming to a stop. The doors slid open again, letting in cold, stale air.

He walked along the dark narrow stone passageway, his esca lighting the way.

Soon he came across double doors with handles shaped like tridents. He opened them.

Teal fluorescent lights hummed and flickered from the ceiling. The lab was filled with machines, bubbling chambers, and rows of vials and flasks. Shelves in the metal walls held books, cages, and the occasional fish hook. A work desk had a computer, some white colored modern microscopes and blueprints stacked neatly on the table. Several cages held white and black rats in them, another held a few guinea pigs.

But that was nothing compared with the marine life.

Tanks held anglerfish, tuna, angelfish, and one under constructed for a shark. Fish-bones hung from hooks along a mantle. Other doors to the far end led to a bathroom and bedroom, oceanic themes present in the overall architecture.

The windows showed giant eels, sharks, fish and other sea creatures swimming in a large lake. Seaweed and coral swayed in the water as the scaly monsters swam past. Baxter felt at home being surrounded by the ocean. All the creatures among him, yet he was also protected and safe in his orderly bubble made of metal, glass and waterproof material.

Someday, he and the sea life would bring floods to the harsh heat of Hell. All the chaos and ceaseless chatter would be washed away in a sea of salt water and flame. Yes, his work would be recognized…and the results would lead to a steady success. Those he despised and those lost in their ignorant ways would ensure a similar fate to his…only he would get to enjoy his orchestrated spread of chemicals, diseases, fear, and psychological warfare.

Science was infallible…unmatched…even greater than magic and authoritarian power.

He would be the one to bring a New World Order.

Dexter Ryan Solace was his full human name…in Hell he was simply known as Baxter.

He led out a maddening laugh before getting to work. The sounds of explosions and roars echoed and vibrated.

But his laughter eventually fell into sudden silence when he listened to his boss’ last message.

“You are to gather intel for me so that hideous place and its inhabitants can be…thoroughly dealt with. You may poke and prod anyone left as you wish. Under no circumstances are you to genuinely befriend anyone at the hotel and forget about your mission. And whatever you do, do not anger the Radio Demon. We’ll be meeting soon...little Geekfish.”

Back in Sir Pentious’ lair, Sir Pentious sighed and fell into bed. It wasn’t easy being a supervillain sometimes.

“Dad,” whimpered a small voice.

Sir Pentious turned around. He stared into the large fearful eyes of an Egg Boi.

“I had a nightmare and I can’t fall back asleep. Can I sleep with you?”

“How about no.”

“Please?” the egg begged. “At least let me tell you what it was about.”

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

“A big mean owl had us for dinner? And by us I mean us eggs and…um…”

“Me? Nonsense!”

“I-it’s true. He was a scary owl with a crown on his head and he said he was very hungry…”

Sir Pentious rolled his eyes. “Fine. But just for tonight.”

“Oh thank you!” The egg jumped onto the bed and rolled to the pillow next to his boss.

“Sir, I can’t sleep either.”

“What the…”

Another egg boi had arrived.

“My bed of hay was too uncomfortable. And I need a drink of water.”

“You’re an egg,” Sir Pentious noted, warning in his tone.

“Can I stay with you?”

Sir Pentious grumbled. There was no escaping these guys.

A third egg. “Sir, can I come in?”

A fourth egg. “Why does egg 66 get to sleep with you?”

“Can you read me a bedtime story?”

“Oh, tell us about your killing spree adventures!”

“Number 6, move out of the way!”

“I’m number 9, you fool!”

“Sorry, you looked alike.”

More eggs rolled in by the dozens. They crowded onto the bed and some hopped onto the snake’s lap.

“For Satan’s sake!” Sir Pentious groaned. “Go back to bed.”

But the eggs would not budge. Some of them talked while others fell asleep.

Sir Pentious blocked out the noise and uncomfortable sensations of hard shells pressed against him.

He had to meet with Baxter.

Partnership

1913, Hell

Sir Pentious slithered along the streets on Pentagram City, trying to keep his head up and tall. His clothing was torn in several places and there was a gash on his scaly dark gray chest. Demons gawked at the sinner who would usually scare off anyone he saw. But this time, several demons mocked and sneered.

“So claimed king of all Hell, ha! What’d you get beaten by this time?”

“Old man…not so pompous now are you?”

“Fuck you!”

“Snake can’t catch a break!”

Sir Pentious hissed in anger, his eyes glowing red. The demons backed off and fell silent. The eyes in his hood glowed, catching the attention of the demons. The demons began fighting each other minutes after staring at the hypnotizing orbs.

He walked away and wondered toward the repair shop.

Indeed, he had been beaten badly by a formidable foe: Stolas the Gnostic owl demon king. After razing several towns and sending the survivors away in fear, Sir Pentious, confident as ever, wanted to take his conquests to the next level: royalty. Sir Pentious had created a gigantic airship with cannons that destroyed several buildings and killed many denizens in the process. Demons were hard to kill but not impossibly so. The snake’s bombs and firepower made sure of that.

Unfortunately for him, Stolas wasn’t very happy that his kingdom was being invaded by an outside force. Worse still, the snake demon didn’t appear to want to “show him respect and spend an intimate night to satisfy his hunger.” Thankfully, Princess Octavia and Princess Charlie were hanging out safely at Charlie’s palace.

Stolas flew outside, right in front of Sir Pentious’ ship.

“Prepare to meet you end, bird-brain!” Sir Pentious cried with a maniacal laugh as he fired up a canon. The canon blasted into Stolas’ wings, which he used as shields.

With an ear-piercing screech and a flap of his wings, Stolas blew the airship away from the palace, sending it into a nearby lake of fire. Sir Pentious yelled in pain as the airship crashed with a splash. Owl guards soon surrounded the airship in the air, holding swords.

“Show yourself and put your hands in the air!” they called.

Sir Pentious climbed out of a hatch and stared at the guards. Anger was evident in his eyes, but he always had something up his sleeve. With a slow forming smirk, he opened up his hood, the many pink eyes glowing and pulsing with energy. The guards stood dazed in midair, allowing the serpent to slip away over the lake and out of sight. One white owl guard flew and blocked his way, but Sir Pentious took him down with a venomous bite. The guard yelped and doubled down in pain as Sir Pentious vanished.

What a foolhardy move that was.

Now Sir Pentious was facing the music for his ego.

He was almost to the repair shop. His airship in the lake was not only burnt beyond repair, but he had lost crucial weapons and tools on the ship. He, too, would’ve died a second death had he stayed in the ship too long.

“Someday…Hell will be mine,” he muttered to himself. “Lucifer, the princess, Stolas…they’ll all bow before me as they witness my mass weapons of destruction. Sinners everywhere will fear my name, even Satan himself will shake. I won’t give up so easily. After all, in war, the side with the most style is the winning side.”

He observed his tattered clothing with a sad look on his face. “So much for style.” Even his top hat frowned and dropped slightly.

Just then, he heard a scuffling sound coming from an alleyway. The eye on his top hat widened. He froze and sniffed the air with his tongue. It smelled...fishy.

He inched closer to the source of the sound, careful not to get too close.

“Low-class scum,” he muttered. “I should do them a favor and dispose of them.”

He took out a small gun from his belt and aimed it at the narrow lane of shadow.

“Show yourself and say your prayers!” he called with a click of the weapon.

The luminescent glow of yellow eyes appeared from the darkness.

“Back off!” growled a voice.

Sir Pentious scoffed. “Hah! Those are your last words?”

“Back off, I say!”

Sir Pentious fired his gun and the figure hit the ground with a thud.

Moments later the figure stood up again. A green blast flashed through the darkness, shrinking Sir Pentious’ gun on contact.

“What the…” he gasped as he dropped the mini tool in shock. It clanked to the ground.

A white blaster with a rounded end was pointed at his face.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to work on zis project ‘ere.”

The figure’s accent was European, Germanic.

Slowly, the figure stepped into the light. He wore dark shoes and a long gray lab coat with yellow buttons down the center. He had the teal blue gray face of a female anglerfish, with upward facing fins for ears. He wore black rubber gloves. His hair was dark blue and short, swept back, with little light blue dots off to the side. His eyes were cyan with red pupils and his rows of sharp teeth were also cyan in color. Over his eyes were yellow protective goggles. On his head was a small gray top hat with an esca light hanging down.

Currently, the fish’s forehead had a smoking hole in the center. For demons, cuts, wounds and scratches could heal up relatively quickly, perhaps even faster than humans. (They were undead in a world designed for sinners). But they still hurt like Hell.

“Lass mich allein.”

“What?” Sir Pentious asked. He peered behind the figure and saw a pot on a portable stove, vials of colorful liquids beside it. The water inside was neon green and bubbling.

“Es gibt keine Ruhe für die Intelligenten.”

Sir Pentious growled. “What are you saying?”

The fish demon ignored him, keeping his shrink ray aimed at Sir Pentious. Sir Pentious remained in place.

“What are you making?” Sir Pentious asked.

The scientist scoffed. “Like I’d tell you.”

“How very uncouth of you,” remarked Sir Pentious. “Is that how you greet a gentleman?”

“This is Hell, no one cares. I certainly don’t.”

“I’m Sir Pentious, and you will treat me with respect.”

“I’m Baxter and I don’t give a flying fin. Auf wiedersehen.”

Baxter sat down and began to pour some more liquids into the pot: light blue, a hint of orange, some yellow, a few drops of pink.

When the mixture was ready, it emitted some sparks. Baxter let out a laugh. “Oh yes! There it iz! My first successful poison in Hell. This should keep any intruders at bay for now.”

He stood up and soon narrowed his eyes.

“Why are you still here, snake man?!”

Why was he still here?

Indeed, that was a reasonable question. Any moment would’ve been ideal for the supervillain to leave and continue on with his afterlife. But Sir Pentious became curious. He had seen dozens of sinners during his time. Most of them were drug addicts, murderers, porn enthusiasts, thieves, and a majority of demons who did their own things. There were several other demons, those that preyed on children or were cruel to animals…no one associated themselves with them…at least the sane ones didn’t.

Yet in all his years spent in Hell, Sir Pentious had not seen another inventor.

Deep down, the snake got this feeling…a random need for some form of solidarity. Finding another demon with a similar passion for inventing…the idea itself eased the somewhat uncomfortable sense of loneness that sometimes crept up.

Or, alternatively, he’d have fun competing with another brilliant rival.

Why was he still here?

It was a question that Sir Pentious soon answered.

“I was curious to see what you were doing.”

“Well, unless you are blind, I’m making a modified poison from the spine of a pufferfish. But I won’t hesitate to use it on you if I must.”

Sir Pentious laughed this time. “You? All puny and short, dried like a raisin? You have the brains but you have no weapons for it.”

Baxter waved his shrink ray in front of him.

“Well, there is that, but wouldn’t it be more effective to shoot the poison out of a gun? Perhaps from different barrels at the same time?”

“I can make weapons, ya know,” Baxter replied, stirring up the mixture. Green smoke swirled out from the pot. “Robots, A.I., substances are my specialties. Besides, the poison would need to be contained, modified for dat purpose.”

“No one can make inventions as great as mine,” Sir Pentious bragged. “Be glad you’re not fighting me over the next territory. Now…I really should get going.”

“Where? Back to your hidey hole? To lick your wounds?”

He stuttered a bit, trying for a comeback.

“Pretty much!” the snake answered, crossing his arms.

Baxter began meticulously pouring the new substance into small glass vials with lines on them. They were sealed shut with beer corks. He began packing up his things into a small black bag.

“Where are you going?”

“Back home?”

“Home? Is it a lab?”

“Sadly not.”

Baxter glanced over at a lake not consumed by flames.

“You live in a lake?”

“Ya. I can turn into an anglerfish…a blue one with a cyan esca. Sharp teeth that can drag people down. Like snake men.”

Sir Pentious scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. “Please, science scum. You’ll never find me in my cave lair. Though…it is a bit cramped in there.”

“As is my place,” Baxter replied. “One can’t exactly do experiments under ze water.”

“You’re smart. Make a lab up on the surface.”

“Easier said than done,” Baxter scoffed. “You’re nothing but an egocentric old sot. Go jump into dat volcano and get out of my sight!”

Sir Pentious glanced over at a tall pyramid shaped hunk of rock, standing tall in the distance, where Baxter was pointing.

Baxter turned to leave. Sir Pentious gripped onto his arm. Baxter slapped his hand away and bared cyan fangs.

“Touch me again, and you’ll die ze death of a thousand stings.”

“Same to you if you ever touch me.”

“Ha! Your threats are hot air. Light, forgettable, utterly pathetic.”

“Why…I beg your pardon!”

“Ya heard me, reptile-ape demon. Ya done talking?”

“Never.”

Sir Pentious stared at the short scientist who looked so out of place in comparison with many other demons…and suddenly giggled. The scientist raised his eyebrows. “Vat is so funny?”

“You must be a witch with that cauldron you had.”

Baxter stomped his foot. “And you…crazy old school villain. Where’s the mustache and black hat? Got any sidekicks to do your work for you?”

“I can do all my work on my own, thank you very much,” the villain replied.

Sir Pentious paused in thought. Could he really, though? He had no army, no allies. No one but himself to blame after every failure. It was a 50/50 chance that he would succeed or fail at any given day. Perhaps the addition of a…servant or a slave…could tilt the odds in his favor.

He slowly turned around back toward Baxter. “Or perhaps…I could have someone do work for me?”

Baxter put his hand up to his chest, eyebrows furrowed. “Me? Have you gone mad? I work for no one but myself. I dedicated my life to research and science…and in this strange realm, I’ll continue to do so.”

“Let me help you then.”

“I don’t need any help. Especially not from you.”

Sir Pentious glanced around. “So you’ve lived hidden from society for how long?”

“Well if you must know, I’ve kept mostly to myself since a year ago when I appeared here.”

Sir Pentious clicked his tongue. “No labs, no friends, not much of a hideout. Don’t you want your work to be recognized more? If you’re as talented and…eccentric as I think, you could instill fear in those around you. I’ve done it for years.”

“Like I’d want any of that drama. Conquering territories…utter childish nonsense!”

“Hey! That sure beats moping over books in seclusion all the time,” Sir Pentious added, having noticed the physics books that Baxter had tucked in his bag.

“And anyway, why can’t you make labs?” Sir Pentious asked.

“Because the other demons perceive me as weak whenever I’m nearby. I have to go up to the surface to buy food and tools. I guess I could make labs underground, instead…oh but maybe that won’t do...”

“I’ll make the labs for you. You’ll have a place to stay to conduct your so called experiments.”

“I told you before I don’t need your help. Plus, I don’t trust you.”

“Of course you don’t. I’d expect nothing less from demon commoners. But in exchange, you’ll need to help me with my machines.”

“I can easily do that…if I had agreed to help you in ze first place!” Baxter laughed.

“No sense of style, no life, what a shame,” Sir Pentious said, letting out a sigh. “Live like a fish underwater for all I care. No resources, no recognition. A sad life for a mad scientist.”

Baxter just stared in disbelief, words lost on his lips. His scowl couldn’t hide the uncertainty in his eyes.

Sir Pentious continued. “Have fun taking risks on the surface and trying to defend yourself against sinners. Tally ho!”

Sir Pentious turned to leave.

Baxter gripped tightly on his shrink ray. He told himself that now would be a good opportunity to shrink the showy bastard from behind. But he hesitated.

How much longer could Baxter last on the streets, moving from wet to dry environments for so long? Everyone else had jobs, friends, and even families. Not that he wanted to go out and socialize…he’d rather drown again.

But he couldn’t live as a hermit…even in Hell. He had to find a way to get some stability in his afterlife.

Perhaps he could even knock this inventor off his pedestal. Then he could be in the spotlight behind the scenes as it were.

“Wait!” Baxter called.

A sly grin formed on the snake’s face as he slowly turned back around.

“Yes?”

“I’ll…I’ll help you with your machines and everything. Just…help me get somewhere for me to live on land...but not far from the water. And I do want my work to be known…but not who or where I am.”

“Fair enough. I do have some conditions.”

“As do I,” said Baxter. Both demons squared up. Sir Pentious spoke first.

“I’ll need an army to help me conquer territory.”

“And I’ll need some subjects to experiment on.”

Sir Pentious spotted a nearby blue demon with six arms and red eyes. He dashed over to it and paralyzed it with a bite. He dragged the demon’s limp form over to Baxter.

“Ugh, not now, you imbecile. When I have the proper equipment to use.” He paused. “But I must say, your reflexes and speed are impressive.”

“Why thank you.”

Baxter glanced up at a flickering sign that read “Snake N’ Eggs Café, where all your eggs are deviled!” In neon lights, a green snake stood with an egg in its mouth. Neon white circles of eggs appeared to roll behind the snake.

“Hmm…I think I have an idea for your army,” Baxter said. “Snakes like to eat eggs and from eggs hatch more snakes.”

“So make more snakes from eggs?”

“Well I could, but the birthing process would take a while. And though you’re a snake demon, the DNA of sinners is slightly altered in comparison to the Hellborn. Missing chromosomes from ze sinners don’t allow for reproduction, not mammalian nor reptilian procreation…”

Sir Pentous growled, “Speak English, fish geek.”

Baxter paused. “You can’t give birth and make eggs. Which means we’ll have to artificially create the eggs.”

“Oh.”

“Yes…why not try…bringing the portable womb to life? Replace the yok with organs and label each one on the posterior shell with numbers. Find real eggs, enhance their sizes for a greater circumference ratio. Nourish each egg in growth containers, clone them, wait for them to come alive, repeat the process…”

Sir Pentious stared blankly.

“Weren’t ya listening?”

Sir Pentious raised an eyebrow.

Baxter frowned held out his hands like he was grabbing onto something circular. “Eggs,” he exasperated. “Grow and nourish eggs, bring them to life, and they’ll do everything you ask!”

“Oh right,” Sir Pentious replied. “Living eggs. For food and my army. This could work…”

“Brilliant. It costs 1,000…um, what’s the proper term for currency here?”

“Souls.”

“Oh right. Souls. You got that much?”

“I can see you don’t. How long have you been wearing that outfit, huh?”

Judging by the stench from it, it had been a while.

“You need cleaning up. New clothes, new look, perhaps a new home. Everything will fall into place, I assure you. You can come into my lair…after we negotiate.”

He held out his hand.

Baxter stepped back. “No way in Hell am I making any deals with you, let alone going with you. I can pick up some things while I’m here.”

“I need my army made now.”

“Not until I have my labs completed and you being my first test subject.”

“I need the egg army to…protect and help us while the labs are being created.”

Baxter paused. “Well I…erm…” He looked around and spotted a palace with several red apple trees in the gardens.

“Hahaha!” He suddenly laughed. “I might as well kill you now!”

Baxter fired the shrink ray, but Sir Pentious moved out of the way. With the flick of his long black tail, he knocked the scientist down and kicked the weapon away. Baxter quickly stood up.

“In that case, I’ll call the princess. I’m sure her and her father and mother would love to hear how you terrorized towns and killed so many people in turf wars!”

This time, Sir Pentious froze for a moment. One mistake and Lucifer could easily destroy him.

“Oh yes, Lucifer won’t be happy. But who knows, you might even survive his punishment…when you’re sent to the void!”

Sir Pentious looked ready to strike. “You’re not underwater anymore, good sir. You’re in my domain and you’d best remember that. By the way, how do you even know about my victories?”

“I read the daily paper. Now then, it’s over, snake man.”

Baxter made a dash for it, only for Sir Pentious to stick out his tail, causing him to trip. He fell with an “Oof!” Sir Pentious’ shadow loomed over him.

Sir Pentious grinned. “Very well then…we can discuss this later on…”

Before Baxter could make another move, Sir Pentious opened up his hood. The pink eyes glowed and hummed. The effect was mesmerizing. The scientist could not look away, no matter how hard he tried. Baxter’s eyes dilated and his body swayed. A loud hiss and a blur of rapid movement. A sharp prick raged from his cyan hand.

Venom could not kill demons necessarily. It only made them sick, drugged or paralyzed.

Sir Pentous hadn’t sunk his teeth in too deep…but it was sufficient enough to make Baxter gasp and double over on the ground.

Baxter made a mental note on the use of hypnosis on future subjects before his mind went fuzzy. Sir Pentious’ maniacal laughter was the last thing he heard.

Baxter slowly opened his eyes and found himself on a bunk bed inside of a cave. The cave was filled with weapons, tools and inventions in progress. Up on the wall was a recently made blueprint of a hideout and a volcano. The small workspace area had no windows. Baxter was free to move around, but the doors nearby were heavily locked.

He walked over to a desk. A note was tapped to it and bold words were written on it.

“Geek fish,

You will be safe from other demons here. Do not try to escape, for I know the ins and outs of this cavern. You’ll find a variety of tools to use and trays of food and water by your window. You may not leave until my egg army has been successfully made for me.

- Sir Pentious”

In just a few weeks, Baxter had helped create the Egg Bois for Sir Pentious. The number of eggs eventually grew until he had an army of them.

The newly formed eggs rolled out of upright white chambers, when the doors hissed open. Each incubator and hatch could hold a dozen eggs. Indeed, the capsules that held the growing eggs were modeled after egg cartons. In the capsule, the eggs had been growing and suspended in yellow-tinted water surrounded by round glass coverings. Like regular eggs in a carton, the biological ones were slightly separated in rows.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Baxter cackled, as the eggs climbed out of the artificial wombs with their small arms and legs. “THEY’RE ALIVE!”

“We get it, Frankenstein,” Sir Pentious replied, also boring a sinister grin.

Right away, after the eggs were born, the eggs surrounded Sir Pentious and cheered.

“Welcome Mr. Bossman! We’re not worthy!” they praised.

Sir Pentious smirked but looked confused when Baxter laughed.

“What?”

“Don’t get too used to it,” he said. We both made them so they would be obedient but…I may have tweaked their personalities a bit. To make things more…intimate.”

Several eggs nudged against Sir Pentious and one of them ran his little black hand suggestively along his jacket.

Sir Pentious fired back with yells as Baxter laughed some more.

“Well…well done,” Sir Pentious remarked, genuinely impressed, after he hissed at the eggs to back off. “Now, follow me.”

“Where are we going?” Baxter asked.

“To construct your labs of course.”

Baxter was momentarily shocked. Did he hear him right?

“So…you’re not gonna…ya know…”

“Kill you?” asked the snake. “No, not yet. You’re useful enough, and quite frankly, very intelligent, savant even.”

“No one has ever said anything like that. You sure you’re not lying?” He grinned.

“Of course you nowhere near as sophisticated as me, but you’re reliable enough.”

“Bullshit! I’ll prove to you that I’m the better creator in this inferno.”

“Heh, we’ll see about that.”

Baxter’s lab was soon finished a few weeks later (the building process would’ve taken far longer in the human world.)

“Well, there you have it,” said Sir Pentious.

“Thank you so much,” said Baxter.

“You’re free to go,” said Sir Pentious. “But please…do come back and help me out sometimes.”

“I’ll be alone in my lab most of the year,” he replied.

“You can’t stay down there forever,” he countered. “For your hard work, I’ll spare destroying you.”

“I guess…you won’t have to be my test subject after all,” said Baxter. Then he thought, “At least for now.”

Sir Pentious held out his hand. “Until we meet again?”

Baxter shook it. “Until we meet again.”

Green light suddenly flashed around them, the light emitting from their clasped hands. Baxter yanked his hand free and yelped like he had been shocked. Indeed, streams of electricity traveled along Sir Pentious’ hands before fizzing out. Sir Pentious let out a sinister laugh as the green light and blowing force around them vanished.

“You, my friend, just fell for the oldest trick in the book! You unknowingly just made a deal with me. Congratulations, you work for me now!”

“You traitor!” Baxter spat. He was half tempted to turn into a giant cyan blue anglerfish with a long body, sharp teeth and tail, his full demon form.

But Sir Pentious would only knock him out again.

“There’s nothing you can do now,” he said. “We now collaborate with each other. You’re my assistant and spy…and slave if you don’t behave.”

“Why can’t I be in charge?”

“I initiated the deal,” said Sir Pentious. “I’ve been here longer. Plus, you’ve got your labs made soon, all of your required equipment.”

Baxter swore in German.

“With my army and my machines, Hell will eventually belong to me! And you’ll get to see the fruit of my…er…our labors. See you around, Baxter.”

With that, the villain laughed and left, leaving Baxter dumbfounded.

Exterminators Attack

Hell, December 31st 1913

Sir Pentious and Baxter evade the Exterminators and learn about their weapons. When the Extermination is over, Sir Pentious and Baxter bond over slaughtering demons and taking over land. They also discuss their inventions and even make stuff together.

Radio Demon Arrives

Hell, 1933

Sir Pentious and Baxter witness Alastor emerging from the shadow world, bathe din power. He almost kills Baxter when Baxter tries to study him but Sir Pentious distracts him enough to allow Baxter to escape. He is able to hypnotize/hold off Alastor for ten seconds before he is brutally knocked unconscious by him. Baxter hides until the radio static fades away, then quickly retrieves Sir Pentious and heals him in his lab.

Alastor and Sir Pentious fight over Sir Pentious’ claimed town and the snake loses, barely managing to escape.

Story of a Snake

London, 1800s/1888

Birthday March 8 1848 (Stamper’s birthday is March 8 1983)

Died October 8, 1888 (all the eights!)

Human name/s: Sangui (snake, Latin), Daedalus, (cunning in Greek)

Aristocrat, white face, long black hair, cunning eyes, thin chin, inventor, bisexual. Had pet cats. Drank tea. Died after a machine crushed him, leaving him stranded in a blizzard.

Died in 1888 in his 40s.

Fish out of Water

Germany, 1912

Died 1912 Birthday: May 2 1890 (supposed voice actor Vincent Tong birthday May 2 1980)

Human name: Dexter Ryan Solace (Dexter from Dexter’s laboratory)

Named after Ryan Solace, the fan voice actor who made Baxter’s Science Serenade)

Scientist, white face, short black hair, sea green eyes, wears a white lab coat and goggles. Performed unethical experiments on people. Wanted to kill off the dumb and ignorant, spreading disease/chemicals etc. Loved the oceans but also fished a lot and harmed marine life. Lurks in the shadows like the anglerfish. Died like “a fish out of water” on a boat and drowned while on the way to a new life in the U.S.

Nefarious Niffty

Nelly, 1950s

Niffty backstory of how she worked as a housemaid, chimney sweeper and killed her abusive husband. Her name was Nelly, white skin, short black hair. She died in the 1950s. She became obsessed and romantic, sewing together human skin for dresses. She would sometimes kill other women when they tried to interfere with her hitting on men. She also rejected her Christian upbringing, though she still had to clean and cook to make a living. When her parents died from illness/pox, she wrote fanfiction and read alone. Her fanfiction is the sexual/fluff, bad typical kind.

At age 22, she got shot three times near her hips as retaliation. She was held against her will near the flames and smoke, which killed her. Her body was thrown in a fireplace and thus she ended up in Hell, where she later made a deal with Alastor. She got trapped in a lake of fire until she was summoned by Alastor when he easily charmed her into making a deal with him.

Present day

Niffty likes Alastor, Baxter, Vox, Sir Pentious and pretty much any man. She wants a fantasy world where she can have them all to herself...a world of order, cleanliness, and spilled blood.

Hazbin Misfits

Present day, episode 2

The scene starts with everyone eating Alastor’s jambalaya. The other misfits arrive at the hotel and adventures ensue. Even Alastor’s parents are also seen.

Baxter befriends the other residents, being closest to Niffty, Crymini and Mimzy. But Baxter suspects that there’s more to Niffty than her cheerful demeanor would suggest. He starts to develop small affectionate feelings for Crymini, but little does he know that Sir Pentious has feelings for him. He has nightmares about Sir Pentious burning Hell and the Hazbin Hotel, and watching him devour a helpless Crymini as the egg bois surround him. (But Baxter is thankful that he is not Alastor and knows that he is worse than Sir Pentious.)

What if the same person who helped create the Egg Bois for Sir Pentious, was also the same person he had a crush on? When two mad geniuses start to collaborate on inventions, their feelings might become more than casual associations.

Introducing: Baxtious (Baxter and Sir Pentious)

Sir Pentious meets with Baxter after his recent defeat by Alastor. Where else but in... "Baxter's Laboratory!"

Part 1: That’s Sabotage (Sir Pentious)

Part 2: The creation (and recreation) of the Egg Bois (Baxter)

Part 2: Back to the 1800s: cruel fashionable CEO (Sir Pentious)

Part 3: Back to the 1950s: Science studier, loner, and initiator of unethical experiments (Baxter) (born an Aquarius)

Baxter quotes: “Back off!” (like Myron Reducto)

“No touching, no adjusting, and most importantly, no breaking!” – Baxter to Charlie and others when they visit one of his labs at the Hazbin Hotel

“Results must be published, shared to the world like ripples in the ocean. Yes, I do desire to work alone in my controlled environment, but the fun comes from observing the catastrophic results behind the scenes!”

“So what if my experiments were unethical? Sometimes, a great price comes with the pursuit of knowledge. I’d never get as far as I did without taking some…risks as it were. Rats gave their little lives for me to test my formulas. Aquatic creatures contained and brought to the surface to test underwater technology. And poor humans (and later demons), brought into my labs against their will, all for the greater good of science! Prison studies, electric shocks, suspended animation, injections, all just the tip of the iceberg. Knowledge is power…and with great power comes great responsibility.”

“Yes, I was the one who helped him create his dozens of egg minions. He mentioned “a stylish all-powerful lord like me needs an endless army!” He came up with the idea of using eggs, as snakes are born from eggs. Was certainly been better than, say an army of rats (which he would eat). We put mini-brains and organs mixed with egg yok and brought them to life with some electricity and a bit of magic. We have almost a thousand, now. I also assist him with repairs to his airship, ray guns, weapons etc. In exchange, he spares my underground labs from being destroyed on the surface and I provide him with a lair to plan his schemes.”

-Baxter about Sir Pentious

“I despise being touched and bothered when I’m doing my work. Sir Pentious feels the same way. Good thing is, I don’t have Egg Bois running around trying to pester me with ass kissing and sexual innuendos. Unlike him, I don’t boast about my accomplishments to everyone. He goes out there and claims Hell as his turf, while I prefer to keep to myself. He makes war machines mostly, while I specialize in poisons, chemicals, potions, and yes, A.I.s too. I have a secret shrink ray I use in self-defense.” -Baxter

“Some call me “a little gremlin fish,” the nerve of them! So what if I occasionally cause some power outages and make Vox mad? It’s all for research and figuring things out. I still have yet to figure out how that overlord Alastor got to be so powerful. If only I could harness the powers of other demons and use them for further study. I could perhaps make A.I. soldiers with all their powers, then I’d truly be an unstoppable force in Hell! Hahahahaha!”

Niffty: *knocks on the door* “Housekeeping!”

Baxter: (sighs)

“Like anglerfish, I reside in the depths and darkness of Hell, using light or perhaps my unique appearance to lure gullible prey to their inevitable doom. I read that male anglerfish latch onto and fuse with females like parasites. I latch onto Lady Science.” – Baxter

“Sir Pentious is picky about fashion and social class. I’m preoccupied with order and cleanliness. Everything must be in their proper place when I’m around. Though I may be a mad scientist, there is order in my chaos. Hell is so disorganized and loud, and messy. Not to mention the insufferable heat and the crowds. Not the most ideal environment, that’s for sure.”

-Baxter

Baxter: Neurotic, logical, OCD, theorizes that Niffty (being small) is evil?

Part 4: Machine malfunction and blizzard death: from an untrusting “snake” to real snake (Sir Pentious)

Part 5: Drowning like the Titanic: once a “shark” now an anglerfish. Anglerfish with its glowing lights was the creature Baxter experimented on the most…then fate said the tides must turn. (Baxter)

Part 6: Baxter’s Laboratory

Alastor was both fond of deer and hunted them. He was shot like a "deer in the headlights."

Katie was like a locust, annoying, focused only on herself, a real deadly "bugger."

Tom Trench died in the trenches from gas and thus had a gas mask for a face.

Vox died from being crushed by a TV, during a time when television became popular.

Sir Pentious liked snakes but was a dirty "snake in the grass" in life.

Angel Dust was caught in the web of drugs and porn, and would lure others in like a deadly spider.

"Curiosity killed the cat" for Husk when he gambled and drank himself to death after a debt and the Vietnam War.

Vaggie in life was fond of moths but she herself was lured to the light that was romance/freedom...falling into danger too late.

Cyclops were strong and worked for Gods, similar to how Niffty works for Alastor and how strong she is. Cherri Bomb is strong but she doesn't work for anyone (that we know of)

Stolas is a Gnostic owl demon, who taught knowledge and ruled over many legions of demons.

Baxter liked marine life and the oceans, but also harmed the fish he caught in the name of science. He died like a "fish out of water," taking on anglerfish traits.

#hazbinhotel #hazbinhoteltheory #sir pentious #baxter #inventors #baxtious #sir pentious and baxter

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thebiasrekkers · 5 years ago

Text

Fragmentation 5.0 - KNJ

Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,269

AN: Now we get Namjoon’s perspective. YAY. Also in the Real World in Zion. Again, all information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!

Tag List: @aroseforyoongi, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Oh look,” a voice said suddenly, “it’s the prodigy.”

Namjoon sighed as he continued typing away on one of the system computers. For the last three years, he lived in Zion’s control tower. It was where all the trainees went who hoped to become Operators for a ship. In less than a year of his boarding, Namjoon showed excellent marks in reaction time as well as hacking prowess. It was no secret that he was far ahead of the rest of his class and there were rumors that he would graduate in the next year if he continued to excel in every area of expertise they could throw at him.

That didn’t make him very popular with his peers. Then again, it wasn’t like he actually cared. They all had a common goal and as long as that remained true, then they only needed to focus on doing their jobs.

Who cared if it was some popularity contest?

“Wait guys. You know he hates that title. We have to call him by his alias, remember?”

The tone was snide and insincere. Again, Namjoon didn’t care. He had other things he needed to devote his attention to. Rumor was that he would be boarding a ship soon to help with a simple reconnaissance mission. Nothing too overly complicated, but he wasn’t about to turn his nose up to the task. The lives of Matrix Operatives were in his hands and that was a responsibility that no one should ever take lightly.

So he continued to tune out his fellow classmates, focusing his energy on the program he was creating. It was a training program that would be used in the Construct - an exercise to help hone the sensory perceptions of operatives so that Agents wouldn’t be able to get the jump on them. When Agents obtained a target, they were relentless in their pursuit until an Operator was able to get them out. Namjoon wanted to prevent such tragedies from ever taking place. What better way than to prepare the operatives in any way possible?

He received word from his mother that Taehyung would be boarding a hovercraft next year. To successfully become a pilot, a trainee needed to physically handle the controls for years. Namjoon barely saw his brother due to his own hacker training, but it was guaranteed that they would not cross paths for several more years once Taehyung boarded a vessel.

Namjoon felt a hand on his shoulder, but he continued typing away at his station.

“Don’t listen to them,” said Vermillion, giving Namjoon a gentle shake.

“I don’t,” he replied, his eyes narrowing at the line of code he was reworking, “I always tune them out.”

“Typical. That’s just like you, Spectre.” Vermillion chuckled, sliding into the chair beside him. She peered over his shoulder as he continued working. “That looks pretty advanced. I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished.”

Pressing several more keys, Namjoon saved his progress and closed out the command console. Everything was transferred to the mini disc that slid out from a tray on the main hub. He popped it into a small case and shoved it into his pocket.

“It’ll take a few more weeks before I’m satisfied.”

Namjoon stood from his chair, grabbed his bag, and made for the exit. He didn’t have to look to know that Vermillion was hot on his heels. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, but he’d come to be a very solitary person. He rarely saw his mother and there was a good chance that he wouldn’t see his brother for several years. Not until they were both finished with their respective Training Programs.

“You’re not going to report to the Head Programmer of your progress for the day?”

He smirked. “He already knows.” Turning to look at her, he continued walking. “I was told to help out at the Command Tower for a few hours.”

Vermillion’s eyes widened. “Wow. Forreal?”

He nodded and they continued walking through the various metal corridors. The shocked look on her face was well-placed. Most people didn’t get to work at the Command Tower during training because there was a high risk of something failing because of an amateur mistake. The fact that their teacher cleared him for work at the Command Tower was another testament to Namjoon’s skill level.

They reached the elevator for the Command Tower. Namjoon’s hand hesitated over the button as he looked at Vermillion. She seemed to want to say something else to him, so he waited. But after a handful of minutes of silence, he sighed and pressed the button to call the lift.

“Well, I’ll be seein’ you,” he said as he readjusted his bag’s strap along his shoulder.

The metal doors groaned as they slid open, granting him access. He stepped onto the lift and just before the doors closed, he saw Vermillion’s smile as she waved at him.

“Do well, Spectre.”

He flashed an easy grin in her direction. But once the doors were closed, the smile fell off his face immediately. Namjoon didn’t have any time to waste. There was a chance the war could be over in his lifetime. It waged on for damn near a century already. The people of Zion, human-born and field-born alike, were all tired of this seemingly never ending conflict. His parents saw the brunt of it during the beginning phases - children when their parents were fighting for their freedom.

Namjoon didn’t want to pass this burden on to his children.

To keep that from happening, he would work himself into the ground. Until there wasn’t a single breath left in his mortal body.

Four Years Later

Spectre pulled out his mini computer, booting it up to look over the dossier files of the ship he was newly assigned to. He was originally slated for Operator duty the previous year, but he opted out of it. His brother, Edge, hadn’t returned from his training tour yet. The benefit of finishing at the top of his peer group was that Spectre got to pick and choose a few things here and there.

Namely when he would be boarding a ship.

He quipped a brow at the list of crewmates on his future ship. There were some impressive resumes on the vessel. Certainly nothing he could turn his nose up at. The Admiral must have had a hand in the assignments and there was clearly a reason why Spectre was placed with that particular group. Based on the skill records of everyone on board, save for the pilot, they all had more than one year of field experience that wasn’t “on the job training”.

The Captain and First Mate in particular.

His eyes scanned over the pilot’s name and he couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Spectre had all the faith in the world that his brother would make it through the Training Program, but he hadn’t expected to see his name on a crew member manifest just days after his ship docked back home.

“Yo, Big Bro!”

Spectre lowered the mini computer to his side, lifting his gaze up to see his younger brother strolling up the long metal walkway toward him. He closed the computer, slid it into his pocket, and waved to Edge. His little brother wasted no time closing the distance between them, taking off in a dead run and barrelling into him. Spectre grunted when he felt Edge’s shoulder crashing into his chest, his arms encircling around his waist. He laughed as Edge lifted him up off the ground.

“Hey,” Spectre said, patting his younger brother’s head, “a little over the top, don’t you think?”

Edge set him down, placing a fist on his hip. “Are you kiddin’ me?” He pouted. “I haven’t seen you in years. I should be setting off fireworks.”

Lifting a basket off the ground and handing it to Edge, Spectre shook his head. “Yeah, don’t do that. We’ll get court-martialed.”

Edge’s heavy steps reverberated off the metal flooring. “It would totally be worth it, though.”

“It wouldn’t, actually, but whatever.”

The brothers shared a smirk with each other.

It didn’t take them long to reach their house. The door was already open just as they saw their mother stepping out. She carried a basket of linens in her hands - presumably to go do laundry at the water recycling plant. The minute her eyes shifted in their direction, however, she seemed frozen in place. They took a few more steps toward her, watching as she dropped the basket at her feet. The dirty clothes and bedding would remain ignored. They already knew what mattered most to their mother.

“You’re back,” she finally managed, her hands trembling as she reached for them, “I knew you’d both come back home together.”

The two brothers filled their arms with their mother - holding her closer than they believed was possible. Her smell hadn’t changed and the strength in her embrace was just as they remembered it when they were children. She openly sobbed against each of their faces, overwhelmed with how much they’d changed. Yet they remained the same. They were men now, but the brothers knew that they would always be her little boys.

Her pride and glory.

After what seemed like too short a moment, their mother pried herself from them. “You two must be starving,” she said, turning to usher them into the house, “I’ll see about gathering some rations for dinner.”

Spectre leaned down to pick up the discarded laundry basket. “You don’t have to do that, Mother,” he offered, but he could tell that she would not be hearing any of it.

“Go inside and unpack your things. I’ll be back!”

They both sighed in unison as they watched their mother dart off down the metal walkway and across the bridge. Spectre turned to Edge and they both shrugged, making their way inside the home they hadn’t been in for several years. Lucky for them, nothing had really changed.

Spectre poured himself a cup of water, handing it to Edge and then poured another. “Have you gotten your assignment yet?”

Edge smirked as he pressed the metal cup to his lips. “Of course I have.” He gulped down half the water and set it down on the metal counter. “I’m stoked as fuck that I’m going to be piloting the ship you’re the Operator of.”

“That’s it?” Spectre lofted a brow at his younger brother. “Nothing else?”

“I mean, not really.” Edge shrugged. “I don’t know much about the others. I’m just glad I’m with you.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. He should have known that his brother would still continue to be simple-minded, even after all of these years. It didn’t come to him as a surprise; not really. In a way, it was almost relieving to know that his brother remained wholly the same - even after the intensity of the Training Programs.

“Did you get a chance to look at the ship?”

Edge whistled, sailing his hand out across his body in a dramatic flourish. “Bro, let me tell you…” He leaned sideways, bumping his shoulder against Spectre’s. “Just thinking about flying that ship is giving me a hard-on like you wouldn’t believe!”

He rolled his eyes, lightly elbowing his younger brother’s side. “Seriously? Come on.”

“I’m dead-ass serious, Bro. Like, holy shit, the Amaterasu is one sexy fuckin’ vessel.” Spectre watched a gleam sparkle in his younger brother’s eyes as he spoke. “She’s the newest hovercraft in the fleet and that baby was made for speed and destruction. I bet she could make it to The Fields and back before a Sentinel could even detect what actually happened.”

Spectre quipped a brow. “New stealth tech?”

He watched his brother nod emphatically. “Oh yeah, and then some.” He clapped his hands together. “I can’t wait to test that beauty out.”

Pulling out his computer, he looked over the ship’s diagnostics. There was some serious hardware put into the hovercraft. If the deployment of the Amaterasu was successful, the engineering crew would work on replicating the ship’s schematics for future hovercrafts. As exciting as that prospect was, Spectre couldn’t help but frown a little.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the Amaterasu was a guinea pig ship. This would be the first time the crew would work together as a collective. Some were still fairly young, their minds “freed” but needing more time to mature. There was also the chance that they would all clash when it came to their personalities and work flow.

He barely got the sigh out of him before Edge wrapped an arm around his shoulder to pull him in close. “Hey, c’mon, Spectre! This is what we went through all that training for, right?” Edge winked at him. “Everything’ll be fine. Every single member of the crew is the best of the best of the best, right?”

Spectre nodded. “Yeah…”

“So there’s nothing to worry about. We’re going to be the talk of the entire fleet. Everyone in Zion is going to know our ship.” Edge laughed, causing Spectre to grin; his enthusiasm was infectious. “We’ll do great things, Bro. I know we will.”

Spectre ruffled his little brother’s hair. It brought him an overwhelming amount of relief to know that his younger brother had, in fact, barely changed at all. In a time where their future was bleak and uncertain, pure optimism was necessary. Hope was needed.

And he would do whatever he needed to do in order to ensure that that hope never died.

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gold-and-rubies · 4 years ago

Text

In It For The Long Haul - Chapter 14

Violence against robots. Mac POV.

MacCready shivered lightly as he and Flynn trudged through the snowy wastes. He was thankful for the new duster. He was sure that if he had the old one he would have frozen to death.

They had received a call over the radio to go down to The Castle. MacCready had decided to skirt around the Boston ruins. He did not want to deal with the raiders and mutants that they were sure to run into if they went along the river and harbor. Part of him regretted it, since they had to walk in a large loop to avoid the bad pockets.

As they came over the crest of the hill MacCready spotted one of the old military checkpoints that littered the roads of the Commonwealth. An old Mister Gutsy roamed the area. Just as he was just about to start on a path to take them around it he saw a suit of power armor.

He nudged Flynn with his elbow lightly, “There’s power armor down there. Probably some ammo too. We should go.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “You sure it’s not a trap? It’s out in the open.”

“Yeah. There’s a Mister Gutsy. Jamaica Plain, University Point, and South Boston are nearby. Plus that junkyard I told you about. I doubt it’s a trap,” he explained.

She nodded, but he doubted she knew what was wrong with the places he listed. He forgot about her time in the vault sometimes. He was going to have to sit down with her one of these days when they are not overly exhausted, and fill her in on everything he could.

He dropped to a crouch half way between the crest and the checkpoint. Flynn dropped down next to him, not wanting to draw attention to them both. He brought his rifle up, and stared through the scope. He traced the rhythmic motions of the robot for a bit before firing two consecutive shots. He nailed it just right and it’s power cut out.

“Damn….” Flynn swore quietly beside him.

He smiled to himself.

They made their way down, and found that the power armor was not only safe, but was also an almost perfect T-60 suit complete with a fusion core that still had some juice in it. Thankfully, there was not a fleck of paint on it either.

“Well, Damn,” MacCready swore, “A decent T-60 that doesn’t belong to the Brotherhood? Don’t mind if we do.”

“You think they’ll try to take it from us?” Flynn asked. She was completely serious.

“Nah. If we keep it at The Castle or Sanctuary it should be fine.”

She nodded, “You want to take the armor or…?”

“You take it. You’ll be actually intimidating for once,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes at him as she climbed into the suit. Normally she was several inches shorter than him, half a foot at the least, but in the power armor suit she almost towered over him. He wondered how she managed to operate the thing without modifications.

They walked along the shore, with Flynn being closer to the water. Every now and then she would make a comment about how much she loved the ocean. That it was one of the perks of living in The Commonwealth.

He did not understand why she loved it so much. It did not smell great, and it was full of mirelurks and who knew what else. He had stepped into a boat once or twice, and to say he lacked sea legs was an understatement. He would much rather stand on dry, solid ground where he knew what threats he was facing.

The only good thing about it was the look of wonder that came on her face. That was something he was noticing. When they first met she did not emote much, and if she did was either subdued or angry. She was slowly letting other things through. He felt a little honored that she was slowly opening up to him. He knew as well as anyone else how hard that could be, especially since he had almost everything buried.

As they approached The Castle they could hear the radio before they even got close to the entrance.

“While we’re here I want to get one of those funny looking hats. Always wanted one of those…” he joked.

He glanced at Flynn with a shit eating grin. He did not need to see her face to know what her expression was.

As they stepped into the courtyard he slowed his pace. At this point they were partners, but she was absolutely in charge when it came to the Minutemen. Who she was as the General was part of who she was, but it was a different part than who he was used to.

“Can you hold this?” she asked, handing him her pistol.

He grabbed it with a look of confusion. He realized why when she took off her helmet. He mentally slapped himself. It made sense since no one would be able to know who she was for sure, even with MacCready by her side.

“Thanks. Stay here,” She ordered.

He nodded, and watched as she walked up to the man in charge of the radio. MacCready vaguely remembered his name. Lewis something or something Lewis.

Lewis pointed somewhere, and Flynn nodded. She turned back around towards MacCready, and gestured at him to follow her with her head. He followed her over to a grouchy looking, older woman.

“Excuse me, are you Ronnie Shaw?” Flynn asked her.

“Who else would I be? Can’t mistake me for one of the pups running things around here.”

MacCready narrowed his eyes at her, but kept his mouth shut. It had taken him a bit, but he knew better than to mouth off when it came to Minutemen business. Unless it was just Garvey of course. In that case he would actively try to bug him sometimes.

“I’m General Flynn. I heard your message on the radio.”

Shaw half scoffed, “I’ve been waiting to talk to you. I used to be with the Minutemen myself, back before Joe Becker got himself killed and the Idiots took over.”

Flynn shot him a warning glance as though she could tell he was having a hard time holding back. To be fair she probably could.

She smiled, “Well, I’m glad to meet you. We could use some more… experienced soldiers.”

“You’re right about that. I feel like some of these you’ve got may still need their diapers changed. And you seem pretty young yourself.”

MacCready could not help, but roll his eyes. He was glad neither woman saw it though.

Flynn cleared her throat, “I’d still like to hear what you came to talk to me about.”

“Heard you were trying to get the Minutemen back on their feet. Thought I’d come see the new general for myself. So, what’s your story? What makes you think anybody wants the Minutemen back?”

“I’ve spoken to a lot of people. All of them have said that things got far worse when the Minutemen fell apart. That everything is so much better with us around. Even if people didn’t want us, it’s easy to see that we’re needed. I know things weren’t great, but we’re the good guys again,” Flynn explained.

Shaw nodded, seemingly pleased with her answer, “I’ve heard some good things. Wouldn’t be here otherwise, and now that I’m here I can see you really need my help.”

“The more help the merrier.”

“Yeah. You’re not kiddin’, but I had something specific in mind. I’m probably the only person who still remembers this, but The Castle’s armory was located in the west bastion,” Shaw started walking past them to it, “All of our best equipment was stored there. Weapons, ammo, schematics, you name it.”

Though he was not a fan of how she was talking to Flynn, the sound of all that equipment was music to his ears. He hoped there was something of actual value, and not just a pile of .38 bullets.

“Looks like it’s in good shape. Door is still sealed, bastion’s still standing. All we need is a way in.”

“I hope you have an idea,” Flynn said.

“Of course I do. If you can’t go through, go around,” she responded, and led them to the part of The Castle that still stood proudly. She pushed open the doors to what was the general’s quarters.

“I thought I told them to use this room for normal quarters,” Flynn sighed.

Shaw stopped, and looked at her, “Why?”

“I’m hardly ever here. This is an important place, but we’re rebuilding out of Sanctuary. It might be closer to the edge of the Commonwealth, but it’s easier to get to. Besides, we need as many guns as possible and I don’t really need a special room.”

“There are several generals rolling in their graves. Anyway, there’s a tunnel that leads from here to the armory.”

Flynn put her helmet back on, “At least they cleared the rubble…. MacCready, can I have my pistol back?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he handed it to her. He somehow forgot he was holding it for her.

“Who is he, by the way?”

“Uh, he’s… an unofficial part of the Minutemen? He basically does all of the work without the title.”

She narrowed her eyes at them.

“I’m a merc with a heart of gold,” he joked.

“Things really are changing,” Shaw scoffed.

They made their way down the stairs, and into the tunnels. The air was moist, but stale. It smelled like dirt, and something horrible. A green glow lit the walls.

“There’s some landmines down here. Watch out,” Shaw warned.

“We should clear this place later. It’d be a good place to go during radstorms,” Flynn said.

They weaved through the maze-like tunnels. There was a turret, but it was a smoking pile of scrap in a matter of seconds. The next two rooms were relatively empty. At least there was nothing that interested him.

As they stepped into the last room, his ears were met with the sound of a sentry bot booting up.

“Sentry Bot designation SARGE powering up,” it said.

“What the actual fuck is that?” Flynn exclaimed, throwing professionalism out of the window.

MacCready whipped around to see it come out of its station. Then it’s gun started up.

“Oh sssshhhhhh…”

“GET BEHIND ME!” Flynn bellowed.

MacCready and Shaw dove behind her without a second thought. Bullets sprayed across the room. They sent chunks of stone flying through the room as they hit the column. He winced as he heard them hit Flynn. He knew she would be fine, but it was hard not to.

They poked their guns out to shoot the bot. The bullets were hardly doing anything. The musket was doing slightly better, but not by much.

MacCready was starting to wonder if they could make a run for it when Flynn cursed.

“I’m going to try something. You two need to get behind the wall, now,” she ordered.

He did not need to be told twice. They backed up to behind the wall, and peered through the arch way. Flynn tossed her pistol aside. The bot charged at her, and she was pushed back an inch or two. She grabbed a hold of its arms just before it could smack her. They struggled for a moment, then the sound of creaking metal filled the room.

She was somehow pushing its arms backwards. Its gun started up again, sending a rain of bullets into the wall opposite of them. The plating was starting to glow red. She bent the arms back further and further until the gun stopped. Then with a shower of sparks they were bent completely out of place. They were barely hanging on.

Her hands flew back as though she was afraid of being burned. They would not be, but with the mixture of the sparks and red hot plating, it made sense.

It started to get ready to charge at her again, but it stopped. It was overheated.

“Grab its fusion cores,” MacCready told her.

She moved surprisingly fast given the power armor. She was behind it in a second. She managed to rip out its fusion cores just as powered up again.

They were quiet for a moment, scared of it coming back to life.

“Too bad Sarge went haywire. He’s been guarding The Castle since… forever, far as I know,” Shaw said.

MacCready looked at her like she was crazy. He looked over at Flynn who he guessed was wearing an exasperated look.

They stepped around the old sentry bot, and headed to the other end of the room. There was a terminal sitting on a desk next to a security door.

“Alright, let’s see. I used to know this password… ‘One if by land…’ no. ‘For the Commonwealth….’ Goldurnit, it’s been a long time… ‘United we stand…’ there we go.”

She selected a few things on the terminal, and the door swung open. He was half-expecting there to be an assaultron waiting for them. Instead there was a desk, several bottles of wine, and a dead body. The skeleton chained up between the walls. He decided not to comment on it.

Shaw stood next to the body, looking somber.

“That explains all the landmines. This is, well… was, General McGann. He had your job when I first joined up. Must’ve gotten trapped down here when that sea beast attacked. He did manage to keep the armory secure. I’ll give him that much,” she sighed, “I guess the uniform is yours now. This old geezer doesn’t need it any more. Rest in peace, General. Your fight is done and the Minutemen live on.”

He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortable. Things got awfully sobering faster than he was comfortable with.

“Heh, no point in getting sentimental in something that happened over forty years ago. Come on, the armory is just through this door.”

I swear to fucking god. If there is another murder bot in there, MacCready thought.

They climbed the stairs, and sure enough, they were inside the west bastion. Flynn hit the button on the wall, and the door to the courtyard swung open. They pushed open the double doors.

MacCready could not lie, there was some good stuff in there. Laser turrets, laser guns, several different grenades, and workbenches. His eyes widened when they landed on the fat man. He whistled appreciatively.

He turned around and saw Flynn put her pistol on the table in the center of the room. She took her helmet off, and her hair was stuck to her face. She shook her head to get it all out of her face. Her hair momentarily became a red halo. When it all landed, it framed her face beautifully.

His mouth fell open a bit, but he closed it just as quickly. He blushed slightly. Since he realized that he might like her a little more than as a friend. He was slowly realizing how beautiful she was.

“Now,” Shaw interrupted his train of thought, “I know those turrets, and the fat man looks great, but this,” she handed a large rolled up piece of paper to Flynn, “is why I wanted to get in here.”

She took it with a skeptical look. She unfurled it and studied it for a moment. Her eyebrows raised.

“Are these… schematics?” she asked.

“Yes, yes they are. For artillery to be exact.”

MacCready raised an eyebrow, “I’m sure that’s a good thing, but what’s that?”

“Similar to a canon. They are essentially really powerful, really big guns,” Flynn explained.

“Well damn.”

“These things can take down anything.”

“I have to admit,” Flynn said, “this is great. Would you mind if I put you in charge of building them here?”

“I’d be honored. It’s good to see the Minutemen growing again. You could use some work, but I think we’re in good hands. Good to meet you, General.”

Flynn smiled and handed the schematics back to her, and she left.

“You don’t like her very much, do you?” she asked.

“Of course not. Only authority I like is you and Hancock. But that artillery… You think it’s strong enough to, oh, I don’t know. Blow the Brotherhood out of the sky?”

She frowned, “It might be, but I hope we don’t have to. We’ve got raiders and Gunners against us inherently, and we’re picking a fight with the Institute. We have other things to worry about.”

He hated to admit, but she was right. They had bigger problems to deal with.

#fallout #fanfiction #fanfic #fallout 4 #fo4 #maccready #claudia flynn #sole survivor #ronnie shaw

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techmomma · 5 years ago

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Barto wasn’t an unkind man; only a cautious one. Sufficient teasing by Marden had been plenty to make Barto feel guilty for mistrusting the old man, and really, Marden was right: however unnerving it was to have the old sheikah pop up out of nowhere, that seemed to be all of his preternatural abilities. The rest of the old man’s abilities seemed to be sitting, making his joints pop without trying, enjoying the sunlight, and making their children and other travelers smile; anyone who spoke with him for a time seemed to leave a little lighter. Considering how rude, abrasive, or entitled customers could be to them, this man was breath of fresh air, Barto thought.

The old man, Barto found, had a particular way of speaking. Rhythmic, rough and worn like the side of a mountain but softened like a stone in the sea and usually accompanied by that particular lilt that came from speaking in a smile. And smile he did, whether he had a wispy, sad gaze to the far horizon or a bright gleam as Gaila and Matu offered him a lizard they’d just found under the tree, and with as much enthusiasm, let it crawl around his hands to their delight. Barto only really saw the smile fade—but not entirely disappear—when the little old man sat with a traveler, nodding and listening and though Barto never knew quite what about, he knew enough about the regulars to have a good idea.

Then again, he could have just been giving them more worldly advice, Barto thought. Catching fish. Tying knots. Sheikah things. He could already hear Marden scolding him.

The old man’s latest conversation companion stood and left as daylight waned, giving him a warm farewell before heading inside to the lodging area. Her name was Fyjo, Barto knew, a young traveler set on proving she was a somebody from a nobody village—whatever that might mean to her. She’d never been aloof, per se, but rarely gave words freely to those too much older than her. Somehow, though, the old man had gotten an hour or so of willing conversation from her.

“Got a teenager to talk. I’m impressed,” Barto noted with some dry amusement as he approached the cooking pot where the old man had taken sentry. If Barto knew his schedule, and he did, no one else was due to come in for the night. Save for the old man’s friend, but they had a more erratic schedule and if the old man knew when they were returning, he never said. They’d paid for plenty of nights though and Marden wasn’t worried, so Barto wasn’t worried. As un-worried as Barto could be.

The old man looked up, silent for a moment but with a laughing twinkle in his eyes as he smiled. “Just hafta let them choose the topic. Most times they’ll go on fer days if ya let’em.” Barto took a seat nearby on one of the vaguely-hewn logs they used as chairs around the stable.

“That’ll come in handy when my two are teenagers.”

“Take it, you’ll need all the help you c��n git.” This time the old man did laugh, a soft, wheezy sound.

“No kiddin’.” So that was how the old man did it. Barto already felt his defenses lowered. “You got teenagers in your family?”

“Ah… no.” The old man smiled but Barto knew immediately he’d hit a spot that shouldn’t have been touched. He couldn’t have known better, but felt guilty all the same. The old man carried on. “Might be over a hunnerd ‘n twenty but I do still vaguely recall bein’ a teenager ‘n wishin’ people might take me seriously.”

“Still feel that way sometimes,” Barto offered, and this seemed to please the old man, making him smile.

“No kiddin’.” He winked coyly. Barto grinned a suspicious half-grin; oh, the old man was good.

Barto then, took pause, as the previous sentence only then registered, the impact dawning on him.

“… You’re a hundred and twenty?” He asked, and this only made the old sheikah smile brighter.

“Don’t look a day over ninety, do I?”

“How—“

“We may not be zora, but sheikah tend ta average ‘bout a century. Even I’m purty old fer a sheikah, though, young as I look.”

This man wasn’t just old; he was a piece of history, himself. He’d lived through the end of the world—a world, not Barto’s world, not Marden’s world. Not the world of anyone Barto knew, himself. He’d lived through the end of the old world, when they made towering structures and the kingdom was alive and real, not myth and folktale. This man was one of the last pieces of evidence that the old world had existed and thrived with people and names—and wasn’t just a story in a children’s book. He was a little bit of the past, peeking into the present.

Barto didn’t have the eloquence to express these ideas that twinkled and went out like stars in his subconscious, clouds of ambiguous thought that were more shapes than words.

The Calamity had never been an interest, per se, for Barto. Or Marden, or most who lived in the wilds. It was a footnote in history, like a catastrophic flood that left scars on the countryside but could not be felt by the living more than a vague melancholy. That was the only reference anyone in the wilds could really compare it to; none had the ability to gauge the true and terrible scope of the end of the world. Even the eldest who’d lived through that dire time just after, the Age of Burning Fields, could rarely articulate the devastation in a way that their descendants could tangibly grasp.

But in that moment, all of Barto wanted nothing more than to ask what the Calamity had been like, and ached because he knew he could not ask. Maybe he could ask around the subject though. Before and after! Or at least see how the old man reacted. Curiosity compelled Barto, but he was, ultimately, a man who did want to do good, and did not like hurting others.

He realized, suddenly (and terribly chastised himself for not seeing this sooner), that the old man was missing an ear. Had he gotten that, too, in the Calamity? It seemed only natural.

“You uh… you wouldn’t have been much older than her, just before the. Y’know.” Barto nodded his head to where Fyjo had gone off to. He couldn’t see Marden watching the two fondly, smiling to himself before attending another guest.

“Mm-hm. Was a royal researcher, if that’s what yer itchin’ ta ask.”

A royal researcher. A sheikah researcher? “You worked with the royal family?”

“Which one?”

Barto leaned away. “I. Which one?”

“Which one, Hyrulean ‘r Zora?”

“Nooooo, you worked with both?”

“And Gerudo. ‘N the Rito ‘n Gorons, but they don’t got a royal family, per se. The royal researchers worked with just ‘bout every part o’ Hyrule ‘n every race.”

“Do you miss it?”

The question had come before Barto could really examine its angles, decipher if it was appropriately curious without overstepping boundaries or encroaching on unwanted emotions, but the loss of the gleam in the old man’s eyes told him how much he’d overstepped.

“… I do.” The old man answered with a soft vulnerability that made Barto immediately regret the question.

“I—don’t worry about it, I shouldn’t have asked that—“ The old man held up his hand, shaking his head fondly.

“The Calamity wove itself into every family that survived it. I’d wanna know what tore through my family history, too.”

Barto’s family had been through something when Calamity struck. He didn’t care much; he’d left them behind a long time ago. But Marden’s family, he did care. They were his family, and the Calamity bled through every generation into even the children who would be tucked into bed later that night.

The old man waited patiently for an answer, and Barto supplied it by propping his hands on his knees to push himself up onto his feet. “Y’know what, we don’t normally cook for travelers, but I think we have some ingredients to spare.” He stood akimbo, asking cautiously.

“… What did you research?”

“Guardians.” The old man answered, watching the color drain from Barto’s face.

In the time it had taken Barto to light the fire, bring water to a boil and add rations of a hardened meat broth to flavor the soup, he’d watched the old man’s head start to nod, lifting with every intent to stay up as he wavered between sleep and waking. Eventually, sleep won over and the old man dozed off. Drooling.

“Missed your chores today.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Marden had taken a break from his post at the reception counter, as he did every night for dinner when travelers had either made their way to the stable or pitched their tents on the road as the sun set and smoldering twilight fell over the hills.

“Look at that, Barto made a friend.”

“He’s not—he looked lonely.”

“The one who’s been making conversation with all the guests? Sure.” All the same, he produced a blanket he’d brought over, draping it over the old man’s shoulders. He had no idea it was unnecessary, as sheikah clothing kept the wearer warm no matter the chill and cool no matter the heat, but it was the gesture that counted.

“Marden. He’s a hundred and twenty.”

“What.”

“’Swhat he said.”

Marden looked over at the man, bobbing his head in an agreeing shrug and a mumbled yeah okay that checks out.

“He researched Guardians.”

“Oh now you’re pullin’ my leg.”

“I’m serious, that’s what he said.”

The stablekeeper threw a glance to the sleeping man and then to Barto, taking a seat next to him. “… Well shit.”

“I’ll say.”

Guardians, rarely encountered by the more sane individuals who kept to the pockets of safety left in Hyrule, were the nightmares of any Hyrulean child and many Hyrulean adults. Their blue, ghoulish eyes haunted the dreams of most born after the Calamity and Marden wondered, glancing again to the old man, if they haunted the dreams of those born before, too. They were called machines but they may as well have been monsters, the worst of Ganon’s lot with Lynels and Hinox. But perhaps most maddening was the fact that Ganon had not made them, but people.

Sheikah.

Not this man in particular, Barto and Marden knew. The stories differed slightly but the core remained the same: Guardians were sheikah technology, corrupted, and they had been used to blight the land then and terrorize the land now.

What part did this sleeping old man play in the end of the world?

“Can I join?”

Marden and Barto found Fyjo just outside the ring of light around the cooking pot. Without her backpack and rusty sword at her hip, she looked much younger—her actual age, Marden corrected himself. Somewhere around 18, if he remembered right. He nodded her over and she sat on the dirt.

“Thought you didn’t serve food,” she noted with more than a hint of satisfaction, recalling the times she’d asked.

“Thought you didn’t talk much,” Barto quipped and Marden nearly nudged him off of his seat, Fyjo glaring in response.

“I talk to cool people.”

“He’s cool and I’m not? After all the times I let you pet the horses?” Barto complained. Fyjo folded her arms over her knees.

“He told me how to stun a guardian, that makes him like a solid eight times cooler. Maybe nine.”

Barto and Marden exchanged glances with a mutual understanding that, okay, maybe there was substance to the old man’s claims (and also they were definitely cooler, yes, totally). Not that they disbelieved him, but they were inclined to take everyone’s claims with a grain of salt. Exaggerated tales were, after all, every bit of a trade-good as rice and barley and eggs and weapons at stables.

As if the man himself were about to refute them, the old man breathed in sharply, lifting his head and blinking languidly behind his now-askew glasses, wiping his chin with the butt of his palm. He looked around, visibly putting pieces together in his head, one eye squinted.

“Food’s almost ready.” Marden spoke helpfully, in a tone a little too sweet even if he was trying his best to reign it in. The old man nodded absently, licking his lips as he squinted through a sleepy haze, trying to remember the faces around him. Yes, there they were. The stablekeepers, and… and… the young lady! Yes. He was pleased to remember them. He didn’t quite remember what was going on just before nodding off, but he was sitting among nice people he’d spoken with before. That seemed enough for him.

“Thought you were goin’ ta sleep.” The old man smiled to Fyjo, who attempted nonchalance with a shrug and a glance away.

“Smelled food, was hungry.”

He nodded, the particular smirk on his face clearly betraying his disbelief in her defense. But the old man didn’t press the issue, instead looking around at the others gathered around the cooking pot. Something about the sight felt warm in the old man’s heart and a fond and distant look crossed his face.

“She says you told her how to stun a guardian, old man.” Barto spoke aloud, more question than statement.

“He did!” Fyjo protested.

“I did.” The old man answered.

“Seems awful dangerous information.” Barto noted, the old man watching him with a patient but knowing look in his eyes.

“Seems more dangerous ta go without.”

Barto acceded to this, nodding his head. “You learn that being a royal researcher?”

“You were a royal researcher?” Fyjo lit up again, recalling the ruins she’d gone exploring at the Serenne Stable’s prompting, just northwest of the castle where the lingering spirit of evil turned the earth grey and dead and lifeless.

“I was. And no. Didn’t learn that bein’ a researcher.” The old man turned his eyes to Barto--eyes on an endlessly tired face but flickering with intelligence and wryness. “Learned that from experience.”

The three watched him expectantly and the old man knew every thought by the looks on their faces. But before he could address that subject, he looked away from them to the timid man who’d been peeking from around the entrance to the stable. “C’mon, there’s plenty room,” the old man offered and after a flash of embarrassment at being caught, the man approached, sitting on the ground between the stablekeepers and Fyjo.

Karn, Marden knew. A scavenger but a good fellow; quiet, self-effacing, usually tried to pay too much even though Marden knew he didn’t have much on him at any given time. Flinchy. But Marden had also seen the man make careful, stuttering conversation with the old sheikah earlier. Everyone seemed to have a little piece of him but no one really had the whole picture, Marden thought.

“When… you hunted… guardians…?” Karn asked, so quietly that Marden worried the old man wouldn’t be able to pick up his voice.

“Just afore then.” Nope, heard him just fine.

Fyjo turned slowly to the old-timer sitting next to her. “You hunted them.”

“I did. Used ta be one right over the hills there, a wanderer.” The old man pointed his thin hand to the hill just down the road. Fyjo had been there, knew there were long-smoldered ruins of a tiny settlement there that had been destroyed decades ago. Barto and Marden were none the wiser, despite their years in the area. “Most guardians are coded with set perimeters ta patrol but some had their perimeters corrupted, when they were infected with Malice, sos they go wanderin’ without any set routes. There was a lady named Hehla who was tryin’ ta make a stable here, sos I cleared that one out fer her.”

“Gramma?” Marden leaned in, the old man smiling.

“Was wonderin’ how you were related. You got her nose.” He winked, tapping his own. Marden touched his nose unconsciously.

“How, swords don’t work on them. Guardians.” Fyjo asked, and the old man didn’t answer.

He leaned toward Fyjo, offering his walking stick. She took it, holding it in both hands and immediately noting that she could have not only held it in one hand, but it would have remained balanced no matter where she held it. She was moderately certain she could have placed it on either end and it would have remained standing. She looked up, waiting for a prompt, and he gave her a motion to follow. She gave the middle part a sharp flick and felt a sudden heat from one end of the walking stick, realizing only as she dropped it,

“It’s a spear!”

Marden, Barto, and Karn nearly fell out of their places learning forward to get a look at the pale blue spearhead, condensed blue fire with a sharp blade, a light and a solid object all at once that left a trailing blue vapor from the edge. It felt ethereal and Fyjo was half-tempted to touch the blade in some primal instinct were it not from the heat she felt radiating like another campfire just next to hear. She lifted it, noting the still-glowing embers in the dirt it had left behind, cooling into a transparent, glassy material.

Barto looked again to the little old man, sitting there with his hands in his lap and a blanket over his shoulders, who’d recently woken up from a nap sitting up. The old man who shuffled around and needed extra pillows and sometimes had to be helped up because he’d gotten stuck sitting, the old man with a trembling voice and hands and gait. He tried to imagine a younger version of him, hunting, killing the things of his nightmares and just couldn’t do it.

“This was found at one o’ the dig sites. I kept it, studyin’ it, fer years after the Calamity. On my way up ta Akkala, some guardians ambushed me. I stuck this inta a guardian’s eye in a panic, ‘n I wish I could say it was ‘cause I remembered somethin’ from an incident the Hero. But it was just lucky desperation… It found the eye, ‘n stunned the Guardian long enough that I could do it again. ‘N that seemed enough ta kill it.”

Something courageous swelled in Fyjo then. Some streak of defiance and empowerment as she realized she had, in her hands, something that could kill the monster of her childhood and the monsters that plagued the roads now and made inhospitable, impassable patches that no traveler dared venture.

“You just used a spear?”

“Hylia, no, no.” The old man laughed. “That just gave me the idea fer how ta do it.” He offered his hands and for a single, irrational moment, Fyjo considered taking the spear. Making the old man upset bothered her more than the idea of stealing the thing, though, and she returned it gently. “The Guardians run on blue flame, this substance here.” He pointed to the blade, flicking the spear with his wrist to make the blade disappear as if it had never been there. “’N blue flame is precisely what hurts’em most. So I made it inta arrows.”

He winked to Fyjo, leaning on his spear again, once more a weird but convincingly mundane walking stick. “That’s what I used ta hunt’em with.”

When silence fell over the four, Marden knew they were in a similar state of both awe and excitement, or perhaps letting this new facet of their new friend sink in. Fyjo, the youngest and least socially graceful of them, spoke up though to cut through the moment.

“Why’d you stop?”

The old man laughed. “I ain’t exactly the picture o’ finesse ‘n fitness I used ta be—‘n that’s bein’ mighty kind ta myself. I just got old, darlin’.” The answer seemed acceptable if mildly disappointing for Fyjo.

Barto, at that moment, deemed the soup done. Why now was anyone’s guess but perhaps he’d noticed the lull, perhaps he’d noticed something no one else had. In careful portions in crude-but-sturdy wooden bowls, he ladled out enough for each, glad to test the meat and vegetable pieces to find they broke easily. He didn’t want to assume about the old man but had a pretty solid idea these would be just right for him.

They ate in silence. A comfortable, if expectant silence, a silence in appreciation for good food but with an eagerness to pick up where they’d left. Pry a little more into an old man’s life, Marden corrected himself, but if the others shared the sentiment, he couldn’t tell. Fyjo, certainly, Hylia bless her, seemed more than eager to pry.

“What was it like before the Calamity?” There it was. The question they’d all desperately wanted to ask but only Fyjo had the bravery—or bluntness—to ask. Marden felt a flush of secondhand embarrassment and yet couldn’t bring himself to say anything against the question. Barto and Karn too looked morbidly curious with judging glances to Fyjo but inquisitive looks to the old man. Perhaps silently hoping he’d answer, but knowing they couldn’t push him on if he couldn’t.

Thankfully, the old man seemed willing to oblige.

#botwau

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clansayeed · 5 years ago

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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 21: Come Hell and High Water

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Please, please let this work.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“Even with what you now know you would bring them here — together.”

Catching the Elders by surprise wasn’t a part of the plan for good reason; thinking they could get one over on the people who have been planning this for who-knows-how-long would just be arrogant.

Doesn’t make the sharp cunning of Elder Daniels’ glare any less intimidating.

“Do you think it too much to hope they understand why this is necessary? What part they played in the inevitability of this?”

Elder Vion remains silent; his opaque gaze observing both everything and nothing — but where does it focus?

“You remain as blind to the present as ever, Millet.” chides Daniels.

Elder Millet’s shoulders slump. The only one to show any kind of remorse — genuine or otherwise. “A little optimism never hurt anyone…”

Elder Daniels doesn’t deem her worth a response. Focuses instead on looking out over the garden party with a forced disinterest; the mask of her neutrality firmly in place.

But Taylor can see through the gaps and cracks now. To the edges that curl around her real emotions. Contempt, disgust; as though the choice to gather despite knowing the Coven’s plans is a personal attack on her careful cultivation of the future.

He’s the first to address them properly. Down the steps to the decorative gravel the Lamrian decorators sprinkled with crushed gemstone.

“Thank you for coming, Coven Elders.” He’d step closer if Nik’s steady hand doesn’t stop on his shoulder — hold him at a distance. But they can’t seem hesitant if this is going to work. “It wouldn’t be a Council party without everyone on the Council attending.”

He still has no idea if this is going to work. Please, please let this work.

Elder Millet shuffles her tarot deck like a nervous habit. Daniels steeples her claw-like fingertips together in front of her and, like an unspoken signal, Vion’s grip on his staff grows pale-knuckled tight.

Power pushes out from them in an invisible wave. Just once; but once is all it takes. He feels it, Nik feels it — everyone feels how the pressure changes in the air; how something old like the mantle of the earth tastes at the backs of their throats.

Let the countdown begin.

“Explain this little… gathering,” demands Daniels with a sneer.

Only it’s Tonya who answers. She stands on shivering legs with Vera’s help but to call her feeble would be to call the wraith itself a minor inconvenience.

She may no longer have the Touch but Lady Smoke is far from powerless in their presence.

“You’re the one who ought to be explainin’ themselves, Ophelia Daniels.”

The women stare one another down. It’s obvious every second spent standing is agony but hell if Tonya Reimonenq is going to lose even in her current state.

Vion steps forward and stays his companion’s hand. That familiar tingle of empathy down his spine makes Taylor shudder; makes him see Cassiopeia’s blood stained up to leathery elbows — falling to the ground in a drip. drip. drip.

“If the Council has an accusation, let it be heard.”

Isadora hisses from across the garden, “The gall of you, traitors and murderers…”

“Such stinging words to your claims!”

“One of many!”

“Have you witness or evidence?”

“Aw hell,” the lumbering figure of Kristof breaks the growing threads of tension by stepping forward — strangely the calmest he’s been insofar, “cut the crap, will ya? We know you’re the ones tuggin’ that hellspawn’s leash.”

It’s instinct, he doesn’t mean to. Looking away from their very dangerous guests of honor Taylor catches Cadence’s eye for only a moment before snapping back forward. They can’t risk anything longer catching the Elders’ attentions.

“Do you now?” asks Daniels coolly, “I regret to inform you that knowledge will not give your sacrifices any amount of dignity.”

“There is more at risk within this city’s borders than the dignity of the few, Ophelia.”

It must be magic; how Elric speaks clearly and is undeniably heard despite the fireworks that crackle overhead; without even raising his voice.

The sharp curve of Daniels’ smirk is a malicious one. “I will not suffer a cowering outcast to speak to me of dignity. You still breathe only because your hidden city’s wards have protected you.”

“I am not cowering now, am I?”

“The night is young.”

Anger hangs thick and stifling on the edge of every word and Taylor — god — he can feel it all.

The Coven’s unwavering conviction, Isadora’s desire for revenge, Kristof’s refusal to die anywhere but on his hind paws. The strangely smug way Lady Smoke feels like she should have seen all of this coming and the fierce protectiveness Elric projects at him without shame.

But hidden in the woven tapestry of them all is a single thread, sour and ill at ease but no less recognizable. He’s no longer a stranger to what fear feels like.

“If you would, then — indulge us the most obvious of questions;” even with the distance between them Elric, towering at least a foot taller than Daniels and her power-stilettos, looks down his nose at her, “why?”

“You’ll have to be a tad more specific.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!” Kristof rages. “They’re playin’ us fer fools!” Yet his monstrous howl of rage is silenced by the elf lord’s pale hand raised; staying him.

“That may be, Jensen, but surely I am not the only one here who wishes to understand. Who wonders why the formerly reasonable Coven would change so abruptly. And why they would decide to act now—of all times—and with such vicious intent.”

“It’s not the Coven that’s changed.”

At first Elder Millet’s voice is lost, timid, on the wind. Like a spectre from the beyond there to bolster a claim. But no one misses when she stops shuffling her deck, flips over the top card to reveal a gruesome and bloodied tyrant.

The Emperor reversed.

“There have been signs more than what we witches witness. Signs in the earth and skies, in the lifeblood that runs through our city. But you — your Council — have been complacent; content to ignore them. Focused instead on your own gains and greed. We considered every option, please believe it.

“But this was the only way our city might stand a chance of surviving the coming darkness. A unified voice, when divided, would only serve to hasten our downfall.”

“If you had approached the Council — shown us the signs we so easily missed —”

“When did it become the duty of the Coven to play prophet to the willingly ignorant?!” Daniels interrupts loud and unashamed. “To the immortal and oh-so-wise faire folk, or the creatures of dark magic who should have felt the gathering storm in their bestial bones! Or to you, Lady Smoke, with ears in every room on every block.

“Admit your guilt — not that it will save you. Admit your hunger for power and wealth led you into the blind fog that the Council should have been beyond the reaches of. For the downfall of New Orleans would have been your burden to bear.”

“Had you not stepped forward and assumed some sort of divine control, you mean?” demands Isadora.

“Make no mistake — we chose this course of our own free will. Because we were the only ones left untainted; loyal to this our sanctuary city.”

Elric steps forward, not without caution. “There has been enough death, Ophelia. Stop, now, at the threshold of a fall you will not survive.”

“Every death has been and will be a necessary one.”

Something about the victory in her claim riles Taylor from the inside out. Makes the words throw themselves out of him unbidden—

“Even yours.”

It’s probably the closest Daniels has ever come — and will ever be again — to a look of surprise. A dozen thoughts half-formed on mute lips before she schools her expression complacent.

“An unseen complication indeed.”

But that doesn’t make Taylor recoil as it once did. In fact he’s kind of proud of it. “How about instead of demanding everyone else admit some imagined guilt because of your desire for power, you three do the admitting? Admit you know this isn’t the so-called only way and try to muster up a little bit of humanity— Try and feel even the tiniest bit of remorse for what you’ve done because deep down you know it was wrong.”

Nik tenses behind him. He can feel it where they’re connected; his guttural hissing thought of think about the plan, Rook.

And maybe it wasn’t how they originally hoped to get the final piece of the puzzle but maybe—just maybe—it might go in their favor.

For the first time the Coven Elders part; Daniels breaks away in even, purposeful strides to close the distance between them.

Taylor feels the way Nik tenses, readies himself for the inevitable attack.

But it doesn’t come. Not physically, anyway. Only the look the witch gives him that may very well will him out of existence.

“Your blind stumbling has gotten you far little halfling. But you’ve come far enough, I think.”

“You wanna know what I think?”

“Not particularly.”

“I think that’s not really your call. The same way I think deep down you know you’re just as greedy as you say everyone else is. You’re just pretending to think about the greater good.”

Then there’s a movement; so fast it’s a blur. A stinging pain on his cheek and a sensation akin to tears rolling down his face.

Everything that follows still comes as a surprise despite having been building in the tension on both sides. The night air harsh on his open wound and a crisp ache in his shoulder as he’s yanked backwards and behind Ryder; a leather-clad shield.

Movement in his periphery and Nik goes flying backwards. Hurled by a tornado of unseen power.

“Nik!”

“This ends tonight!” Daniels raises her outstretched arms high to the heavens. Draws clouds from nowhere and everywhere to blot out the moon and the stars. The darkness within consuming the world outside her soul.

“You’re damn right it does—!”

Katherine pulls out Nik’s crossbow from underneath a nearby folding chair; wields it weightlessly as she aims at the witch and pulls the trigger.

Daniels deflects it with little effort. Sends the bolt flying towards the outer brick wall.

Behind their companion the other Elders whisper curses into the very wind. Once-solid ground ripples like water and their influence takes hold.

The trees around them bend and twist; their natural states resisting the witches’ call with an eldritch orchestra of groans before they yield. Roots torn up and fallen leaves and broken branches coming together; an army.

“Ah hell, not again!” shouts Cal; voice distorted with the wolf already pushing against his skin.

There’s hands at his arms — Taylor looks up to see Cadence struggling to drag him backwards towards… what? Towards safety? There’s no such thing anymore.

Still he scrambles up and back. Ducks just as the windows at the back of the House shatter under Elder Millet’s will. Just as she sends the broken shards hurtling in a transparent flock coming directly for him.

Above him comes a barely-restrained cry of pain; Taylor looks up to see two pieces lodged deep in the vampire’s shoulder.

“Cade!”

“I’m fine!” Like he’s trying to prove a point he shoves Taylor backwards, stumbling; “Go check on Ryder! Keep to the plan!”

Wet tearing noises fill the clearing as Kristof the wolf pries free of his skin — Octavia right at his heels. Together they howl at the cloaked moon and take off on all fours towards Elder Vion.

But with a limber motion his withered body shouldn’t be capable of the witch fights back. Whips his staff out; sending roots from the nearest tree to his aid. They lash, sentient, at the wolves’ hind paws — one hits home and ropes around Octavia’s flank, squeezes and sends the Beta crashing snout-first into the gravel.

The Beau-Keyes Garden is in chaos but Cade is right. They should have expected this. He needs to find Nik.

Taylor takes off in a mad dash towards the hedges where the Nighthunter had been thrown. Catches the tail-end of Vera and Ivy pulling Tonya out of the fray and into the House.

A cluster of something dark scurries on the whipping wind towards them, right at Ivy’s back. “Ivy, watch it!” Voice catching in his lungs — but its enough.

Enough for Ivy to turn around with bright burning eyes at the incoming horde. Her peeled-back lips move in silent words and her hair lifts around her in a neon-tipped halo. The incoming swarm — Millet’s tarot deck — stop mid-flight; repelled by whatever curse the revenant has conjured.

The cards shudder, then begin to crumple and squeeze themselves into balls. One last flick of Ivy’s lace-laden wrists and they spontaneously burst into a dozen individual flames, hot-pink heat licking at the air and casting her ghoulish grin of glee in flickering light that burns bright before they are consumed — nothing but ash scattered at her platform-raised feet.

A hand closes tight around his wrist and pulls him back. Catches him in half a scream when he turns and sees the stern pull of Elric’s brow.

“What are you thinking; standing here exposed?! Get to cover!”

“Not without—incoming —” he pulls them both to the ground just in time for a large branch to soar overhead and crack against the trunk of another tree, “— Nik! I have a plan, remember?”

“If your life is the cost —”

“It’s not!”

“Then please, find safety!”

“I’m not leaving them behind!” He meets Elric’s eyes in a long look — ignores the cacophony around them and clasps their hands together. Can’t tell which of their palms is slick with sweat; maybe both. “I need you to trust me, Dad. I can do this.”

And they’re no longer in the midst of the fight but back in time; back to a mere hour ago when he asked Elric to trust him once; now again. “I can do this.”

The fae inhales; nods and rasps, “What do you need from me?”

Thank you. “Get the Elders on the defensive. They need to summon the bloodwraith.”

“What?!”

“You said you’d trust me!”

It’s a struggle, but Elric swallows down his protests and nods. “Very well. Find your Nighthunter; do whatever you need to prepare. Leave the rest to me.”

One last squeeze and they part. Taylor’s already halfway across the garden when he hears Elric shout strong and clear; “Garrus! Lend me your hand!” And it’s such a shock that he almost trips; almost.

Mustering up the last of his energy Taylor vaults over the farthest hedge; goes crashing into the lawn on the other side to find Nik lying limp and still.

No—no no nono…

He moves through the pain. Blinks through the tears piercing pain at his wounded cheek and pulls the hunter to lie on his back where he can check for injury—for a pulse—for anything.

“Nik wake up,” and fighting through the violent shaking in his hands is hard—near impossible—but he manages two fingers to the man’s pulse, “Nik—please please wake up. We can still do this — but there’s no way in hell I’m doing it without you.”

But he can’t tell what’s a possible sign of life and what’s his own blood pounding through every vessel in his body like his blood wants freedom. He tucks a hand under dark hair and can’t help the strangled noise he makes when he feels slick wetness matted at the crown of his head.

“Oh no—no no no…” Fuck now he’s scared to turn the man over; to make it worse. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening…”

And he’s not being entirely truthful — not even with himself. The plan surely could work without Nik at his side but why would he want it like that? He doesn’t — he can’t even imagine it.

Taylor looks up and around. Wildly searches for someone who can help — someone who knows more, someone who can do something. But they’re all too far.

He isn’t sure he’d be able to call out to them even if they were.

It’s an actual effort to manage Nik’s limp head into his lap. What the fuck is he supposed to do? Slap his cheek, shake his shoulders like in the movies? Only those aren’t real head wounds on film — just actors with fake blood squirting in packs like ketchup and prosthetic makeup making them look battered and bruised.

Nik is battered and bruised. There’s nothing fake about it. This isn’t a movie; they aren’t on a set and his tears aren’t eye drops. They’re real. Everything about this is real.

“Oh fuck—fuckfuckfuck…”

When he pulls his hand back to the sight of red smeared on his fingers, he almost comes undone. Stays sane only because one fleeting thought, more of a background notion really, rattles in an echo around his skull in a voice that isn’t his own.

Those who seek to change destiny never understand how to bring it closer.

His rational mind is right: this isn’t a movie. Everything that’s happened has been real—from the smallest arguments to the biggest tragedies.

Nik is real. Cal is real—werewolves are real. Vampires, shapeshifters, revenants and spirits and even witches are real. Fae are real. Fae halflings — yup, real too.

And if there were times where Donny wasn’t saved, or the Council did fall to the Elders and their plan, or Taylor died in the cemetery that night, then didn’t that mean there were times that Nik didn’t survive this encounter, too?

But Donny was saved. The Council won’t fall to the Elders and Taylor didn’t die that night.

He refuses to let this be the one thing that can’t be changed.

“Breathe, Rookie, breathe…” Taylor whispers, forces his voice to keep calm and his hands that cradle Nik’s skull to go still. Because he knows how to change destiny this time; he’s done it before.

He doesn’t need to feel a pulse under the man’s skin because when he closes his eyes; reaches down inside his chest he can feel something there. Dim and flickering but so very present. A flame that wants to grow; it just needs to be fed first.

If there’s an incantation he doesn’t know it. But he knows how badly he wants Nik to heal; how bright he wants to feel the man’s soul inside.

There has to be a reason he is the way he is. Why can’t it be to save Nik Ryder?

There’s a flash against his closed eyelids; bright like someone turned on the sun in the middle of midnight. A switch flicking a lamp to life; or logs thrown on a campfire to keep him warm.

And when he opens them he has to squint through the burn of brightness but that’s not a bad thing. Not where that light filters through Nik’s hair askew and tingles at Taylor’s palms. Warms them in rays of daylight soft and flecked with dust motes, wipes them clean of dirt, clean of tears; clean of blood like it was never there to begin with.

Looking down at Nik’s slackened face; searching every scarred inch for some sign of life he knows is there; treading water just below the surface.

His heart skips a beat. Nik’s eyes flutter open; awake and alive. And the sight of color and life on his face is so fucking beautiful that it makes him start to cry all over again.

Around them fades to dim night but Nik still looks up at him with a strange wonderment. Reaches up and drags the calloused pad of his thumb across Taylor’s cheek to catch his tears before they fall.

“C’mon now,” comes that familiar throaty whisper; he doesn’t have to see the smirk to know it’s there like a kiss at the edge of the man’s lips, “sure as hell you ain’t sheddin’ those tears for me, Rook, are ya?”

“‘Course not.” Taylor teases back — bends himself practically in half as he leans down to take that offered kiss because he can.

Because Nik is alive.

They part — Nik holds himself up on a wobbly arm and reaches, feels around his head where even the ghost of his injury is a fading dream. And when his fingers pull back clean and without blood Taylor’s heart stutters back to life.

“Should I ask?”

But he doesn’t even know how to start explaining what happened — doesn’t quite understand it himself except for the fact it was instinct like he’s never known. “Maybe when this is over.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Make sure you do, he wants to say; instead touches the curve of Nik’s jaw because he’s there and he can.

Reality crashes back around them; suffocates what’s left of their bewilderment in the large form of a wolf.

It comes crashing through the hedges just shy of them. Taylor peers over the protective form of Nik’s shoulder just in time to see the shine of the werewolf’s yellow eyes before they roll backwards and Octavia slumps down; limp and unconscious.

“Why the hell ain’t they summoned the fuckin’ wraith yet?”growls Nik. He uses what’s left of their cover to survey the fight; locks his sights on Elder Daniels as she pulls at invisible strings and sends a fallen branch forth to sink home in Isadora’s belly.

The vampire hisses and collapses, catches herself just shy of impalement and desperately claws for her freedom.

“They’re trying to take out the Council on their own —” Taylor cuts himself off as he searches the fray in panic for any sign of Elric.

“That ain’t a part of the plan, Rook.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Then what the hell’re we supposed to—holy hellfire!”

But it isn’t hellfire — not quite. Burns just as hot but Taylor’s pretty certain hellfire isn’t made of pitch black flame that shimmers iridescent as it races in tendrils towards the Elders; presses them against one another back to back in prowling circles that scorch the earth at their feet.

The mere sight of it captivates the entire Garden. Causes the witches to hold their combined magics out to defend their ranks against the fiery lashes.

Elric commands the stream of fae grimfire like a natural extension of himself. Raises his hand to send another wave in that raise the walls and keep the Elders pinned together.

“Accept your defeat, Elders of the Garden Coven, lest justice be swift and without mercy!”

But he isn’t alone. With sleeves rolled up to the elbow Garrus coaxes the grimfire at the witches’ heels. Sweeping movements of his arms drag the vestiges of it away from the rest of the Garden and tighter against their commanded foes.

This is it. This is their final chance.

“Where’s Vee?! It’s time!”

“Go —” Nik pushes him up and forward; makes Taylor stumble over a pulled-up root now rendered lifeless; the Elders’ magic contained in spectral fire, “— if they’re cornered, they’re desperate. They’ll call him forward soon.”

But Taylor can’t even comprehend the thought of leaving Nik’s side. Of not being there — not keeping him safe. “No way.”

“Now ain’t the time to argue!”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you again!”

“Rook.” And its just one word—one stupid little nickname he doesn’t even like—but he pushes so much meaning into it that Taylor’s feet move with a will of their own. Carry him out from safety’s cover with Nik hot on his heels until he veers into the Beau-Keyes House gone dark.

It takes literally everything in his churning gut not to follow.

Instead he breathes, stomps down the unease building inside — threatening to crest and consume him — and joins Elric in front of the Elders.

Every attempt the witches make against their ethereal prison is consumed and rendered powerless. If he didn’t know better — if he wasn’t hoping for this to be what forces their hand — Taylor might almost believe they’ve won.

“Enough fighting, Daniels. Please.”

The woman turns her head in a lash. Nothing but unbridled rage in empty eyes.

“Your persistence is no longer amusing, little pest.”

He knows his pleas are falling on deaf ears but… but doesn’t he owe it to everything they’ve lost to try?

“Look— you said part of the reason you decided to act was because the Council was so divided. But—but here everyone is! You brought them together. Can’t that be enough?”

It’s a useless question. He knows it, Elder Daniels knows it too. He can see it in her eyes.

“We are beyond the point of peace.”

“We don’t have to be.”

“Your ignorance will be your undoing.” She turns her back on him; on everyone. Joins Millet and Vion in clasped hands and bowed heads as though the grimfire is nothing more than an illusion.

This is what they wanted— what they’ve been waiting for ever since the Elders appeared tonight. But hearing the familiar incantation harmonized between them is no less haunting.

“Claw and blood, claw and bone. Bloodied flesh, endless stone…”

“They are summoning the abomination!” Isadora shouts. Her voice cracks as she gives one last violent pull; wrenches the branch free from her body and hurls it aside. “Stop them, burn them!”

But the plan isn’t to stop them. Still, Taylor understands. Feels it, too. The sickening wrongness in his gut only made worse by the familiar smell of foul and rot that seeps in like a putrid fog.

The effort it takes to hold the grimfire steady shows on Elric’s pallid face. “Are you sure about this?” he asks through gritted teeth. And he’s really not—can’t be sure of anything anymore—but that isn’t the answer he gives.

“Yes. Let them do it.”

“Soar with the zephyr, shriek with the crow. Life renewed we now bestow.”

Elric looks ahead to where the strain of their casting has Garrus ready to collapse. He gives the man a silent nod, and almost in relief and a perfect mirror they pull clenched fists apart to end the conjuring.

The grimfire eats itself from the bottom up. Dissipates at the edges of itself until the multicolored flames are only a remnant burned on the insides of Taylor’s eyelids. Beside him Elric begins to sag sideways as the exhaustion takes hold; he throws the man’s arm around his shoulder to keep him standing steady. He watches in relief as Krom refuses to let his fae collapse; catches him in strong stone arms and with unheard praises.

But the Elders continue their wicked chant; they either don’t notice or don’t care with victory within their reach.

“Arise hellbound soul! We beseech and command Fell our enemies with your cursed hand!”

Around them the wind begins to gather — pushes aside the cloud cover overhead and bathes the Garden in moonlight. Just like the last time they stood here gathered. Just like that night in the cemetery.

“Ryder!” Katherine calls; tosses the crossbow the short distance as he approaches with Vera on his heels. “We sure this is gonna work?”

Nik looks up at the sky with a grim resignation. “I think it’s a bit too late for doubts.”

As one the Coven Elders turn to face their accusers. The wind lashes Millet’s hair in tendrils and billows Vion’s robes; blows Daniels’ collar this way and that yet they remain rooted to the earth.

They stand with their convictions until the very end.

“Perhaps in number you can overpower us,” Daniels sneers, “but whatever scraps of this little front survive the wraith’s touch will be easy pickings.”

Over their heads a shadow passes over the moon. The telltale whip of burial wrappings hisses in their ears — followed by the unholy shriek they know all too well.

Daniels’ hands raise to the sky as the bloodwraith approaches.

“Come wretched creature; come accursed traitor! Pay your oath in the blood and bone of our enemies! Know no rest until our great work is done!”

The bloodwraith descends slow; places itself between the Elders and the rest as a shield grotesque. This time is no different than before — the very sight of it makes the hairs on the back of Taylor’s neck stand and scream to run, flee, there is no salvation here.

He used to think nothing could equal the void and despair where Death itself burns black in its eyes. But now that he sees them in the same space, he sees the same lifeless purpose like a stain over Daniels’ face.

But knowing what he knows now has Taylor looking at the wraith in a different way. Still with the same revulsion natural of the living to the violent dead — but he tries to imagine the face that once framed that skull as the same one from the photograph in Cadence’s office.

Familial features shared by both Tonya and Vera now twisted, warped by bloodlust and the unnatural.

And even worse — finds himself searching for some hint of the first victim to all of this madness. How could something so evil come from a soul like Cassiopeia? He didn’t even know the girl and yet those brief moments sharing a piece of her soul — her last moments — gave him a grief he felt tasked with bearing the burden of.

Behind him there’s a rustling; a bundle wrapped in cloth passing from Cade to Vera’s bare hands.

“What are you doing?”

Vion’s croaking voice breaks through the tense silence. Matching looks of wary apprehension barely restrained as they pass between each of the Elders.

Their confusion is understandable. Nothing has stopped the bloodwraith in its grisly pursuit before.

But this time is different. Whatever mangled bits are left of Derek Reimonenq’s soul feel it. Taylor feels it; behind him his companions feel it too. The Elders are just the last to notice.

“What are you waiting for?” but Elder Millet’s voice isn’t as strong as the others — her concern betrays her; “You are tasked by your summoners. Go forth!”

Hackles rise when the creature inches forward only just. But Taylor stands his ground.

“That’s not right though, is it?”

“Silence halfling!”

No, no more silence. “It wasn’t you that summoned it. Not the first time. That was Cassiopeia—you remember her?” — there’s no denying the recognition, the last bit of life that flickers and dies behind the Elders’ eye s— “The witch who you were supposed to protect and care for, who was so scared of what she could do… but cared more about thanking you for taking her in when no one else would.

“She was willing to do anything, even the thing that scared her the most. And you took advantage of that.”

“How dare you speak of such things—” says Millet. Elder Millet who she trusted, who she looked up to; who led her like a lamb to the slaughter.

“Who else is gonna speak for her? Certainly not you!”

“The girl’s sacrifice was a noble one, you will not diminish that!”

“She didn’t even know there was a sacrifice to make. Admit it,” and it’s awkward, ducking his head around the bloodwraith that hovers between them like a horrible marionette waiting for the puppet show to begin, but he has to look her murderers in the eyes because Cassiopeia never got the chance.

“You knew what you were doing was wrong. That’s why you dragged her out of her bed in the middle of the night, placated her like she was doing something good. Because it was the only way to get her to agree.”

The tiniest shame bubbles up from Millet’s direction. Makes it all the more important that he stares over that skeletal shoulder right into her eyes.

“She may not have known the extent of what we needed of her… but she did do good for the future of the Coven; for the future of this city.”

“She didn’t know because you didn’t tell her.”

A scoff drags his attention away to where Elder Daniels has rounded on her companion — a fist clenched in the barest show of restraint. “Do not lose your conviction now. At the accusations of this—this ignorant child!”

She rounds back on Taylor every inch a wraith in her own right—reaffirms what invisible tether ties Reimonenq the wraith and the Coven together with palms raised to the sky; “Enough of this! Kill the halfling first! I command you!”

The bloodwraith’s neck cranes back at an unnatural angle and it howls to the wind, bloodstained talons reaching out and forward; compelled to attack.

His breath catches in his throat and Taylor squeezes his eyes shut. He braces himself—

For the pain that never comes. The icy grasp of a fate worse than death that he still can only imagine; still must only imagine.

Peeks a tentative eye open to the sight of Cassiopeia’s severed hand stretched out in Vera’s quivering grasp.

A firsthand witness to how the small and humble sparks in Vera’s breast ignite into a blaze that consumes her soul.

“You will not.”

#nightbound #nik ryder x mc #nik ryder #cal lowell #playchoices fanfiction #vera reimonenq #katherine nightbound #oc: cadence smith #mc: taylor hunter #nightbound mc #garrus #ivy #krom #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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ciarawritesmarvel · 6 years ago

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wanderlust [3] - steve rogers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k (i’m going all out for this series)

Warnings: Definitely a little language, warning for heights I suppose and angst towards the end to be honest. I’m so sorry about this after EG but two very fluffy one shots the two days after today.

A/N: Part three! All I gotta say is sorry. This isn’t very nice. Well, it is to start with! I’m going to stop talking. Please tell me what you think of this one and I really hope you enjoy it, lovelies <3

Summary: Your best friend and colleague Steve Rogers only really wants to make you happy, even if that means taking you around the world to do so. Will you satisfy your wanderlust or somehow wander into love?

Prompt: I love you. And I’m sorry if that scares you but it won’t change. I love you. I have for a while now. [written for Attie’s 4K Challenge Challenge! @barnesrogersvstheworld]

masterlist is in my bio and tags will be in a reblog! Enjoy!

previous chapter

---

Gibraltar had been and gone. It was far too quick, the three days spent there flying by before you could fully grasp onto them, but they were still incredible . The first day had been wandering around and then an incredible dinner at the restaurant Tony recommended but you’d found some different things to do the past two days. You spent one atop Gibraltar Rock complete with a cable car ride, monkeys and Steve getting his sunglasses stolen. The final day was spent on the beach, lying on towels side by side, splashing into the sea and then running out again, the sand sticking awkwardly to your feet and legs. Steve stole you both some sunbeds after that and you spent the rest of the day sipping on soft drinks through straws, sunbathing either in silence or in quiet chatter, splashing each other in the sea and playing frisbee on the sand.

It felt like true peace.

You’d had to get a shuttle to Malaga in order to fly to your next destination. When there, it felt as if Tony had missed a trick in not including Malaga in the trip, as it was gorgeous, but the beach was far busier and you understood why he hadn’t. It wasn’t necessarily all that peaceful here.

From Malaga, came the flight to Ajaccio, Corsica, where you’d be spending two nights. You were already a little tired from the travelling, but didn’t let it bother you and this time you took the flight as a chance to sleep, your head lolling onto Steve’s shoulder within minutes of take off. 5 hours later and the man in the seat beside the two of you had to wake you up, as Steve’s head rested on top of yours as he slept too. He claimed it was because he couldn’t bear to stay awake and listen to your snoring. Cheeky bastard.

Tony had arranged a special trip for your day in Corsica, which turned out to only be a single day, since you arrived at 9pm and wanted to go straight to your hotel to sleep at that point. You’d be in Ajaccio tomorrow but leaving the next day. It was a quick turnaround.

You woke up at 9am in your hotel room and padded into the bathroom to get ready, lightly shaking Steve’s shoulder on your way past his bed in a bid to get him up. A cotton sundress and a pair of sensible flat sandals being the choice of the day, you emerged from the bathroom to find Steve sleepily wandering around the room, picking up his clothes. You exchanged smiles before he disappeared into the bathroom to get ready himself.

It was quite the walk to the tour bus, as Tony had booked you onto a coach trip that was supposed to be for people on an incredibly posh cruise, but when you asked how he’d did it he muttered something about contacts and you decided not to question him. The tour in question was one of the famous Prunelli Gorges, which Tony claimed had beautiful views and perfect photo opportunities. You had shrugged and agreed, ignoring the slight look of reproach on Pepper’s face as he booked it and the sharp words they’d exchanged afterwards. Couldn’t have been anything too worrying.

“Have you looked up what the Prunelli Gorges actually are?” Steve asked you as you walked through the streets, staring at the route on your phone as if your life depended on it. Every so often he would have to grab your elbow and manoeuvre you out of the way of oncoming passers-by, or even walls.

“No, I wanted it to be a surprise. You?”

“Same here. Do you think it’ll be like a smaller grand canyon?”

“I dunno. Maybe?” you admitted, because really, you hadn’t thought about it, but now that you were, you really didn’t know what you were in for today. It was only slightly concerning.

Steve’s phone pinged and he fished in the pocket of his shorts for it, pulling it out and seeing a text from Tony.

Tony: Make sure you hold her hand, big guy!

Following the text was a laughing emoji, an embarrassed emoji and then a few emojis that Steve wished he didn’t know the meaning of.

“Anyone important?” you asked, still looking down at the route and turning left at the end of a street. Steve was puzzled, but sure as hell wasn’t going to share the text with you and so he pocketed his phone and shrugged.

“Domino’s Pizza, two for one deal.”

“Ah damn! If only we were at home,” you joked, looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eye and he laughed, shaking his head. You definitely didn’t mean that and he damn well knew it.

Finally reaching the line of tour buses at the docks, you put your phone away in your bag and marvelled at the scenery. Looming in the not so far distance was an enormous cruise ship and there was a thick line of people streaming from it and into the tour bus area, being assigned to their various excursions. You and Steve were under strict instructions from Tony to mention his name and the codeword, wanderlust, to the security guard outside the area and he’d be sure to let you in.

I mean, if he didn’t, you were kind of stuck.

“Hello, sir,” Steve ventured, walking forwards towards the guard and you thanked your lucky stars that he was willing to do this, since you were terrified of being sent away and Tony not having worked his magic, “We’re here under the name Tony Stark?”

The man eyed him warily and you hurriedly took the last few steps so that you were shoulder to shoulder with Steve.

“Wanderlust!” you squeaked, and Steve looked at you in mild surprise, his lips pressed together to stop him from laughing at your timid tone. You scowled at him. But the guard nodded, far too seriously, and stood out of the way to let you in, pointing to a tour bus on the end of the row, number 66.

“66? You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Steve murmured to you and you chuckled and shushed him as you passed the guard with a half smile. As you walked to your tour bus, you glanced backwards and noticed that the man had a rifle slung over his back and your eyes widened of their own accord, and you shuffled closer to Steve subconsciously.

“Ah, you two must be the Stark party!” the woman beside the tour bus exclaimed cheerily in a heavy french accent that was almost dreamy. You both nodded cordially and she ticked off your names on her clipboard with a flourish, ushering you onto the bus, “Oh you are going to have a wonderful time, you’ll see, you’ll see!”

You both boarded the bus, and Steve looked back you with a raised eyebrow at the woman, but you just shook your head ever so slightly, as if to tell him not to question it. You found two seats free near the front and sat yourselves down, Steve by the window and you in the aisle, sending a few smiles in the direction of the various people around you.

“That woman scares me,” Steve whispered to you.

“You and me both,” you agreed, “But don’t worry, I won’t let the big bad woman hurt you.”

“You gonna protect me, doll?” he asked, smirking at you and you played along, placing a hand on his cheek and ignoring the effect that nickname had on you.

“Sugar, I wouldn’t let anyone hurt a hair on your pretty little head,” you assured him in your best southern accent, which just happened to be terrible. He placed his hand on top of your own.

“You make me feel so safe, Y/N.”

“Just doin’ my job,” you said, but suddenly your voice was deeper and more like a bodyguard’s, and Steve snorted, his hand slipping from yours and his forehead falling to your shoulder as you both laughed.

“Good morning cruisers!” a high pitched voice came through a microphone and ricocheted around the bus, “My name is Martina and I will be your guide for this incredible tour of the beautiful Prunelli Gorges! Let’s go, driver!”

Looking around, the seats were full and there were quite a few faces either amused or worried by the enthusiasm of the guide, Steve’s face definitely on the worried side. You tried to reassure him.

“It’s probably good to have an enthusiastic guide, Steve, at least she’ll get us all excited during the trip!”

He hummed, plainly unimpressed, in response as the coach roared to life and the driver expertly reversed out of the parking bay and onto the roads. Before long you were on what must have been a motorway here, even though it felt rather tiny. You pointed through the window towards the mountains that towered in the distance, ones that you seemed to be heading for.

“We better not be going there.”

“I don’t think we will be,” Steve laughed and you joined him. They were far too high up, after all, though you had heard of some mountain roads in Ajaccio. The thought made you shiver. No way.

“...and you’ll notice that tree on your left...oh, it’s gone. Well if you take the leaves from that and add the juice of the sap from that same trees you get a wonderful balm for skin irritation, bites and stings...”

Both you and Steve had long since blocked out the incessant voice of your guide, since apparently you’d been wrong and her enthusiasm did not enthuse the bus, instead alienating the majority of it. You tuned in just for that section about the tree though, and quickly tuned out again, even more confused by her than ever. Another half an hour later and you left the motorway, turning onto a winding road that seemed surprisingly steep.

Above you was the mountain that had been so far away. Now close. Very close.

“Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Are we going up this mountain?” you asked timidly, looking out of the window and noticing just how slanted the ground below the bus was. The roads were winding, the greenery slowly thinning out around you with every turn you took. When a car came towards you, both parties had to slow down and get the passing just right. You were beginning to feel sick.

Steve hadn’t answered you either, which didn’t make you feel any better.

Another turn later and the greenery had thinned out so much that you were able to see through it, only for a fleeting second, but you saw an expanse of trees that were considerably below you. And you were still climbing higher.

“Holy crap,” you murmured to yourself, looking ahead at the seat in front of you, feeling your heart rate pick up.

Then it hit you.

Prunelli Gorges. Gorges. You were going around the top of the gorges. Which would be below you. Far below you.

Suddenly, Pepper’s sharp words to Tony when he booked it made sense.

It was only minutes before you rounded another corner and then there were no more winding roads through the trees, feeling safe on either side. The trees fell away and there was rock on one side of the bus and a sheer cliff-face on the other. You glanced down and felt your head spin. 2500ft was your best guess for the height of the drop. Right next to you.

You heard Steve curse, and the bus slowed considerably as it took the corner and you were on the mountain road. There were murmurs throughout the bus as everyone saw what they were facing next and you saw one woman cross herself nearby, making you feel a million times worse. It felt like your stomach had already dropped the 2500ft. You cast your gaze down to the floor urgently.

“Now, don’t worry about this bit of the journey, everyone, this is the fun bit! And Luca has driven this stretch of road more times than he can count, right Luca?”

“Actually this is my first time,” he deadpanned and you snapped your head up to look at him. Martina was laughing at him as if he’d just said something funny. As far as you were concerned he was the least funny person you’d ever met in your life.

There was a turn coming up, one in which you couldn’t see where you were going anymore and it just looked like you were going to disappear into the mountain.

“You okay?” Steve asked you, peering at your face and you noticed he was an unearthly shade of white. It was likely he was looking at you to avoid looking over the side of the cliff above anything else.

“No,” you hissed, “How could Tony do this to us?”

And suddenly, Tony’s earlier text made sense. Asshole.

Steve didn’t answer and you came to the turn. You tensed every muscle in your body as you felt the vehicle shift and heard a screech from the back of the bus a few seconds later. Both you and Steve whipped round to check everything was okay and saw a woman breathing heavily with a hand on her chest.

“Our side was hanging over the edge!” she exclaimed to the man next to her, seemingly her son, who rubbed her back comfortingly. You let out a shaky breath.

“You can’t be nervous, Y/N,” Steve said and you could hear the tremble in his voice along with the attempt to lighten the mood, “You said you’d protect me, remember?”

“Only if you’ll protect me too, cowboy,” you said breathlessly and you could feel your heart pounding through your chest, closing your eyes with a wince when you felt the bus turning again. These winding mountain roads were so much worse than the previous winding roads. You wished you’d never complained about those.

“Always,” Steve said, somewhat sincerely.

The bus lurched as a wheel clipped the tiny kerb on the cliffside. Both of you jumped out of your skin and instantly you were gripping each other’s hands for dear life. You looked down at your joined hands once you were sure that the bus wasn’t falling to its doom, slightly embarrassed, but Steve squeezed your hand and gave you a tiny smile and you didn’t feel quite so embarrassed then.

Your hands stayed linked.

---

You stepped off the bus on shaky legs and Steve quickly offered you his arm to hold on to until you regained your balance, though your hand gripping his arm like a vice was grounding him somewhat also. That had been the worst hour of your life. A stark contrast to the joys of Gibraltar. You were extremely surprised neither of you had thrown up. Yet.

“I swear,” you said, swallowing thickly, “If we’re going back that way, I’m not getting back on that bus. I’ll get a taxi, I swear to everything I hold dear.”

“We won’t be going back that way, I’m sure of it,” Steve assured you, but he sounded hoarse and had to cough to regain his composure.

“You can be damn well sure of it, I won’t do it Steve!”

You’d held hands for basically the whole hour. They became incredibly clammy but neither of you really cared. Occasionally you grasp onto his forearm for some extra support and once or twice Steve made the mistake of looking to his left and seeing the drop right there and had to bury his face in your shoulder. Your other hand would come up and hold onto the back of his head at those moments and he’d take a second or two to calm before he was able to sit up again. Both of you used each other as comfort and comforted each other as best as you could. Ensuring the other was okay was the only thing that really prevented either of you from crying.

It sounded dramatic but it was terrifying. Every corner felt like a deathtrap and there was a collective gasp everytime a car came towards the bus.

Now you’d stopped at the highest of heights, where one of Martina’s friends had a caravan out of which she sold Corsican meats and cheeses. It was a strange place to stop but no one was going to argue with an idea that got them off the damn bus.

“Hey guys! Enjoying the tour?” Martina was suddenly in your line of vision and you jumped, still entirely on edge. Steve was quick to be there for you, a warm hand placed on the small of your back soothing you within seconds. You relaxed under his touch. Steve answered her for you but you didn’t hear what he was saying. Instead you focused on the way the skin of your back prickled into goosebumps despite there being cotton between your back and his hand and the way your heart had picked up again for a different reason altogether.

“Well, I have some lavender oil here, very good for calming the mind. I can put some on your wrists?”

You had the vague thought that she might be poisoning you but pushed it away and offered your wrists quickly, hoping that the oil might actually have the calming effect that she claimed. Steve did the same and the loss of his hand on your back almost made you think it wasn’t worth the oil. Almost.

Once Martina had left you alone to pester others to take some of her oil, you gestured to a table to Steve and he nodded, the two of you walking over and sitting down with loud sighs escaping you both. You took a moment to actually look around. You hadn’t been able to appreciate the scenery until now.

One view had you standing up from your chair before you’d even properly sat down in it. You walked over towards the edge of the lay-by, which, just for this rest stop had a higher wall. And down below you was the most beautiful landscape you’d ever seen in person. There were gorgeous green mountains, all sloping down into the clearest blue lake you could imagine, which curved around the land that surrounded it. It was like something out of a movie.

Steve had joined you, slightly panicked when you’d begun walking towards the edge with no explanation but understood completely by the time he was stood side by side with you. He looked out across the gorge and felt tears pricking the back of his eyes. He blinked them back.

He reached for your hand and this time, rather than just holding it, he slipped his fingers through yours and intertwined them. You looked up at him, almost as if in awe, but he kept his eyes trained on the view. You looked forwards again, heart rate slowing as you calmed, his touch seemingly having some sort of magical effect on you. After a few seconds, spurred on by his act of bravery and of intimacy, you shuffled closer until you were touching and pulled his arm around your shoulders, keeping your fingers locked together as you rested your head on his chest.

It was practically midday and the sun overhead glittered on the water. But nothing glittered as much as the happiness in both of your eyes.

---

It was yet another hour to the next rest stop, but this one was the journey down the mountain, slowly, which somehow was easier than the journey up. There were still a few hand holding moments but this time there was also some soft chatter between you as you eased and moments towards the end of the hour where you were actually able to look where you were going which seemed to be a little tiny village in the side of the mountain. You were nearly back at a normal level by now, but the village still appeared high up compared to everything else.

When you stopped this time, your legs weren’t shaky, which was an improvement and there was an actual shop that sold ice cream, which was a bonus. The meats and cheeses from before hadn’t really done it for you. You waited in the queue and got two whippy ice creams, wandering outside into the courtyard seating to eat them.

“I’m going to kill Tony,” you said through a mouthful of ice cream and Steve nodded, swallowing his own.

“I’ll help,” he agreed, “As long as we make it as painful as possible.”

You gasped excitedly.

“We can bring him up here and push him off one of the cliffs!”

Steve pointed his ice cream at you knowingly.

“Bingo!” he exclaimed, swiping your nose and leaving a little dot of ice cream there, before returning it to his mouth as if nothing had happened. You giggled, reaching over to swipe his own face but protesting when he moved his face out of the way.

“Hold...still…” you said, sticking your tongue out to concentrate as you leaned right over the table and tried to get his face, even though he was leaning away as far as he could and frantically turning his face from side to side every time you got close. Eventually, you took hold of his face with one hand and booped his nose with the whippy, grinning triumphantly at the mark left which dripped down onto his chin.

If anyone had looked over, it would definitely have seemed you were about to kiss him.

There was one fated moment where Steve thought you were going to as well.

And another fated moment where you thought you were going to.

So...

You did.

It was a fleeting kiss, but you were already cupping his face and you just leaned in and pressed your lips to his, quickly, sweetly, closing your eyes and savouring the sparks. When you pulled away and looked at him, flitting from his eyes to his lips and back again, you licked your lips.

He stood up and you were forced to pull away properly, falling back into your seat at the other side of the table with a thump. You watched him as he snatched the ice cream from your hand and walked away from you and your heart dropped.

His back was hunched as he walked away and you brought your hand up to your mouth as you processed exactly what you’d just done. You’d just ruined your friendship with Steve. You’d just ruined your friendship with Steve. You’d just ruined your friendship with Steve.

But then you watched through glassy eyes as he threw the ice creams in the bin and turned back to you, his gaze hard and unfaltering, his eyes utterly locked on you. You froze. Didn’t know whether to run or hide or beg him to forget what you’d just done, to rewind the clock, to go back in time.

He stalked over to you with a purpose you were almost sure you’d never seen from him and you stood up, opening your mouth to tell him how sorry you were when his arm was suddenly locked around your waist, tugging you against his chest, his other arm on the side of your neck as he tilted your face up to his and met you in a searing kiss.

Your back arched and he encouraged it, arm tightening around you as his lips moved against yours. You were still in shock, and all you could do was cling to his upper arms desperately as you kissed him back. He tasted like ice cream and home. That wasn’t a taste. It was likely you were delirious at this point.

He pulled away and you fisted your hand in his shirt collar as some sort of reflex to keep him close, to ensure he couldn’t get away.

“Wow,” he breathed after a few seconds of heavy breathing and you chuckled, nudging your nose against his playfully.

“Wow.”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Steve whispered. His words hit you full force. A cold bucket of water poured over you, when you were previously warm and basking in a glow you’d never known. Your hands let go of him and you were a respectable distance away from him within an instant.

“You didn’t mean to do that?” you asked quietly, willing your legs to stop trembling right this second.

“No! No, that wasn’t what I was trying to say, I mean-”

“Because I think it was just the setting.”

You said the words without thinking. They just came out, even though you didn’t mean them at all. But your heart was shouting that danger was nearby and you were terrified of what he’d just said and the fear on his face. He didn’t want this. How could you ever kid yourself that he would want this?

Your words hit him like a van at full speed and knocked him clear off his feet. You didn’t want this. How could he ever kid himself that you would want this?

“The setting?” his voice was shaking because you were saying everything he’d dreaded you would say after a moment like this. You heard the shake and believed it to be fear of what might happen next, fear of you taking this the wrong way. Your own insecurities were both of your worst enemies. Always had been.

“Yeah. The setting. It’s so pretty. Easy to get caught up in the moment, make silly mistakes,” you said quickly, and now you couldn’t even look at him which naturally he took to be regret, “Right?”

You waited with bated breath. Wanted him to scream that you weren’t right, that you were wrong. That he wanted you. That he loved you. So that you could tell him you loved him and pull him right back to where you were just mere seconds ago, kissing with the passion of two star-crossed lovers.

“Right.”

But he didn’t.

Martina called everyone back onto the bus for the last leg of the tour, the last hour that took you all the way back to the bus bay where you’d started the day. Tension was thick in the bus. Somehow, even the terrifying cliffs were better than the icy silence that blanketed you and Steve, suffocated you slowly the entire way back. You sat rigid in your seats and when Steve’s knee knocked against yours at one point both of you pulled away as if you’d been scorched by the touch.

You walked back to your hotel in near silence, the only talking when you said “it’s a right here” or “straight on again”.

You went into the bathroom to change into your pyjamas. When you came out and Steve took your place, there were no smiles exchanged, instead eyes averted to the ground, shoulders careful not to brush each other.

Lying in bed that night, the twin beds had never seemed so far away. You both lay rigid on your backs, as if any movement might disturb the other and send them away. You were scared to breathe.

“Goodnight,” Steve whispered to you in the dark and the simple word was all it took. You turned on your side away from him and covered your mouth to hide the sobs, face crumpled up in pure sorrow.

“Night, Steve,” you managed to choke out as his tears made steady, silent tracks down his cheeks.

And so you lay, two almost-lovers in separate beds, mourning something you’d never even had to begin with.

Utterly heartbroken.

#attie's challenge challenge #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers series #steve rogers angst #captain america imagine #captain america series #captain america angst #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel series #wanderlust

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thedyingmoon · 6 years ago

Text

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

***

XXII

***

"Hello?"

"Kyrie, it's me."

"Nero! Oh, thank God, you're alright!"

"How are things there?"

"I've heard Fortuna's in complete ruins now because of the Dreadnought and its horde. But, we're safe here. You don't have to worry about us."

"Glad to hear that."

"Yes."

...

"Nero?"

"Hmm?"

"Is,... something bothering you?"

"Ah,... nothing."

"Hmm,..."

"Haha. It's nothing. Really."

"Nero, I can tell something's wrong, even if we're thousands of miles apart. I love you, and you know you can always tell me anything. I'm here for you."

...

"Kyrie,..."

"I'm listening."

"What will you do if,..."

"Hmm?"

"Well, let's say you confessed your,... ah,... feelings for me."

"Yes. And?"

"And,... ah,... I rejected you. Like, badly. Like, not even friendzone. What will you do?"

"Hmm, to tell you the truth, I can't imagine you doing that to me. But, if that happens, well,..."

"Well?"

"Of course, I would definitely get hurt. A lot. Nothing hurts more than a special someone, a loved one, pushing you away from their life. My heart would be shattered to pieces, and I would feel like my existence won't matter anymore."

"Whoa! The existence part is too much!"

"Ah, you don't understand, Nero. Girls' feelings are delicate. They may act tough but, deep inside, their heart is dying. No matter how much they struggle against the sadness, eventually it will come back and haunt them. It's like a sickness, being heartbroken. And it's very hard to heal."

"Oh. How do they, uh, cope? They can't stay like that forever, right?"

"Hmm, let's see. With company. With friends who would never leave them. Who would stay for them, eat ice cream with them, and watch romantic movies with them. With honest people who would tell them that the right man would come for them in the right time and everything would be just fine."

"The right man? So, they're just gonna make her forget that she loved - "

" - a man who hurt and rejected her? Well, of course! He hurt her, so he doesn't deserve her."

"Listen, Kyrie: what if he's the one? The one who rejected her?"

"...

... if he's the one, then he shouldn't have rejected her in the first place. It's just,... wrong,... and,... stupid."

"I see."

"Oh, don't tell me you're courting someone while I'm on the other side of the globe?"

"WHAT?! NO! I would never do that to you!"

"Hahaha! Of course, Nero. I know you would never do that to me. So, who's the sad girl?"

"..."

"Nero? Tell me."

"It's (Y/N). Do you know her?"

"Yes. Nico's always telling me about her. She sounds like a great person. Why? Who rejected her?"

"Ah, it's,..."

"Who?"

"I - it's a long story. You know what? Prepare the ice cream and the movies. We'll end this battle quick, because she needs your company. (Y/N) needs you. Us."

"Okay, Nero."

"Wait for us, Kyrie."

"I will wait for you, for as long as I live."

"I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

Nero hung up the phone, sighing as he did so. Ever since hearing about your dire situation ( meaning, everything ) from Nico, herself, he couldn't help but be sad and angry.

Sad for you, and angry at V.

What man could ever stomach doing that to a girl who clearly loved him?! Enough to follow him at death's door?!

The young Devil Hunter shook his head in disbelief. He could still remember the Artisan's words to him a few minutes prior.

"Go after (Y/N)! She's reckless right now, and she needs someone who could stop her from killing herself!"

"Seriously, V." Nero said to himself as he scratched his head in confusion, unable to envision himself rejecting his beloved Kyrie. "You are one stupid son of a bitch for doing that to (Y/N),..."

"Winter, spring, summer or fall,

You know all you have to do is call.

And I'll be there, yeah! You've got a frieeennnddd!"

"You sound terrible."

"Are ya kiddin'?! I sound angelic!"

"Right,..."

"(Y/N) and,... Griffon?" Nero uttered upon hearing the conversation not far from where he was. He left the last good phonebooth of the city and went to his vehicle,...

"Now, you do it." Griffon challenged you as you two made your way towards the Dreadnought.

You cleared your throat and opened your mouth, belting the lines that the bird just sang.

"Winter, spring, summer or fall,

You know all you have to do is call.

And I'll be there, yeah! You've got a frieeennnddd!"

"UGH! AND YA CALL THAT SINGING?! YE SOUND LIKE A CAT IN HEAT FALLING FROM THE TOP OF THE EIFFEL TOWER!"

"I TOLD YOU! I'M TONE DEAF!"

"Yeah, ya better stick to dancin', sweet pea. Haha! Haha! Ah, haha! Well, ah,... no offense. You really sound terrible."

"I know but, you don't have to rub it in,..."

"(Y/N)!" The two of you suddenly heard a voice behind you.

"Is that?" Griffon questioned as you two looked behind you,...

... to see Nero going full speed towards you in a sleek and sick - looking motorcycle that seemed to glow both blue and purple. He stopped just a few steps from you and proudly revved his new vehicle.

"Hey, (Y/N)! Need a ride?" The young Devil Hunter asked you with his signature, charmingly boyish smile.

"I thought Eleison's destroyed?" You asked as you glanced at the amazing vehicle in awe.

"Yeah. I saw it with ma own eyes." Griffon added.

Nero chuckled. "She is. But, you see, a few hours ago, I defeated this knight - Demon thing who wields electricity. When I fought it, its broken parts kinda merged with some vehicle gears. Long story short, I now have Kyrie Eleison!"

"And it has a name now! Right,..." the demonic bird sarcastically replied.

"Anyway, I'm going straight to that ugly ship to make it sink! Wanna tag along?"

"I don't know, Nero!" You answered. "I mean, can it even fly?"

The boy may not have mentioned it but, he can clearly see your red puffy eyes. Like you have been crying a lot. He chose to ignore this, planning to bring this up for after the battle, and spoke. "We'll see about that. Hop on!"

You awkwardly took a seat behind the boy, feeling a bit weak in the legs, and held tightly unto his wide shoulders for support. Griffon automatically positioned himself behind you, grabbing unto your hoodie with his talons.

Seeing that you're prepared and ready for a wild ride, Nero revved Kyrie Eleison and sped fast. He laughed so hard upon hearing your and Griffon's screams and made the vehicle even faster.

"NERO! CAN WE SLOW DOWN?!" You hysterically begged the boy.

"No! We're gonna fly, remember?!"

"AAAHHH!"

Meanwhile, Trish and Lady were still fighting against the Demon horde below when they heard your screams.

"What's that?" Lady asked as she fired her Kalina Ann, making one Demon's face blast into bloody pieces.

"It sounds like,..." Trish said as she slowly looked up.

And there, right above that hill, the two women saw you, Nero, and Griffon, riding a weird - looking motorcycle and actually flying towards the entrance to the Dreadnought.

"How in the world - ?!" Trish exclaimed in utter awe of the reckless feat.

"They will never make it!" Lady yelled as she prepared for the worst.

"WE'LL NEVER MAKE IT!" You screamed, terrified for what will happen next.

"WE'LL CRASH!" Griffon, who seemed to have forgotten that he could easily fly away from all of this, hysterically added, still clinging unto your hoodie for dear life.

"NOT TODAY!" Nero answered, growling like hell as he revved the motorcycle, willing for it to land safely inside the demonic ship.

All of a sudden, Kyrie Eleison glowed even brighter than ever before with electric currents running all throughout its mechanical body. Its light blinded the Demons below, giving Trish and Lady enough time and opportunity to murder more of them.

"GGGYYYAAARRRGGGHHH!"

"SSSQQQUUUAAAWWWKKK!"

"I WON'T LET YOU DDDIIIEEE!" Nero howled as the motorcycle came into contact with the light barrier that guarded the entrance.

You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms tightly around Nero, not wanting to see yourself crash,...

But, everything seemed normal as you finally landed. You opened your eyes, seeing your uninjured body, and glanced at Nero.

"Is this it? Are we safe now?" You asked, unable to believe that you just flew a motorcycle towards the monstrous - looking ship

"Seems like it." Nero answered you with a bashful smile.

"Look at this!" Griffon exclaimed in both awe and fear as he looked all over the place.

From the outside, Shinano Musashi looked like a huge hunk of demonic - looking metal with strange horns and protrusions. An impossibly huge mechanism that could float on the sky.

However, inside it was a different story, altogether. The Dreadnought may look robotic and lifeless on the outside but, its insides surely looked like the innards of a monster. Huge veins of both purple and red crawled all over the fleshy, bloody walls, and there was a distinct scent of sulfur wafting about the place. The floors were entirely filled with pools of a crimson - colored liquid that felt sticky when stepped on. Strange green crystals that provided some form of light protruded on the walls of flesh, and different moans of both pain and suffering could be heard echoing all over the place.

It was as if you entered a floating hell.

"What a putrid smell!" The demonic bird complained as he finally let go of your hoodie.

"I actually agree with you, little chicken." Nero answered as he merely dodged a sticky yellow substance that dripped from the pulsating ceiling.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?! YOU UNGRATEFUL, SON OF A - !"

"It's calling me."

Both Nero and Griffon looked at you as you got off of Kyrie Eleison and started walking deeper towards the cavern of the Dreadnought.

"Who is calling you?" The bird questioned as he flew towards you.

"I,... don't know,..." You answered. You, then, turned and glanced back at your two companions, your eyes looking heavy and empty as if in a trance. "It's calling my name. Can't you hear it?"

"No!" The young Devil Hunter and the demonic familiar simultaneously answered.

"There it is. I'm,... coming,..." You said monotonously as you looked away from them and continued walking.

"(Y/N), don't go there alone!" The boy called after you, then clicked his tongue in annoyance. He dismounted and went after you together with the bird.

A few hours of endless walking and various turns deep inside the Dreadnought led you to a slightly different room with less wet flesh and pulsating veins.

You stopped walking as soon as you noticed the quiet and much darker atmosphere. You looked up, wondering who called you there and noticed a subtle glow of light right in front of you in the form of a floating orb.

As soon as Nero saw this orb, he protectively pulled you away as he took out his Blue Rose and pointed at it.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, (Y/N) but, I don't trust this fairy dust." The boy said as he faced the suspicious - looking orb.

"I don't think it wants a conversation with you right now, kid." Griffon told him as he perched at your right arm.

All of a sudden, the orb grew bigger, casting numerous malicious - looking shadows on the walls. Nero took a step away from it, shielding his eyes from the blinding light until it imploded, leaving the whole room in darkness.

"What happened?!" Griffon squawked as he looked around for potential danger.

"I don't know but, I have a bad feeling about this,..." the boy answered as he drew The Red Queen in preparation for a battle.

A few moments later, all three of you heard a noise coming from the far end of the room. Your heart suddenly became heavier as a black mass went towards you.

Nero revved his Red Queen, ready to attack the enemy, when, suddenly,...

"Kyrie?" Nero uttered, bewildered to find the woman he loved standing in front of him. "Sweetheart, what are you doing here?"

Your eyes widened as you noticed the sinister smile on Kyrie's face.

Something was off!

"Nero! Wait - !"

When he was about to reach out to his lover, a strange kind of light in the form of multiple dark whips emanated from her, throwing the boy towards the other end of the room.

"Griffon, please!" You asked the familiar as you took out your rapier and shield.

"No need to tell me!" The bird answered as it gathered its power for an attack -

"Don't you dare hurt her!" Nero screamed as he finally stood up.

"Can't ya see, kid?! This chick's not yer fling! She - SSSQQQUUUAAAWWWKKK!"

"GRIFFON!" You yelled as one of the whips of dark light coming from the creature impersonating Kyrie grabbed one of the demonic avian's talons and practically threw him away with much force. The bird landed on the ground beside Nero, which left you as the last fighter standing.

You drew your weapon and carefully walked towards the enemy when it suddenly looked at you with its sinister eyes and evil smile. It engulfed itself with its dark light once more, and when it subsided, you saw, in horror, the poet standing before you.

"WHAT IN THE SCHTICK?!" Griffon swore, his golden eyes wide with both humor and fear.

"V?!" Nero muttered in confusion. "(Y/N), look out!"

Before you could even attack, the man strode towards you, raised his hand with the metal cane, and brought it swiftly down on your face, wounding you and making you stumble to the ground.

Your hand automatically went up your cheek and felt something moist from it. You looked at your fingers - blood.

"GET AWAY FROM HER, YOU CHEAP V RIP - OFF FROM HELL!" Griffon shrieked as he flew towards the creature. He released a strong electric attack with the full intention of killing the enemy.

However, the "cheap V rip - off" simply dodged it, flawlessly jumping in mid - air and hitting Griffon with his cane with unbelievable strength. The bird landed on the ground with an ugly thud.

"Nobody told me he's not sissy like his real counterpart!" Griffon quipped as he tried to get up from the ground. But then, the enemy stepped on him and drove his cane deep into his flesh, instantly making him enter his stalemate state.

"Griffon!" You quickly stood up and ran towards the familiar but the enemy whacked you with his cane once more, this time, straight on your back.

"FUCK YOU!" Nero swore as he charged towards the fake V. The enemy noticed this and changed back to Kyrie. The boy did a mistake of stopping in his tracks, making the enemy attack him once more with its dark whips. He came flying towards the other end of the room, feeling fresh wounds and multiple injuries all over his body.

"TAKE THIS!" You screamed at the top of your lungs as you whacked your shield on Kyrie's back, making it stumble. Then, you hastily went to Nero's side, helping him on his feet.

"We can't attack it like this!" Nero thundered as he stood up, giving the enemy an angry look for taking the form of a person as pure and as angelic as Kyrie.

You looked at him, knowing exactly what the enemy's weakness was. "Nero, listen to me. That is not Kyrie - "

"I know! You don't have to tell me!"

"But, just now, you hesitated to attack her!"

Nero punched the ground in frustration. You grabbed his arm and made him look up at you.

"We'll attack it together! Come on, Nero! We have to do this!"

A few minutes later of quick strategizing, the two of you came charging towards the enemy. You took turns attacking it, Nero with his Red Queen and you with your rapier. However, the enemy also switched from Kyrie to V, confusing you and unintentionally opening yourselves for its deadly attacks.

Nero, on the other hand, had enough and slashed the enemy's torso the moment it turned back to V. It drew back in shock, clutching its wounded stomach, then turned to you two with murder and malice in its now red eyes. It dropped its cane on the ground and changed back to Kyrie, extending one of its whips and pinned Nero to the wall, fatally wounding him.

Just when you were about to attack it, it rapidly went back to V, waved its arms, and summoned mulitple blades of blue light that rapidly went down on you like bullets.

Nero watched helplessly as the enemy rained its blades of light down upon you, wounding you to the point that you could no longer get up. He wanted to retaliate but, when he tried to even move a muscle, the shape - shifting creature only pinned him to the wall again with its dark whip of light, injuring him even more.

You looked up at Nero, feeling the endless lashes on your battered body. You reached a single hand towards him, wanting to help him despite your torture. Bloody and torn, he also reached out to you,...

That's when you saw it.

His Breaker suddenly disintegrated and turned into ashes. The boy was engulfed in a warm kind of blue light that instantly healed all of his wounds and injuries. Slowly and like a true miracle, the blue light that engulfed his right arm took form, morphing into something more solid,...

... turning into real flesh,...

His eyes widened at the sight. He forcefully grabbed the dark whip that imprisoned him using his newly formed right arm and almost melted it with the sheer light and warmth it radiated.

The enemy took notice of this and abruptly halted its attack on you, turning into Kyrie once more but, this time, more evil and seductive - looking than ever. And with more dark whips that surrounded its whole body like numerous tails.

"Your tricks are getting too old, you bitch." Nero quipped as he motioned for the enemy to come closer. "I'll make you pay for this!"

With wide eyes filled with wonder, you watched as the youth fought the enemy with ease, wounding it, tearing it apart with his bare hands, and exposing it for what it really was. The beating went on for three unbearable minutes, and when it finally went down to the ground helpless and dying, he went towards you to help you stand.

Grabbing his warm right arm, you spoke, "This is a miracle!"

"I know." Nero answered as he supported you.

You turned towards the dark, beaten, writhing mass on the ground that was the remnants of Kyrie and limped your way to it with Nero still on your heel.

"Who called me here?" You asked it, foolishly believing that it could somehow shed light to the mystery of the Dreadnought and the voice that was calling you.

However, it made one last dying effort to morph once more into V to confuse you. But, the V this time never had the chance to even lay its fingers on you as it remained on the ground beaten and broken.

You felt a pang of guilt as you looked at it and realized that it was only making you feel that way to defeat you.

With one last sigh of apathy towards the enemy, you took Nero's Red Queen from him, held it above your head, and plunged it to V's heart, making it writhe and wriggle even more with pain. Feeling your tears pour out of your tired eyes for this unspeakable creature for exposing your true emotions, you plunged the hot sword even deeper, skewering its heart and reducing the enemy down to its true form - a short and wrinkled creature, about four feet in height, with long twisted claws, sharp red eyes, green skin, and skinny legs. You took the sword out of its body and slashed its head, decapitating it and finally putting an end to it once and for all. The remains of the despicable creature caught on fire and slowly turned into ashes.

You gave the sword back to Nero as you collapsed on the ground.

"So, that's how Mina felt when she decapitated Dracula." You sighed as you settled on the ground to make yourself comfortable. "Oh, that's wrong. That's no Dracula,..."

"Why Kyrie? Why not somebody else?" The youth asked as he watched the creature's ashes get flown by the wind.

You sighed, feeling the massive weight on your heart and shoulders. "It only reflects how much you love a person. The enemy used it against you because it knew it would be your biggest weakness."

Nero looked at you in dismay. "So, you still love him,... V?"

You blinked twice, not sure if your heart could take any more pain. You, then, let out a long sigh of depression. "After all this time. Yes." You answered, wincing in pain as you touched one bloody wound on your arm.

"Hey, you should fall back now, you can't fight like this!" The boy pleaded as you let him support you.

However, the moment your skin made contact with his new arm once again, a new set of visions flashed through your mind about him. It was rapid, and yet,...

You only shook your head in disagreement. "Don't mind me. I'll be fine."

"You'll be fine?! What are you - ?"

Nero's sentence was cut off as he saw, with his own two eyes, how the wounds on your body miraculously healed. He watched the phenomenon in total shock, and when your last wound closed, he could only laugh in disbelief.

"Don't tell me you're immortal?!" Nero questioned you.

"And what does that make you?" You asked him as you gave a knowing look on his new right arm.

"Come on, (Y/N). I'm serious here! How did you - ?"

"You never asked how Griffon came to be my familiar." You cut him off. "And you never asked why my eyes are red. I know Nico told you everything. But, the question is,..." You said, giving him a questioning look as you raised an eyebrow. "... how much do you know?"

The youth could only gulp down in nervousness, his sweat running cold in the process. "Everything."

"Oh."

"FUCK YEAH! What? Hey, what did I miss?" Griffon, who was just fully healed and revived, asked as he flew down towards the two of you.

"Nero pulled a rabbit out of his sleeve." You answered without so much as a fuss.

"Really? Oh, wait. You're being sarcastic - !"

"Which brings me to my next agenda." You said as you held up a hand to silence Griffon. "Nero,..."

"What is it, (Y/N)?"

You looked into the youth's sincere eyes, deciding whether to tell him what you just saw or not, then shook your head.

"Forget I said anything." You quietly answered as you stood up.

"I know you saw something about me. Tell me!"

You narrowed your eyes at the boy.

Well,...

He had the right to know!

"Listen: do you know Luke Skywalker? The Jedi?" You asked him as you removed your shredded parka, letting Nero take a glimpse of the contract markings on your right arm.

"Luke,... Skywalker? I'm not sure I could follow,..."

"Yeah, the woman likes movies, ya know?" Griffon added as he perched on your arm.

"So, what does this Luke have to do with me?" Nero inquired as he followed you out of the dark and depressing room.

"Hmm, I don't know. Could you say, that's impossible!"

"That's impossible! There, I said it."

"You'll say that again later."

"What do you mean by that? Hey, (Y/N)!"

You turned to glance at the boy. Taking pity on him, you spoke, "You know, you are very fortunate."

"Uh, thank you, I guess?" Nero replied, scratching his temple in confusion.

"Thank you for everything, Nero."

"Nah, it's nothing."

"Tell Kyrie I said hi."

"Sure thing."

"This will be the last time. You'll never see me again."

"Okay. WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!"

But, you were already gone before he could even ask you that last bit that Nico never told him,...

***

~ A V X Reader set in an Alternate Universe where cheap rip - offs are way stronger than the originals. 🤔

~ This chapter is dedicated to @micaelagua , @vergils-daughter , @yepps and @sofia-micaela . 🖤

~ Tagging @heaven-on-a-landslide , @lessy86 , @krazy06 , @simmy-ships , @boundbysoul , @ehrzeth , @ceruleanworld , @gxthghoulfriend , and @diabeticsugarush . 🖤

***

In silence and total darkness, V waited for you to arrive. And during those tense moments, he could only think of Fleminger's words to him.

"I know it is power you seek, my Lord. She has that power you're searching for - the power to make yourself invulnerable. The power - to put you back to your former self. Deep within the Dreadnought lies her true heart. But, piercing it would do you no good. Pierce,...

... her body first, then make her power mine. Only then can I defeat the Dreadnought." V uttered as Shadow morphed into an indistinguishable form before him. "Only then,... can I truly become,...

... whole. Once more."

At those final words, something huge behind him pulsated, splashing the suffocating room with its sickly crimson glow and casting unearthly shadows before the poet.

V looked down on his hands. His crumbling flesh. His time,... was coming to an end.

And so, he shall soon receive the power,...

"Come to me, my love." He called for the third time, knowing that you would come to him right away without hesitation,...

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

~ 15 ~

***

#devil may cry 5 #v #i see my future before me #v x reader #v x you #devil may cry nero #devil may cry kyrie #devil may cry nico #devil may cry trish #devil may cry lady #devil may cry griffon #devil may cry shadow #you've got a friend #carole king #chapter 22

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changingourdestiny · 5 years ago

Text

Fictober Day 22: Drifting Through the Snow

Prompt number: 22. “We could have a chance.”

Fandom (AU if applicable): Destiny (Changing Our Destiny Fan-Series)

Rating: M (Destiny is rated PEGI 16)

Warnings/Tags: Alcohol (nothing serious)

Stuck in a blizzard in the shadow of Felwinter Peak during the Dark Age, Marcia stumbles across a bar where she takes shelter from the storm.

—

Base of Felwinter Peak. The Dark Age.

The wind howled across the snow-covered landscape as specks of white made visibility almost unbearable. Many would try to stay out of such harsh conditions…except for one. A cloaked figure trudged through the blizzard, face protected by only the hood of her cloak a bandanna and a pair of large goggles. Her brown cloaked flailed about in the wind as they tried to hold it close to their body. A voice rang out in her head, “Marcia, you won’t last much longer out here. We must find shelter soon.”

“Yeah, I know…” Marcia huffed out, trying not to lose her breath in the wind, “But I haven’t seen anywhere to-” She cut herself off as she made out a strange shape through the storm. It seemed to be a building. “Huh…that’ll work. I ain’t picky.” Marcia shrugged as she made her way closer towards the building. Upon getting closer, she could see the building was a bar of sorts. Not wanting to be stuck out in the snow any longer, Marcia quickly entered the bar and shut the door behind her, not wanting to let the snow in.

The bar seemed cosy, but humble. Wooden floors, except for the area around a fireplace which was stone, and cobblestone walls with timber beams holding up the roof. The barman was a man with short black hair, that was partially covered by a green headband around his forehead, a short beard, blue eyes and a bit of scarring on the sides of his face. He wore a green and black gi and what looked to be a piece of jade hanging around his neck with two snakes carved on it. He was currently leaning against the wall behind the counter while tossing a coin, glancing at Marcia as she entered the bar. There were a few people in the bar. Some were sat around wooden tables – a few being passed out – while two or three were sat at the counter on bar stools, sipping their drinks. Marcia noticed most of them were wearing armour and had Ghosts floating beside them. ‘Traveller-huggers…great.’ Marcia groaned in her head. ‘Traveller-huggers’ was the nickname Marcia gave to Risen who worshipped the Traveller and its Light. Though this nickname would become ‘Tower-huggers’ when the City Age began. “Judging by the armour, these guys are Warlords.” Nox spoke, remaining hidden, “Best to avoid them.” A few heads turned towards Marcia upon her entering, but quickly dismissed her before going back to their drinking. Marcia noticed a few hooks on the wall and hung her cloak on one of them along with her goggles. She kept her bandanna on but slid it down, so it was just hanging around her neck and kept her shoulder plates on too. She walked up to the bar and sat on one of the barstools. The barman stopped tossing his coin, putting it on the counter, as he strolled over to Marcia with a smile, “Not every day I see a new face in here. But either way, welcome.”

“This your place then?” Marcia asked. “Yep. Name’s Wu Ming.” He nodded, reaching a hand out in a hand shake. “Marcia Wyverk. But my friends call me Mars.” Marcia smiled, accepting the handshake. “Nice to meet ya, Mars. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a rum please.”

“Comin’ right up.”

Wu Ming headed over towards a stack of shelves where several bottles were set up. Marcia fiddled with the light amplifier crystal hanging out of her ear as she waited. She would do this out of instinct if she felt the Taken power begin to surge inside her. It would cause the Light in her to stir which helped to balance it out. A Warlord, who was sitting on a barstool on Marcia’s left and was pretty drunk, glanced in her direction. He noticed Marcia’s mark and crystal and glared at her, “I know you.”

“Beg pardon?” Marcia glanced at him with a raised brow.

“I know who you are.”

“Sorry, pal. I don’t believe we met.”

“Don’t play dumb…you’re that monster the other Risen talk ‘bout.”

Some of the Warlords in the bar began to look at Marcia, the same drunken glare in their eyes. “Dunno what you’re talking about.” Marcia shrugged, “If you’re looking for a fight, I don’t wanna damage this fine establishment and I don’t wanna fight in a blizzard-”

*Ker-chick!*

Marcia flinched at the sound as she slowly turned to face the Warlord. He had a gun in hand and the Warlords behind her were reaching for theirs. Wu Ming had turned to watch this conflict, on guard in case it got out of hand. The Warlord glared down at Marcia, “You’re that monster who wields Darkness like it’s a toy. You don’t even deserve to be called a Risen like the rest of us.” Marcia glared back, a fierce look in her eyes, “You seem to know me. But if you really do, you’ll think about what you’re about to do for a second, see it’s a bad idea, and back off.”

“Marcia, this is a bad idea.” Nox advised from in Marcia’s head, “The door isn’t guarded. If we book it now, we could have a chance.” Marcia ignored Nox and stood up from her stool, “You have ten seconds to change your mind…one…two…”

The Warlords took a step towards her. Marcia sighed and removed the crystal from her ear along with her left glove, her glaring expression turning into a malicious smirk.

“…Ţ̵̹͖̤̜̮̦̹̣̱͋ͤ̍̏̾̋̓̂ͣͩͮ̌ͩ̏͛̉̅ͧ͟ ̛̈ͭ̂ͨ̾͌̇͐ͭͥͫ̅ͥ͒̌̈̓͏̧̞̻̖̖̪̤̜̯͚̱̙͈͚̕Ęͤ́̌̽͊͆͏̧̖̮̝̫̘̯͓̟̲͉̙͚͇̺́ͅ ̶̊̇̍̓ͪͪͣ̒͏̯͖̭͕̞̤͎̟͍̖̺͖̬̝̭N̵͉̻̥͙͍̘̲͕̖̖̫̗̯͙̙̬̬̹̖̅̈̅ͫͦ̐ͩ͊̈́̓̓͜͠ ̷̙͍͉̖̝̭͓̙̗͉͍̱̝̥̣ͪ͂̇̇̓̅̋̒ͪ͑̎̋͐̂͒ͩ̀́̚͢͠!̛̿́ͨ͌̂ͥ͏̥͎̥̥͘”

Marcia’s voice became distorted as the entire left side of her body was engulfed in dark greenish-teal and her markings and eye glowed bright white. Taken blight appeared on the floor as three Taken Wizards shot up through it into the bar.

“Ş̷̢̬̱̺̱̳̹̖̹̜͓̮̳͉̺͇͚̹̰̿͋̓ͯ͆ͫͤ̃ͫ̈́ͬ͒͋̎ͬ́̌̓͜H̢̖̻̯̠̳̜̖̣̣̱͙̮̯̿͛̊̎̄ͫ̈́ͭ̈́ͣͭ́͂̀͘͜ͅO͈̠̯̘͍̻̺̹̰̲̤ͣͨ̄̇͂̃ͧͫ̓ͪ̒̈̈ͥ̌̀͞͝ͅW̷͙͚̘̤͖̬͖͓̫̜̰̾ͬ̏ͭ̽̈ͯ̏̀ͤͨ̾̚͢ ͖͍̝̜͚̼̜̤́͗̓̋͋̈́͘͜Ǫ̶̷̢͗̀́̊̒̎̊͛̍̌̉̄̽ͪ̇ͯ͗͏͙̜̮̥̙̗̱̪̫̪͚ͅͅȔ̶̮̟͙̫̘̻̺̱͍͇̼͉͉͔͔͓ͧ̈͆̐͆͌R̸̶̩̯̟̦͚̙̱̖͓̪̯̟̰̭̪̹̾̿̓͂͆͒̿͢͟ͅ ̧̢̜͉̣͈̹̹͈͉̬̳̰̹̱̝͙̔̉͌ͣͭͬͮ͗ͤ̎ͩ̈́ͥ͢ͅF͎̟̮͖̗̬̹̪̗̥̽ͣ̌͊͒̋̄ͩ̒ͧ́͡Ŗ͍͚̳̬̤̮͈͈̜̰̭̻̖̣̘́̐̄̒ͣͭ̑ͧ͛ͥ̂ͣͯ̋̚͢͜ͅI̿ͣ͐͆ͭ̑͗ͣ͏̷̴̛̫̝͔͙E̐͊̆̎̔ͦ̈́ͥ̔̎ͧ͛̓ͬ̑̾̔͘͏̨̳͖̣̙͘ͅN̶̜͖̰͔̿́̉ͤ̈̋̂͒̒ͧ̃̍̿̍̿͞͝Ḑ̫̹͉̘̭͙̼̩̰̮͎͋̆̇̋̅͆̈́̀Ş̛̬̥̜̥̲̟̿̐̓͗̽͑ͣͫͨͩ̕̕ ̷̼̠̜̤̻͔̹̙̟̻͇̥̣̀ͭͩͯ̒͊̾ͣͨ͆̐̃̊̒͂ͭ̓ͭ̚͘͜ͅͅT̸̽͐̍͑͂̀͐͏̹̠̗͖H̶̷̷̳̜̻̰̥̞͈̟̹̏͂͑ͮ͢͟Ḝ̶̟̘͕̘̪̰̭̺̊͂̿̆͗̎̓̊̂̑̊̌͊̎̐̀ͭ̚͞͠͠ ̧̡̡̧̯̠̫̫̥͍̥͎̪̭̪͚̗̭̗̟̖̑̒̓̀̐̅͑̂̇ͅͅD̶̷̩̦̱̤̘̘͈̥̣̬̩ͩ̋ͨ̍͂͒͛̆̐͛̆ͥͩ̚͢͜ͅO̧͋̄̉̚͢҉͙͕̣̭͉̲̩̺̺̙͈͖ͅO̹̺̙̝͈̙̦͖̯̭̳͓͍͈̱̗̰͓ͮ́ͤ̕͜R̶͕̮̝͈̭͓̘͗ͫ̈͌ͮͮ͘ͅ!̨̪͖̟̮͇͉̻͈̦̞̫̓ͫ̄ͧͤ́ͫͣͮ͆̿͂͘͜” Marcia commanded.

The Taken Wizards to chase the Warlords out of the bar. A man, who was previously passed out on a table, woke up and saw the Warlords run screaming out of the bar followed by the Taken. He stared at the wine bottle in his hand and muttered, “What the hell is in this stuff…?” before passing out again. Marcia sighed in exhaustion as she placed her glove back on her hand and her crystal back in her ear. She turned to Wu Ming, “Sorry about chasing away your customers. I was trying to avoid a fight.”

“Ha! You kiddin’?” Wu Ming laughed, “That was the best entertainment I’ve had since I opened this place.”

Marcia was surprised at first before smiling. This was the first time someone wasn’t terrified of her ability. The two talked over drinks – Wu Ming making them on the house – and discovered they were both Risen who were untrusting of the Traveller.

And that was the beginning of the countless times these two rogue Lightbearers would encounter each other.

#fictober19 #marcia wyverk #the drifter #destiny drifter #destiny #destiny ghost #ghost #warlords #destiny warlords #Changing our Destiny

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etlunainmorte · 5 years ago

Text

💙 I See My Future Before Me 💙

***

“Hello?”

“Kyrie, it’s me.”

“Nero! Oh, thank God, you’re alright!”

“How are things there?”

“I’ve heard Fortuna’s in complete ruins now because of the Dreadnought and its horde. But, we’re safe here. You don’t have to worry about us.”

“Glad to hear that.”

“Yes.”

…

“Nero?”

“Hmm?”

“Is,… something bothering you?”

“Ah,… nothing.”

“Hmm,…”

“Haha. It’s nothing. Really.”

“Nero, I can tell something’s wrong, even if we’re thousands of miles apart. I love you, and you know you can always tell me anything. I’m here for you.”

…

“Kyrie,…”

“I’m listening.”

“What will you do if,…”

“Hmm?”

“Well, let’s say you confessed your,… ah,… feelings for me.”

“Yes. And?”

“And,… ah,… I rejected you. Like, badly. Like, not even friend zone. What will you do?”

“Hmm, to tell you the truth, I can’t imagine you doing that to me. But, if that happens, well,…”

“Well?”

“Of course, I would definitely get hurt. A lot. Nothing hurts more than a special someone, a loved one, pushing you away from their life. My heart would be shattered to pieces, and I would feel like my existence won’t matter anymore.”

“Whoa! The existence part is too much!”

“Ah, you don’t understand, Nero. Girls’ feelings are delicate. They may act tough but, deep inside, their heart is dying. No matter how much they struggle against the sadness, eventually it will come back and haunt them. It’s like a sickness, being heartbroken. And it’s very hard to heal.”

“Oh. How do they, uh, cope? They can’t stay like that forever, right?”

“Hmm, let’s see. With company. With friends who would never leave them. Who would stay for them, eat ice cream with them, and watch romantic movies with them. With honest people who would tell them that the right man would come for them in the right time and everything would be just fine.”

“The right man? So, they’re just gonna make her forget that she loved - ”

“ - a man who hurt and rejected her? Well, of course! He hurt her, so he doesn’t deserve her.”

“Listen, Kyrie: what if he’s the one? The one who rejected her?”

“…

… if he’s the one, then he shouldn’t have rejected her in the first place. It’s just,… wrong,… and,… stupid.”

“I see.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re courting someone while I’m on the other side of the globe?”

“WHAT?! NO! I would never do that to you!”

“Hahaha! Of course, Nero. I know you would never do that to me. So, who’s the sad girl?”

“…”

“Nero? Tell me.”

“It’s (Y/N). Do you know her?”

“Yes. Nico’s always telling me about her. She sounds like a great person. Why? Who rejected her?”

“Ah, it’s,…”

“Who?”

“I - it’s a long story. You know what? Prepare the ice cream and the movies. We’ll end this battle quick, because she needs your company. (Y/N) needs you. Us.”

“Okay, Nero.”

“Wait for us, Kyrie.”

“I will wait for you, for as long as I live.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Nero hung up the phone, sighing as he did so. Ever since hearing about your dire situation ( meaning, everything ) from Nico, herself, he couldn’t help but be sad and angry.

Sad for you, and angry at V.

What man could ever stomach doing that to a girl who clearly loved him?! Enough to follow him at death’s door?!

The young Devil Hunter shook his head in disbelief. He could still remember the Artisan’s words to him a few minutes prior.

“Go after (Y/N)! She’s reckless right now, and she needs someone who could stop her from killing herself!”

“Seriously, V.” Nero said to himself as he scratched his head in confusion, unable to envision himself rejecting his beloved Kyrie. “You are one stupid son of a bitch for doing that to (Y/N),…”

“Winter, spring, summer or fall,

You know all you have to do is call.

And I’ll be there, yeah! You’ve got a frieeennnddd!”

“You sound terrible.”

“Are ya kiddin’?! I sound angelic!”

“Right,…”

“(Y/N) and,… Griffon?” Nero uttered upon hearing the conversation not far from where he was. He left the last good phone booth of the city and went to his vehicle,…

“Now, you do it.” Griffon challenged you as you two made your way towards the Dreadnought.

You cleared your throat and opened your mouth, belting the lines that the bird just sang.

“Winter, spring, summer or fall,

You know all you have to do is call.

And I’ll be there, yeah! You’ve got a frieeennnddd!”

“UGH! AND YA CALL THAT SINGING?! YE SOUND LIKE A CAT IN HEAT FALLING FROM THE TOP OF THE EIFFEL TOWER!”

“I TOLD YOU! I’M TONE DEAF!”

“Yeah, ya better stick to dancin’, sweet pea. Haha! Haha! Ah, haha! Well, ah,… no offense. You really sound terrible.”

“I know but, you don’t have to rub it in,…”

“(Y/N)!” The two of you suddenly heard a voice behind you.

“Is that?” Griffon questioned as you two looked behind you,…

… to see Nero going full speed towards you in a sleek and sick - looking motorcycle that seemed to glow both blue and purple. He stopped just a few steps from you and proudly revved his new vehicle.

“Hey, (Y/N)! Need a ride?” The young Devil Hunter asked you with his signature, charmingly boyish smile.

“I thought Eleison’s destroyed?” You asked as you glanced at the amazing vehicle in awe.

“Yeah. I saw it with ma own eyes.” Griffon added.

Nero chuckled. “She is. But, you see, a few hours ago, I defeated this knight - Demon thing who wields electricity. When I fought it, its broken parts kinda merged with some vehicle gears. Long story short, I now have Kyrie Eleison!”

“And it has a name now! Right,…” the demonic bird sarcastically replied.

“Anyway, I’m going straight to that ugly ship to make it sink! Wanna tag along?”

“I don’t know, Nero!” You answered. “I mean, can it even fly?”

Seeing that you’re prepared and ready for a wild ride, Nero revved Kyrie Eleison and sped fast. He laughed so hard upon hearing your and Griffon’s screams and made the vehicle even faster.

“NERO! CAN WE SLOW DOWN?!” You hysterically begged the boy.

“No! We’re gonna fly, remember?!”

“AAAHHH!”

Meanwhile, Trish and Lady were still fighting against the Demon horde below when they heard your screams.

“What’s that?” Lady asked as she fired her Kalina Ann, making one Demon’s face blast into bloody pieces.

“It sounds like,…” Trish said as she slowly looked up.

And there, right above that hill, the two women saw you, Nero, and Griffon, riding a weird - looking motorcycle and actually flying towards the entrance to the Dreadnought.

“How in the world - ?!” Trish exclaimed in utter awe of the reckless feat.

“They will never make it!” Lady yelled as she prepared for the worst.

“WE’LL NEVER MAKE IT!” You screamed, terrified for what will happen next.

“WE’LL CRASH!” Griffon, who seemed to have forgotten that he could easily fly away from all of this, hysterically added, still clinging unto your hoodie for dear life.

“NOT TODAY!” Nero answered, growling like hell as he revved the motorcycle, willing for it to land safely inside the demonic ship.

“GGGYYYAAARRRGGGHHH!”

“SSSQQQUUUAAAWWWKKK!”

“I WON’T LET YOU DDDIIIEEE!” Nero howled as the motorcycle came into contact with the light barrier that guarded the entrance.

You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms tightly around Nero, not wanting to see yourself crash,…

But, everything seemed normal as you finally landed. You opened your eyes, seeing your uninjured body, and glanced at Nero.

“Is this it? Are we safe now?” You asked, unable to believe that you just flew a motorcycle towards the monstrous - looking ship

“Seems like it.” Nero answered you with a bashful smile.

“Look at this!” Griffon exclaimed in both awe and fear as he looked all over the place.

From the outside, Shinano Musashi looked like a huge hunk of demonic - looking metal with strange horns and protrusions. An impossibly huge mechanism that could float on the sky.

It was as if you entered a floating hell.

“What a putrid smell!” The demonic bird complained as he finally let go of your hoodie.

“I actually agree with you, little chicken.” Nero answered as he merely dodged a sticky yellow substance that dripped from the pulsating ceiling.

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?! YOU UNGRATEFUL, SON OF A - !”

“It’s calling me.”

Both Nero and Griffon looked at you as you got off of Kyrie Eleison and started walking deeper towards the cavern of the Dreadnought.

“Who is calling you?” The bird questioned as he flew towards you.

“I,… don’t know,…” You answered. You, then, turned and glanced back at your two companions, your eyes looking heavy and empty as if in a trance. “It’s calling my name. Can’t you hear it?”

“No!” The young Devil Hunter and the demonic familiar simultaneously answered.

“There it is. I’m,… coming,…” You said monotonously as you looked away from them and continued walking.

“(Y/N), don’t go there alone!” The boy called after you, then clicked his tongue in annoyance. He dismounted and went after you together with the bird.

A few hours of endless walking and various turns deep inside the Dreadnought led you to a slightly different room with less wet flesh and pulsating veins.

As soon as Nero saw this orb, he protectively pulled you away as he took out his Blue Rose and pointed at it.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, (Y/N) but, I don’t trust this fairy dust.” The boy said as he faced the suspicious - looking orb.

“I don’t think it wants a conversation with you right now, kid.” Griffon told him as he perched at your right arm.

“What happened?!” Griffon squawked as he looked around for potential danger.

“I don’t know but, I have a bad feeling about this,…” the boy answered as he drew The Red Queen in preparation for a battle.

A few moments later, all three of you heard a noise coming from the far end of the room. Your heart suddenly became heavier as a black mass went towards you.

Nero revved his Red Queen, ready to attack the enemy, when, suddenly,…

“Kyrie?” Nero uttered, bewildered to find the woman he loved standing in front of him. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

Your eyes widened as you noticed the sinister smile on Kyrie’s face.

Something was off!

“Nero! Wait - !”

When he was about to reach out to his lover, a strange kind of light in the form of multiple dark whips emanated from her, throwing the boy towards the other end of the room.

“Griffon, please!” You asked the familiar as you took out your rapier and shield.

“No need to tell me!” The bird answered as it gathered its power for an attack -

“Don’t you dare hurt her!” Nero screamed as he finally stood up.

“Can’t ya see, kid?! This chick’s not yer fling! She - SSSQQQUUUAAAWWWKKK!”

“GRIFFON!” You yelled as one of the whips of dark light coming from the creature impersonating Kyrie grabbed one of the demonic avian’s talons and practically threw him away with much force. The bird landed on the ground beside Nero, which left you as the last fighter standing.

“WHAT IN THE SCHTICK?!” Griffon swore, his golden eyes wide with both humor and fear.

“V?!” Nero muttered in confusion. “(Y/N), look out!”

Before you could even attack, the man strode towards you, raised his hand with the metal cane, and brought it swiftly down on your face, wounding you and making you stumble to the ground.

Your hand automatically went up your cheek and felt something moist from it. You looked at your fingers - blood.

“GET AWAY FROM HER, YOU CHEAP V RIP - OFF FROM HELL!” Griffon shrieked as he flew towards the creature. He released a strong electric attack with the full intention of killing the enemy.

However, the “cheap V rip - off” simply dodged it, flawlessly jumping in mid - air and hitting Griffon with his cane with unbelievable strength. The bird landed on the ground with an ugly thud.

“Nobody told me he’s not sissy like his real counterpart!” Griffon quipped as he tried to get up from the ground. But then, the enemy stepped on him and drove his cane deep into his flesh, instantly making him enter his stalemate state.

“Griffon!” You quickly stood up and ran towards the familiar but the enemy whacked you with his cane once more, this time, straight on your back.

“FUCK YOU!” Nero swore as he charged towards the fake V. The enemy noticed this and changed back to Kyrie. The boy did a mistake of stopping in his tracks, making the enemy attack him once more with its dark whips. He came flying towards the other end of the room, feeling fresh wounds and multiple injuries all over his body.

“TAKE THIS!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as you whacked your shield on Kyrie’s back, making it stumble. Then, you hastily went to Nero’s side, helping him on his feet.

“We can’t attack it like this!” Nero thundered as he stood up, giving the enemy an angry look for taking the form of a person as pure and as angelic as Kyrie.

You looked at him, knowing exactly what the enemy’s weakness was. “Nero, listen to me. That is not Kyrie - ”

“I know! You don’t have to tell me!”

“But, just now, you hesitated to attack her!”

Nero punched the ground in frustration. You grabbed his arm and made him look up at you.

“We’ll attack it together! Come on, Nero! We have to do this!”

Nero, on the other hand, had enough and slashed the enemy’s torso the moment it turned back to V. It drew back in shock, clutching its wounded stomach, then turned to you two with murder and malice in its now red eyes. It dropped its cane on the ground and changed back to Kyrie, extending one of its whips and pinned Nero to the wall, fatally wounding him.

Just when you were about to attack it, it rapidly went back to V, waved its arms, and summoned multiple blades of blue light that rapidly went down on you like bullets.

That’s when you saw it.

… turning into real flesh,…

His eyes widened at the sight. He forcefully grabbed the dark whip that imprisoned him using his newly formed right arm and almost melted it with the sheer light and warmth it radiated.

“Your tricks are getting too old, you bitch.” Nero quipped as he motioned for the enemy to come closer. “I’ll make you pay for this!”

Grabbing his warm right arm, you spoke, “This is a miracle!”

“I know.” Nero answered as he supported you.

You turned towards the dark, beaten, writhing mass on the ground that was the remnants of Kyrie and limped your way to it with Nero still on your heel.

“Who called me here?” You asked it, foolishly believing that it could somehow shed light to the mystery of the Dreadnought and the voice that was calling you.

You felt a pang of guilt as you looked at it and realized that it was only making you feel that way to defeat you.

With one last sigh of apathy towards the enemy, you took Nero’s Red Queen from him, held it above your head, and plunged it to V’s heart, making it writhe and wriggle even more with pain. Feeling your tears pour out of your tired eyes for this unspeakable creature for exposing your true emotions, you plunged the hot sword even deeper, skewering its heart and reducing the enemy down to its true form - a short and wrinkled creature, about four feet in height, with long twisted claws, sharp red eyes, green skin, and skinny legs. You took the sword out of its body and slashed its head, decapitating it and finally putting an end to it once and for all. The remains of the despicable creature caught on fire and slowly turned into ashes.

You gave the sword back to Nero as you collapsed on the ground.

“So, that’s how Mina felt when she decapitated Dracula.” You sighed as you settled on the ground to make yourself comfortable. “Oh, that’s wrong. That’s no Dracula,…”

“Why Kyrie? Why not somebody else?” The youth asked as he watched the creature’s ashes get flown by the wind.

You sighed, feeling the massive weight on your heart and shoulders. “It only reflects how much you love a person. The enemy used it against you because it knew it would be your biggest weakness.”

Nero looked at you in dismay. “So, you still love him,… V?”

You blinked twice, not sure if your heart could take any more pain. You, then, let out a long sigh of depression. “After all this time. Yes.” You answered, wincing in pain as you touched one bloody wound on your arm.

“Hey, you should fall back now, you can’t fight like this!” The boy pleaded as you let him support you.

However, the moment your skin made contact with his new arm once again, a new set of visions flashed through your mind about him. It was rapid, and yet,…

You only shook your head in disagreement. “Don’t mind me. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine?! What are you - ?”

Nero’s sentence was cut off as he saw, with his own two eyes, how the wounds on your body miraculously healed. He watched the phenomenon in total shock, and when your last wound closed, he could only laugh in disbelief.

“Don’t tell me you’re immortal?!” Nero questioned you.

“And what does that make you?” You asked him as you gave a knowing look on his new right arm.

“Come on, (Y/N). I’m serious here! How did you - ?”

“You never asked how Griffon came to be my familiar.” You cut him off. “And you never asked why my eyes are red. I know Nico told you everything. But, the question is,…” You said, giving him a questioning look as you raised an eyebrow. “… how much do you know?”

The youth could only gulp down in nervousness, his sweat running cold in the process. “Everything.”

“Oh.”

“FUCK YEAH! What? Hey, what did I miss?” Griffon, who was just fully healed and revived, asked as he flew down towards the two of you.

“Nero pulled a rabbit out of his sleeve.” You answered without so much as a fuss.

“Really? Oh, wait. You’re being sarcastic - !”

“Which brings me to my next agenda.” You said as you held up a hand to silence Griffon. “Nero,…”

“What is it, (Y/N)?”

You looked into the youth’s sincere eyes, deciding whether to tell him what you just saw or not, then shook your head.

“Forget I said anything.” You quietly answered as you stood up.

“I know you saw something about me. Tell me!”

You narrowed your eyes at the boy.

Well,…

He had the right to know!

“Listen: do you know Luke Skywalker? The Jedi?” You asked him as you removed your shredded parka, letting Nero take a glimpse of the contract markings on your right arm.

“Luke,… Skywalker? I’m not sure I could follow,…”

“Yeah, the woman likes movies, ya know?” Griffon added as he perched on your arm.

“So, what does this Luke have to do with me?” Nero inquired as he followed you out of the dark and depressing room.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Could you say, that’s impossible!”

“That’s impossible! There, I said it.”

“You’ll say that again later.”

“What do you mean by that? Hey, (Y/N)!”

You turned to glance at the boy. Taking pity on him, you spoke, “You know, you are very fortunate.”

“Uh, thank you, I guess?” Nero replied, scratching his temple in confusion.

“Thank you for everything, Nero.”

“Nah, it’s nothing.”

“Tell Kyrie I said hi.”

“Sure thing.”

“This will be the last time. You’ll never see me again.”

“Okay. WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!”

But, you were already gone before he could even ask you that last bit that Nico never told him,…

***

XXII

***

In silence and total darkness, V waited for you to arrive. And during those tense moments, he could only think of Fleminger’s words to him.

“I know it is power you seek, my Lord. She has that power you’re searching for - the power to make yourself invulnerable. The power - to put you back to your former self. Deep within the Dreadnought lies her true heart. But, piercing it would do you no good. Pierce,…

… her body first, then make her power mine. Only then can I defeat the Dreadnought.” V uttered as Shadow morphed into an indistinguishable form before him. “Only then,… can I truly become,…

… whole. Once more.”

At those final words, something huge behind him pulsated, splashing the suffocating room with its sickly crimson glow and casting unearthly shadows before the poet.

V looked down on his hands. His crumbling flesh. His time,… was coming to an end.

And so, he shall soon receive the power,…

“Come to me, my love.” He called for the third time, knowing that you would come to him right away without hesitation,…

***

💙💙💙

***

#devil may cry 5 #nero sparda #i see my future before me #v x reader #v x you #chapter 22 #he who fights #revised

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welcometothepenumbra · 6 years ago

Text

JUNO STEEL AND THE DRAGON’S DEN (PART ONE)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra. Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

The junction lies just ahead, Traveler. If you'll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

(CHUCKLES) Well, next stop? Hyperion City.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

The Proctor’s final words have haunted Detective Steel ever since she died on her devious riddle. “A place of heroes, as far as the stars but as close as the heart of every child.” And apparently, the home of Ramses O’Flaherty, in some way. But where is that home, you ask? Well, Detective Steel is just about to find out. It’s unfortunate that he didn’t do earlier – if he had, perhaps nobody would have had to die.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES. DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

Our next stop: Juno Steel and the Dragon’s Den.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): An election makes a lot of noise – and, after months of the rallies and speeches and the fights in the street, it’s nice to escape to the quiet of the Martian desert for a while. Because the history of politics in Hyperion City is loud: a bunch of corporations in a bidding war over the Mayor’s office, with enough money changing hands that it’s not a question of whether your candidate’s in some big corporation’s pocket, just – whether this pocket is cozier than the last one.

My name’s Juno Steel. I’m a private eye, and I never thought I’d be helping one of those corporations’ candidates win, but… Ramses O’Flaherty seems like the first politician in a century who might care about people more than profit margins.

And even if he is funded by Northstar Entertainment, a company that mostly sells kids’ movies and cheap T-shirts? Compared to his competition, Ramses sounds like a saint.

VOICE (FROM RADIO): In a move that analysts have been calling “inevitable,” Nadia Bellevue announced this morning that she will be dropping out of the Hyperion City mayoral race, citing poor polls and a drop in Armada Firearms and Fine Liquors’ stock price over the last fiscal quarter. That leaves only Ramses O’Flaherty and current mayor Pilot Pereyra on the ballot when the citizens of Hyperion vote just five weeks from today. Mayor Pereyra had this to say about their opponent:

PILOT PEREYRA (FROM RADIO): Ramses who? (LAUGHS) Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard of Ramses. And I mean, he seems like a good guy. You don’t get as far as he has, doing all that philanthropy, and kids’ movies, and whatever without having some good rub off on you. And I respect that, to a point.

RITA: Ooooooh, Mista Steel, are we there yet? I can’t wait another second!

JUNO: Shh! I’m tryin’ to listen!

MUSIC: ENDS.

PEREYRA: But the fact is that Hyperion’s a tough town, and it needs a firm hand. And all this junk I keep hearing about police reform, criminal rehabilitation? We don’t have time for that. In a city this covered in crime, we need the HCPD more than ever, and we need someone who knows what they’re doing more than ever. So, leave it to the Pilot, eh? I’ve gotten us this far, haven’t I?

RITA: Mista Steeeeel? Are we there yet? Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet—

PEREYRA (IN BACKGROUND): And let me tell you, guys like Ramses… they think they know everything.

JUNO: How the hell am I supposed to answer that? I don’t even know where we’re going!

PEREYRA (IN BACKGROUND): But as soon as it gets time to actually do something?

RITA: Oh come on, that riddle was so easy, boss! You gotta know!

PEREYRA (IN BACKGROUND): All that talk shows exactly what it was: just talk.

JUNO: Hey, driver? Just turn the damn radio off. My secretary’s decided she’s all the audio entertainment I need.

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

Why did you come along, again? You have the day off, Rita.

RITA: And that’s why I came! You’d understand if you’d solved the riddle, boss. It’s so easy: “A place in the heart of every child”? You don’t have to be a detective to solve that.

JUNO: Brain’s full of about six hundred other mysteries, Rita. Who’s tryin’ to kill off Ramses O’Flaherty, for example. So just knock it off, and tell me where—

RITA: Nuh-uh-uh, no way, boss. I ain’t tellin’ you until you figure it out yourself– WHOAMYGOD WE’RE ALMOST THERE!

JUNO: Just tell me where we’re going!

RITA: I can’t take another second boss I feel like I’m gonna burst! Just figure it out already!

JUNO: Is that a gate?

RITA: C’mon, I’m gonna EXPLODE! Pleaeaeaeaease?

JUNO: “Northstar presents”– what the hell?

RITA: It’s Polaris Park boss! Oh gosh oh gosh I can’t wait! I’m so excited!!!

JUNO: Polaris… that Northstar amusement park?

RITA: Mista Steel, you gotta be kiddin’ me! Did someone kill all’a the magic inside’a you or somethin’?

JUNO: Yes.

RITA: Polaris Park! The Place That Fun Calls Home, TM! You gotta know about Polaris Park!

JUNO: I try not to pay too much attention to Northstar movies, Rita.

RITA: Act tough all you want, boss; they might be kids’ stories, but they got all kinds’a things for adults, like jokes, and deep themes, and sometimes advice, like how to kill an evil goat-wizard if you meet one and—

JUNO: Not kids’ stories. Just Northstar. (SIGHS) Let’s get this over with.

RITA: Boss? Is everything—

SOUND: CAR DOOR OPENS. CARNIVAL NOISES IN BACKGROUND.

(GASPS) We’re here we’re here we’re here we’re here!!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Polaris Park was, I’ll admit, a masterpiece. The greatest minds in the solar system had come together to build ‘The Place That Fun Calls Home, TM,’ and the faces of the people we passed said they’d succeeded. They were smiling, every one of them, kids clambering all over their parents with sticky fingers and… stickier voices.

It made my stomach turn. Places like this have always given me the creeps. What people forget is that manipulation is always manipulation, whether you’re being duped into a big debt or a big smile.

RITA: Oh, oh! There’s Orion’s Tower, they sell all kinds’a belts, Mista Steel – also insurance for some reason – and that ride is the Frozen Spinner, they make you put on real mittens before you get on and everything, and that’s—

JUNO (NARRATOR): We walked down the park’s main drag, surrounded on all sides by bright buildings and cartoon robots and foot-long ice cream bars. I was ready to go home by the fourth step in.

That wasn’t on the menu, though. Before we left the parking lot, our driver gave me an entry pass and a letter which said, in Ramses’ rushed handwriting: “Keep an eye out for Lorenzo Vega.”

Whoever the hell that was. Thanks a lot, O’Flaherty. Just tryin’ to save your life over here, no big deal, really.

RITA: I wanna go on a ride! No! I wanna have a hot dog! No! I wanna go on two rides, and have two hot dogs, just for me!

JUNO: Rita, we’re here to work.

RITA: Come ooooooooon, boss! What job could you possibly have to do here?

JUNO: That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Ramses gets a lot of his campaign funds from Northstar. If someone wanted to really hit him where it hurts, they could try to strike here… or dig up some dirt here, at least. Security Office might not be a bad place to start.

RITA: Well… if Ramses sent you here, that must mean security ain’t caught ‘em yet, whoever they are. We probably won’t find anything there.

JUNO: Not a bad point. Might be worth snooping around a little on our own first.

RITA: And while we’re at it, I was just thinkin’… a good place to snoop… might be… on… a ride?

JUNO: You’re really not gonna drop this, are you?

RITA: Never.

JUNO: Alright, alright. One ride. Then we get to work—

RITA: Got it Mista Steel okay thanks byeeeeeee!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

JUNO: Rita! …Lousy theme park. Lousy rides…

JUNO (NARRATOR): At the end of the street stood a mountain. A big, red, craggy thing with molten lava holograms flowing down its sides. It was the centerpiece of Polaris Park, and everyone on Mars knew what it was called.

RITA: Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak.

Mista Steel, I’m gonna ride that ride six hundred times today.

JUNO: Good luck with that. Sign over here says it’s closed for repairs.

RITA: What over what says it’s WHAT?!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me, it can’t be closed! Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak is the whole reason to go to Polaris Park! It’s got everything, Mista Steel, music and big drops and real fast and everyone’s favorite chainmail warrior Andromeda and—

SOUND: CROWD SCREAMS.

JUNO: That’s coming from the Dragon’s Peak, isn’t it?

RITA: Y– yeah. But maybe, it– maybe it’s just some people havin’ fun, y’know? Screamin’ on the rollercoaster and—

SOUND: SEVERAL SETS OF RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

VOICE 1: Oh God, it’s horrible, it’s horrible! They’re all dead!

JUNO: Sounds real fun. Rita?

RITA: I’m comin’, boss!

JUNO (NARRATOR): I shoved us through the crowd, up the long line to the Dragon’s Peak, until it all stopped at a wall of security two guards thick. The park cops had big grins across their faces, but the smiles were all a little too uniform and a little too green to be real. Whatever they were keeping us from wasn’t gonna be pretty.

VOICE 2: I’m so sorry, sir, but you can’t come through here.

JUNO: Pretty sure I could if you’d get that club out of my gut.

RITA: Mista Steel…

VOICE 2: No, I mean, um… visitors do not have access—

JUNO: I work for your boss. Let me through.

VOICE 2: I’m… fairly certain that I work for my boss?

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

VOICE 3: Is there a problem over here?

VOICE 2: Uhhh… I… uhhhhh…

JUNO: No problem, I was just giving Officer Dental-Plan over here some orders from the top. Who are you?

VOICE 3: The top.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The woman in front of me was equal parts strong jaw, sharp eyes, and grit. Her badge said ‘Chief of Security,’ her eyes said that she didn’t have time for this, and her smile said that Northstar customer service training really was the best on Mars. The only times people smile that genuinely at me are right before they hit me.

But she didn’t. Instead she turned to her toadie and asked:

VOICE 3: Who is this guy and why isn’t he out of my park yet?

JUNO: Ramses O’Flaherty sent me. I have a hall pass, I promise.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

VOICE 3: Ramses?

(SIGHS) Of course he did. Let him through, Rick.

VOICE 2 (RICK): But—

VOICE 3: Did I ask?

RICK: Of… course not.

Have a fun-filled day.

JUNO: You don’t sound so happy to see us, Chief.

VOICE 3: Simple reason for that. I’m not.

My name’s Yasmin Swift. I’m chief of security here at Polaris Park.

JUNO: Juno Steel. And this is my secretary, Rita—

RITA: (HIGH-PITCHED GASPING)

JUNO: Who’s… maybe… deflating?

RITA: Why, hello there, Ms. Swift. I like coffee, and squid cream.

JUNO: Rita, what the hell—?

VOICE 3 (YASMIN SWIFT): Breakfast, huh? I’m more of a dinner gal myself.

RITA: (GIGGLING) Oh, Yasmin!

SWIFT: I’m sorry to rain on your day at the park, but, Ramses had pretty bad timing, sending you here this morning. We’ve had a little bit of an… accident. Come on, I’ll show you.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

RITA: (GIGGLING)

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: …Rita? …What was that?

RITA: She’s preeeeeetty.

JUNO: (SIGHS) I don’t have time for this. I do not have time for this. Come on.

RITA: (GIGGLING)

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES. CARNIVAL NOISES FADE.

JUNO: (SNIFFS) The hell is that smell? I thought all the food carts were back on the main path, but… it smells like jerky or something in here.

SWIFT: Yeah, about that. If you’re at all squeamish, I’m gonna recommend you close your eyes now.

JUNO: Oh, no.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

RITA: OH MY GOSH, THOSE POOR PEOPLE GOT COOKED!

JUNO (NARRATOR): We found them in the loading area for the ride, sitting in a cart on a track facing a dark tunnel. The cart was looking nice and toasted around the edges, and inside it sat three charbroiled shapes that probably used to be people.

SWIFT: I’m guessing this isn’t how you expected to spend your day.

JUNO: I generally try to assume the worst, but somehow the galaxy keeps finding ways to surprise me.

RITA: Who are those people? We gotta help ‘em, don’t we?

SWIFT: That’s sweet, doll, but I think they’re a little past help. This was bound to happen one day. I’ve been saying that to Vega for years.

RITA: Oh, it’s just too horrible! Somebody hold me!

JUNO: Oof!

RITA: (MUTTERING) Not you, boss!

JUNO: Bound to happen, you said?

SWIFT: You know anything about this ride, Juno?

RITA: No, he doesn’t. Mista Steel said all the magic’s dead inside of him.

JUNO: Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak is a roller coaster that tells a story about Chainmail Warrior Andromeda trying to find her way home through Lion Village, has to go through Draco’s mountain for some reason, almost gets roasted, doesn’t end up going home. Just like all her other stories.

RITA: Wha—? But you said– you didn’t know anything about it—

JUNO: I said I didn’t want to know anything about Northstar’s junk. But sometimes not wanting to listen to stuff just makes you listen harder. No offense, Swift.

SWIFT: Hey, to each their own. We don’t all have to enjoy the story, even if it is a modern classic and you’re a moron for not liking it. Want to take a guess where the barbecue went down? Because I have a theory or two.

JUNO: I’m guessing the part where Andromeda gets almost-roasted dropped a word.

SWIFT: The ride’s needed repairs for years, if you ask me. The carts on this thing barely outpace the fire by half a second. All it’d take is for one of the brakes to flip early and, boom. Instant fricassee.

JUNO: Why was anyone on it if the ride was closed, though?

SWIFT: One of the carts started acting up yesterday, so I shut the whole thing down this morning, sent the engineers in, and then… this happened. On their test ride, I’d guess. With a bunch of guests watching from the line, too.

RITA: There are people who get to test roller coasters for their jobs?! Lucky!

JUNO: Rita, are we even looking at the same crime scene right now?

SWIFT: Crime scene? Honestly, Juno, negligence is the only crime I’m seeing here. (SIGHS) Why don’t you take in the park for a little while and I’ll find you later? HQ’s gonna have me behind red tape for a long time. They didn’t like me shutting down the ride for a few hours this morning, and I doubt they’ll like closing it for good.

RITA: You’re closing the Dragon’s Peak?! You can’t do that! That’s the reason everyone comes to Polaris Park! And also I never got to ride it!

SWIFT: Security’s got to be my number one concern, doll. Should’ve shut this ride down years ago.

SOUND: MECHANICAL, RHYTHMIC NOISES.

VOICE 4: Over my soggy corpse, Yasmin.

JUNO (NARRATOR): There was a man walking toward us on two metal legs ending in rusty boots, and his nametag said “Doctor Lorenzo Vega, Head of Resmirks and Developgrins.” Despite the title, he looked like he hadn’t smiled in about a century: age and anger had carved deep enough wrinkles into his face that I could barely make out his eyes, but from what I could see they looked about as greasy and mean as the rest of him.

VOICE 4 (LORENZO VEGA): Yasmin. I see your attempted murder continues apace.

RITA: Murder?! Not my Yasmin!

SWIFT: He doesn’t mean the engineers, doll.

VEGA: I don’t. If anyone mourns my staff it will be their own fault for leaving someone behind to mourn them. Marriage, children, friends… the Northstar work ethic has rotted off the bone. No, it’s not my staff I’m concerned about. Sir, I’d like you to arrest this woman, for the attempted murder of Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak.

JUNO: That’s, uh… He knows you can’t murder something that’s not alive, right?

VEGA: For all of Polaris Park, then.

JUNO: Yeah, also, not alive. You… a little confused, doctor?

VEGA: Perhaps not murder, in that case. But much is on the line here, detective. My life’s work, and probably someone else’s, somewhere, if you care about that kind of thing. This park won’t last a month without that ride.

SWIFT: Maybe so, doctor, but the park doesn’t stand much of a chance if its star attraction’s deep-frying guests, either.

VEGA: You’d best zip up your ego, Yasmin. Your ignorance is showing.

JUNO & RITA: (IN UNISON) Eww.

VEGA: The Dragon’s Peak could not have burned my engineers for one very simple reason: there is no fire on this ride.

SWIFT: I hope you’ll give Dr. Vega the benefit of the doubt here, Juno. This might not be very Northstar behavior he’s demonstrating, but he’s a good guy at heart. Probably. If you’re willing to dig down a few hundred meters.

VEGA: Attempting to turn them against me. It won’t work for two reasons, Yasmin. First: I am naturally charismatic, and second: Ramses sent these two for me.

JUNO: Ramse– what?

VEGA: I received the message earlier – direct orders that I’d receive a private investigator to do whatever I say for one full day. Ramses spoils me so. Now tell me: what is your name?

JUNO: You expect me to buy that Ramses gave me to you without even telling you my name?

VEGA: I don’t need you to buy it, detective. Only lease it. (CHUCKLES)

JUNO: What the hell are you even saying?

SWIFT: Look, do you have those orders on you, Vega?

VEGA: Of course not. Do you carry all of your mail everywhere you go?

RITA: I mean, it should all fit on your comms pretty easily—

JUNO: —yeah, Swift, he actually has a pretty good point.

RITA: Oh. Nevermind. Forgot who he was talkin’ to.

VEGA: These deaths cannot have been caused by a malfunction, because the Dragon’s Peak couldn’t burn a fly, and I should know: I built it. Sabotage, detective. This must be sabotage. And you are going to prove it.

JUNO: Sabotage… that’s a pretty serious claim. Should be worth looking into, Swift.

RITA: Really, boss?

SWIFT: Worth looking into? We’ll see about that. Hey, doctor? Can you prove the ride doesn’t generate real fire? Do you have the plans anywhere?

VEGA: Of course I do. And it’s written into the most reliable storage available to humankind.

RITA: Oh, I always wanted to see the plans to the ride! Might be some nice readin’ for bedtime or snacktime or—

VEGA: My cranial fluid.

RITA: Actually nevermind, not gonna take that anywhere near my bed or snacks.

VEGA: I have the plans memorized. In here, no prying eyes can see them.

SWIFT: Welcome to our argument for the past two years, Juno. I say this is a deathtrap; Vega says it isn’t. I try to close it down; Vega tattles to the managers of Polaris Park, they have a tantrum about ticket sales, and then the thing’s back on its rails again. This could’ve been avoided. It could’ve been avoided twenty times over.

JUNO: But, I mean… come on, doc. You can’t really expect us to just take your word for it, right?

VEGA: I can expect that, actually… but I’m beginning to suspect I’ll be disappointed if I do.

(GRUNTS) There’s one other place I stored the plans for the ride: in its brain. Follow me.

SOUND: MECHANICAL STEPS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Vega led us over to a monitor on a stand overlooking the ride’s track. He flicked the monitor awake, tapped out a hundred-digit password in a second and a half, and we were in.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

VEGA: The full ride is too complicated for any human mind other than my own to control it, so I designed it to handle all its own functions. Completely automated. The computer has uplinks throughout the track that my engineers can use to access and interact with all data gathered while the ride runs: power levels, terminal activation logs, security feeds of every room, roaming snack bar—

JUNO: Wait, wait, hang on. What? You have security footage for every room in this ride?

SWIFT: Yeah, doctor. This is the first I’m hearing of it, too.

VEGA: The security footage wouldn’t be very secure if I gave it out to every Tom, Dick, and Yasmin who asked for it.

SWIFT: I’m your Chief of Security!

VEGA: Then I’m sure I told you at some point. I don’t bother remembering details like that.

SWIFT: If I knew that, do you really think I’d have waited this long to shut down your stupid ride?

JUNO: Just bring up the footage already, doc. If you’re so sure the ride’s innocent, your video should prove it.

VEGA: (SIGHS)

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

I’ll have you know that the last time someone ordered me around like that, they died.

RITA: You– killed someone?!

VEGA: Of course not. The two events were unrelated. It just means I have terrible associations with being told what to do that you should be sensitive to.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEP.

What? The footage!

SWIFT: What is it now?

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

VEGA: The data! It’s– it’s disappearing!

JUNO: Disappearing?

SOUND: MORE BEEPS.

VEGA: Self-deleting! This is impossible! My baby! My giant, metal, highly-intelligent baby!

JUNO: How long has this been going on?

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

VEGA: How should I know? I don’t check! If it’s flawless, there’s no point in checking, because there are no flaws to check for!

SWIFT: Well, what do you call this, then?

SOUND: BEEP.

RITA: It looks like it just ate another video.

SOUND: BEEP.

And that musta been dessert.

VEGA: It’s gone. The schematics, all the footage from the past ride, and assorted footage from the past week. Gone.

SWIFT: Deleted? And you didn’t even do anything?

VEGA: What do you think I was doing?

SWIFT: Deleting it, maybe. Covering your precious baby’s tracks.

VEGA: You—!

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING. MACHINE POWERING DOWN.

JUNO: What are you doing now?

VEGA: Shutting down the ride.

There. Everything but the audio cues and lighting, off. And now, Detective Whoever-you-are, you’re going to go in there and figure out who’s harmed my creation. Who has attempted to murder Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak!

RITA: He… is?

VEGA: Ramses gave orders that you are do to whatever I say, didn’t he?

JUNO: I don’t know. Did he?

SWIFT: Hang on, doctor. If you think I’m going to let anyone run an investigation in my park without my say-so—

VEGA: Then you go with him. Someone has to take care of my ride. I don’t care who.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I remembered that letter that Ramses’s driver had given me: “Keep an eye out for Lorenzo Vega.”

If Ramses was suspicious of Vega, this might be the only chance I had to figure out why. Especially if he was trying to push the blame onto someone else.

SWIFT: I’m sure Detective Steel has better things to do than—

JUNO: I’ll go along. Rita, you stay out here and enjoy the park.

RITA: Nuh-uh, boss! If you think I’m lettin’ you take a behind-the-scenes tour without me, you’ve got another thing comin’!

JUNO: Rita—

RITA: No buts!

Now come on, Yaaaaasmiiiiin. Do you wanna show me all the spookiest parts of the ride?

SWIFT: If… that’s what we’re doing, I guess I don’t mind doing it with you.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

Y’know, you don’t have to hold my hand so tight, doll…

RITA: (GIGGLES) Yeah, I do.

SOUND: METAL STEPS.

VEGA: Just a minute before you go, detective.

JUNO: Yeah, yeah, you want me to keep an eye on her. I heard you the first time.

VEGA: It’s not that. What did she just call you? Detective Steel, was it?

JUNO: Juno Steel, private eye. Finding it kinda hard to believe Ramses didn’t tell you that.

VEGA: He did… it just didn’t sound familiar until I’d heard it.

JUNO: Y’don’t say.

VEGA: Steel… why does that sound familiar…?

JUNO: Uh… probably because you build your rides with it?

VEGA: No, no, that isn’t it. I was thinking about that name just this morning… but why?

JUNO: Okay, well, have fun figuring that out, doc. I’m gonna go get murdered by your ride now. Bye.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

VEGA: (DISTANT) Steel… hmmm… Juno Steel…

JUNO (NARRATOR): We walked along the tracks for a while because riding the cart seemed dangerous. After all, the last couple of people to do that were currently being scraped out of their seats with a spatula. After walking through the first tunnel, we found ourselves, weirdly, outside – in a big green plain, surrounded by stone huts and yawning lions lounging in the grass.

SOUND: DISTANT ROARS.

RITA: Oh my gosh, look at all this stuff! It’s gonna take forever to explore all this! Hold my hand, Yasmin, I’m worried I’m gonna get lost!

SWIFT: I’m already holding your hand.

SOUND: TRUMPET BLARING FROM SPEAKERS.

RITA: (GASPS) What was that?!

SWIFT: Just the ride going through its cycles. Vega said he left the audio on – he’ll take any chance to show off.

NARRATOR VOICE (OVER SPEAKERS): And so, after years of searching for a way back home to Polaris, Andromeda the Chainmail Warrior found herself in the Lion Village, where it was said a portal to her home opened once every thousand years.

SWIFT: If we want to get onto the main track without a cart, you’re going to need a retinal scan from a high-ranking employee. Just give me a second.

JUNO: Rita, what’s your read on Vega?

RITA: Huh? Oh, I ain’t barely read any of him, boss. I been a little distracted today. (GIGGLES)

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

JUNO: Yeah, I can tell. Come on, doesn’t it seem a little convenient to you?

RITA: Hmmm?

JUNO: Vega gets warned for years that someone’s gonna die on this ride; then, someone dies on this ride, and who does he send into the deathtrap but the people sent to watch him, and, the woman that’s been trying to shut him down for years? This is gonna be dangerous… whatever roasted those engineers could get us too, and with him at the controls, this one might not be an accident.

Rita, are you even listening?

RITA: I mean, yeah, it seems convenient, boss. But you’re the detective and this is my day off, so you figure it out, alright?

JUNO: (GROWLS)

SOUND: BEEP.

SWIFT: Alright, we’re in. Should be the last lock.

SOUND: MECHANICAL DOOR CREAKS OPEN.

NARRATOR: And so, after years of searching for a way back home to Polaris, Andromeda the Chainmail Warrior—

JUNO (NARRATOR): The door led us into one of the lion’s huts. The lion it belonged to was musclebound and gray-maned and sitting on his haunches next to everyone’s favorite chainmail warrior, Andromeda.

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): —found herself in the Lion Village, where it was said a portal to her home opened once every thousand years.

RITA: (GASPS) Andromeda!

NARRATOR: “Andromeda!” said Leo, the lion-chief. “Our portal opens in one short hour, and then only for a few minutes. But if you want to use it, you will have to pay. On that peak lives the dragon, Draco, with all of his treasure. Bring me a treasure from Draco’s hoard, and you will have your way home!”

RITA: She’s real! I always knew she was real! Mom said, and Mista Steel said, and even I said sometimes – but I always knew, Andromeda was real, even when I knew that was impossible, and, and, and, and—

JUNO: Real, huh?

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BUZZING.

RITA: Oh. It’s a hologram. I knew that. Mostly.

SWIFT: Everything here’s a combination of robotics, practical effects, and holograms, doll. Here, touch Chief Leo if you want. A mechanical skeleton covered in real lion fur, grown in a real lab.

RITA: Wow, he’s so soft. Can we see him roar? And maybe pounce on Mista Steel?

SWIFT: You can’t turn on the robotics without turning on the carts, too: they run on the same power source.

JUNO: Sounds and lights on the same breaker? Robots and carts– this doesn’t exactly sound up to code.

RITA: I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, boss, that’s basically how I got the office hooked up.

SWIFT: I think being unsafe is part of the thrill for Vega. He’s good with holograms, but he doesn’t like them. He says they’re cheating. Anything safe is cheating with that guy.

Hope you’ve got hiking shoes on: this next part’s supposed to be the mountain, and the doctor went for authenticity.

SOUND: GATE CREAKS OPEN.

RITA: Ohh, it’s so dark and spooky in here – how do we know where to go?

SWIFT: I haven’t been on these tracks since my first trainings, but I’ve ridden it enough times to know the way. Just stick close to me, sweetheart, and you’ll be fine.

RITA: Hmmmmmmm.

NARRATOR: Andromeda said:

ANDROMEDA: You’re making a terrible mistake, Leo. Anger Draco, and all the lions will pay for it.

NARRATOR: But Chief Leo only laughed, and called her a fool. And so Andromeda climbed the mountain with a heavy heart.

JUNO: So what’s up with you and Vega, anyway? Hell of a feud the two of you got going on.

SWIFT: How do you mean?

JUNO: I know you’ve got safety reasons for wanting this tilt-a-whirl closed, but he seems to think it’s personal. Granted, he seems to think most things are personal, but still…

SWIFT: Just… different eras of Northstar butting heads. Call it a family squabble.

Vega’s old school – from back in the days when Northstar was just a little movie studio over in Hyperion City. Used to work on building fancy new cameras, now he works on ways to shoot people through a block of ice without hurting the ice. Back then, Northstar was cutthroat: scrappy little movie studio with scrappy little ideas. Great tech, great talent, but no investors. It meant everyone who worked there was… out for blood.

JUNO: And they had plenty of ways to get it, I hear.

SWIFT: Yeah, actually. How did you—

JUNO: —doesn’t matter. You said you’re different. What’s the new era of Northstar like?

RITA: Yeah, Yasmin! Tell us aaaaaall about you. Every teensy weensy little thing.

SWIFT: Either of you have any kids?

JUNO: Eugh.

RITA: No, but I’m… very suggestible.

SWIFT: Well, I do. A little lady, only five years old. Too young to remember the war. Too young to remember all the stuff humanity showed it could do to itself. And when I think about her growing up in a galaxy capable of all that… (SIGHS) Let me just put it this way: the old Northstar was all about making something great. But now? Most of us now… we just want to make something good. Something that the kids can look up to. Heroes that’ll risk it all for what actually matters… not some dumb new camera.

JUNO: You sound like Ramses now.

SWIFT: O’Flaherty might be an old-timer, but I always felt like he was one of us. (CHUCKLES) Call me a sap if you want, but… I think my Esta’s better off with Andromeda around. And I’d do anything for her.

RITA: That’s so beautiful and perfect.

SWIFT: Definitely makes getting up for work a little easier. It’s leaving her in the morning that’s the hard part.

(CLEARS THROAT) Uh, just be ready. Next part gets a little loud.

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES OPEN.

NARRATOR: Then, at long last, Andromeda arrived at the Dragon’s Peak!

SOUND: THUNDERCLAP, RAIN.

RITA: Ahh!! What was that?!

JUNO: It’s just the stupid ride.

SWIFT: The noise was, but… did either of you see that?

JUNO: See what?

SWIFT: In the lightning, that—

SOUND: THUNDER.

NARRATOR: Then, at long last—

SWIFT: There’s someone up by Draco’s lair!

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): —Andromeda arrived—

JUNO: What? I don’t see anything—

RITA: Yasmin, save me!

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): —at the Dragon’s Peak!

SWIFT: You two, keep up with me! If someone really is sabotaging my park, I’m not gonna let them get away with it!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Swift! Swift!!

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): Then, at long last—

SOUND: THUNDER.

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): —Andromeda arrived at the Dragon’s Peak!

JUNO: Yeah, yeah, we get it! Come on, Rita, let’s go!

RITA: Okay, boss!

JUNO (NARRATOR): While we ran, I held onto Rita as best I could, but I couldn’t save her from her own clumsy feet…

RITA: Oh!

JUNO (NARRATOR): …or, uh, mine.

JUNO: Oof!

RITA: Get offa me, Mista Steel, get offa me! I wanted this day to go like this with someone but it sure ain’t you!

JUNO: Damn it, where did Swift go?

RITA: That’s what I said! She was followin’ the tracks, so hurry, boss, hurry!

JUNO & RITA: (PANTING)

JUNO (NARRATOR): So we ran up the rest of the way into the Dragon’s Peak. A set of big stone doors parted, and a set of big glowing eyes stared down at us.

SOUND: HEAVY SCRAPING.

NARRATOR: And there, in all his rage and glory, stood Draco, the mighty dragon!

RITA: OH NO OH NO! PLEASE DON’T KILL ME MISTA DRAGON DON’T KILL ME– oh hey would you look at that he listened.

JUNO: Huh. …He did.

SOUND: SLOW FOOTSTEPS.

RITA: Careful there, boss! You don’t know what that dragon might do! They’re tricky! Probably.

JUNO: They’re not real, Rita.

SOUND: ECHOEY CLANKS.

This is just another robot puppet, like the lion at the bottom of the hill. Deactivated like everything else. …It looks like the track hugs the wall for a while – come on. Swift can’t have gotten that far ahead yet.

SOUND: DEEP WHIRRING, MACHINE POWERING UP.

What the hell?

SOUND: METAL SQUEAKING.

MUSIC: STARTS.

RITA: M-m-mista Steel! The– the dragon, i-it’s—

JUNO: —moving, I can see that!

NARRATOR: Andromeda grabbed a sparkling crown as Draco unleashed its fiery breath!

SOUND: ROAR, FLAME CRACKLING.

RITA: Boss!! That’s SO much fire! And boy, is it hot!

JUNO: Step back! Hopefully that’ll be the last of—

JUNO & RITA: (YELP)

SOUND: ROAR.

RITA: Mista Steel! It’s coming closer!

JUNO: And faster than I’d like, too. Rita, there’s a control panel on the wall by the tracks. Do you think you could hack into it?

RITA: Okay, boss!

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

The password– I was watchin’ Dr. Vega’s hands when he was puttin’ the password in—

SOUND: ERROR BEEP.

Oh no, oh no!

JUNO: Rita, we’re running out of time, here!

RITA: It’s like a billion-digit password, boss, you’re gonna have to buy me some time!

JUNO (NARRATOR): So I did what I do best: I bought time.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOTS. METAL CREAKING.

RITA: Did it work?

JUNO: Made its head snap back a little, but it’s coming back. It’s getting kinda warm in here, Rita!

RITA: You think I can’t feel that?!

SOUND: BEEPING. ERROR BEEP.

Arrrggghhh!

JUNO (NARRATOR): The fire was close. We were backed up onto the tracks, now, and I swore I could feel the huge workings of the mechanical dragon rumbling in the walls and the floor.

Or… was that the dragon?

SOUND: SUCCESS BEEP.

RITA: There! I got us into the terminal, boss.

JUNO (NARRATOR): And suddenly it hit me. I put my hand into the fire…

SOUND: ROAR, FLAMES CRACKLING.

RITA: Now I just gotta– Mista Steel, what are you doin’?! It’s gonna roast you alive!

JUNO (NARRATOR): But it didn’t. I was fine – the fire was just hot air and holograms. The rumbling, though… that got bigger. And then, I remembered what was on the same circuit as the robots.

SOUND: WHEELS CLACKING ON TRACKS.

JUNO: The cart.

RITA: The what?

Hey, let go’a me, you– oooooaaahh!

SOUND: THUD.

JUNO: Oof!

RITA: Ah!

SOUND: CLACKING GROWS LOUDER. DULL CRASH, CLACKING STOPS.

MUSIC: ENDS.

NARRATOR: And there, in all his rage and glory, stood Draco, the mighty dragon!

SOUND: RAIN.

RITA: That rollercoaster cart… almost splattered us, boss!

JUNO: Yeah. It got real close, didn’t it.

SOUND: ROAR.

NARRATOR: Andromeda grabbed a sparkling crown as Draco unleashed its fiery breath!

SOUND: CLACKING STARTS AGAIN, FADES OUT.

RITA: And now– it’s… gone.

JUNO: Sticks around just long enough for you to think you’ll get roasted, but there’s never any real danger.

It’s not fire. Just like Vega said.

RITA: But… then how did those engineers get all burnt up?

JUNO: I don’t know.

Rita, didn’t Vega say the computer kept a log of whoever accessed it last?

RITA: I think so.

JUNO: Check the log, then. Hurry!

RITA: Okay, okay, I don’t see what the rush is. First, I just gotta deactivate the carts…

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS. POWERING DOWN NOISE.

There. Now I’ll check the logs…

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

It… doesn’t say who used it, but… it says it was in the next room. D’you think it’s whoever Yasmin saw?!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Aaaaaaand that’s when I figured it out.

JUNO: Turn on the security footage for that room.

RITA: Mista Steel—

JUNO: Now, Rita!

RITA: Oh, alright, alright…

(GASPS) N– no… The one who activated the carts– was– Yasmin?!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Yasmin Swift. Security Chief of Polaris Park. The camera feed showed her inspecting the cart that failed to crush us, and I saw Draco’s controls up on the terminal in front of her. Vega was right. Swift had been briefed on the security footage before, and in fact, she knew how to use it better than he did. She proved that about two seconds later when she deactivated the camera we were watching her through.

SOUND: BEEP.

JUNO: What the…? Rita, bring it back!

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

RITA: I’m tryin’, boss!

SOUND: BEEPS.

But… it’s just… deleted! Everything that camera’s recorded in the past twenty-four hours is gone!

JUNO: So we have no proof. Great.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

SWIFT: Oh…! You’re alright!

JUNO: You sound surprised.

SWIFT: Relieved is more like it. I’m glad you two are so hardy. Surviving what even our engineers couldn’t… I could’ve sworn you’d be charcoal briquettes by now.

RITA: Y-y-y– Yasmin…

MUSIC: STARTS.

SWIFT: What’s the matter, sweetheart? Aren’t you happy to see me?

JUNO (NARRATOR): If she knew we knew, she wasn’t saying a thing; and unfortunately, it was going to have to stay that way.

She knew this ride better than we did. If we let her run wild in here, I’m sure she’d know a hundred ways to roast us, crush us, and fun us straight into our graves. But we couldn’t take her into custody yet, either, because we didn’t have any evidence, and unless she slipped up right in front of us, we’d never get it.

So for now, the safest place was just where I didn’t want to be.

SWIFT: Did you see anyone come through here? I was chasing after someone, but they slipped away…

You two alright? You look a little pale.

JUNO: I’m ready to keep goin’ if you are.

RITA: What?!

JUNO: If you want to go back, Rita, I’ll bring you back first. But we still have a saboteur to catch. And I’m staying in here until I catch ‘em.

SWIFT: Like a dog with a bone, Juno. I like it. What do you say, doll? Coming with?

RITA: I– I…

Yeah. I’m n-not gonna leave you alone, Mista Steel. Not again.

SWIFT: Alright then. Let’s go, ladies.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Yasmin Swift had gotten me, with that strong jaw and that bright smile. It costs nearly twenty creds to get a bottle of water in this stupid theme park, but the smiles, they say, are always free.

Ma wouldn’t’ve agreed. Good old Sarah Steel always said that there was only one thing in life that came free – and that was death.

SWIFT: Keep your eyes peeled. We don’t want to let the murderer get away.

JUNO (NARRATOR): And from the look of things, the alternative was getting more expensive by the minute.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you've enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you'll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Kate Jones, Joshua Ilon, and Sarah Gazdowicz:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

SARAH: …to be manipulative, but I don’t think that that is true. I think that she thinks Rita is very cute.

KATE: How—

SARAH: And—

KATE: —can you not?

SARAH: I don’t– I don’t know.

JOSHUA: You have to be around her all the time. [unintelligible mumbling – speak up, Joshua]

KATE: Alright.

JOSHUA: No that’s what we’ve seen! We’ve seen what overexposure to Rita does. That’s what this episode has shown us, more. It’s-it’s beginning– before and after. It’s ‘oh, that’s charming!’ and then, now ‘I can’t get rid of it.’

SARAH: No, but you couldn’t live without Rita.

JOSHUA: No, you couldn’t.

SARAH: You can’t. Rita’s one of a kind.

JOSHUA: Yeah. You can drown in too much water, though…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Lynné Herman, Gray, Jaimie Gunter, and the Princess and the Scrivener for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Dragon’s Den, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Kate Jones as Rita, Sarah Gazdowicz as Yasmin Swift, Bob Mussett as Lorenzo Vega, Simon Moody as Mayor Pilot Pereyra, and M. Sutherland as the narrator.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our script editor. Noah Simes is our production manager. Alice Chung is our designer and financial manager. Original music by Ryan Vibert. Promotional art by Mikaela Buckley.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I'm afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#juno steel

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