#anyway the For you tab remains a minefield

[parlerenfleurs]

Just saw a fanart where they'd drawn all the villains of MDZS and.... Wei WuXian in his Yilling Laozu aesthetic was front and center.

I am speechless.

[ragedagainst]

it's been over a year since jyn has last seen han face-to-face. though they've sporadically kept in touch through brief comms letting the other know they're alive, the rebellion has pulled them to opposite ends of the galaxy. despite that, it's been relatively easy to keep tabs on him ; the millennium falcon isn't the most subtle ship in the galaxy and han, like her, tends to get into trouble where ever he goes. when she'd been out collecting intel earlier that night, she'd heard whispers of a fight near the docks that left one wounded and one dead –– and she'd just had a feeling he'd been involved.

and now here he is, weeks later, bleeding from a wound on his chest and making a mess out of her ( well –– the previous tenant's ) couch.

" i happened to like my sofa without your redecorating, " she replies tartly, brow raising. truthfully, she could care less about the state of her living room, considering she's not going to be here for much longer ; rather, it's an encouraging sign that he's making jokes, considering the size and severity wound in his chest. though she hasn't gotten a good look at the extent of his injuries just yet, considering the state of him when he'd knocked on her door, it's slightly surprising that he's doing as well as he is right now ( but leave it to han to beat the odds ). " if i get charged for it, " or if nari rallik does, " i'll be sending you the invoice. "

she clicks her tongue, shaking her head. " you're not exactly subtle, solo. " a careful way to avoid answering his question –– of course she keeps tabs on him. part of her job is gathering intel, anyway, and so what if she makes a point to ensure the people she cares about she's worked with before remain alive ? saying that out loud feels like admitting something she'd rather not, however, so she keeps silent, dancing around the subject like it's a minefield. she crosses her arms over her chest, looking down at him where he sits. " everywhere you go, people talk. "

that being said, she hadn't expected him to show up at her doorstep, let alone looking as bruised and battered as he currently does. even though he's talking and lucid now doesn't mean he will be in a few minutes. striding to the other side of the small room, she pulls out her medkit from the cabinets ; she pops the tab and examines the contents briefly, relieved to see that, while it's been used, it has the necessary basics –– bacta, gauze, a hypospray. it should be enough for tonight, even if she needs to run out later to restock.

she returns to him with the medkit in hand, offering it to him. " i'm not in the mood to play nursemaid, " she informs him dryly, but they both know she'll help him out, if necessary ( she's already let him in her flat, she's not just going to let die ). and though she doubts he'd be careless enough to let someone track him to her apartment, she still needs to know the extent of the situation, if it's something she should be concerned with and should make proper preparations. she's burned aliases for worse. " and while you patch yourself up, you can tell me what happened. "

@vicioushope 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 :: " i assume that the rumors surrounding you are all false and unrelated to why you're bleeding out on my sofa? "

               𝚂𝙿𝚁𝙰𝚆𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙽 𝙹𝚈𝙽’𝚂 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙲𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙻𝙴𝙴𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙵𝚄𝚂𝙴𝙻𝚈 ,  han solo turned away to scowl up at the ceiling.

❝just thought your sofa might need some redecorating, so here i am.❞  solo waved his good arm, the action halting and cut short with a hiss.  shavit—was he still bleeding?  jaw set taut, he rolled his shoulders, finally working off the soaked fabric that seemed adhered to his skin, sliding it down his biceps until it gathered at his elbows.  ❝y’know i like to accessorize with red.  adds contrast—and character.❞

jokes aside, he’d made it out alive, hadn’t he?  han flexed his fingers and winced at the discomfort lancing up his side.  injuries had long ago become the norm for him, and he was no stranger to pain, but… come to think of it, han couldn’t recall the last time he came across a sleemo whose skill with a blaster perhaps rivaled his own.  the slimy bastard had intercepted him while crossing the docks, emerging from between a stack of crates before demonstrating one hell of a quick draw.  it would’ve fetched him a genuine compliment if he didn’t immediately level the blaster at han’s center mass, like this was a stickup and han wasn’t the type of man who’d shoot first and ask questions later.

❝so, rumors, huh?  dunno ’bout that, but y’know how it is.  people love to talk; they make me sound more exciting than i actually am.❞  with his head still spinning and his shoulder burning something fierce, han slanted a sideways grin at a face he hadn’t seen in over a year.  ❝you keepin’ tabs on me?❞

he should’ve taken the guy more seriously though, especially after his furious spluttering about a botched job and lost credits, that it was han’s fault his sweetheart had left him high and dry.  it all painted a picture han was pretty sure he had nothing to do with.  regardless, it’d been mistake to try reasoning with a nova-happy kreetle clearly off his repulsors.  as for his final mistake?  well, in hindsight, han reckoned that telling the guy to go frink himself was probably not the best way to deescalate the situation, but how could he have known the bastard had brought muscle with him?  like a mynock out of hell, the gran dropped in fast, closing the distance between them and nailing han square in the face, leaving him stunned and disoriented.

    memory blurred beyond that point.    han only vaguely recalled spotting a prybar and the stark flash of a vibroblade powering on in the dark; his own startled shouts of pain amid the thunderous drumming of his heart, and an additional mix of voices, lost somewhere in the commotion…  han shut his eyes and shook his head, letting a breath go slowly before he tugged at the rest of his dirtied clothes with sudden haste.

 they could chat about what happened later, preferably after he plugged what bloody holes now littered his body.

[split-n-splice]

Now! I must mention, “If you leave, that's your choice, but I would like to not lose my car in the process.” ahahhaa

[Chapter Guide]

6. Enabler – 3

Reclined in a computer chair before the CCTV system, Shego had her feet kicked up on the desk and a magazine she’d already read front to back open on her lap when she heard the quiet tip-toe of Dr. Drakken’s descent down the staircase. In her peripheral, she saw him poke his head out from the stairwell, but she didn’t look up from the magazine.

It had been hours since the explosive demonstration, but he was wise to continue giving her a wide berth. A mumble announced his presence before he cautiously called out to her. She didn’t let her surprise show when the sheepish man awkwardly apologized for provoking her wrath.

Shego merely shrugged it off with a deceptively nonchalant grunt and flipped a page in her magazine. Following orders was in the job description after all, but didn’t remind him so.

Making a funny thoughtful sort of whine, the man drummed his fingers on the wall he was peeking out from behind. “I was beginning to have my doubts,” he dared to share. “But you made me proud out there. Fine work, Shego.”

It was an odd sort of congratulation and it didn’t sound natural at all. It didn’t do squat to comfort her, if that was the intent. She didn’t feel particularly proud of herself, no matter how nice it had felt at the time to lash out at men well deserving of the attention.

She didn’t have to tell or threaten Dr. Drakken to shut up. Her cold shoulder got that message across loud and clear without her moving a muscle.

Even if she didn’t so much as glance up at him, she could tell he was still daunted by the earlier flogging he’d incited, and was being careful to tread softly around her minefield temper, likely fearful of detonating her on himself. Shego didn’t like his cagey glances, but she took no action to assure him the threat had passed.

The man safely reached his desk and took a seat to tend to business she didn’t care to inquire on. He shuffled around behind her now and then, moving slow and trying to stay quiet. When Shego swiveled her chair to keep better tabs on him from the corner of her eye, he just about dropped a sack of paperwork he’d pulled from a filing cabinet tucked in a corner behind the desk. As if afraid to make any sudden movements, he moved at a snail’s pace as he returned to going about his business. He flipped pages, plopped stacks aside, hummed, scribbled, and highlighted for what felt like hours.

Shego didn’t move from her chair the entire time, nor did she look up to him. The longer she sat peacefully, the more he relaxed. She could tell that much when he gradually returned to his regular amount of huffs and sighs and grumbles. A mean little thought crossed her mind and almost made her smirk as she considered doing something – anything, like maybe shooting plasma into the crackling fireplace – to startle him, but she supposed watching her beat the daylight out of two big mean men may have frightened him enough for one day.

Sometime that evening, the man heaved a huge apathetic sigh as if to make an announcement and sat back at his desk. It certainly garnered her attention, and from the corner of her eye she could see him scrubbing his face. He slumped forward on the desk, groaning wretchedly into his hands before tossing his glasses aside entirely and rubbing his temples.

“I’m down to three henchmen now,” he said as if declaring defeat, head still in his hands.

Shego didn’t let her surprise show as she finally looked up from the magazine. She studied the man and his desk and concluded he’d been combing through records on his staff. His henchmen must have been garbage anyway if he was willing to forfeit more than half of his crew for her. Unless of course it was a big fat lie or he’d planned to sack them anyway to save a buck. She remained unmoved, sparing no remark.

“They’re good seeds, though,” Drakken added, sounding almost hopeful. Nonetheless, he whined as he stacked up papers and folders. “Nnng, that sounds so backwards. But! I’ll have you know, the worse they have on record are traffic violations and shoplifting. Happy now?”

Ignoring the question and his anxious stare as he awaited some sort of approval from her, Shego pulled her feet off the surveillance desk and stood to stretch. “I’m hungry,” she answered dully instead. “Are you going to take me out for Chow, or do I have to steal your keys? Because I’m not having canned soup again and I don’t trust the cafeteria grub anymore.”

Glasses back on his nose, Drakken frowned across the room at her, but after a moment he gave a yielding rumble and slumped back in his chair to root around in a pocket of his slacks. He pulled his car key off the ring and tossed it across to her, carping, “Don’t make me regret this,” as she caught it.

Shego arched an eyebrow at him, even as she gravitated toward the stairwell. “Aren’t you coming?” she called over, just a tiny bit perplexed as he went back to shuffling paperwork around.

The man grunted dismissively. “No. I have work to do.”

“Oh. Okay,” Shego muttered, taken aback. She looked down to the key and back to him, and to the door beyond him leading into the henchmen’s domain. “Are you assigning me an escort or…?” Or was he actually letting her go alone?

“Do you need a sitter?” he retorted, and shook his head. “Go. Do whatever you’re going to do, just be back by morning.” He gave a wave to dismiss her.

She should have been happier to be given such slack and the key to the ride. Though she really hadn’t been kept on any kind of leash since her arrival, she realized as she left. There wasn’t a single thing keeping here but reluctance to just walk off into the unknown.

And now she had the key to Dr. Drakken’s SUV – but in light of his indifference, the drive to do something unruly was markedly absent. She gave it her consideration, but the freedom to go have a night on the town wasn’t so tempting. She had a funny suspicion that even if she did cause a stir with the law tonight, she might only earn a pat on the back for getting away with it – because she knew she would.

She kept Dr. Drakken’s rule of thumb in mind: don’t stir trouble in one’s own neighborhood. With that voice of reason nagging her all the way, Shego didn’t do anything more rebellious than smoke in his rig and ignore a stop sign. She could have snuck into a pub, or found some shady back-alley deal to make or bust, or gone to see a movie without paying. She considered dining and dashing somewhere nice, but the thought of dining alone didn’t appeal to her for reasons that disgusted herself.

In the end, she swung by a Cow-n-Chow drive-thru to order two meal combos so she wouldn’t seem so…so what? Pathetic? Because she was alone? It was a damn drive-thru for crying out loud. The underpaid staff couldn’t care less if she bought one meal or enough for the whole crew. Shego scoffed to herself as she drove back to the hillside lair, something miserable curling in her stomach. With four brothers, and having been in charge of two since they were in diapers, she could barely remember being as alone as she felt now.

She caught herself wondering for a moment what Dr. Drakken would do if she never came home – although where she’d go, she didn’t know. Probably back to Go City. Would he hunt her down, or just write her off and let her go? He hadn’t sought vengeance on her for past transgressions, so she’d bet her money on the latter.

And then she cringed. Not in a million years could that dingy lair be called a home. She’d only been there two weeks, and the place was dark and cold and kind of damp and a far cry from welcoming. It wasn’t a home by any means. It was only a place to crash and a roof over her head. It was a lair – a safehouse, a crucial part of keeping a low profile.

There was a nation-wide search for her. The hideout was necessary, even if it was a burrow set in the side of a sorry little mountain half-scorched by a past wildfire. Running off and never coming back was lackluster. She’d already done that.

Left alone with her unwelcomed thoughts, they involuntarily drifted back to why she’d ever skipped town in the first place. Why there was a manhunt for her. What she’d done to her big brother. He might be a big softy and let it slide – it was an accident, one he’d brought upon himself no less – but the organization he worked under was guaranteed to be less understanding. A full pardon was a fantasy. There was no way they’d take her back with open arms after what she’d done. Going back would mean atoning for her actions. Even if she wasn’t imprisoned for attempted homicide, she’d still be going back to the same life on a tight leash she’d just abandoned.

She could ditch Dr. Drakken and his lair whenever she wanted. She could live on the lam like any ordinary runaway.

Yet she returned to the lair.

Stealing Dr. Drakken’s car tonight had lost its appeal anyway. Maybe some other time.

The gangly henchman manning the gate was hasty and bumbling. He kept his head down and avoided looking up to her as he let her through, tripping as he pushed the gate open. She couldn’t help smiling bitterly to herself, content as could be with his healthy fear of her.

The cool subterranean lair was a welcoming respite from the evening heat, but the paper sack she gripped was starting to lose its warmth as she made her way downstairs.

She announced her entry with a flat, “Knock, knock,” which was enough to startle Dr. Drakken still stationed in his office, but then he was right back to work, thoroughly engrossed in an unusually compact desktop computer she suspected he’d built from scrap. He jerked back when she dropped a brown sack of Chow in front of him on the desk. She’d already had her dinner back in the car, not that he’d find any evidence of it to chide her over.

As she came around his desk, Shego smiled to herself again, content with the knowledge he let her get away with so much more than her family ever did. Polar opposite of them, he actually encouraged thrilling little hobbies like thieving and roughing people up, so long as it wasn’t inconveniencing. He was a bad influence if she ever knew one, not that she needed much of a push.

She perched on an available armrest of his chair, watching him brush the food aside to get colder as he resumed clacking away at the keyboard. Eyeing his slumped shoulders, a ludicrous notion from earlier escaped the lockbox.

She didn’t have a chance to run it by herself a second time when she abruptly leaned over. She wouldn’t exactly call it a hug – more like just leaning on his back in a piss-poor show of appreciation, because wrapping her arms around him in a full embrace sure as hell wasn’t happening.

Dr. Drakken tensed. He might as well have been carved from stone like the rest of the lair.

Shego didn’t dare let herself indulge in the notion that he smelled almost nice, but in a huffing-fumes sort of way from whatever fuels or grease that had rubbed off on his jacket, or whatever he used to slick back his hair – because she was shoving herself away from him the moment an unwarranted lurch in her chest caused her to warm over.

Inwardly berating herself to never do that again, Shego ended the awkward contact as suddenly as she’d initiated it, though it was a mistake to let a hand linger on his shoulder for a moment too long to give it a squeeze, hoping it might convey her thanks.

She squeezed her unintentionally warm hands between her knees as she glared to the crackling fireplace, taking measured breaths as she willed the heat to leave her face. As desperately as she wished she could bury what goodness remained in her heart six feet under and in a lockbox for the sake of turning a new leaf and taking the whole evil gig seriously, that wasn’t happening. She wasn’t a hero, but she wasn’t inhuman either. She could at least work on being inhumane, and that meant not doing stupid things like trying to hug someone to show gratitude, or whatever had been behind the impulse.

It took Dr. Drakken clearing his throat before she slipped away from the armrest, taking the brusque cue to back off. Without a word, she left him grimacing and his face a funny shade as she strode off quietly to hole herself up in her room for the night.

She left whatever had transpired behind her as she focused on getting herself into bed, knocking back a shot of cold medicine knock herself out early for the night to escape overthinking.

She was late to rise the next day, and the worst thing to plague her mind was the ingrained anticipation of being chided for sleeping in. The dread nagged at her as she suited up and combed her hair quickly, hastily making herself presentable, only to find Drakken wasn’t in the lab, or even down in his office. The surveillance feed indicated activity out in the garage that doubled as a scant hangar.

A deadpan stare was fixed on her face as she moseyed in, ready to face the day and Dr. Drakken with the futile hope she would be tasked with something more engaging than watching surveillance feed again.

She slowed her pace halfway to the chief overseeing today’s project, something about his posture raising a warning to proceed with caution. Two of the remaining henchmen took notice of her, but then ducked their heads and avoided eye contact like guilty children. One man sat on a stack of tires, and the other stood at attention to lend a listening ear to Drakken’s low chatter.

The men were gathered in the midst of a mess of dismantled aircraft, and Shego had barely stepped foot into the ring of clutter when she paused at the boss’s rising tone.

“If you’re missing the parts, THEN GO GET THEM!” roared Dr. Drakken with a stern point to the door, and even Shego flinched. The abrupt ferocity was startling, but it in the same vein it was reassuring that he might very well pull off fearsome dictator one day. The men booked it, Dr. Drakken shoving one of the goons as he passed.

The chief whipped around and was about to storm right by her as if she were invisible when Shego piped up. “What’cha need? Maybe I could get it,” she offered, trying not to sound so desperate for something to do. Something exciting, preferably.

The frustrated man snorted. “Please,” he scoffed. “I need a whole new jet. The most these imbeciles know about aerodynamics is paper planes, and I’ve seen children fold better.”

Shego wondered inwardly why the know-it-all didn’t just get his own hands dirty and build a jet himself if he needed one that badly. He certainly had enough scrap lying around for one. Maybe even two. A fanciful thought crossed her mind as she eyed the scavenged remains, and she couldn’t help muttering thoughtfully to herself, “I can fly a jet.”

Before she could dismiss the notion, Drakken was scoffing in her direction, shooting her a displeased frown before turning back to head for his lab. “Very funny, Shego,” he groused. “Next you’re going to tell me you’re the Easter Bunny.”

Well, she had put out baskets and hidden eggs for kids before – but he didn’t need that information.

“No, really,” she insisted, taking long strides to keep up with his brisk pace. “I mean, I’m not licensed, but my brother had special authorization, and I copiloted a lot with him the past year, and I actually—,” she clamped her running mouth shut abruptly, realizing she may have let slip too much. Divulging Team Go information like her illicit copiloting might have been just a little too traitorous for her just yet.

Drakken was flapping a hand in blatant disregard anyway. “Bullbuttons. There’s no way a kid can fly a jet,” he said arrogantly, not buying it for one moment.

Shego paused and scowled at his back. Kid comment aside, she was offended that he didn’t believe her. But then again, she supposed it was a farfetched thing to believe. There was no denying she was a tad young to know how to fly – but so what? He knew she was no ordinary girl, so he ought to know not to hold her to ordinary standards.

Still glaring, Shego turned away without adding to the argument.

She’d show him.

++X++

Dr. Drakken hadn’t noticed the newcomer had left his side until he was crossing the threshold into the foyer, at which point he heard the sudden rev of an engine and the squeal of tires spinning out. Whipping around, his eyes flew wide and he patted his pockets to feel for his keys, but as he watched his favorite set of wheels barrel out of the garage, he came to the stark realization that the new recruit had never returned his car key last night.

“Stop her!” he bellowed, but the bumbling idiots racing back to him were a moment too late. Reprimand was in store for the oaf who’d left the damn gate open. There was nothing more he could do as she floored it off the premises and down the gravel driveway with a trail of dust in her wake.

Drakken ordered for someone to put keys in his hand immediately, and thus he commandeered the car of the nearest henchman and sped out of the garage in a little red Beetle, but it was no use. The secondhand car was no match for the disobedient subordinate when she had such a head start. In his haste to cut her off, he made the mistake of trying to take a shortcut down Main Street to meet her at the highway out of town, only to get himself stuck in untimely morning traffic.

Defeat was bitter. He should have known better.

Sighing heavily in frustration and shoving his glasses up his forehead, Drakken leaned on the door and rubbed his eyes as he waited for a red light to turn green.

The clown accompanying him had the nerve to speak up. “Uh, boss? What just happened?” asked the henchman.

To which Drakken could only growl out something indiscernible through his teeth. He wasn’t completely sure what had just happened himself, but he could take a guess. Chasing after her was a lost cause at this point, so he grudgingly pulled a U-turn to head back.

He prowled back through the lair to the landline in his kitchen and waited at the counter with a frown creasing his brow deeper by the second as he waited for the call to be answered. The first attempt yielded zero result, so he tried again, and on the very last ring, Shego finally picked up the cell phone he’d graciously gifted her last week.

“Yeah, what is it?” she snapped harshly on the other end before he could get a word in. “Kinda busy here.”

“Shego, just what do you think you’re doing?” he demanded through grit teeth.

“You wanted a jet. I’m jacking you a jet.”

He really couldn’t tell if she was being serious, but the implications of jet theft crossed his mind regardless. “You are going to get yourself killed, more like it,” he retorted.

“Aw, worried about me? That’s so touching,” she jeered, and he heard her feign a gag.

Questions stormed in his brain – like where she planned to get a jet, how she planned to pull it off, how the hell would he get his car back – but none of them made it out of his mouth before she spoke again.

Her scathing tone eased to something more playful at least. “This job don’t come without risks, Dr. D. Don’t worry about little ol’ me,” she said, and Drakken found himself grimacing as her mischievous chuckle met his ear. Did she think this was a joke?

“Oh, I will,” Drakken mumbled. He dreaded whatever she was scheming. Her safety was of some concern, but first and foremost, it couldn’t mean anything good for him if she got herself busted. There was the doubt as well that stealing a jet was just a ruse. What if she’d duped him? So soon after firing all but three of his men, the worry of losing her and all her potential danced on his nerves.

There was a pause, and he wasn’t sure if he should take the chance to lecture her for the brash decision or beg her to turn around, but Shego beat him to it.

“Drakken, I need you to trust me,” she pleaded coolly, and something in her tone almost persuaded him to do just that. “Don’t be tracking me, don’t try to follow me, just…stay out of my way – and don’t call me. I got this. ‘Kay?”

Before he could agree or disagree, she hung up.

He hadn’t a way to track her anyway, he realized unhappily. He didn’t have her chipped, nor did he have his rig bugged either.

All he could do was accept that if he lost her, he lost her. And if she returned, then great. But if she didn’t, he was out several henchmen and one priceless reckless subordinate. He sourly acknowledged that she wasn’t much of a subordinate if she was going to be running off on her own accord like this. Shego was quickly making herself into more of an accomplice he wielded very little control over, if anything.