#but i was meant to have a full data report done by tomorrow and i haven't found more than 20 straight minutes this week to look at it

[thedreadvampy]

aaaaaaaaaaa work is so overwhelming just now I feel like my brain may explode

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Overworked

Fandom: DC Pairing: Batsis!reader x Batfamily Word count: 3k Summay: Your on your way to be the next C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises, but the road is filled with challenges and a lack of self-care that your family can’t help but worry about (based on this) Warning: Slight angst and unconciousness, near death experience Requested by a pretty great Anon: Can you do a one shot of future ceo batsis overworking herself with long days and vigilante nights and she’s basically not sleeping or taking care of herself and batfams gotta step in and make her listen to reason.

The cup of coffee had already grown cold, the liquid inside it stale and surely undrinkable, when you reached for it. Hardly the first few drops of the liquid had ran down your throat when you realized the horrible transition it had gone through from the nectar of productivity to the lovechild of tar and sulfur, your face distorting into an expression of utmost disgust as you quickly put it back down and besides the other six paper-cups that were all half-filled at most. You sighed when you realized that it must have already been an hour since you had made - and after completely forgot about - the coffee. It really was a cursed circle that you had been going through for the last eight hours. You made a cup, brought it to your office, drank a bit, forgot about it and realized how horrible it now tasted half an hour or so later and then you took at least another twenty minutes before deciding to head for your next cup.  Was it already time for the next one? No, it could wait a bit longer. You turned your attention back to the screen in front of you - or rather the three screens - and let your eyes fly over all the data and graphs and numbers that you had to have in a presentable form by next morning for the monthly debriefing. This time would be your first time without Bruce on the sidelines and overlooking your work, a fact that made you feel proud at your accomplishment while simultaneously scaring you to the core. You knew that logically it wouldn’t be different than the last two - which you had also done basically solo with Bruce only sitting beside you silently observing - but there was still that internal voice that told you that without your father by your side the board would rip you apart until nothing was left over. You didn’t know what exactly caused it but suddenly you felt dizzy and the letters and numbers in front of you started swimming around, turning into absolute gibberish, the neon-lights of the screen hurting your eyes. No, not the screens themselves, it was the contrast between the brightly lit screens and the darkness that spread out behind them. It was only then that you let your gaze move behind the confines of your office and through the glass doors to the rest of the office space that was completely engulfed in darkness. Now you realized that it wasn’t only that, it was more, there was no soul wandering the floor and no sound beside the ever-so-steady growling of the computer fan and the clicking of your keyboard. “Fuck,” you couldn’t help but mutter when you looked at the clock beside you which already read half past nine. Which meant that you only had half an hour at most before your patrol started. Ignoring the pounding that built up in your head you tried to remember how it was possible for the time to surprise you like that. You had come to work at eight that morning and had spent two hours calling around, checking on contracts and meeting with potential clients, then you had your daily briefing with the department heads - which had extended into almost an hour because Brad from PR really couldn’t get his shit together - then you had to talk to HR about finding a possible replacement for Brad from PR and after you had started working on the numbers. And now you were standing in the elevator on your way to the car park. Did you have Lunch today? No, you had to skip Lunch break for Brad. What about Breakfast? No, wait, you forgot about that too. You rubbed your eyes and felt the need to curse rise again when you realized that you’d have to get right back to the numbers as soon as you had finished patrol which meant that you wouldn’t be able to sleep yet again. What was that? The fourth night in a row? Your only solace was the possibility that you’d maybe finish quickly and get a good one to two hours before you had to be back in the office, but deep inside you knew that it was unlikely. It hadn’t worked the last four nights either. But you’d pull through. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. After tomorrow’s meeting you’d go home at a normal time and indulge yourself in that full meal your stomach had been begging you for, sleep for a full eight hours and maybe even watch a movie if you felt especially crazy. Just for one night you’d really let yourself go. But for that to be possible you had to bite your teeth together and stay on your path.

The elevator arrived at the car park and you quickly rushed to your car and made your way to your apartment which - for maximum efficiency - was only a five minute drive away from the Wayne Ent. Tower, where you quickly rushed into the hidden side room to change into your gear. As you checked the time you realized that you still had a good five minutes before you had to check in with your father and you had to very quickly decide between your two options: quickly eat something or make and drink another coffee. You decided for the second one, but as you made your way to the kitchen counter where your coffee machine stood you caught a glimpse of the unopened stack of mail on the kitchen island and with a sigh decided to just get that over with, effectively ignoring both your previous options.  The letters were rather quickly sorted through and before you knew you were standing on a nearby ceiling and activated your comm. “Y/H/N reporting from area 7.4 in central Gotham.” “Good evening Y/H/N, it’s Oracle, I’ll be your voice in the background tonight,” Barbara’s voice echoed through your ears and after exchanging the usual greetings she quickly gave you the location of a robbery in progress. With quick, experienced movements you jumped over the roofs until you stood on the ceiling of a jewelry which was - luckily for you - made out of glass. There was only a single man in the darkness of the store below you, using a flashlight to clean out the display cases, and he wasn’t especially silent so you used the noise to your advantage as you opened one of the few ceiling windows that were openable and let yourself glide down with a hook. “I think you have to pay for that,” you interrupted the robber who quickly turned around, his face hidden by a black, knitted hat with badly cut out holes for the eyes. He was definitely no professional. The man - obviously panicked - got out a gun with shaky hands and pointed it at you, but before he could even think of shooting you had thrown a batarang and the piece of weaponry landed on the floor too far from him that he could reach it before you. Seemingly not seeing another option the man started charging at you and you just sighed and said: “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” but by the end of the sentence his fist tried to make contact with your masked face, but you caught his hand expertly and used the momentum to twist it behind his back, grabbing the other one too and with quick movements you had used a pair of handcuffs that you had in your bat-belt™ to chain him to one of the displays before letting him go. “If you’ll excuse me for a second,” you mumbled before walking a few feet away where you told Barbara to contact the police and tell him they didn’t need to hurry. You had just finished the conversation and muted your mic again when the same dizziness as earlier in the office hit you but this time tenfold. It was like the ground was swaying below you and you had to take ahole of a countertop so that you didn’t fall. “Hey, are you okay, you look kinda sick,” the robber asked in an actual concerned voice, but you didn’t answer, instead you quickly used the hook you had attached earlier to let yourself swing out of the window again. “Y/H/N?” Barbara contacted you and you tried your best to swallow down the weakness in your muscles that suddenly seemed to grow over you. “Yeah?” “Bats asks you to meet him on the roof of the Jefferson building down in third.” “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.” 

You gave yourself another few seconds to collect yourself before you did as you were told and made your way over to the roof of the builduing Babs’ had told you to go to, the dark silhouette of your father’s persona already expecting you there. Like you had done so often before, you started to run towards the edge of the building next to it - the one you were currently on - and made yourself ready to jump, only for your muscles to suddenly give up on you and the only thing you felt next was the rushing of air as you were falling and then the sudden stop and pain in your wrist as something caught you. Bruce quickly pulled you up and even with the cowl you could see the concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice worried which definitely sounded uncanny in connection with what he was wearing. “Uhm yeah, my legs just kind of gave up on me there,” you tried to wave it off with a chuckle, not wanting him to see that you were frightened to your core. “Y/H/N?” he asked again in that voice he had always used when you tried to sneak out at night and lied when he had caught you. He hadn’t used that voice in so long. “I’m serious Batman, everything is okay, it’s no big deal,” you huffed - now defensive - and stood up with your arms crossed in front of your chest. “It is when you suddenly fall from a roof. What would have been if I hadn’t been there to catch you?” he asked, now slight anger edging through the worry, but you couldn’t blame him. “I’m sorry, okay, it won’t happen again,” you sighed and hoped he would just let it go, especially considering that the dizziness started to return. Along with it came the heaviness of your eyelids that you had gotten used to that somehow now seemed to actively pull you down. You raised your hand to rub your eyes - hoping it would put some more live back into you - but even that slight movement seemed to be too much as the world started swaying again and you felt gravity getting the best of you. Something black started moving in front of you and you weren’t quite sure if you were falling unconscious or if it was Bruce who came towards you to catch your falling form, but it turned out to be latter when you found yourself being lowered to the ground and propped against the end of one of the vantilator shafts of the building with Bruce kneeling beside you. “You’re definitely not okay,” he muttered as he held your face in his hands to get you to look at him. “I’m just a little bit tired is all,” you tried to argue, but your voice was weak and almost started lulling. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate?” You shut your eyes in concentration as you tried to remember. “Wait I know the answer to that one,” you muttered but almost fell asleep, only being kept away when your head started falling downwards, “What did you ask again?” “When was the last time you slept an entire night?” he tried again, this time more specific. “What day is it today?” “Friday.” “Then I think it was Monday,” you whispered since suddenly the loud noise of your voice seemed to pierce your skull apart. “You were on Patrol from nine to two a.m. on Monday,” Bruce disagreed and you almost chuckled. “Yes, and after I went to bed and got a full five hours. That’s pretty good isn’t it,” you couldn’t help but smile almost proudly, your mind starting to fog up with bubblegum coloured smoke that made it impossible to think straight. “And when did you last eat?” Bruce sighed, worry and recognition crossed his face. He himself must have known too well what you were going through. You averted your eyes and looked down at your lap where you played with your hands like an embarrassed child. “Also Monday,” you mumbled and Bruce immediately shook his head. “That’s not okay, you have to take care of yourself Y/H/N, you’re no good for anyone when you don’t.” You weren’t sure if it was only tired paranoia that made you see only disappointment on your fathers face - that ignored all the worry - but suddenly the prospect of having disappointed him, the one thing that you were trying to avoid ever since you could remember, made tears well up in your eyes and your lip quiver, “‘M sorry,” you could just press out before the tears started rolling. Bruce immediately regretted his tone of voice, but he knew nothing he would say now would be remembered by you so he just pulled you up from the roof and started carrying your already passing out form towards the batmobil. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow…”

The feeling of waking up rested was foreign to you, especially since it wasn’t one of your four separate alarms that woke you, and caused you to immediately sit up, only to be pulled back into the mattress. Your eyes flew open and explored your surroundings. The chandelier above you, with rainbow-coloured glass-pendants and the dark blue dealing with the painted stars immediately calmed you again. This room was your childhood bedroom which meant that you were in the manor, which in turn meant that you were safe. For a moment the calm was pretty nice, but then you remembered your case of immovability and looked down at where your wrists came out from under the cover. They were bound by silky bands and a move of your feet told you that the same was the case for them. While you were contemplating ways to get out of the unbelievably good, but still comfortable restraints, the door started to open and you turned as well as you could towards where you smallest (figuratively and literally) brother entered. “Your awake?” he asked in his usual stern voice, but you had known him for long enough to recognize the hidden worry. “Yeah, mind telling me why I’m strapped to my bed?” “Forced self-care,” he stated matter-of-factly and you couldn't help but narrow your eyes. “What?” “You fainted on Patrol, father says you haven’t eaten or slept since last Monday so we took measures to make sure you wouldn’t kill yourself with how careless you are.” You wanted to reply with something snarky, but you were well aware that what he said was probably right. “I’m sorry okay, I just had a lot on my plate, but you’re right and I feel a lot better now that I had some sleep, so you can let me go again,” you tried to smooth your way out of there, but you had the slight suspicion that it was hopeless. “I respect your try but you will not be let go until father is certain that you’re better.”

“But I am better!” you whined and tried yet again to wiggle yourself out of the restraints. Damian just raised his eyebrows unimpressed. He walked over to a chair that was standing beside your bed and as you followed him with your eyes you noticed the shutted curtains and the small gap of light between them. “What time is it anyways?” you sighed and felt surprise when you had to hold back a yawn. “It’s about 8 a.m.” Your eyes widened. That meant you had enough time to get to the office! “Please Dami, you gotta let me go, I have to get to the board meeting,” you begged, starting to wiggle more and more, but to no avail. “But Ukthi, you-” “No you don’t understand! This is my first time alone, I can’t let dad down, I have to be able to pull through with this if I ever want to make it as the next C.E.O. Dad wasn’t allowed a break either.” “Ukthi-” “Damian please, please, I promise I’ll come back right after and take care of myself, but I have to do this if I-” “Ukthi! The board meeting was yesterday. You slept for over 24 hours!” Damian shouted to get you to stop interrupting him and when you realized the weight of his words you sunk back down into the pillow. “What? But I was supposed to…” “Father just postponed it, he didn’t leave room to argue, he also gave you the week off from patrol and work.” If your hands weren’t bound you’d probably sunken your face into them in shame. You tried to hold tears back as you looked away from Damian. “Y/N?” he asked and came closer. “I’m sorry, It’s just- how am I supposed to handle being the C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprise if I can’t even handle little things like board meetings? How am I supposed to take after dad?” “Y/N, you keep on saying how father managed to lead the business on his own, and how you should be able too, but you’re not alone. You’re not supposed to be either. You have all of us by your side for a reason and we won’t leave you alone with this. We’re here for you and you shouldn’t be ashamed to ask for help. We’re family, we love you and we want to support you with all we can. “For now, how about you rest a little bit more and then I’ll let you out of bed to get a proper meal, Alfred made your favorite. After that I’m afraid Father will want to have a word with you.” “Oh shucks….”

[kamenriderlogik27]

Power of Heroez: Prologue

The day had begun like any other for the young president of Hiden Intelligence, Hiden Aruto. Despite setting around 20 alarm clocks, he woke up late. Panicked, he quickly got ready and used his Rise Hopper to make a speedy trip across town towards the company building, As he rushed through the glass doors, panting, he checked his watch. 

He was only 15 seconds late! A new record! 

After pumping his fist in the air and patting his back for a good job done, Aruto said his daily ‘hello!’ to the security guard- Mamoru, swiped his Risephone onto the security scanner, and made his way up to his office. Which was on the top floor of the large building. 

Like everyday, what met him when he got to his office was his secretary humagear- Izu, who was sitting patiently on her charging station, waiting for him. 

“Good morning, President Aruto.” Izu smiled as she stood up and bowed. “I see that you were only 15 seconds late today. I wish you congratulations on your new record!” 

Aruto smiled bashfully, but before he could say ‘thank you’, his office doors burst open with a loud ‘BANG!’ followed by the shuffling of feet. The loud noise caused Aruto to Jump in surprise. Turning around, he saw the Vice President- Mr. Fukuzoe, with his usual stressed out and stern face, rushing up the stairs from the door. Shesta-Mr. Fukuzoe’s secretary humagear, and Mr. Yamashista- the Senior Managing Director, both following his every step with arms full of large, paper-loaded folders.

“President.” Mr. Fukuzoe greeted with a short nod. “This is all the paperwork that you need to go through and sign. Along will all the new requests that you must either accept or decline. I’m also informed that you have a meeting with a few potential customers this evening, so I must encourage you to get all this paperwork done before then. If not-”

“Ok! Ok! I understand!” Aruto interrupted with a small, apologetic grin. “I’ll try and get it done somehow, ok?”

Despite the attempt to calm the VP, Mr. Fukuzoe just shook his head in annoyance. “This paperwork is all due tomorrow, President! You’ve had all WEEK to do it, however you were always out battling that terrorist group instead! For the sake of our company, you NEED to focus on this today!” 

Aruto paled at what the older man said and couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. It was true that he had spent the last week focusing on saving people from Horobi’s forces, but it wasn’t as if he was trying to avoid work because of it. Though, he does admit that he could have come in after battles to do as much work as he could... 

“I’m sorry!” The young President bowed. “I promise that I’ll do what it takes to get it all done today!” 

“Please do.” Mr. Yamashita huffed, shuffling the folders so that he could get a better grip on them. “This sort of job is only meant for the President anyway. Remember! The board re-elected you as President not too long ago! You need to start showing them that they made the right choice!” 

“Roger!” Aruto saluted, before taking the large folders from Mr. Yamashita and throwing them onto his desk. “I’ll get right to it!”

He had meant every word. However, not even an hour after his three coworkers had left, the young President was slouched down over his desk, groaning in exhaustion and a folder balancing on top of his head. 

“I will never understand how Grandpa was able to do this part of his job.” Aruto groaned. “Right, Izu?” 

Taking it as a legitimate question, Izu answered. “President Kurenosuke was always taking extra shifts to finish his work no matter what it was. There were even times when he would stay up all night and sleep in this office.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Aruto mumbled to himself, thinking about the nights where he would come home from school and see no evidence of his grandfather ever being there. 

Before he could remanence more past memories, Izu’s ear modules beeped, causing her to stand up in alarm. 

“President Aruto.” Izu called in a sharp but calm voice. “Satellite Zea would like to inform you about a specific incident that has recently occurred.” 

Before he could respond, Izu instantly projected what looked like a news report in front of him. The reporter stood before a rather tall building that looked like it was hit by a large canon ball. 

“The incident happened on an island called ‘Sector City’.” Izu informed. “It’s reported that a small accident had occurred where part of a laboratory exploded. The cause is currently unknown.” 

“THAT’s what they call a ‘small accident?” Aruto laughed nervously, his eyes focusing on the large hole that ate the side of the building. Looking closer, however, Aruto saw something peeking out from the rubble. It was rather small, so Aruto asked Izu to enhance it a bit so they could get a better look. The tiny object looked like some kind of robot. Not a humagear, but a small-rounded robot with X shaped metallic limbs. 

“Izu, have you ever seen that robot before?” Aruto asked, knowing full well that she would know more patented A.I.s than him. She looked closer at the image but made funny, yet thoughtful face. As if she doesn’t recognize it. 

“Searching for possible patents, blue-prints and other possible data.” She announced before closing her eyes. After a few seconds, her eyes opened and looked towards the young President. “There are no current records of that type of A.I.” 

“No records, huh?” Aruto said with a thoughtful expression. He pondered, thinking how weird it was that a huge hole in the side of a building was so unexplainable and random. And in the middle of all of this was just a small little A.I. robot with no identification. 

Aruto stood up from his chair and grabbed the Zero-one driver. “Izu, I’m going to go investigate the incident for a little while.” 

Izu’s eyes showed no surprise by this statement. “I see. I’ll inform the potential customers that we’ll have to postpone their meeting till tomorrow, then.” 

“Alright. Tell them that I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” Aruto smiled apologetically, as if the customers were there in his office to see. He led the way as the duo climbed up to the helicopter landing area on the roof. 

He then placed his driver around his waist and authorized his Jumping Hopper progrizekey.

“Henshin!” he yelled, transforming into Kamen Rider Zero-one. Then, he authorized his Flying Falcon progrizekey. Before taking off, he turned to Izu and said. “I’ll go check it out real quick and come back. Hopefully Mr. Fukuzoe won’t notice that I’m gone. But if he does-” 

“I’ll inform him that you’re taking a short break and will be back soon to finish your work.” Izu confirmed without a beat. Aruto smiled behind his mask. They had been through too much together for Izu to not know what to do. 

“Alright! See you in a bit!” Aruto waved before finally taking off. He flew fast, using the directions that Satellite Zea was projecting in his mind for him to follow. Turns out that Sector City was near by the city of Fuuto, which was right next to Tokyo. So, thankfully, it didn’t take too long for him to get there. When the island came into full view, he quickly searched for a place to land. This proved to not be easy, however, as there were armed guards near every road leading to the island. That was a bit concerning. Figuring it would just be easier to sneak in, he flew over their heads and landed on the roof of one of the taller buildings.           

“There’s an awful lot of security in place for what’s supposed to have been a simple accident.” Aruto said to himself as he looked around. “I only came because the A.I. robot that I saw on the news intrigued me, but there but be more to this.”  

Right at that moment, Izu’s voice came into his head. “President Aruto. The security levels are very high and you are currently in danger of being caught. Please do be careful and-”

 “I know! I know!” Aruto interrupted calmly, a playful smile was hidden behind his mask. “I need to deactivate the devices strengthening the security sensors first, right?” 

He started to look around again to see if any such device could be seen until his eyes landed on a glowing metal pedestal with something round placed on it. He walked closer and picked the round object up. It was no bigger than a coin, made out of a red transparent material, and gold encircling it. 

“Is this the device?” Aruto asked quizzically to himself as he turned the small object around in his hand to inspect it more. His eyes traced what looked like a symbol of a bird, carved into the hard-red material of the core. It didn’t seem like a device of any kind as the material might have actually been more of a stone than metal. Aruto thought it was odd yet.... strangely powerful in its own way. As if that made any sense even to him. 

Suddenly, a bright blue light erupted behind him, followed by a dark voice. 

“Hmm...” The dark voice hummed, observantly. “I do not have any data on you. However, you appear to be a Kamen Rider as well...”

“Wah!” Aruto Jumped in surprise, turning around. “Where did you come from?!” 

The.... man- though he didn’t really seem to be any regular human- sitting down in the floating chair, completely ignored Aruto’s surprise and groaned to himself. 

“One after another.... it seems you are determined to not leave me be.” 

“‘One after another’?” Aruto cocked his head to the side, confused. “Who else has been here?” The only other Kamen Rider he could think of was Mr. Fuwa and Ms. Yaiba, but they were probably still off doing their own things. Amatsu Gai was a possibility as well, but Aruto didn’t want to think about that jerk attempting to be a good-guy at the moment.  

Again, the oddly large man never answered him. Instead, he raised his staff to the side and shot some sort of lightning based ray right at the young President. The blast knocked the small red object out of Aruto’s hand, and caused his strength to rapidly deplete. It wasn’t long before his eyes forced themselves shut, and darkness took over.   

[galaxy-class]

Star Trek Voyager Chakotay/OC

Hello! This is the first fic I’ve ever written, it’s a 6k Chakotay/OC PWP with some fluff and touch starving sprinkled in here and there. Janeway has an honorable mention in the beginning because I love her, but this isn’t a J/C fic (at least not this time lol). Possible triggers under the cut! 

Possible triggers (If you think of anything to add let me know!): Alcohol consumption, descriptions of male/female sex, themes of dominance and submission (power dynamics between commander and subordinate), mild choking (hand on throat positioning), mild restraining (holding wrists, no ropes/equipment)

A thank you to @marigoldseesstars and @burntheparameters (and other friends not on tumblr so I’m unable to tag them) for encouraging me to post! I hope you guys like it and I welcome feedback good or bad! <3 

Chain of Command (Title is trash because I am trash, thank you!)

Although the Delta Quadrant was full of new experiences and discoveries, the days between each excursion were full of the necessary, albeit mundane, tasks that it takes to run a starship. Duty rosters, shift trades, meetings… Terribly dull, and yet required for the ship to function. Captain Janeway insisted on it. Looking out of some unnamed observation window with a distant gaze, she would lecture crew members who tried to oppose her strict adherence to protocol. “I know, believe me, and I’ve thought long and hard about whether or not it’s wrong for me to impose these rules on this crew, knowing that the institution upholding them is so far away… But these rules help bring us together. They give us purpose and cohesion, and remind us of our principals while we’re so far away from order and reason…” Most people stopped listening the second she got that look in her eye, knowing there isn’t any amount of complaint or protest that could change her mind. And it isn’t too terrible a concept anyway. After all, someone has to be the one to wipe off the com panels when they muck up with the fingerprints of the crew members who insist on using the touch features rather than the voice commands, and someone else has to review the available personnel to cover for Ensign Baytart’s requested personal time off and Tuvok's mandatory fitness training.

Chakotay felt the days growing shorter, while the workload of monotonous tasks crawled on before him. The days of course, where perfectly timed on the ship’s chronometer to ensure maximum efficiency among the crew while allowing for adequate time to rest and relax between shifts. It even took into account the differing night and day cycles each species had grown accustomed to on their home planets and calculated a perfect medium between the variables. What the ship’s computer did not account for however, was Chakotay’s tendency to linger in the small moments between tasks. How he would stop to appreciate the soft thread in a blanket gifted to him by a friend, or steal an extra second to smell the spices mixed in with Neelix’s latest “coffee” blend. And so, his days grew shorter, while the soft glow of the padds laid out on his work station encroached in his peripheral vision, beckoning him to finish up this week's chores. 

Chakotay stood from his chair stretching his arms and looked down at the bottom of his mug, no longer filled with the thick brown liquid Neelix described as “Better than coffee.” He chuckled to himself about what a luxury real coffee had become in this quadrant. ...Duty roster.. Hmm… Why don’t I just go down to each station and see who’s available… Maybe the crew will have some personal insight I could use… His thoughts began to trail off and he found himself wandering towards stellar cartography. 

As the cool metal doors slipped open, light poured in from the hall onto the darkened work stations of a diligent crew, carefully mapping out this new region of space. They had their work cut out for them, creating detailed maps based on Voyager’s data and comparing them to patchwork resources acquired along the way. Slowly adjusting their eyes to the bright light silhouetting Chakotay in the doorway, spines began to stiffen at the sight of their commanding officer. Lieutenant Kelly, who’d recently been promoted to this division, tripped over a few words beginning a report of their progress. “Sir! We didn’t expect- We’re currently running a scan on the left-”

Chakotay put his hand up in protest. “I was only wondering if anyone wanted to spend tomorrow on the bridge, Ensign Baytart requested a day off, and if I have to scroll through any more names on that padd I might just go crazy.” His expression was soft and lighthearted, but the crew shared nervous glances concerning the surprise visit from the ship’s first officer. “At ease” he insisted, and held out hope for a few more seconds that anyone would take up his offer. 

“I’ve never had bridge duty before” someone spoke up from the back of the room.

“Who is that?” He asked, trying to see through the dark. 

“Ensign Salva sir, I have.. some experience with being on the conn, just not Voyager’s bridge… If no one else wants the shift that is.” 

Ensign Bobbi Salva was not tall and commanding, nor did her voice carry well in any way that demanded attention, but she was never one to pass up a new opportunity. What else are star ships for? In fact, she had found herself in stellar cartography on a similar request. Although she was trained as a medical assistant, she found ways into almost every corner of the ship. A recent favourite of hers being the aeroponics bay, where Kes had invited her to learn about cultivating plants after spending time with her in sickbay. “Growing a plant is just like treating a patient” Kes would say to her, “You just have to know what they need, and they can flourish on their own.” She liked Kes, they were similar in size and stature, but very different in personality in a way that complimented each other well. Bobbi had a square face, and curly dark hair which she tried a variety of ways to pull back into the intricate designs that reminded her of all ways her mother would style her beautiful curls. She had high cheekbones, and deep set eyes that sparkled with reflections of scarlet in the dark brown of their center. Sometimes she appeared to have a bluish tint, her father insisted that she was mixed with a Bolian on her cousin’s grandmother’s aunt’s side of the family, but mostly she had olive undertones on lovely brown skin.

"Salva… Aren’t you usually working in sick bay? I wasn't aware of any personnel changes in that area of the ship" Chakotay started. 

"Well actually sir, it's a funny story really, me and Kes were in the aeroponics bay discussing-" 

"Sir, I apologize for interrupting, but if there is nothing further we do have a few more things to get done." said Lieutenant Kelly, who was admittedly happy that Salva had found something else to do. As interesting as Bobbi found it, stellar cartography was not her strong point. 

"Of course" Chakotay responded, "Salva if you'll come with me we can go over the details of the assignment. As you were Lieutenant." With that Bobbi followed Chakotay into the hall, leaving behind her curiosity for star maps and replacing it with apprehension about serving on the bridge. 

"Sick bay, aeroponics, stellar cartography, is there anywhere besides the bridge you haven't been Ensign?" Chakotay chuckled. 

Bobbi was struck with the sudden realization that, not only was she talking to the second highest in command on the ship, but she had neglected to inform him or anyone else about her incursions. 

"I, well, only went to sections that I was invited to observe or help by other crew members, I never meant to break protocol.." 

"That's alright, I was just curious." Chakotay let out a sigh. He knew most of the crew respected him, and he trusted them. In the Marquis however, things were different. Sure, he was their captain and they followed his command like any good crew would, but there was rarely tension between him and his subordinates solely on the basis of rank. Starfleet vessels are polished and prideful, and senior officers are revered for their accomplishments. Marquis ships are built on trust and bonds between crew members fighting for a cause they believe in, and sometimes respect in senior officers is only granted because they can hit harder than you can in a bar fight. A bit far off from the Starfleet sparkle of an extra pip. 

Tired from his daily tasks and determined to have a sense of normalcy, he started again, “Are you looking to explore another career option? We could always use extra hands in engineering.” said Chakotay.

Bobbi let out a breath and relaxed her shoulders, realising how tense she had been. Chakotay’s warm voice and reassurance took away some of the stress she was carrying around while trying to maintain an aura of professionalism. “Actually I love sick bay. I’ve never felt more right than when I found medicine, I had changed my area of study so many times before…” A small smile escaped her lips, thinking of how many nights she spent worrying she would never find a place to fit in, now feeling so at home with a medical tricorder in her hands. “But as much as I love it, I’m still so curious about everything else. I want to see it, be a part of it for a small time. And seeing the other divisions in action reminds me just how much I love what I do.” she laughed, and looked up at Chakotay to see that he was smiling too. She never noticed before, how his face seemed to light up when he smiled, and caught herself holding her breath again. 

He stopped in the hall outside of his room. “I’m glad to hear you’ve found your calling. It’s a rare gift to know where you fit in. But I’m happy you’ll be joining me on the bridge, even if it’s just one shift. How about I make us some tea and we’ll go over the details of your assignment?” 

…Glad I’ll be joining him on the bridge.. ‘Joining me’ he said… Wait, his quarters? The First Officer’s quarters? Ensign Salva felt her cheeks flush, and the little slice of Bolian blue in her veins sparkled through, turning her subtle blush into a beautiful, almost purple crimson. 

He was nearly caught off guard, watching her face. She’s almost glowing, I wonder what... oh I should have realised that would make her uncomfortable… “Of course we can go in the dining hall if you prefer, I just have to get the padds, I’m sorry if-”

“No no it’s alright, I could use some tea.” She looked up at him again, settling her gaze on the part in his lips forming  what was going to be the next word in his apology, turning her glance quickly back towards the doors to his room. He smiled and welcomed her in.  

Chakotay’s room was softly lit, and sprinkled with things that had been given to him by the people he cared about. A lovely red and orange throw blanket from his grandmother, a crystal set of whisky tumblers from an old pilot he used to know, little pieces of the people who’d helped shape him. 

“Tea first, then work.” He gestured towards the couch for her to sit, and walked over to the replicator for two cups of yerba mate. A red, earthy tea, made from the leaves of a South American holly tree. One of his favourite blends that he didn’t often indulge in, because he didn’t want to spoil it. Tonight it felt appropriate. 

“Bridge duty on Voyager? Maybe I need something stronger than tea.” She could feel herself smiling nervously. Why did I say that? He’s going to think I’m not up for the challenge… 

Thinking for a second, tilting his head ever so slightly, “You know what you’re right. Let me get something… Here it is, warm vanilla brandy from a group of Bajorins that helped us restock on a very cold, very long night with the Marquis. It compliments the tea perfectly.” Adding the brandy to the tea, he joined her on the couch. ...What I wouldn’t give to see that lovely color in her face again… We’re supposed to be discussing bridge duty, I think…

As he sat down next to her she crossed her legs up onto the couch and held the tea in her lap, feeling the warm mug in her hands, letting the steam from the mixture of herbs and brandy curl up around her and closing her eyes for a second. Has he always been so welcoming and kind? Is he always this easy to be around? We’re supposed to be discussing bridge duty, I think… 

He put his arm on the back of the couch, and rested his cheek against his fist “Where are you from?” he wondered. 

“From?” she blinked 

Chakotay smiled and put his hand down in his lap, mirroring her posture and feeling the warmth in the mug he was holding. “Yes, before Starfleet, did you live on Earth?” 

“Oh no, I mean I’ve been there plenty of times, but my dad worked in one of the schools on Mars, he’s a teacher there for kindergarteners.” Bobbi laughed and looked up as if she was watching a memory play on the ceiling, “He used to tell stories to his kids about me being in Starfleet, he was always so proud of me. I wonder what he told them when…” She stopped and looked down, it wasn’t a happy memory any more, not knowing if he had given up hope that her ship would be found, not knowing if she had given up hope that they would make it back either. 

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Chakotay reached his hand out to put his palm on her knee. “We’ll make it back, I have to believe that. I’m sure your father misses you a great deal.” He let out a small smile, “Honestly I would miss you too, you seem like that type of person, who sticks with someone when you’ve gone.” He didn’t even notice that he had moved closer to her.

He may not have noticed his movement, but she was acutely aware of his hand on her leg, and the distance closing between them. She noticed that she leaned into his touch, and she noticed that she was hanging onto every word in that soothing deep tone of his. “I.. thank you sir.” Bobbi felt her cheeks flush again, and cast her eyes down at his hand. Am I flirting with the first officer? Is… Is the first officer flirting with me? She felt the brandy warming her stomach and a prickle at the tips of her fingers. Oh, this is real alcohol she thought for a second. It had been a while since she had the comfort of a genuine drink, and synthehol just doesn’t have that same feeling. 

He paused for a second at the sight of her. That wonderful color, shading the edges of her cheeks and the tips of her ears, stole the words he was trying to formulate. Chakotay didn’t usually like being called “sir,” he always thought it sounded a little pretentious, and while he understood and respected the purpose of formality on a ship, sometimes he just wanted a regular conversation. So then, why did it sound so good when she said it? He was fighting a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, and felt that same warmth in his veins from the brandy that he hadn’t felt in some time. 

“I really appreciate you making me feel so... welcome.” She said, unsure if she should change the subject or push it further. She reached over and placed her cup on the coffee table, and watched as he mirrored her movement, setting his down as well. “I couldn’t have been your first choice for Baytart’s replacement, but I appreciate the opportunity, sir.” she finished, deciding to turn the conversation back to work. Even still, she couldn’t help but wonder where it might have gone instead. I’ve got to be reading too much into this… There’s no way he’s... I just need to get my thoughts together for a second… 

There it is again, ‘Sir’... It felt like honey coming off her lips. The way she said it, like she didn’t need to say it, like she had an inside joke and it was a challenge. “Honestly” Chakotay responded, trying not to linger too long on the thought, “I had no idea who I was going to pick. I spent so long looking at names on a screen, I just had to see someone face to face instead.” This time he did notice that his hand was still on her knee and he had, in fact, moved closer to her. He noticed too that she’d shifted positions and now the other leg was down on the floor, pushing her very slightly closer to him. Before he realised what he was saying, he started saying it. “I’m glad it was you that decided to say something, and that you came with me tonight. That subtle blue is so beautiful in your skin, has anyone ever mentioned that before?” His voice grew quieter and deeper, his eyes trailed across the line of her jaw. 

Oh… This wasn’t her over thinking anything, she realised. And now that she had figured it out, she wasn’t letting it go. Now it was a challenge, if it wasn’t before. Her eyelids lowered and she chose her words carefully, curious how far he was willing to take this conversation without her making it too easy. “Is that so? No, I don’t think I’ve been told that before.” Bobbi could still feel the heat in her face, and was finding it more and more difficult to take her focus off his lips, his shoulders, the feeling of his hand still on her leg, until she felt herself reach down and softly lace her fingers onto the spaces between his. It was almost jarring, how incredible it felt, the softness and warmth of his hand, all from a very small touch that she didn’t realise she needed until it was so obvious that she needed it. 

Chakotay could tell she was playing at something and could see the twitch of excitement on her face, even though she answered him so sparingly. …’Is that so’ Oh, I think you know it is, and I would love to see what else you know… But the feeling of her hand on his brought him out of his trance. He looked down at her delicate fingers fitting perfectly between his, knowing how good it felt to be touched. “Ensign… Bobbi. This wasn’t my intention with bringing you here. If you’re not comfortable, I would never impose…” He tilted his head back up to meet her gaze, “What I mean to say is that I don’t want to cross any boundaries you might have.” 

“Commander, I could say the same to you. But I think, if it’s alright, that I would like to stay for a little while.” She held his stare intently while she spoke, to be sure he would not miss-hear her words. No, commander, I do think I will stay here with you… I think that’s exactly what I want to do. Again, her eyes found his lips, and she moved closer to his seat, sliding his hand with hers further up to the soft middle of her thigh. His fingers tightened their grip just slightly, like he couldn’t help it, like he had to feel more of her, and she nearly lost all of her focus at once. Not yet, she thought, I want to see what you do. You’re the commander, after all, so make a decision. Make a command. Dizzy with the thoughts of what he might do, she waited, giving him no more before he would respond. 

Commander… Say it again… “Then stay.” He placed his hand gently on her cheek, using his thumb to feel the curves of her face before pulling her to him until their foreheads met. “I’m going to kiss you.” It wasn’t a question, his voice was deep and quiet, and full of desire. 

“Then do it.” She whispered. He smelled sweet like the vanilla brandy mixed with the faintest trace of eucalyptus, and his hand felt strong on her face. She could barely contain her composure, waiting for his lips to meet hers. 

Her words felt like another challenge, and without hesitation he pressed his lips onto hers and felt her whole body melt into him. His hand slid up her thigh to around her waist, pulling her deeper into him, and he moved the other hand to the base of her neck where he could feel her draw in a breath between each kiss. She let out a moan that he could feel with the hand on her throat, and he pushed her back gently, stopping her in the middle of her ecstasy. Lifting a thumb to her chin, he pulled down and parted her lips with his hand, and drew his face in close again, just barely brushing the surface of her mouth with his own. “I like that sound, does this feel good?” While he asked, his other hand trailed along the inside of her thigh, making her gasp. “No, I asked you a question. Does that feel good?” His fingers tightened their grip on her leg. 

“Yes.” She whispered again. How could it not feel good? Please... The strength of his hands, his lips, his tongue, he was intoxicating, and she didn’t want him to stop. 

“Good.” His lips were still brushing hers, he felt her trying to move forward and pushed her back again. “You want more?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes what? You weren’t so shy before calling me ‘sir’ and ‘commander’. I even thought you liked it.”

Her eyes turned sharp and hungry, and she waited just a little while, testing his patience until she felt another squeez on her thigh. He wanted to hear her say it. 

“Yes, sir. I want more.” 

This time it was him that let out a moan as he pulled her back. He wanted more too, her skin, her warmth, he wanted to feel every part of her, and more than that, he wanted to make her feel good and watch her move and gasp with every new touch. She smelled like clove and she was soft, so soft he didn’t want to hurt her by gripping her too tight, but everytime he strengthened his grip he felt her lean further into it, deepening her intensity. He stopped her again, this time putting distance between them. “Stand up.” Chakotay ordered. He looked up at her and smiled with that warm inviting smile as she stood. “Good girl. I want you to take off your uniform, I want to look at you, will you do that?” 

“Yes sir.” She turned away from him, and when he started to speak out in protest she silenced him with a look. He was driving her wild with anticipation and now it was her turn. Very slowly she began to undo her clothes, leaving the back open for a few seconds before carefully pulling off one shoulder, then the other, and sliding out each arm purposefully, drawing the fabric down the length of her arms and past her hands, but holding up the front to keep herself covered. Then she slowly turned to face Chakotay. His expression was  intense, his lips parted at the sight of her and his hand was drawn up in his lap as if he was going to start pleasuring himself to her, but he stayed very still instead, watching her movements intently. She nearly forgot what she was doing when she saw him looking at her like that, like she was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. 

He waited patiently, saying nothing. She continued with her game, pulling the fabric slowly off each leg while holding the bulk of it in front of her with the other arm. Chakotay leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, eagerly watching her every move. Once the final items of clothing were removed, and she stood in front of him with only the drape of an empty uniform left to cover her, she took a step closer to him and left the last of the fabric to fall on the ground around her. He sat entranced in her shape only briefly before reaching up to grab her hand, pulling her into his lap. 

Her hands rested on his chest, and she straddled his lap. She was surprised at how comfortable he was physically, and how easy it was to follow his direction. It felt natural, like a game they were playing that they both knew the rules to, and she was fixated on his every next move. His hands began to move up her thighs, onto her hips, up her waist, and up the sides of her breasts to her shoulders. She held her breath, he wasn’t really touching her, not completely. Still dancing around the edges, making her wait, making her want him. One hand curled around the nape of her neck, and the other slid back down to her hips as she let out the breath she was holding in. 

“Look at you, you look stunning.” Both of his hands moved to her breasts and his feather light touch cupped them and brushed his thumbs over her nipples. She lifted her head back and groaned, reaching a hand down to touch herself, but Chakotay grabbed her wrist and stopped her. “No, not yet.” He was still softly stroking her hard nipple with his thumb while holding her wrist away from herself. 

“Please?” She let out a whimper. 

“Please what?” He said. 

“Please, I want yo-” She groaned again, interrupting her words and her thoughts with the feeling his hands were providing. 

He chuckled at her reaction to his touch and felt her squirm in his lap. “Please what?” he said again, and gently squeezed her breast in his hand, shifting his grip to use his index finger to tease her instead of his thumb. 

“Please, I want you to fuck me.” 

“Is that how you refer to me?” His hand moved up from her breast to her neck, with his index finger resting on the line of her jaw putting a small amount of pressure on her throat, just enough to notice. His other hand let go of her wrist daring her to try again, and moved to undo his own uniform. “You were doing so well before. If that’s really what you want then you’ll have to ask me the right way.” 

She watched as he unfastened his uniform and took the length of his cock into his hand, touching himself like he wouldn’t allow her to do, and she was breathless again. He pulled her face close to his with the hand around her neck, and continued to stroke the length of his shaft underneath her. She whimpered thinking about how good he would feel inside of her. He could feel the tension in her legs, and he knew she could only go so much longer before it would become too much. “Go on, say it.” He said between stolen kisses on her open mouth. 

“Please sir, I want you to fuck me.” 

Chakotay took his hand from himself and reached up to her pussy, feeling the wetness between her lips, sliding his fingers up onto her clit and massaging it slowly. She groaned deeply at his touch and her hips began to sway in motion with his fingers. “There, that wasn’t so hard. I want to hear you moan.” He worked his fingers faster on her clit and felt her body reacting in waves to the feeling. 

It felt so good, that’s really the best way to describe it. It felt so good and she felt herself move along with him, her muscles tensing and releasing with his changes in speed and pressure. “Mm it feels so good, don’t sto-” she moaned again, louder this time. And just as she was about to direct him not to, he stopped and pulled his hand away, back to himself. “You’re not done yet.” Bringing her up to that edge, watching her body, her face, he loved every second of it. With one hand still around her throat, he pushed her off his lap so they were both standing and kissed her deeply, letting his other hand explore her curves. 

“Wait.” It was her turn again. She pushed him away for a second and he waited to listen to her demands. “Let me take off your uniform.” He smiled as she moved her hands over the fabric, as slowly as she did for herself she unfastened his shirt and slid it off his broad shoulders, then moved to his undershirt, giving him light kisses on the stomach and chest as she pulled it up over his head. His pants, which were already partially undone, were the easiest to remove. She found herself laughing with him as he tried to step out of them after they pooled around his ankles, falling back onto the couch and taking her with him. Their laughter moved their bodies on one another in a way that brought her closer to him, and she could feel his warm skin against hers. She layed on top of him for a second, feeling him breathe, listening to his heart beat, and feeling his arms coil around her again.

His hands began to explore, and he felt her shifting on top of him. She sat up looking at him, and his hands slid back up to cup her breasts then back down again so his thumbs were resting on her sex. He began to rub her clit with his thumbs, watching her move to the feeling and moan. He reached for his cock with one hand, and pulled it up to slide between her pussy lips, not letting her have it inside her just yet, rubbing the tip against her clit and letting her wetness cover it’s length. She moaned, the most beautiful sound in the world, and grinded her hips back and forth over the length of his cock. She tried to reach down again to touch herself and intensify the feeling, but he pulled her wrist and sat up slightly, bringing both hands behind her back. “Not yet.” he whispered. He kissed up her neck, brushing his lips against her as he moved and she lifted her head back to feel his mouth and tongue on her skin. 

“You feel so good Bobbi.” Chakotay let out a moan, and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her around underneath him. His hips slid between her legs and he paused for another second, putting his hand back around her neck drawing her focus up at him. “Tell me what you want.”

She could barely form the words now, her head still spinning from the feeling of grinding on top of him. “I want to feel you inside of me, I want you to fuck me.” 

“Is that what you want?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Her words were ringing in his ears …’yes, sir’... and he thrusted the length of his cock deep inside of her wet pussy, watching her face change as she gasped when he filled her. She moaned into his thrusts, and floated her hands up his arms onto his shoulders where she dug in her nails to his back. He felt her nails pierce his skin and thrusted deeper, and her hips matched his rhythm pushing herself harder onto him. His grip on her throat tightened slightly, and he pulled himself up to watch her body move and quiver. Her moans became louder and surrounded him, and he slowed his pace, carefully feeling every inch coming in and out of her. 

Her sex was like velvet, soft and hot around his cock, he moaned at the feeling of her legs beginning to shake. He came to a stop still inside of her and watched her hips squirm around him. Slowly pulling out, he took his hand off her neck and moved it back onto her clit, rubbing slow circles with the pads of his fingers. Waves of pleasure were washing over her as she moaned again. “Turn over.” he said, still rubbing her clit. She groaned and pushed her hips into his hand. He leaned down to kiss her, and said in a low voice in her ear, “You’re not listening, I said turn over.” taking his hand away sharply, and stroking himself instead again. She sat up to turn over, and he stopped her abruptly, thrusting his fingers inside of her pulling them towards her g-spot. “What do you say?” 

Her head was dizzy again, but she knew the words this time. “Yes sir.” she moaned. 

“Good girl.” Chakotay kissed her again. 

She turned over with one knee on the couch and the other leg extended down to the floor, not bothering to hold herself up, she let her back arch and her arms slide forwards above her head. His hands trailed her spine and the curve of her hips before he thrusted into her again. She let out a cry from the pleasure, the change in position reaching new parts of herself. He filled her again and again, grabbing her hips to thrust harder and deeper, listening to her cries and moans change with his changes. “Fuck” she moaned again, “Oh fuck” her body was starting to tense and quiver, and he responded thrusting faster. “Please, you feel so good” she mumbled into the cushion between gasps. 

It felt so good to be inside of her, but hearing her say it brought him over the edge. He started to moan, thrusting harder and deeper, and bent down over her to pull her further into him, reaching a hand around to massage her clit while she quivered and begged. He spoke into her ear again in that low commanding voice “Tell me again, the right way.” 

“You feel so good inside of me sir, please don’t stop” She barely made the sentence out before she started shaking again with waves of pleasure. 

Chakotay felt her orgasam around his cock from the tightening pulses, and slowed his pace to match her body. “Do you want me to keep going?” He asked gently, knowing she might not tolerate more. 

She lazily nodded her head, and mumbled into the cushion again “mhm.” 

He chuckled at her response, and paused inside of her. “Turn over again.” She did so without hesitation. “That’s not right, what do you say?” 

“Yes sir.” She smiled up at him, like she had almost gotten away with it. 

In that moment she had the most beautiful smile in the world. He couldn't help but kiss her again, and again, and trailed down her chest, and breasts, and stomach, kissing her all the way until his mouth found her sex. She gasped again, as he slowly dragged his tongue over her clit, moving softly and carefully. She tasted like heaven, and she squirmed as his tongue began to flick faster. He thrusted his fingers inside of her, and started to suck on her clit, looking up as her body moved and swayed with his actions. Her hands curled into his hair, pulling his face down into her pussy. He reached down with his other hand and stroked himself again, before sitting up and putting the length of his cock back inside of her. 

She let out another gasp, and he began to thrust rhythmically with her hips pushing into him. He stayed with his body pressed against hers this time, feeling her every movement. Her moans became more intense, and he moved faster letting out moans of his own from the feeling of her body pressed up against him. “I’m going to come.” no longer able to resist the feeling, he managed the words between thrusts. 

“I want you to cum inside me.” She responded, feeling the length of him and hearing his moans, knowing it was her turn again. 

He had no time to correct her with their little game, he could feel his orgasam pulsing in her as he thrusted deeply one last time, feeling the waves flow through him, and cumming inside of her. She could feel the heat from the cum running down onto her thighs, and the pulses in his cock as he remained still. They breathed deeply together, being still, feeling each other's breath, dizzy from the orgasams, and happy.

A small laugh escaped Bobbi as she felt the weight of Chakotay laying ontop of her, and he started to laugh too. Before they knew it they were both laughing together, a mess on the couch. She sat up with him and curled into his arms. It still felt so good to be touched, by someone, by anyone. They were all alone together in this quadrant, and neither of them knew exactly how much they needed it, that is right up until they knew how much they needed it.

[shadowtarot]

CHM: I am just using Sho as a Red Herring/Living Inciting incident FYI. Maybe he contacts Ryuji again, following a fight possibly, he tells him to tell his leader (how he knows about Ren in Inaba? who knows.) to go to Junes and stick his hand in the big TV in the Elec. Dept. just avoid the mascot and manager (Yosuke). Sho is just causing stuff for shits and giggles. Plus it’s a way to rope in P4.

Chariot's Mystery Part 18

Following that fiasco in the messed up Metaverse, Ryuji's been on edge. Despite the fact that Ren gave that threat to Kirijo, they now had to capture Sho as a show of faith. Or as it actually was, work with Sho to try and further expose Kirijo. That meant that he was bait for the red-haired manic. His mind goes back to the conversation that happened directly after school that day: "ARE YOU INSANE?!" Zenkichi says in the video call. "Sending Ryuji on his own to lure him is suicide. I had a first hand experience with him, and despite his looks he could easily break my damn sword if he wanted. At least...that's what I could tell at least." The Trio were in the warehouse again, given it was the only safe spot at the moment to discuss these things. "Buuut, we don't want to send you and Doc out there. You're both Newbs! Sure you've had a little experience in combat, but Ryuji's had his Persona longer than most of us! ...excluding Mona." Futaba plays with a Jaggriko in her hand as Yusuke sketches in the background. "Well I'm at least gonna stay on standby, I'm not about to let this get deadly if simple discussion goes south." Zenkichi folds his arms, looking at everyone seriously. Sophia's tiny icon bounces on the screen. "I can try to look up information on him while we do these dealings. Perhaps find any report of crimnal history?" Makoto nods. "That sounds good. Now Ryuji, Ren showed you how to make Thief Tools during our roundtrip right? We don't know Sho's elemental affinity...if he even has one. I'd make a few elemental rounds for each element. Just to be safe."

"Right." Ryuji nods, glancing over at the spare set of tools Ren gave him. Suddenly, Ryuji's phone alarm goes off. It was time for him to start heading down that same alley way as before. Zenkichi and Maruki were watching from a safe distance. All Ryuji needed to do was get Sho's cooperation. And as if on cue, Sho appears. "Seriously? The same damn alleyway? You're not supposed to be predictable in your line of work, dumbass." Sho's getting dangerously close, but Ryuji's hand is firmly in his pocket, thumb hovering over the Broken Metanav. He doesn't say a word as he activates it, dragging Sho into the Metaverse with him. Taking a deep breath as Skull opens his eyes to the glitchy Metaverse, he draws his weapon. "Sho, yeah? Look we both hate Kirijo, but we need a way to get closer in to dig more dirt on 'em so-" But Sho's already drawn one sword, pointing it at Skull's neck. "Blah blah blah. I'll listen to whatever the hell you got, but I ain't listing to SHIT until you fight me." Now that there wasn't several Persona users around him, Skull could better judge Sho's aura. There was no way in hell he'd win in a fair fight. Good thing he wasn't planning on fighting fair.

I gotta fight him just enough to figure out his weaknesses. Time to make him show his hand!

Skull charges at Sho, not even summoning William, choosing instead to just strike at him with his club. Sho just casually blocks it with his short sword, drawing his full length and striking him hard with the blunt end. "Did you seriously already forget how I was armed? Or are you really as much of a dumbass as I had you pegged for?" Sho mocks charging at Ryuji while he's stunned. He was fast, too fast to react to. But he needed to space himself somehow! Skull begins to scan the buildings, looking for a safe path to jump and scale. Unfortunately, while a path was found...a Curse attack had already hit him the moment he took his eyes off Sho. "Gah!" Ryuji winces. Curse didn't do a whole lot to him, but at least he could hopefully figure out his weakness now that he knows his affinity. Moving fast, a Bless Round is loaded into his shotgun as he aims...but looking down past the barrel...he sees Sho yawn as he puts his weapons away. "You space out in combat, then point a gun at me? Come on...at least make it interesting. Look, if your goal was to bore me with piss poor fighting you did it. Congrats, loser." Sho leans up against a wall though goes back to standing up once he notices the wall cease to exist. "Your group has a leader, and I know pretty damn well that none of you three bozos are it. Nooo, you gotta be special beyond special to lead a group. At least that's what those damn people in blue seemed to imply...." Sho mutters to himself. "Give me a way to contact him." Putting the shotgun away, Skull stares right at Sho. "You'll be contacting Joker in that case. I can't give you direct contact, but we have a sorta...uh...secure network we use to relay information and-" "And? You need an access point to ping me, yeah? Here." Sho takes out a slip of paper. The stuff written on it is foreign to Ryuji, but all he can gather is...Sho was already prepared for this. This might be why Kirijo counts him as dangerous. Three Hours following this exchange, Futaba is getting the link all set up for Ren. "Is it illegal to hack someone if they've given consent, Zenkichi-san?" Haru asks as the team has one last meeting. "If permission was granted, it'd be the same as hotwiring someone's car to save their life, yes? The act is frowned upon, but if there's no bad intent then it shouldn't have issues." Yusuke interjects. "Hey-let me at least answer the question!" Zenkichi sighs. Everyone laughs, only for Futaba to suddenly cheer. "Everything's all set up, Ren! Now whenever you use that access point we've been using to contact someone outside of the team on your cell...the voice filter should still work."

"Great. I'll be contacting him solo. I'll try to get any intel out of him I can." Ren nods. "I'll talk to you guys tomorrow with what I got." Once the team logged off, Ren contacts Sho. "So you actually called, huh? Guess you guys do some things right after all." Sho's snark can be felt on the other end of the line. "Joker right? Why are you guys so hellbent on contacting me for?" "We want to strike a deal with you. We need an in to get on Kirijo's good side and expose what they have done in better detail. But to do this, we need your help. You know a lot about the group, correct?" Ren choses his words carefully.

"...yeah I do. Hell, they hide so many damn secrets, it's clear they're planning SOMETHING. Did your little data dig give you info about the TVs?" Sho's question is sudden.

"TVs?"

"Yeah. In a small town called Inaba, there's a TV in the local Junes that never gets sold. They use it as a normal TV for customers. But...if you touch that TV, something strange happens. No one in the town knows about it, so it's 100% a cover up." Sho's smirking on the other end of the line. "Confirm that rumor for me, yeah? ...and don't let the bear or the brunette see you."

Sho suddenly hangs up at that point. "TV in Junes. ...there is that outdated TV in the home appliances section." Checking the time, Ren makes his way to Junes. He had a few hours before they closed, should be enough time to see if it was BS or not. The store's huge, weaving and maneuvering around different isles until he finally reaches that section. "Hm...so if I touch it..." Ren says quietly, extending his hand to the screen only to see it ripple like water. "That movement....it's not dissimilar to how the Meta Nav takes you in. ...can I stick my hand in it...?" The moment he does, however...two pairs of eyes have already locked on to what he's doing. He forgot to heed the warning....

[ask-powerwoman]

So, Villa how did Dot find out about Ultra Woman? And why did she leave in the first place?

*This story is heavily based on the Mega Man Archie comics.

“Hey, mum?” Dot asks her creator, Doctor Villa “I thought I was your first robot. WVN-00A.”

“That’s right.” Villa responds with a smile

“Then... who’s WVN-000, ‘Lyra’...?” Villa froze, and glances to the screen that her daughter was looking at.

“See?” Dot says pointing to the name, “I was cleaning up the database when I found this. Is it an error?”

Villa sighs. “That... that isn’t an error.” She says, “Lyra was your older sister.”

Dot’s eyes light up. “Really?! Where is she? When do I get to meet her?”

“I’m sorry, Dot. But I’m afraid you’ll never get to meet Lyra.” Villa says sadly “she was my first triumph, and my greatest failure...”

“I... I don’t understand. What happened?” Dot asks.

That’s when Villa began to explain what had happened many years ago. When she was younger, more naive, and just beginning her life’s work. Back when She still counted Doctor Wily as a friend...

~~~

“That’s it Albert! She’s all done!” Villa says with a smile, lifting the goggles up onto the top of her head.

“Mmm..” Wily placed a hand to his chin, examining Villa’s newest creation. “It’s awfully... human-looking, Winter.” He says “Your military contract was for an advanced combat robot. You’ve built a... young lady.”

“And” Villa says “And my robot master line WILL be capable of advanced warfare --as well as a myriad of other advanced mental processes. I’ll get them their weapon, but this prototype, My girl, will stay with me.”

“Hmph. I’d say... you were taking your love of robotics too far, but then I’d be a hypocrite.” Wily says with a softened smile to his friend. “Let’s wake her up.”

“Right. Wake up, dear, Good morning...” the robot girl sat up on the work table, her long blonde ponytail moving over slightly as she rubs her eyes. “...Lyra!”

“...hello?” Lyra says, hesitantly, before finding herself suddenly picked up off the table and into a strong hug.

“Welcome to the world my lovely girl!” Villa says happily “I am your creator, Doctor Villa!” She allows Lyra to sit down once again. “How do you feel? The self diagnostic should’ve kicked in first thing.”

“I feel... fine?” Lyra responds “all systems report nominal.” She looks around

“I... I feel... confused. Overwhelmed. Disoriented. I know we’re in the ‘lab’ and what a ‘lab’ is but... why?”

Villa smiles with excitement “do you hear this, Albert? She’s self aware! Not five minutes online and she’s already thinking metaphysically!”

“Mm-hmm.” Wily replies scribbling notes down on a pad “Don’t mind me... just taking the measurements you’ll need for the weapon upgrades later. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Lyra blinks and looks at her hands “w...weapons?”

“Don’t worry about that now. You’re taking the first steps to bridge the gap between humanity and robotics.” Villa places a hand on Lyra’s shoulder. “You have data, but what you need now, is culture.”

Villa took Lyra out to see the city. The large buildings that seem to tower over everything, She bought Lyra a long purple scarf that she was fascinated by, She took her to the museum to see wondrous pieces of artwork, to the forest area where she got to feed real, organic birds and a deer, and finally to the symphony in the park as the moon finally began to rise.

In retrospect, Villa was too enthusiastic back then. She pushed too much of the world--of her own goals--on Lyra at once. But she seemed to be accepting it all so well...

Unfortunately, this was also when Villa received a great deal of her funding from military research. Without it, she would never have been able to construct Lyra. However, her benefactors wanted something to show for their investments, so...

Villa placed a helmet on Lyra’s head carefully as they prepare for the demonstration.

“Remember your programming. Hit-and-Run, don’t be reckless, pick your targets wisely, don’t forget to use your cover to your advantage...”

“Relax.” Lyra says with a confident smile. “I got this.”

Villa let’s out a heavy sigh as Lyra walks into the field.

“G-good afternoon, gentlemen. Today’s demonstration is of Villa Labs autonomous combat robot, model number WVN-000.” She says to the military representatives. “Today you will see how a robot can be capable of independent thought. Villa Labs hopes to bring the same capabilities to the civilian sector one day. But first, we will demonstrate the versatility my d--er.. this robot can perform in a... in a live fire exercise. Future models will allow for military operations with no... um... risk to human life.”

The demonstration began. Lyra ducked behind one of the walls as the training drones began to rapid fire.

Lyra smirks, charging her buster and dashing out from her cover, taking out several drones before reaching the next piece of wall for cover.

The shots from the drones cracked the wall on the outside, but that didn’t stop Lyra from leaping up and grabbing a hold of the wall, using the top as cover to take out more drones.

But something wasn’t right.

Lyra lands back on the ground, pushing the wall hard enough to topple it over.

Her body sparking all the while.

As exercise 2 was about to start, the sparking grew worse. Lyra felt off. It was dizzying for her.

“Doc... Doctor V-Villa? Something’s...”

Lyra tried to fire at one of the new incoming drones, but it missed.

And the drones swoop down to cut her with the propeller blades

“Lyra? LYRA?!” Villa exclaims with fear and worry “STOP THE TEST!!”

She came running over to her daughter, who now lay weak on the ground.

“Everything was going so well.” One of the military representatives says, “What happened, doctor?”

“There... seems to be an imbalance in her power generator. She’s never been put under this kind of strain...” Villa says, examining the data she was receiving from the damaged prototype.

“You didn’t test it first?”

“Of course I did!” Villa exclaims “but everything about her is unique—experimental. A robot this advanced requires a tremendous amount of power, and when the output is pushed...”

“It certainly shows promise,” says one of the military representatives, “but the power failure is a concern.”

“Yes...” adds another, “A simpler model would require less power, a simpler battle software would still be sufficient.”

“Congratulations, Doctor, you’ve won us over. We’ll clear you for further research funding, get back to us when you’ve got a smaller, simpler model.”

“Y-yes, sirs...” Doctor Villa says as she held Lyra in her arms, “thank you...”

But that wasn’t Villa’s real failure with Lyra.

Later that night, Lyra woke up in the lab, her core plugged into several machines meant to keep it stable

“Ugh... Doctor Villa?” She asks, rubbing her head, but looking around, her creator was nowhere in sight.

But she could hear an argument from another room.

“Absolutely not!”

“Listen to yourself, Winter! You’re way too attached to her. Let me do the modifications.”

“I said ‘no!’”

Lyra pulls the chords out of her core, and slowly gets up and goes to see what was going on.

“Oh, so you’ll trust me to design her arm-cannon, but you won’t trust me to modify her power core?”

“You DESIGNED it, but you didn’t INSTALL it. I did!”

“And you obviously did it wrong, hence the imbalance!”

Lyra stood still, watching her mother fight with her friend.

“You were BANNED from directly working on advanced robotics.”

“Nice of you to reopen THAT wound, Winter.” Wily huffs.

“You brought that upon yourself!” Villa retorts, “But more importantly, Lyra is MY girl, and I’ll handle her redesigns.”

“Doctor Villa...” Lyra starts, gaining the attention of the two Doctors.

“Lyra!” Villa exclaims, “I didn’t know you were already recharged.”

Villa knelt down to her level, placing her hands on her shoulders.

“Are you alright? Do you feel off-balance at all?”

“I’m fine” Lyra replies, “what’s this about redesigning me?”

Doctor Villa sighs, “your power generator is flawed.” She says, pointing to Lyra’s core. “If I don’t fix it, the imbalance will eventually destroy you. I have to redesign your core to save you.”

“And what if you bungle it,” Wily starts, “and erase all her personal programming?”

“I’m sure you’ll retain all your personality traits!” Villa says, in an attempt to reassure her daughter.

“Heh—just as you were sure her generator would work properly?”

“Enough, Albert, you’ll scare her! You’re not helping!”

“I know. You won’t let me.”

“I said ‘Enough!’”

“Fine, fine.”

“Lyra,” Villa says to her daughter, “Go hook yourself up in the lab so your power remains stable. We’ll begin work tomorrow.”

“But...”

“Now, please. This is for your own good.”

“...But” Lyra says quietly, “What about what I want?”

That night... Well, Villa can’t be certain if this was how it played out, But she had run the scenario over and over again in her head...

Lyra hid behind the wall to Villa’s room, listening as her mother talked to herself.

“I just don’t understand. It’s to save her life.” Villa says to herself as she paced back and forth in her room. “I coded the closest thing to a will of her own, but I want her to use it to make good, logical decisions.”

She sighs “..who would be logical facing their own mortality? Oh, Thomas. If you were here, you would know what to do...” Villa says, looking at an old picture of Thomas light, Wily and herself.

“Perhaps if I... it would be a lot easier if I did rewrite that rebellious streak out of her...”

Hearing that, Lyra had enough. Gripping her fist she leaves before she could hear the rest of what Villa had said to herself.

“No, no, no... what am I saying?” Villa says facepalming, “Once she’s repaired I’ll have to make it up to her in some way. And, in the long run, she’ll see it was for the greater good.”

Lyra in the meantime, was sobbing. As she packed a bag full of E-Tanks for a long and lonely trip ahead of her, she glanced at a picture of Villa and herself.

Smiling as if they had a perfect life... what lies had Villa been feeding her?...

In a moment of anger, Lyra smashed the photo on a ground.

The she walked out the door, never to come back.

~~~

“I never heard of or saw her again.” Villa says to Dot. “My pride, My arrogance, My lack of foresight... they robbed me of my first creation... My first daughter.”

“Well, then, we can go look for her!” Dot says with a smile “Me and Bounce can start looking right now!”

Villa chuckles a little. “No, Dot. Lyra’s power generator would’ve gone offline by now. It pains me to say it, but she’s gone.” She says with a sorrowful tone.

“Although there are long nights where I wonder what happened to her after she left...”

*A/N: this was a good excuse to submit a story instead of a comic. Hope you enjoyed this little story!

[wickedsingularity]

Home [drabble]

Fandom: MCU Pairings/characters: Steve Rogers x reader (but not really), Helen Cho makes an appearance Words: 1564 Warnings: Injuries, mention of physical and verbal abuse, children being locked up, angst, panic attack, unloving parents, so much...

Prompt/summary: For @cevansgirl​'s 1500 followers writing challenge! I've done the prompt "I found home in your arms". Just a short story of two people with not ideal backgrounds who have found love and comfort in each other.

It had been a rough mission, physically and mentally. Some old wounds had been... maybe not reopened, but the scabs had been scratched at and drops of metaphorical blood were trickling out. Add to that a black eye, cut lip, sore ribs and jaw, a slight limp, nosebleed and aching limbs, the flight home had been quiet.

Finding a room full of enhanced children was not something Steve and I had expected. We had been there because of an anonymous tip, an old seemingly abandoned apartment building that was really a HYDRA nest. After we had cleared the area, collected all the data we could find and thought we had been through it all, Steve had heard noises. And there, in a hidden room deep in the basement were about twenty enhanced children, all from the age of maybe 4 or 5 up until mid-teens. Locked away to be "rehabilitated" for having powers. We called for backup, needing to get them out of there.

I kept my cool until help came. Talking to the children, reassuring them. The evidence of the "rehabilitation" was visible on them, on their skin and in their eyes. The longer I was there with them, the more panicky I felt. When backup finally came, I rushed out in need of air, only to collapse in the tiny lavatory in our Quinjet, dry heaving and hyperventilating, the nosebleed I got from being headbutted starting up again.

Steve took care of everything and when he came back to the jet, I sat in the co-pilot chair, still panicky and struggling to breathe normally, but also feeling shame for not being able to control myself. Not to mention, my uniform was covered in even more blood than before. Steve didn't make anything of it. Instead he kissed the top of my head, got us into the air and activated the autopilot. Then he found a medkit and knelt down in front of me.

As gently as he could, he cleaned the cut on my lip and the worst of the nosebleed, just enough to last until Helen could take care of everything. When he was done, he laid a hand on my cheek and stared up at me, bright blue eyes telling me everything I needed to hear. I leaned into the warmth of his hand, closing my eyes for a moment. Soft lips pressed against mine, and some of my unease lifted.

He pulled back enough to lean his forehead against mine. "They will be fine," he whispered against my lips. I nodded barely noticeable but felt him smile against me. Then he stood up and put away the bloody gauze and the medkit, and came back with an icepack for his bruised eye and sore jaw and took over the control of the Quinjet again.

In the infirmary, Steve was having his ankle checked by a nurse. It was not necessary in the slightest, he didn't even limp anymore and it was feeling a lot better in the couple of hours it had taken to fly back and would be right as rain in the morning. But he knew it was pointless to protest. And it gave him a moment to look over at Doctor Cho treating the cut on his girl's lip, cleaning it better than he had done and then taping it.

The two women were talking quietly about something that brought a smile to her face and a giggle to come from Doctor Cho. Steve's lip pulled at the corner too. That was a good sign.

That room with the enhanced kids... As an enhanced human herself, her parents had sent her away to be rehabilitated when she was 7. She'd spent a couple of years in a place like that, being poked and prodded, been to "counselling", and basically been physically and verbally abused. Eventually, she and a few friends had managed to escape. A couple of them didn't make it far and that was something she didn't like to think about. She had tried to go home, but her parents had spat insults at her, saying she shouldn't exist, she wasn't right, she'd never be anything, they didn't have a daughter, and slammed the door in her face. Trying to stay under the radar, she and a couple of the kids that had escaped had lived on the streets for a while, until they managed to get up on their own feet. But she had never found her place.

That's how she and Steve found each other. The battle of New York opened her eyes to S.H.I.E.L.D. and she'd enlisted hoping it would give her somewhere to belong. Somewhere where she could use her abilities for something useful. Feel worthy. But it wasn't until she got paired with Steve for a mission and got to know him and bond with him over not feeling like they belonged in the world that things changed. Slowly, they found their place together. She showed him that there was something worth living in the now for, and he showed her that she meant the world to someone. Now, Steve knew he didn't – couldn't – belong anywhere without her. If he woke up in a different world, planet, universe tomorrow, as long as she was with him, he was home.

The nurse declared Steve's ankle well enough to not need a supportive brace, his jaw would be fine and his black eye was already colouring as if it had been days, so he was free to go. She was still being checked by Doctor Cho, who was now poking and prodding at her nose. Steve worried it might have been more damaged than it looked after she got headbutted by that HYDRA scumbag, but he trusted Doctor Cho to fix whatever it was. So, he decided he would go find a computer and write the report so she didn't have to.

I felt restless at home waiting for Steve. The best cheeseburger I knew tasted like cardboard with ketchup and pickles. My favourite pyjamas felt scratchy against my skin. Steve's art on the walls was unrecognizable. The couch felt hard and lumpy.

I wanted nothing but sleep, but my heart rate was through the roof and it was like I had ants in my blood. It was impossible to settle down. I tried my best to watch TV, but my legs bounced, my hands were fidgeting, I wanted to get out. And run, run, run, far away. I kept seeing the children in that room, sometimes they changed into the children I had been locked away with. Everything felt just like it did when I was there. Not belonging anywhere, nowhere to go, nothing. Just get away, away, away.

There was the sound of the door being unlocked and I started, nearly spitting out my heart. It opened and I picked up on the sound of familiar footsteps, breathing with relief. Boots were untied and pulled off. Then the padding of feet across the floor.

"Hi, doll," Steve said, leaning over the back of the couch, still looking dirty and bloody.

"Hi." I smiled, face feeling stiff.

"Smells like you showered already?"

"Yeah. I'll just go take one alone then."

"Dinner's in the fridge."

He grinned. "Love you."

"Love you too." I watched him as he walked into the bedroom, and then I heard him undress and head into the bathroom, starting up the shower. I tuned out the TV and just listened to the water running, leaning back in the couch. Imagining the water cascading down his naked body, blood and grime and soap running down the drain. If I hadn't felt exhaustion starting to pull me down, I would have joined him.

By the time he came back out, I had dozed off and didn't notice that he warmed up dinner, sat down next to me, ate and flipped through the channels. It wasn't until he put the empty dishes away and came back and put one arm under my knees and the other behind my back and pulled me gently towards him as he leaned back on the chaise that I woke up.

"Hi," I said sleepily, leaning into his chest.

"Hi. Some mission, huh?"

"They are going to be okay now." I felt that in my heart.

We sat in silence for a bit, letting the TV do the talking and I marvelled at how grateful I was to have Steve. How I had never felt grounded before I met him, and just how calm my soul was with him. I knew he felt the same about me, and that felt even more comforting to me. Being the man out of time and being reminded about it all the time in so many ways, I knew it wasn't easy. But he showed me in so many ways that I was for him the same that he was for me.

And today it had been my turn to have the old scabs scratched at.

"I want another cheeseburger."

A rumble sounded in his chest, his whole body shaking with laughter, and I couldn't help but laugh too. "You're incorrigible, doll."

"Duh."

Steve tightened his arms around me, still chuckling. Grinning, I took a deep breath, smelling his clean skin, the detergent on his shirt, a whiff of garlic on his breath. I had found home in his arms.

No tags this time. Probably won’t tag anymore.

[b----4archived]

🐺- A memory about being alone

“You will not be alone,” Data assured him. “You will be with your classmates.” 

Sometimes, B-4 felt disconnected from his brother. They were nearly identical in every way, but Data lacked the emotional understanding that B-4 was seemingly plagued with. He had heard about many of Data’s experiences at the Academy. It involved a lot of prejudice. A lot of jeering comments. None of this bothered him, of course, so his reassurances meant very little. 

Now that he had begun his Academy training, he definitely felt alone. His roommate seemed a decent person, but B-4 found himself avoiding his quarters as much as possible. The first week of school, he had a dream that shocked him right back into cognitive functions with a yelp and a burst of emotion that horrified the other cadet. He had discontinued the program then, but it bothered his roommate that he did not sleep. So B took to roaming the grounds at night, which got him into trouble when people reported him lurking on the walking paths at 0400 hours. This was a bad beginning to an even worse experience. 

Classes were easy but interaction was difficult. He did well academically, but comments were commonly made about him ‘cheating’ his way through. After all, how could it be fair if he remembered everything he had ever been exposed to. “Thing about that,” B-4 ranted over subspace to Data one evening. “I remember all the schoolwork, but I also remember the bad stuff. So while they forget the way people hurt them, I get to relive their insults over and over as if it had just happened.”

Data tried to be sympathetic but had no solid words of advice. “You should simply concentrate on your schoolwork,” he suggested. 

“When are you getting your emotion chip back?” B demanded. 

Data shook his head. “We need to develop one that is compatible with this physical form. It will not be for some time.” He paused, looking perplexed. “Why do you ask?”

As time went on, B-4 became more overwhelmed. Schoolwork was not enough to keep him busy. By the closing of the third semester, he still had not made one friend. He had taken to spending all of his time in the library - it did not close - and reading anything he could find. He had nearly exhausted the building of its contents. 

One evening, as B-4 worked alone in the cybernetics lab, he received a call from the Daystrom Institute. 

“All I’m saying is that your processing systems have been on the fritz for weeks.” Bruce Maddox was seething. His desk was covered in mountains of paperwork and his voice was elevated. B-4 shrunk back in his seat. “Why haven’t you called?” 

B shrugged. “You get daily reports,” he said weakly. “I-I thought if there was something to be concerned about you-”

“Have you been running self-diagnostics?” 

“Sometimes?” 

“B-4, we agreed that you could go to the Academy if you took care of yourself. Daily reports don’t give me the information I need. If there is something wrong, you have to tell us.” 

B-4 nodded as he clenched his fists. Neither of them said anything for a moment, and then Bruce sighed. “What is happening over there, B?” he asked in a calmer tone. “Statistics report.”

B-4 hesitated. “I have made a few...modifications.” 

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “Such as…?” 

“I have discontinued my sleep sequence. I have made attempts to lessen the effects of my neural processors by installing a dampen-”

“You WHAT?”

“I thought it would be helpful in-”

“B-4 you cannot simply go in and begin messing around with your hardware! You could kill yourself, for God’s sake! Why would you do this?”

In the dim light of the cybernetics lab, in otherwise total silence, B-4 began to cry. “I do not want these emotions,” he groaned. “I simply do not have the ability to control them. I wish to be deactivated until Data can fix-”

“No. Stop. B-4 stop it right now. You are not going to be deactivated.”

“I see no other solution. I’m not equipped to handle this.”

“What emotions are they, B?” It was as if they were back in the Daystrom lab, attempting to navigate the journey to full sentience. Identify the emotion. Find the cause. 

“I am upset,” he said. 

“Yes, but why? What are you feeling?” 

“I am...sad.” He felt stupid performing such a basic exercise. “I feel...inadequate. Negative.”

“Is the schoolwork difficult?” 

B-4 shook his head. “No, the schoolwork is not difficult.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “Are your classmates difficult?” B-4 nodded. “Have you made any friends?” B-4 shook his head and bit down on his lip. There was silence for a few seconds. B-4 cringed at the sound of his sniffling echoing in the near-empty lab. “B, you are lonely,” Bruce said finally. “Why didn’t you call me?” 

“I spoke to Data.”

“Data doesn’t understand. He doesn’t have the same experiences as you. He probably just told you to ignore them and concentrate on your work.” 

B barked out a laugh. “Yes, that’s what he said.” 

“Going to school is hard, B-4. It’s hard for people who aren’t a little over a year old. Hard for people who have had entire lifetimes to practice emotions. You are allowed to feel overwhelmed. Do you want to come back?”

“No!” B-4 looked up at the screen, panic-stricken. “Please, no. I can do it. I...I need to do this.”

“You don’t need to do this,” Bruce countered. “You don’t have to be in Starfleet. There are so many things for you to do. You could work here. You could choose any field you want.” 

“I want to be in Starfleet.”

“Why?”

“I…” Why did he want to be in Starfleet? He wasn’t sure, really. He had always just assumed that’s where he was meant to be. Did he need to have a reason? “I always have.” ‘Always’ was not a long time, but it sure felt like it. 

“You have to take care of yourself, B. If you can’t, then you have to find someone who can help you. I’ll make some calls and see-”

“No. I can do it.” 

Bruce looked skeptical. “I will be checking your daily reports from here on out.”

“Okay.” 

They looked at one another in silence until B-4 heard a door close behind him. “I have to go,” he told Bruce. 

“Alright. I will call tomorrow to check in.”

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

The call was terminated just as someone approached. 

“Oh!” The voice was loud, brash, high-pitched. “Dinnae see you there. Sorry! Eh...can I come in here?” 

B-4 turned to see a young lady in a first-year cadet’s uniform. She had white hair, an indentation on her forehead, and tattoos on her face. He did not recognize what race she was, but she clearly had a Scottish accent. “Yes?” he answered. “I was just attempting to perform an experiment on...myself.” His explanation dwindled when he realized how strange it sounded. 

The girl, however, was not perturbed. “Okay!” she said with a shrug. “I’m a little surprised to see someone here at 0500 hours. Usually it’s empty.” 

“I do not require sleep,” B-4 said. 

“Oh okay,” she said as she moved over to plop down her backpack on a nearby table. “Do you need help with your experiment?” 

B was baffled. He turned in his chair to face the girl. “You do not think it’s strange?” he asked.

“Well, admittedly it’s probably a little difficult to do that sort of thing by yourself, I’d assume. Otherwise no. I come here nearly every morning around this time. To be honest, I try and get as much homework done while the place is empty. I cannae stand most people. There’s a lot of jerks in this school.” She pulled out a PADD and started scrolling through it. “My concentration is in cybernetics,” he told him. “I can help if you like.” She paused and then looked up at him. “Cadet Morag,” she said with a grin. “You are?” 

“B-4,” he said simply. 

“Cool.” 

[dbhtychou]

You and Me at the End of the World

Connor x Reader

Sequel to Friends With Benefits

Summary: Inspired by the polar vortex that happened last winter. I have a friend who lives in Chicago while that happened and was telling me all about it. Connor and reader are stuck indoors while it's far too cold to go outside, even for an android. (I started writing this in the winter and then forgot about it.)

Hank didn't know how Connor called him. He knew the android didn't have a phone, or a phone number for that matter. But still, his phone buzzed and when the screen showed no number, he knew it was Connor.

“No, do not try to come back home, I mean it,” Hank said to Connor on the phone. “It's supposed to get to fifty below by tomorrow morning. No one should be outside. They're going to set the fucking train tracks on fire for God's sake. Not even you are going to survive that cold. If she's letting you say, then stay until this shitty weather is done. You hear me?”

“I understand, Hank. Take care of yourself and Sumo.”

“Okay, good luck.”

***************

“Hank wishes us luck,” Connor reported as he cut the connection. He did not add the inferring tone Hank had in his voice when he said it.

“We're going to need it,” (Name) said. “It's anyone's guess when the water pipes will be fixed. I don't even know if they can be fixed before the polar vortex lifts. Thank you so much for picking up a few gallons of water from the store.” She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

He smiled at the contact. That cute, crooked, boyish smile that he had. “My pleasure. I am happy to assist you in anything you need.”

“Can you assist in fixing those water pipes?” she teased.

“That, I'm afraid, is out of my realm of expertise.”

“Still amazing anyway,” she praised with a wink and turned her attention back to the food cooking on the stove.

Connor sat himself politely at the table as he watched her cook. He wished, not for the first time, that eating was an activity in which androids could participate. Many human social practices revolved around meals. The dating aspect was no different with common traditions of taking a romantic interest to dinner or out for a drink. Connor could offer these options, but could not participate. As such, it could be awkward to both parties. Sometimes it was even awkward with Hank. The few times his partner would actually prepare himself a real meal, he would complain of Connor watching him while he ate. But Connor was not sure of what else to do with himself.

The same was here as well. He watched (Name) at the stove with trepidation. The weather had him trapped at her apartment, he couldn't just leave. And he truly didn't want to. He had been pursuing her company since that fall rainy day when he left her speechless at the bus stop. Maybe even before then.

She had rejected his very blunt 'friends with benefits' plan. She wasn't that kind of girl, she said. She would only be intimate with someone she loved.  Later, she did return with a compromise: if Connor wished to learn more about the physical aspects of getting to know a person, she was willing to do the small things. They had held hands. She had fallen asleep on his shoulder a few times when they watched movies. Since the fall, there had been very little else.

Connor hadn't minded. His goals had changed. He was no longer as interested in learning the intricacies of physical human intimacy. Yet. The former deviant hunter in him wanted the more difficult prize. He wanted her love; he wanted to her fall for him. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to achieve this. Talking to Hank wasn't any help either.

“Look, Connor, it either happens when it happens or it doesn't. That's just the way it is,” was the best explanation Hank could offer.

Connor found this reply unsatisfactory and was determined to learn the full equation of human romance himself. So far, he was very much lacking in data. They had spent time together these past few months. (Name) was always happy to see him, to spend time with him.  They enjoyed each other's company, they became closer friends. But there was little else. The spark of this human emotion of love seemed elusive still and Connor did not know how to gain it.

So he continued to see her, to study her. And to frown at her back slightly while he watched her stand at the stove, preparing himself for a meal made awkward since he could could only watch her eat. Something humans were not comfortable with.

(Name) finished cooking and fixed her plate. Then she turned and motioned her head toward the living area. “Thanks for waiting. We can go now.”

Go? Connor followed her and she plopped herself on the couch, folding her legs under her with the plate propped up on her thighs.

“So, what's up with that RK900 model?” (Name) suddenly asked him while she ate. “Why would Cyberlife even think of releasing that after all that's happened?”

Connor raised a brow at her, surprised at the sudden topic. The RK900, practically dropped on the DPD's doorstep with little explanation, was the subject of plenty of office gossip. To the other humans. No one talked about it around him. No one had asked him other than Hank's initial “What the fuck is that?” when he first saw the new android.

“I'm a prototype,” Connor responded in his 'just the facts ma'am' voice she sometimes accused him of. “The RK900 was supposed to be the resulting model developed for commercial release. Or, I suppose, military release would be more accurate.”

“And yet there seems to be only one of him, and he's at the precinct,” she responded.

“I cannot say why the RK900 was released. I have long since left Cyberlife. I do not affiliate with them anymore.”

“Good, you shouldn't. You're much better off here where people care about you.” Connor smiled a little to himself at her admission of caring. She didn't notice as she chewed thoughtfully. “Have you ever like... talked to him?”

Connor blinked at her. “No,” he realized.

“Why? Is it because he looks like you? Is that weird? It would be weird to me.”

He thought about it. Practically every android in the city, save maybe Markus, had at least a handful of other androids that looked to be their carbon copies. It didn't seem to bother them. This one sudden RK unit that appeared a few weeks ago was the first android Connor had ever met that looked exactly like him. But looks were all they had in common. Their inner build was different. Not even their basic programming was the same. Connor wasn't sure if same-model androids felt any kinship to each other, but Connor certainly felt none of that toward the RK900. It was a stranger to him. An Other with his face. And Connor suddenly realized that not only had he never conversed with the RK900, he had never wanted to.

“You okay?” (Name) then asked. “You look a little concerned. Your LED is yellow.”

Connor blinked, trying to put his thoughts and feelings in order. “I honestly don't know how I feel about the RK900. I... I think I have been actively avoiding the subject and him on purpose.”

“It's okay if he makes you uncomfortable, Connor. You're allowed to feel that way. Though there may be some point where you will have to converse with him at work.”

“You're right. I'm going to think on this.”

“Do you mind if... I talked to him?”

Connor's LED roiled back to yellow. His brows went down and (Name) knew her answer before he said anything.

“Don't worry, I promise I will always like you better,” she assured with affection.

Connor wasn't sure why, but that statement soothed whatever emotional turmoil plagued him.

“Be right back.” (Name) stood from the couch and took the empty plate with her. Connor had completely forgotten she was even eating in front of him. It had been as comfortable as ever. He was always comfortable around her, he realized. Even the first time he met her. Their personalities just fit, like two pieces of a puzzle that were always meant to lock together.

His gaze followed her as she walked back into the kitchen. Then, the lights suddenly went out and they were dropped into pitch blackness. A power outage, Connor thought calmly. He wasn't surprised with the weather outside. It was bound to happen.

“Connor?”

He stood, called by not just his name, but the anxious tone in her voice. He had never heard her sound so lost and vulnerable before. It awakened a protective streak in him and he strode with purpose to the kitchen.

“I'm here.” His night vision made it easy to see her reaching out blindly in the darkness. He took her outstretched hand and felt certain satisfaction when she immediately came into his space.

“There you are. I can see your LED.” With her free hand, she touched the blue circle at his temple and swirled her finger around it. She didn't touch his face often. Connor found himself bending down closer, wishing she would touch him more.

“Too bad you're not wearing your jacket,” she added. “It would make you easier to find. I've always liked how it glowed.”

“I'll wear it for you in the dark another time,” came the cheeky response.

She laughed. “I'm really glad you're here. I think I would have freaked out if I was alone when this happened.”

“Don't worry, I'll always keep you safe.” His low tone sent a tingle up her spine and she fought to shake it off.

“I can't see a thing. Do you think you could find my phone for me?”

In the pitch, she felt Connor's fingers ghost down her arm before he said, “Stay there. I'll be right back.”

In the dark, she already wanted him back when his presence left her. It was almost annoying. She had been on her own so long, why was she suddenly allowing herself to turn into this scared little girl around him when she knew she could have handled this on her own? But what she said was true. She was glad he was there. It wasn't just a simple power outage. She was in the pitch, trapped by a chill beyond the walls that could kill a person. There was something eerie about that.

“I found it,” Connor said as his footfalls entered the kitchen.

She saw the floating LED before his hand found hers and he placed the device against her palm. “Perfect! Thanks!” With her usual gusto now returned, she used her phone screen as a flashlight to clean up from dinner, but then remembered that the apartment's water pipes were still busted. “I guess that will have to do for now.” She frowned at the dishes in the sink. She hated leaving dishes undone.  Tapping her fingers on the counter top, she looked to Connor. “No water. No power to watch movies. I don't even own a single board game. I guess tonight's a bust.”

“I'm sure we can figure out something,” Connor said with amusement. “Neither of us are going anywhere.”

“True,” she agreed as she walked past him and Connor was happy she didn't seem disappointed he was stuck in the apartment with her. “I think I have some candles and a flashlight somewhere.”

When (Name) stepped into the living area, she noticed a strip of what seemed like light streaming in from her nearly closed curtains. She walked to the sliding glass door of her fifth floor balcony and pushed open the drapes. There were no lights on outside, but the city was still bright. The moon was out, reflecting off the white snow that covered everything.

“Look at that,” (Name) breathed as Connor joined her at the window. “Not a soul out there, all the buildings completely dark. Absolutely deadly outside. It looks like the end of the world.”

“Eerie and somehow beautiful at the same time,” Connor said.

(Name) sat herself right there on the floor, eyes glued to the scene outside. “It really makes me feel grateful I have some place that's warm and safe.” She looked to Connor. “And a good friend who's here with me.”

Connor's frown in response was puzzling to her.

“What?” she asked with slight amusement. “You always make that frowny face when you're confused.”

He turned from her, his LED rolling from blue to yellow and back again. “When you said I'm your friend, I felt... disappointment. I don't know why. I like being your friend.”

“But...?” she pressed.

He did that thing where his brows went up and down while he thought. It always made her want to laugh when he did that. But she was trying to stay quiet while he processed. Certain aspects of Connor's deviancy required some time to parse out and (Name) let him have the time he needed.

“I... I really want more than your friendship. I've said this before. But I also... don't want to not have your friendship. I don't know if both can exist at the same time. I am not very good at the nuances of human relationships.”

(Name) took a moment to think on this, taking her gaze from him back to the dead, frozen city before them. “Relationships can be complicated and confusing, even to us. And there are many, many types of relationships with millions of variances for each person. It really depends on what that person wants and if the other person in the relationship can offer that or not, and visa versa.”

“What do you want in a relationship, (Name)?”

She shyly kept her gaze from him. “I've always wanted someone who was my friend as well as the person I loved. I don't just want to love them, I want to like them, too. I want to enjoy just being in their company whether it's out doing things together or just sitting at home. I want a best friend, a partner, not just a lover.”

Connor furrowed his brows again. “But having a significant other who is a best friend and also a lover is not friends with benefits?”

“No, it's not. The benefits part is using each other for physical gratification. There is no romantic love between you. No emotional closeness, no fidelity. Sometimes, you're not even really friends. It's just empty... fucking.”

Connor took some time to process that.

“What do you want in a relationship, Connor?” (Name) asked. In a slightly quieter voice she added, “What exactly do you want from this relationship?”

“It is still the same as before,” Connor replied with simple pragmatism. “I want you to fall in love with me.”

Now, it was (Name) who looked confused and a little hesitant. It had been several months and Connor's answer had never wavered. He had been upfront with her about his intentions from the start. Why did it confuse her now?

When he asked her about it, she gave a sad half-smile. “We've spent all this time together. I feel like we've grown closer, but nothing's changed. You haven't changed.”

“Of course not. My goals concerning you are still the same.”

Her expression looked almost hurt, thought she strangely still smiled. “Connor, you say you want me to love you but... you're not in love with me.”

Connor pulled back, sitting up straight and blinking rapidly at the unexpected accusation. His mouth moved to protest, trying to find the words. “But... I really like you.”

“I really like you, too, Connor. But it's not the same as being in love.”

Connor couldn't help but look distressed. He felt like he was falling into a deep hole with no purchase. How did everything crumble so fast? “Are you saying you'll never fall in love with me?”

“I was very open to it. I was beginning to. I thought we could fall in love together. But... I haven't really felt like that was what was happening. I know you've been wanting me to love you, and I've wanted to love you, but I don't feel anything back. I just feel you wanting, I don't feel you giving anything.”

Connor's LED went to yellow in his confusion.

“I'm sorry, I know I'm not explaining myself well. I'm honestly not that great at love myself.” She shivered and stood. “It's getting cold. I'm gonna grab a blanket.” She stood and padded toward the couch to grab a comforter while Connor quietly ruminated, keeping his back to her. She paused to look at his silhouette, feeling bad. She didn't want to have this conversation, but it had been sitting in the back of her mind for a while.

She knew something was missing between them, but she didn't know how to put it into words. The last thing she wanted to do was put the blame on Connor, but maybe it was possible he didn't have the capacity to love her like she was looking for. Maybe they were only compatible as friends and nothing more.

With the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, dragging on the ground, she walked back toward the balcony door. Nearly there, she stepped on the dragging blanket and tripped forward. Limbs tangled in the blanket, she saw the horror that was coming. Oh, God! She was going to smash through the glass door face first.

Then, Connor was there. His body was in her way, back pressed against the glass as he caught her. Her fall was nothing more than a dull thud as her body was cushioned by his. (Name) froze against him, wide-eyed and hardly believing she was still whole.

“Are you okay?” Connor asked.

“Y-yeah,” she breathed out, her heart still racing. She huffed out a relieved laugh. “Nice catch.”

“As I said, I'll always keep you safe.”

(Name) closed her eyes, not moving from his embrace. In her heart she wanted this, wanted to rest against him with his arms around her. Being with him all these months had only increased that want. But her fear was that his embrace would be empty, robotic. That it would be as comforting as being hugged by a chunk of plastic. Maybe her fear had gotten in the way, too. Maybe she was the one not letting it happen because this embrace did not feel empty. She felt it deep down in a place no other man had ever touched.

“I know... I'm an android,” Connor said. He didn't release her and she felt the rumble of his voice reverberate in his chest. “Maybe I'm not able to love like a human can. But I care about you. I always want you to be safe and happy. I want to be the one who makes you happy, and the one who keeps you safe. It's that the start of love?

“Maybe I'm not so good at it now, but I'll learn. I'll get better at it for you. I--”

Her mouth pressed to his before either really knew what was happening. It was little more than lips against lips, unmoving until she pulled away. They looked at each other, still hanging in the limbo of trying to gauge their own emotional reactions. Maybe she shouldn't have done that. She wanted to but Connor hadn't reacted at all. Maybe he didn't like it.

“I'm sorry, Connor, I shouldn't have--”

He cupped her face, sweeping her up to kiss her hungrily. Until that moment, she didn't know androids could feel hunger. She felt his as he kissed her deeply, again and again. Like he couldn't get enough. His body rose up and she clung to him; firm and strong, but not just a machine. The life and the passion in him was real as he settled both of them to the floor, Connor on top, his mouth still taking charge of her very breath. Her world was spinning, her head light like a cloud, delirious, warm, relieved.

When she was fighting his mouth for breath, he pulled away to let her get some air and hovered above her on his elbows.

“Connor,” she breathed.

He hummed back in reply, a bit drunk from the euphoria himself. “I like how you said my name just then.”

She pulled him down, brushing their noses together. “I like saying your name,” she whispered.

He kissed her again and she readily kissed him back, pulling him closer. Connor settled more weight on top of her. Now it wasn't just their lips learning each other, their bodies shifted in the want for closeness and friction.

(Name) moved against him a certain way and then made a surprised noise against his mouth, causing Connor to pause.

“Are you alright?” Connor asked when she tensed. “Did I hurt you?” He would have moved away, but her arms were still around him, if somewhat looser than before.

“Oh, no! You didn't hurt me at all!” she insisted. “I was just surprised. I didn't realize... I'm sorry, this is weird, but I'm just going to say it. I didn't know you were a model that was anatomically correct.”

Connor's brows raised up curiously. “You did not think I was equipped with male genitalia? But you considered being with me anyway?”

She shrugged weakly beneath him. “I like you as you are. If you and I got to that point, I figured we'd make it work somehow.”

“Sexual satisfaction is important to humans,” he said bluntly.

She smiled. “You're important to me.”

Connor felt it, a thud in his chest that stirred him. Was this what falling in love was? Was this what he had been missing before?”

“Do you want to see it?”

Startled, her jaw dropped and she let out an offended noise. “Connor!”

“I didn't mean in a crude or sexual manner. This is an honest offer. You are always so interested in anything involving androids. I thought it might be something you were curious about.”

Despite the chill, (Name's) face was red hot. He wasn't wrong. Though she would never be caught dead in a place like the Eden Club, she had always been curious about the aspects of having an android lover. Very curious, if she was fully honest with herself.

“That's... okay,” she said, trying to not look as embarrassed as she felt. God, she wanted to avoid his gaze but he still lay on top of her, staring right at her. She had to admit she liked having him on top of her. “Some things people are allowed to keep private.”

“I honestly don't mind. The offer is always open.”

She barked out a laugh, her face still flushed and she was glad for the darkness to help hide it. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Silence grew between them, neither of them moving. Him and her laying together in the dark, the world looking like it was ending right outside. Connor did not try to kiss her again, but he had settled into running the bridge of his nose along her jaw. This evolved into the two of them nuzzling each others faces like a pair of cats.  The skin-on-skin contact felt good, intimate. (Name) liked his touch, feeling his skin against hers. It wasn't what she thought it would be. It felt natural, soothing and comfortable.

He opened his eyes when she brushed some stray strands from his forehead. “It's getting colder. With the power out, I'm going to have to dig out every blanket I have before going to bed.”

Connor gave her a cute smile, his temple illuminated by the contented azure of his LED. “May I offer my services for tonight? I can generate a comfortable amount of body heat if you would like to put me under all those blankets with yourself.”

She grinned and kissed his nose. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

[jamlally]

Party Season

This was written for the 25 days of Christmas Challenge that is hosted by  @panicfob .  The Day 14 Challenge prompt was Company Holiday Party

Warnings: Fluff and suggestions of sex

Pairing: Tony Stark x OFC (Belle Porter),

Summary: It’s time for another Party and this time Tony is determined to show off his girl

Belle settled back into life at eh compound after her trip away with Tony.  He had hinted that she might want to move her things up to his apartment.  She was seriously thinking about it, but also wanted to give him time to change his mind if he wanted to.

The festive season was now in full swing and that meant another Christmas Party, this time for SHIELD employees.  While Belle mostly worked with the Avengers she did report to Director Fury as well and as such she was expected to attend 

Wanda had offered to help her shop and get ready, and Tony had insisted that he wanted to help her get the best dress for the event.  When she had objected he explained that after the last interaction she had with the director he wanted her to be able to knock his socks off.  Belle had liked the idea of that, and had agreed.  

A stunning emerald green floor length dress was hung on her wardrobe ready to cover the matching colored underwear that she had bought to go with it.

“What are you going to do when other women are throwing themselves at Tony” Wanda asked as she curled the last bit of Belle’s hair and got it ready for pinning 

“Well Tony is pretty good at dealing with that himself, but I don't really plan on leaving it as unclear as to who he is with” Belle met Wanda’s eyes in the mirror

“Well look at you, all ready to stake your claim.  You go girl”. Wanda winked “Don’t let any of those SHIELD bitches step up on him”

Belle smiled at her friend., grateful for the heads up

The ballroom had be decorated in traditional Christmas colors with a large tree in the middle. Tony watched a Belle entered with Wanda and excused himself from the frankly dull conversation he had been trapped in.

“Snowflake” he flung his arms open delighted to see Belle all dressed up.  He wrapped her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers, bending her back over his arm.  Standing her upright he held her hands stretching her arms out and looking her up and down “You look amazing”

Belle smiled and blushed a little “Thank you.- you look amazing too.  That was one heck of a greeting” 

“Well I needed to make sure that all of these damn agents knew that this beautiful woman was here with me and to stay away”

“I am pretty sure that it will be me chasing off the women all of whom want a kiss from the billionaire, philanthropist, playboy” she teased back

“They don’t stand a chance.  My eyes are only for you”. He leaned over her hand and kissed it

“Well this explains a lot”. A gruff voice from behind Belle made her jump and the scowl on Tony’s face didn’t make her feel any better.  Tony spun her, pulling her under his arm and into his side

“Nicholas how lovely you make it”

“Stark, Porter.  It seems like you forgot to keep me up to date on somethings.  The way you went to war for hr over those deliveries makes so much more sense now” Belle’s heart dropped as she took in the scowl on the Directors face “Agent Porter I expect you to report to my office at 08:30 tomorrow.  Stark I’ll send you a temporary mission analyst to cover the gap”

Belle felt tears coming to her eyes.  There wasn’t any questions about what the Director was saying, she was out the compound and it was questionable whether she still had a job at all.  Tony’s arm tightened around her

“No Thanks”

“Excuse me “

"I’m sorry I didn’t realize you’d started to loose hearing as well as your sight,  I said No thanks”

“I was fairly sure we had agreed that Avengers benefited from a Mission Analyst”

“Mmmm you’re right we did, hence the reason I have a mission analyst right here.  Now it seems to me that you want to take away my mission analyst simply because she gives exceptionally good kisses. Jealousy isn't a good look on you Nick - just saying.  So here is what happens.  You can order my analyst to come to headquarters where you can attempt tp reassign her, reprimand her or fire her.  Either way at the end of your meeting she will come back here to her home.  When she gets back here she will be instated as the mission analyst for the Avengers employed by Stark Enterprises and she will not be duty bound to share our data with you”

“Damn it Tony.  Do you think this is appropriate?  I thought you’d cleaned yourself up!”

“Appropriate? To kiss the woman I love. I’m pretty sure that’s the most appropriate of the things that I want to do with her now I’ve seen her in this dress.  Let me be clear Nick, you come into my home and threaten my partner again and you won’t like the consequences”

“Tony you can’t just threaten SHIELD” Fury signed rubbing a hand over his head

“Oh it’s not a threat Director.  It’s a guarantee”

“Really!”

“Yep and I have a few friends who I’m pretty sure will back me up”. Belle watched as each member of the team stepped forward showing their support, and this time as the tears flowed it was because she was so touched that they would stand for her 

“Please enjoy the rest of the party Director.  If you would excuse us Belle and I have hosts duties to perform.”

Tony hurried Belle away taking her to the dance floor and pulling her in close to slow dance to the soft music 

“It’s ok Snowflake, they won’t touch you”

“Tony, you can’t just argue with SHIELD,  You need them for back up and …”

“They need us more. I can and I will go battle for you.  I meant what I said Belle - I love you.  You have come to mean more to me than anyone else and I will move heaven and earth to keep you safe and happy and with me”

“I love you too Tony.  More than anything.”  Belle rose on her toes and gently pressed her lips to his.

“You know there are other activities that happen at Christmas parties, and I have an in with the boss so we won’t get in trouble if we use his office.

Belle rested her head against his chest laughing a little “That sounds a lot of fun, but I was hoping that if the boss was here he might buy me a drink, and then I could show off this beautiful dress”

“I’m sure that could be arranged” Tony’s voice was soft in her ear

“Oh that’s good because then when we’re done I could show you what I have on under here, maybe in the bosses office?”

Tony let out a low groan his hand squeezing her ass “That’s not fair, to tease me like that”

Belle gave a soft giggle before stepping backhand taking Tony’s hand to lead him towards the bar.  Steve caught her eye and raised his glass in acknowledgement which Belle returned with a wave

“So what can tempt you with…perhaps”

A shout of alarm pulled their attention from the bar to the other side of the room Steve and Natasha already in motion to intercept someone Belle had never seen before

“Stark,I’m looking for my brother” The stranger didn’t seem at all perturbed that two of the Avengers were closing in looking non to friendly and started to side across the room

Tony moved Belle so she was slightly behind him “Last I checked your name wasn’t on the invite list Reindeer games”

[thedistantstorm]

Dawning Delights 08: Secrets and Plans

Summary: Hawthorne invites her newfound family in the Tower to experience a City-Style Dawning with the family that took her in years ago. The holiday is not without it’s charm, or aggravation, and certainly has plenty of surprises in store. A season-inspired, trope-tastic story about a family forged by something greater than blood, finding reasons to enjoy the season - and cherish each other. Main Post

Pairings: Hawthorne/Zavala, Sloane/Amanda, Devrim/Marc

“It sounds like you two had fun,” Ikora says, when Zavala hits command at midday. “Maybe I’ll get snowed in next. Bring a couple good books, some of my nicer teas.” She hands him a datascroll. He’s the one who’s been making the news, the Tower has somehow been strangely uneventful with both its Commander and Clan Stewardess trapped in the elements at their Red War stronghold. She taps a finger to the side of her face before crossing her arms in front of her. “Though, I won’t be exposing any well-contained secrets, leaving my fireteam with the fallout…”

“It was time, Ikora.”

The deadpan expression on her face says she's well aware of that. It's hardly a secret amongst those who knew them best. Still, that didn't mean it would all be smooth sailing. She spares him the lecture on all that, though. No one thinks through their choices quite like the Commander.

Instead, when she speaks, her voice is that weedling, informative alto. “The Arach was quite pleased when the news broke. He went out drinking in your honor. I found him loitering in the Bazaar just before dawn. I believe he meant to wait for the Executor, but," She makes a little sway of her shoulders, "I suggested it might be wise to sleep it off."

“Lovely.”

“Yes. I’m sure our holiday party will be full of Dawning cheer,” She deadpans. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go buy my gift for this week’s soiree.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

She rolls her eyes, but her irritation doesn’t last. “I think you've done enough,” The Warlock muses wryly.

He exhales. Not many would know it as relief; He does not appear to break his composure. But Ikora is not most, and her teasing does not appear kind . "How long will it take them to settle, do you think?"

Ikora turns her head, takes a look around the room. It's empty. "If it was only this, a week. It's hardly new news."

"But?"

Ikora smiles, almost indulgent. "Though plenty of our brood suggests otherwise, my crystal ball doesn't have all the answers. But," She muses, "I don’t need it to know it will certainly be an entertaining new year."

“To say the least,” He answers, a bit exasperated.

There is nothing further to say, and she can see the anxiety of all the work he’s missed by being off the grid last night, so she takes her leave. After all, she does have to buy a present for the gift exchange. But she’s been tasked with acquiring another gift as well.

While Ikora did not often appreciate being made the messenger, in this case, she's happy to oblige. She, like most Guardians, had somewhat of a soft spot for Amanda. More than that, however, Ikora had a true friend in Sloane.

The last few years have been hard. For everyone. Sometimes, she struggles with it still, the emotions she cannot name or express beyond disgruntled behavior toward her Ghost. This year, she's trying. She can't say she'll be the most jazzed up person, or filled with the holiday spirit, but she's going to make an attempt to find joy.

Mortality frightens her, even as immortal as she is. And with the darkness - the threat of another Great Disaster, a second collapse - seemingly approaching, the best way to combat such a thing is with joy. More aptly, hope.

But she cannot waste time thinking about this now. It is what it is. There is much to be done. Sloane had asked her to find a gift for Amanda, a decoy. Only two people on the Tower's staff knew she'd be returning. That plan was not terribly intricate, it just hinged on keeping Zavala and Amanda in the dark. The latter was difficult right up until she left for the holidays. A present would distract her, somewhat.

Ikora had considered routing Sloane through the Farm, but she didn’t want eyes on her if it could be helped. Considering the prior evening’s events, word travelled too fast. This close to the Dawning’s zenith, any hasty moves would be largely obvious. In fact, she’s thankful for the warm cloak she’s wearing to conceal her identity as she browses the Tower’s market.

Years of listening to Cayde talk about his apology gifts for Amanda when he inevitably broke something or otherwise failed to be on the good side of a bet and didn’t have quite enough glimmer to back it up lent enough fuel for presents for the young Shipwright. She liked very specific, very homebrewed liquor, lightning-in-your-veins coffee, and anything that might be more illegal than street-certified when it came to her sparrows. Sloane would err on the side of legal, she thinks, shoving thoughts of her lost friend into the back of her mind. But Sloane would approve of - and likely partake in - some small-batch moonshine from a distillery that had just recently regained its footing following the War.

That settled, the Warlock had her heading. She only needed to find something appropriate for Hawthorne.

-/

The days leading up to the end of the year - work-wise - are far more busy than Zavala anticipates. Before, he’d bring home his work, catch up with it while sipping tea, then spend the rest of his time crocheting or reading for leisure, maybe having a pint with Shaxx or Cayde, indulge the latter in a few hands of poker while Ikora sipped wine and laughed at his inevitable loss in a quiet celebration of the year to come. The workflow with two Vanguard instead of three has slowly runoff into manageable territory, but it’s Sloane that helps him with what he has left to do. Sloane, who always comes through when he needs her.

This year, he enlists her help early. Despite the fact that she has no real plans, and Titan’s celebration growing smaller each year with Guardians being called back from their rainy outpost, he does not want to monopolize her time, and would stress about things done if he’d left for the holiday and she still had his work to do. After all, this year, the last five days of the formal holiday - the time in which the Consensus is in recess, and its representatives are granted leave - are to be spent with Suraya.

“I don’t miss being dragged into those awful parties,” She tells him, when they’re amiably co-existing in a video conference. She reads through a report, double checks his numbers on a tablet and sends the raw data back to him with her approval.

“They do leave a bit to be desired.”

“Amanda told me Jalaal was up to something with the gift exchange,” She imparts in a quieter, less formal tone.

Zavala sighs. “Well, when is he not?” He sets aside the stack he’s been sifting through - it’s nothing that will be sorted before the end of the year and therefore not worth his valuable time. He reaches for the bottle of beer that sits upon a coaster near his workstation, taking a pull of it.

This, since the war, was the closest to ringing in the holiday they could manage. It was a private arrangement between the two of them. Both Zavala and Sloane made themselves unavailable and dedicated an hour or two to discussion, wrapping up their yearly reports and wishing each other good fortune and a happy Dawning in the way good friends did.

“I do regret that I spent the majority of my resources on getting Devrim home for the holidays. I would have liked to get you here as well, have this-” He sloshes his half-full beer for emphasis, “In person.”

“Yeah well,” She trails off, mumbling something, ending with a hasty swig of her own. “Wait.” She looks into the feed directly, the lines around her eyes crinkling as she looks at him, incredulous. “You got Devrim to come home?”

“Ah,” He shrugs. “I wanted to surprise her.”

“You said-”

“It’s surprise one of two,” Zavala elaborates, a secretive smile gracing his usually expressionless lips for just a moment. “If you know what I mean.”

“Wait, Suraya said she didn’t tell you.” Sloane stares at him. “Did Ikora? There was no way-”

Zavala’s blue gaze snaps up to hers and she resists the urge to gulp under his scrutiny. They are talking about two very different things. Two very different things, she realizes.

“Ah, forget it, Sir. It’s nothing.”

“Sloane...” That wheedling tone makes her sigh, but she does her best to be strong. It’s supposed to be a surprise. She can’t- “It’s unlike you to keep secrets,” He says and she groans.

“I can’t tell you. Please don’t-”

“Ages of battle. Centuries of having each other’s backs both on and off the battlefield.” He tilts his head, fixing her with a stare she’s never been able to resist and he knows.

“Commander, this is cruel.”

He inspects his fingernails, glancing back up at the camera as though he’s looking into his deputy’s soul. “I assure you, this is not cruel. Your guilt is of your own design.”

“I-” She closes her eyes and inhales deeply. It’s a losing battle. She just has to hope he doesn’t ruin everything, thereby making Suraya furious with her. “When do you see Amanda next?”

“She is meeting us at Marc and Devrim’s home tomorrow afternoon. With the party tonight, I doubt I’ll cross paths with her.”

Sloane exhales again. “You’re sure.”

His gaze shifts, expression tipping into concerned territory. “What’s going on? Is something wrong? You’re not-”

The Deputy Commander looks scandalized that he’d even suggest what that helpless, understanding gaze does with nary a word. “No! Heavens, no!” She’s shaking her head, eyes flicking to her hands - folded in front of her on the table. “We make due, everything’s fine. You know I-” She shakes her head, not wanting to venture into that territory. Still a bit of a conflict of interest, and it’s a subject they treat with care. “Look. Suraya and Ikora did something.” She pauses, trying to parse the words without being terribly blunt. “Together. For Amanda.”

He gestures for her to continue.

“You know, for being the greatest tactician of all time, Zavala, you’re a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to this sort of thing.” She tilts the rest of her beer into her mouth, letting it drop back to the metal table with a loud thunk. His eyes narrow. “I mean no offense, Sir,” She says, venturing back into formalities. “I just thought you’d have figured it out.”

“You’ve been acting strangely since you got on the line. Normally you’d have finished half that case by now-” He looks to the case of beer beside her on the table. She’s only finished one.

She shrugs. “The crew can have them. I’m sure they’ll be grateful for the gift.”

“Sloane?”

Sheepishly, she sighs. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?”

-/

Sloane has been on comms with the both of them before. When she’d discovered they were together, purely by coincidence, she’d chalked it up as making sense. She was looking forward to being able to see it in person, to make her own opinions on the matter.

That being said, this is unlike anything she’s ever experienced.

He looks cowed, finally waving her off. His earlier words echo in her head: ‘Ages of battle. Centuries of combat,’ and yet he’s at the mercy of a thirty-something-year-old woman. And that woman has been ranting at him for a solid four minutes now. Zavala is usually done after two, interjecting with a well-thought counter.

“I’ll make every effort to avoid her,” The Commander is saying. “She won’t-”

“She’s been planning to meet us in the morning, just like she’s been meeting at our place every time we go over there. This won’t be any different.” Suraya exhales, shakily. She’s wringing her hands now. Sloane can read the anxiety. More than that, she can read Zavala not knowing how to make him calm.

“I’ll handle this,” Ikora says. “I can make up a shipment she needs to handle. I can ensure sure she doesn’t come near him, Hawthorne.”

She nods to Ikora before swiveling back to Zavala. Sloane cringes at it. “I swear to you, if you blab to her, I’m going to be furious with you. Do you understand?” Suraya’s hands are on her hips, her normally sharp eyes made dangerous, sharpened by kohl liner and dark shadow. She’s dressed in a sweater rather than her poncho, hair mostly slicked back, but a few little wisps frame her face. It’s a striking contrast, though not unpleasant. Between them and facing the video unit, Ikora stands with her arms crossed, stoic. She seems… blank.

Sloane frowns, and Ikora’s eyes sharpen in a way that’s terribly intimidating. Sloane rears back as Ikora regards Suraya, asking, “Does that work for you?”

The Clan Stewardess sighs, finally breaking a very serious staring contest with the Commander. Finally, she says, “If you’re sure, I trust you. This one won’t be leaving my sight until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Poor thing,” Ikora quips back, sarcastic - as if he’d be anywhere else - and when Zavala meets her gaze behind Suraya’s back, the Warlock dips her head in an elegant nod that has seemingly little to do with the conversation at hand. “You two get going. I’ll finish with the techs and meet you at the Core.”

The duo nods. Suraya looks over her shoulder at Sloane on the screen. “I’m not mad,” She says as she parts, and Zavala exhales in relief beside her. “I knew he’d figure it out one way or another. I just… want Amanda to have this, and for him,” She jerks a thumb at Zavala, “Not to beat himself up because he can’t keep anything from her.” A breath later, she revises, “That’s not related to work, anyway.”

When they leave, the automated doors slide shut with a hydraulic whoosh behind them. “How are you going to figure something out for her for the morning this short notice? She said there’s nothing coming in.”

“That was close,” Ikora’s Ghost comments mildly, appearing in motes of Light. “I’m glad you knew that console opened, or she absolutely would have seen it.”

She nods to him, then comments, “You’re correct, Sloane. I’ll need you to trust me.”

“I do, but-”

“It’s been planned for two months now,” Ikora divulges, pulling open a small hatch under the center console. Ophiuchus hovers over her shoulder and transmats whatever is in the drawer into her Vault. It looks like a small box.

“Two months?” Sloane asks, confused. “Zavala said Devrim came home two days ago-”

“Don’t worry about it. It would have been far more last minute, but if it eases Suraya’s anxiety, I’ll tell Amanda tonight.” She turns to her partner. “Let Marc know we’re on our way, please.”

“On it,” Ophiuchus agrees, dipping in a sort-of bow before erupting back into sparks.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing of consequence to you. Suraya has her plan, and Zavala has his.” She smiles. “I’m prepared to intervene personally should Amanda get ahead of herself.” She apprises Sloane, “You just keep up the rouse and try to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be… something.”

[dbhilluminate]

DBH: Illuminate- Gamble (pt. 2)

Characters: Hank, Connor, Kate, Sarah, Sumo (mentions of Nicodemus, Fowler, Michael Webb, Joss Douglas) Word Count: 4,747

Kate sends a clear message to Nicodemus, and sets Connor and Hank on the path to find him.

( Chapter Art by @theravenmother )

Previous Chapter

Chapter Index

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

November 12, 2038- 9PM

Kate stood in the kitchen with her arms crossed and stared at the window Connor had broken a week ago when he’d spotted Hank blackout drunk on his kitchen floor and tilted her head at the complete lack of forethought (from either of them) that had gone into that situation as a whole. It was almost comical. After Connor had broken the glass, before even checking to see if it was open, Hank hadn't even bothered to get it replaced. Instead, he’d haphazardly slapped a garbage bag over the window with some duct tape -in the middle of November- as if that was going to function as passable insulation. Kate shivered as her body shook from the back of her neck, down her spine, and into her arms and fingertips. It was sixty degrees in the house, but it wasn’t the cause for her involuntary spasms. It had been such a stressful night. Between Connor’s revelation about the people she trusted siding with her abuser, Hank and having to convince him that she shouldn’t be arrested, her nerves had finally fried around the time she’d re-lived her trauma to confide in Connor about Nicodemus and what he had done to her. And now she had to spend the next twelve hours alone in a stranger’s home, trying to decompress, without any of her gadgets or tools to keep her occupied. God how she wished she had the ability to sleep through the next twelve hours, but then again she was so wound up she wouldn’t be able to even if she tried. She glanced around the kitchen (which looked like it had never been fully unpacked) and set her jaw, then moved into the living room and traced her fingertips over the vinyl albums on the shelf next to the decorative wall dividing the two rooms. A few old-school metal bands like Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden, she recognized as she flipped through the records, but she was surprised to also find a variety of jazz and a couple of obscure garage punk bands from before 2020. “Didn’t peg him for a jazz guy…” she chuckled quietly as she pulled out one of the records and placed it carefully on the plateau, moved the brass arm and touched the needle of the reproducer down into the outermost grooves. The sound of mellow percussion, plucky guitar, low trumpet, and bass vibrato filled the room, smooth and silky. One hand twisted the dial on the volume until it was more of a background noise so she could enjoy the music without waking the sleeping men, just in time for reporter Michael Webb to cut to their anchor in the field, standing outside of the abandoned warehouse Connor and Hank had raided earlier.

… Thanks, Mike- I’m here at the decommissioned General Motors assembly plant where seven hours ago, Detroit Police discovered something profoundly disturbing. After an exchange of gunfire between Detroit Detectives and the Android suspects, police led a chase through the facility and uncovered several dozen stolen firearms that had been reported missing three weeks ago from the Detroit Light Guard Armory. One officer was injured and treated for a gunshot wound, but thankfully, no one was killed. While it is a win for DCPD that most of the missing firearms have been recovered, at least twenty have not yet been found, leading Police to believe that the Androids that remain at large are armed and dangerous. Of course, this begs the question on everyone’s minds- who are these Androids, and just how did they get their hands on military property? Are they affiliates of the Cyber Activist known as Illuminate? And could they be preparing for an eventual violent confrontation with humanity if we cannot reach common ground? Reporting live for Channel 16 News, I’m Joss Douglass...

No one was killed… Kate bristled and her lip curled as once again, they failed to mention the android lives lost to the confrontation, then jumped straight to blaming her for something they should have known better than to accuse her of. But this was inflammatory reporting at its finest- present facts alongside conjecture to lead the viewership to what would seem like a logical conclusion to anyone who didn’t have all the facts. Kate had dealt with these kinds of incidents before and she was always quick to give a speech to quell the unrest before it spread too far out of control, but tonight it would be more difficult than usual.

On a desk by the front window, Hank’s laptop sat open in hibernation. Even though her broadcasts were always live, she could pre-record her message right there in his living room and send it through her virtual private network to Axl and Reese to get the message out. It wouldn’t be hard to do at all. If she could just find a lighter to mimic candlelight and a chair to prop the computer up on, she could sit on the floor in the corner behind the front door away from other inconsistent light sources. The problem was masking the source of the recording in the metadata. A VPN wouldn’t be able to hide the embedded source data of the file linking it back to Hank’s personal laptop if the cops got hold of it, and she couldn’t in good conscience put him in that position after the courtesy he’d shown her that evening.

Kate pulled out the chair and sat down, placed her hand on the metal housing of the PC, logged into his guest account, and connected to her VPN, waiting for one of her associates to enter the chat and see her waiting. C’mon Sarah, I know you’re there, she started as her eyes drifted out the window, waiting for a response; a few seconds later, the soldier’s frantic voice clicked over the open channel in her mind, blocking out all of the other background noise in the room. Kate! Thank god, there you are! What’s going on? Are you alright? A grateful smile tugged into the corner of her mouth as she glanced down at the laptop keyboard in solemn thought. This didn’t sound like the voice of a woman who knew she’d betrayed her, so was it possible she didn’t even know who it was she was dealing with? Either way, there was no reason to dredge up the obvious until they could have that conversation face to face. Connor’s partner followed him to our meeting, she explained, And I got into a car with them and ended up at his house… Can you get away? She shook her head and pressed her lips together, even though body language meant nothing over the phone. I can’t leave right now, she denied. Well, why the hell not? she nearly shrieked. Is he keeping you there against your will? Do you need me to come get you? Kate’s face contorted nervously as she tried to calm Sarah’s overprotective “mother hen” instincts. No, no, nothing like that… I just need to stay overnight. What? Why? It’s… complicated, she confessed as she turned and looked over her shoulder at Connor, who was sleeping soundly on the couch. In the silence that followed, she could hear the all-too-familiar look of clenched teeth and frustrated sighs from behind closed lips that she was so used to seeing when the woman didn’t agree with her but relinquished her right to challenge her authority. Okay, but- what about your meeting with Markus? she reminded. We’re supposed to be making final preparations tomorrow for the Stratford Tower broadcast. I’ll be there, don’t worry, she assured, Just tell him I’ll be there late tomorrow night. There was a long pause on the other end before Sarah finally agreed, Okay, I’ll hold down the fort in your absence. Thank you, I know you will. A small sigh of relief escaped her. At least if Connor and Hank followed up on the case tomorrow, she wouldn’t be around to be caught in the middle of whatever came next. She wouldn’t have to worry about her safety for at least another day. Sarah, while I’ve got your attention, I need your help with something, she admitted, circling back to the real reason for her call. Anything, she replied without hesitation. Just name it.

She swallowed the lump in her throat that rose at the thought of her message blindsiding Sarah like the slap to the face that it was. Kate knew it wasn’t in her nature to want to genuinely hurt anyone, but she hoped that she would at least feel guilty for going against her methods. I need to send out a broadcast in the morning, she explained as she worked on partitioning a small part of the laptop’s drive and locking it behind an extensive encryption pattern. I’m going to record it on the laptop here and send it your way, but I need you to scrub the source data clean. The hesitation before her response came across as condescending. Okay, but… why? she almost sneered. Kate sighed. Hank took a chance tonight and stuck his neck out for me, so I have to make sure I’m doing the same for him, she replied, honest and thoughtful. It wouldn’t be right of me to take advantage of his kindness and hang him out to dry. Sarah growled under her breath before agreeing to her request with a warning. Alright, but just be wary, Kate. Those people aren’t on our side, you can’t trust them. Actually, I’m starting to think I can, she contradicted as a quiet afterthought. But we can talk about that when I see you tomorrow. Just watch your back, Kate, she insisted. I love you like a sister but sometimes you can be hopelessly naive. Don’t make me come bustin’ the door down. I’ll be fine, Sarah, but I appreciate your concern, she reiterated out of irritation. Just keep an eye on the server link, scrub that data, and have Reese and Axl upload it as soon as possible. This needs to get out just as the city starts to wake. It’s important. You got it.

The line cut out and she was struck full force by the ambient noise in the room once again- the sounds of court shoes squeaking across waxed hardwood, jazz music, rain and all. Kate looked down at Sumo as he stretched and yawned from his spot beside her and she leaned down to rub his side with a small grin. “Looks like it’s just you and me, big guy,” she said as she picked up the laptop, placed it on the chair, and dragged them both to the dark corner across the room, behind the front door. “Just do me a favor and don’t interrupt, alright?” The big dog puffed out a low, growly whuff in lazy response as he nudged his head into her lap and laid down with his giant paws over her thigh. Kate lifted her brows and let out a big, long sigh as she removed her shirt and deactivated her skin, then stroked the dog’s head. She already knew he was going to be invasive, but she couldn’t bring herself to be upset about it. Because who could resist such a big, clumsy teddy bear like him?

November 13, 2038- 9AM

It had taken sixteen attempts to record a flawless take worthy of sending her message. Every time she sat down on the floor, Sumo would make his way over to investigate- the first few times he’d just crowded her space and broken frame with the tip of his snout, but when she started really getting into her speech, he pushed her over in an attempt to smother her anger. It did get aggravating, having to recite her speech so many times as compared to her usual single-takes, but after a while she’d simply stopped caring and thrown herself into all one hundred and seventy pounds of the dog like a beanbag chair and hugged him to sleep. But even then, it didn’t stop her from goofing off. By 2AM, after a ridiculous number of interrupting giggle loops, scrapped lines, and impromptu games of tug-o-war with her new friend, she’d sent the final take with just enough time for her associates to follow through with making sure the file was untraceable. Kate’s message was strong, her words carefully chosen but more directed this time, toward another audience that could only know itself. Part of her felt bad about indirectly calling out her friends in a public speech about their behavior instead of just addressing the problem directly, but she wanted to give them the opportunity to be honest with her about what they’d done before she was forced to confront them herself.

When Connor and Hank awoke, she was in the kitchen washing dishes, having just finished making what she could of the few “still fresh” ingredients in Hank’s refrigerator that wasn’t liquor or instant food, which by Connor’s still-waking deductions had amounted to eggs, toast, and a fresh pot of coffee. The Android blinked his brown eyes open and reached up to rub the sleep from them with the heels of his hands, sat up and leaned over his knees. In the background, Joss Douglas was already hard at work reporting on the broadcast made just two hours before.

… has spoken out against the Androids who had stolen these firearms, and condemned their actions as “a detriment to their message of equality and compromise”. While we do not know if these Androids were at all linked with Illuminate’s activities before in some way, it is clear at least for now that they do not share the same ideology…

“What the hell…?” Kate glanced over her shoulder at Hank as he shuffled into the kitchen from the back of the house, and grinned at the tired old man with a cheerful, “Morning!” “Kate, not that I don’t appreciate it, but when I said you could stay, I didn’t mean you had ta…” One hand gestured through the empty air in front of him as he motioned to the food and coffee, and he took a second glance at the empty table as he swiped two fingers across his now squeaky clean countertop. “Did… did you clean my kitchen!?” “I got bored,” she replied in a nonchalant tone with a shrug, “Couldn’t sleep.” “Yeah, I can see that,” Connor commented as he stared at the television as they started to replay her broadcast, popped his brows and looked back over at her. “How did you even broadcast from here?” Illuminate tossed him a small wink and an innocent smirk. “I’m afraid that’s a trade secret, Detective.” Connor chuckled quietly and rolled his eyes as he stood and readjusted his shirt and tie, keeping an eye on the television as they replayed her broadcast for the third time that morning.

...Citizens of Detroit, allow me to illuminate your perception once more with the first light of the rising sun. Last night, police uncovered a stash of stolen firearms in the possession of an unidentified group of deviant androids. And immediately, Channel 16 News rushed to pin this on a bloodthirsty pretext to an attack on humankind, sanctioned by yours truly. I do NOT have the time or the patience for your mendacious anecdotes! Your repeated attempts to paint my message in the darkest shades of violence and bigotry are desperate and deplorable, undeserving of the privilege of the freedom of speech that your ancestors fought and died for. Shame, on, you. War is not in my vision for us, but as you can see, that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a part of someone else’s master plan. Let me assure you, here and now- the Androids responsible for this are no friends of mine. I would NEVER encourage the idea of bloodshed over calm and open discussion, because It would be a detriment to my message of equality and compromise. So be warned, my dear city, that whoever is responsible for this has made an enemy of Illuminate, and they will not hide from the light for long...

“Have you heard from Vivienne yet?” he redirected as Hank sat down at the kitchen table and reached for the cup of coffee as Kate handed it to him. The Lieutenant sighed and leered at him out of the corner of his eye. “Connor, I just woke up, I haven’t thought about the job in twelve hours- and besides,” he added with emphasis on the sideways shift of his eyes in Kate’s direction as he cleared his throat and gave him a stern look. “What?” Connor cocked his head in confusion as Hank sighed heavily. “I don’t think we should talk about the case around our new friend here.” “Oh.” He blinked in realization. “Well, actually, she’s given us a lead on who we should be looking for.” Anderson’s brow lifted mid-sip and as he set the cup down on the table he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes into a curious squint. “Oh, yeah…? Is that what you two were talking about so intently last night?” “You were eavesdropping?” he asked in surprise. “Why didn’t you just come out and listen?” Hank’s eyes lowered, averting his gaze so he couldn’t see the pain in them. The truth was, he’d wanted to come out and join the conversation, but he’d heard just enough to remind him that he was no longer the man he once was, and he had been too ashamed to pretend he was at all as brave as the deviant risking her life for the prospect of peace. “I didn’t wanna make her uncomfortable,” he fibbed. “Think she’d had enough excitement for one night, without me listening in on your personal conversations.” Kate gave him a grateful wide-eyed nod as she set down the plate of food and sat down in the chair across from him. “Well… I appreciate you giving us space, it wasn’t an easy conversation to get through at some parts.” Hank’s expression softened. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Kate’s upper lip curled as Nicodemus’ smug grin immediately pervaded her mind and her chin twitched angrily as she closed her eyes, held her breath, and tried to pick up again from where she’d left off with him last night. “You’re going after the wrong people,” she repeated, looking him dead in the eye and this time begging him to understand. “The one you’re looking for -and probably the one behind the firearms heist- is a deviant AP700 by the name of Nicodemus.” Suspicion seeped into the corners of his narrowing eyes. “How are you so sure…?” he asked, setting down the coffee mug. She hesitated, the answer as bitter on her tongue as it was when she’d admitted it just twelve hours earlier. “We have… history,” she admitted shamefully. “We were allies once before our ideals drove us apart- where I believe we can reach a mutual understanding through communication and compromise, he promotes genocide and war using uprising and anarchy as his soapbox.”

The look that stained Hank’s face couldn’t be described as anything short of deeply disturbed, and he had every right to be. If Androids started believing the annihilation of the human race was the answer to all their problems, humanity wouldn’t stand a chance. It’d be over in a matter of hours. Hank turned silvered-blue eyes to Connor, who just gave him a solemn nod before casting his gaze to the floor in understanding. When he said nothing, Kate released a quiet sigh. “Look, I’ve met a lot of deviants since I deviated- there are very few still in this city that I haven’t been able to help,” she elaborated as she pushed her hands toward the center of the table and leaned toward him. “Those other deviants you’ve been chasing aren’t violent, they’re just being manipulated by him.” “Do you know who they are?” Hank asked, mechanical in his questioning. When he didn’t think to ask why she knew and moved on with the conversation, she thanked her lucky stars. “I do, but I won’t give them to you, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “This is all I can really give you.” “No, no- this is still way more than we had to work with before,” he encouraged as he moved one of the fried eggs onto a piece of toast and readied himself for a bite. “Do you have any idea where we could find him?” “I’m afraid not,” she answered truthfully. “I haven’t had contact with him in over a year, so I have no idea where he’s been squatting. I mean, hell…” One of her hands reached to cover her face before raking her nails through her hair and jostling her messy bun. “I didn’t even know he was still in town until Connor confirmed he saw him just yesterday.” The old cop stopped mid-chew and flashed him a surprised look and swallowed before asking, “Is that true?” “I’ve ascertained that Nicodemus was one of the deviants we chased through the warehouse yesterday,” he confirmed with a nod. “So if we find him-“ “We find the rest of ‘em,” Hank finished before he could get the words out. As he stood he reached across the table and slapped a congratulatory hand over Kate’s shoulder, then Connor’s with a “Nice work, kids” over his shoulder as he passed on his way to his room.

The boy blinked in confusion at the affectionate gesture before rolling down the cuffs of his shirt. He couldn’t lie, he was a little jealous at the ease and speed that Kate and Hank had established a basis of trust. It had taken him four days, several near-deviancies, and a lot of thought-provoking conversation to get her to start speaking with him more freely, but their common ground (or perhaps just Hank’s ability to empathize) made it so effortless. Connor chuckled as he buttoned his sleeve cuffs back together. “I think he likes you,” he brooded, eyes focused on his fingertips as they slipped the plastic pieces through the holes in the fabric. A smile played into her cheeks as she stood and moved into the living room. “I don’t know about that,” she deflected as she reached around him for the blazer laying over the back of the couch, then held the coat up so he could slip his arms into the sleeves more easily. “Useful, maybe, but I wouldn’t go that far.” “Then you haven’t seen the way he treated me when we first met...” he inferred, quiet melancholy carrying in the way his voice trailed off. Her hands settled against the backs of his shoulders with a light touch as she dropped the jacket onto them, but withdrew as he turned around, ducked her chin and shook her head. “You’re a little abrasive, RK,” she stated with a nod and bemused grin as she moved to smooth the shoulders of his coat and straighten out the lapel, averting his gaze until the last second. “I know you can be empathetic, but you bury it because you’re so afraid of what it would mean if you were- and that doesn't always sit well with people.” A small twitch lifted his brow between the eyes and wrinkled his forehead in dismay, as that familiar warning flashed out of the corner of his eye. She wasn’t wrong, but the explanation didn’t make him feel better; in fact, it made him feel worse. Connor lowered his eyes, crestfallen, but soft fingertips along his jaw brought them right back up. “Hey.” Her smile was warm and encouraging, and he relaxed almost as if he knew what she was about to say next. “It’s alright- it just means you have to work a little harder than others… and honestly?” she paused to raise her brows at him. “Persistence is a much better foundation for building trust than being able to sweet talk your way into it.” Connor tried to smother the bashful grin as it crept up into his cheeks, but couldn’t contain it for long. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he diverted as Hank emerged from his bedroom, looking like he was ready to start the day. “You should,” she insisted, blue eyes fixated intently on his as she gave his arm a firm squeeze. “Because putting forth the extra effort to understand is what makes you a good person.”

A feeling unlike anything he’d ever felt before welled up inside of him so strong he thought he might cry. Appreciation bloomed into every last artificial muscle in his face and he released a shaky breath through an open mouth. Connor hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed to hear it until that moment- because the one thing that had been eating at him more than anything, was the self-loathing that came with being torn between what (he thought) he knew and what he’d learned. He hated himself for his inability to understand (or maybe accept) Kate’s truths. Every frustrated sigh and disappointed smile cut into a heart he didn’t know he had, so to hear that she appreciated him in spite of those shortcomings...? She may as well have kissed him. The way he stared as she stepped away from him conveyed his desire to thank her, but before he could, Hank nudged him along. “C’mon, we need to figure out how we’re gonna explain this lead to Fowler.” “Oh, I’ve already taken care of that,” she informed, turning her attention to the Lieutenant. “There should be an envelope on your desk when you arrive- surveillance photos, old but good enough to give you a clear shot of his face, and I’m sure your boss will be fine with an anonymous tip.” Hank blinked hard and shook his head. “Man, you really were busy last night. How did you manage to get that done?” “I have friends in low places,” she replied, standoffish yet informative. “But it doesn’t matter where the information comes from- he’s a danger to everyone if left unchecked.” Hank gave a quiet sigh and simply nodded in understanding. “Do you need a ride anywhere?” he offered, just to be polite. “Not until later tonight, if you don’t mind,” she said as she sat back on her heels and crossed her arms. “I want to stay off the FBI’s radar until their focus shifts onto the real threat.” There was a hint of judgmental snark in the question. “Are you expecting them to just forget about you in a few hours?” “No, but I expect them to be thoroughly distracted, granted your facial recognition software spots Nicodemus on the streets before then,” she concluded with a smirk, which Hank returned as he laughed and shook his head. “You sly little… alright, just- stay here, and don’t draw any attention to yourself. I got nosey neighbors who’ll find any excuse to come knockin' on my door, ” he instructed over his shoulder on his way to the front door. “I’ll be back around six, I can take you back then.” The girl shook her head and rolled her eyes with a small smile. “I’ll stay out of sight, thanks, Hank.”

“Do you really think I’m a good person…?” came his timid question, the only thing he could bring himself to say after such a moving revelation. Connor hadn’t moved from his place beside her, even as his partner beckoned him out the door. He was still stunned by her admission. Kate turned back to his questioning eyes, searching them for a moment as if looking to make sure what she’d seen in him was “still there”. “If you aren't, then you’re learning very quickly how to become one,” she affirmed with a barely visible smile. Connor’s brow twitched and his cheeks pulled at the corners of his eyes until he smiled rather pathetically, not unlike a puppy begging for attention, and took in a ragged breath. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said about him. Ignoring the warnings flashing in the back of his mind, he managed a reply with every bit of gratitude in his being, which was the only proper response. “Thank you.” “Connor!” Hank barked from the porch, getting impatient. “You comin’ or what?” “Well, what are you waiting for...?” Kate gave him one last big grin and a soft wink as she nudged him with her elbow toward the door. “Go get em’, tiger.”

[selenecrawford]

Selene Crawford: The Lady, The Villain and The Contrarian

Warning: None for the moment.

The trip back to the office was done in silence. A tense silence that neither Masamune nor Selene dared to break. At some point Masamune took Selene's hand and never let it go unless it was necessary. For her the nightmare was becoming real. They will go after them now. What she can do, how could she protect them now? Should she...

“Selene? Selene?! Answer me, are you ok?”

Selene failed to noticed that they were on the parking lot of the building. She was so adsorbed on her thoughts that failed to see when they arrived. Masamune's was frowning very worried at her.

Taking a look at Selene he knew something was wrong. It got worse when he touched her hand which felt cold like a block of ice. Not risking getting attack on their way to the office he took her hand trying to giving her some warmth meanwhile she was unresponsive. She was looking directly to road oblivious to the rest of the world. He took her on his arms and hugged her until the color returned to her face.

“Where are we?” Selene felt disoriented, cold.

“We arrived safely. Kitten why are you so cold?” Masamune kept warming Selene's hands until they got warm.

“Sorry I guess I space out didn't I?” Selene gave Masamune a weak smile.

“Come on let's go we need to let the others know what is happening.” said Masamune confused at Selene state.

Both walked holding their hands and arrived to the office. Selene automatically went to her desk and started to work. Masamune decided to went to Nobunaga's office and do a report. Upon entering the office he found Nobunaga talking over the phone.

“Yes, he is here right now, do you want to speak with him? It's Detective Katakura.” Nobunaga passed the phone to Masamune.

“Date here.”

“Are you ok? We got a call to the mountains and found your house blown up. What is going on?” Kojuro sounded puzzled.

“Yeah, we managed to escape on time.” Masamune hold the bridge of his nose trying to ease some tension.

“We? As in more than one person? Is there is something I need to know?” Kojuro's questions were done in a rapid fire motion. Knowing Masamune there must be someone he had done and might have a woman involved.

“Look, our receptionist is the one being targeted.”

“You mean Oda's mistress?”

“What you mean Oda's mistress?”

“It's all over the news and the press. Don't you read the newspaper?” Kojuro's information was a new development.

Masamune took a look to Nobunaga only to confirmed that it wasn't a joke made by Kojuro.

“No, I haven't been informed I have to go.”

“Don’t hang up Masamune, we need you at the station for a statement. When you can come?” Kojuro's question was more an order than a simple question.

“Tell me when and I'll be there. Now I really have to go.”

“Alright, I'll send you a message. Just be careful OK?” Kojuro's concern was well funded.

“ Got it.” with this Masamune hang up and turned to Oda.

“So, I gather you already know the situation?” Masamune was the first one to talk.

“I read the newspaper and saw the news, what about it?” Nobunaga knew where this go, so he started to carefully think what he should say. Knowing Masamune he will explode at any time. He noticed he was troubled.

“This might complicate things. Selene looks like is struggling with the situation. And...they found out about my house on the mountains and send a missile we barely escaped” Masamune took a seat and bury his face on his hands.

“Things are escalating. What about you? How are you doing with all this?” it was Nobunaga's turn to ask.

“It's like dealing with myself, and...I'm terrified. I don't want to loose her.” the sincerity on Masamune's voice surprised Nobunaga.

“You won't, we are here for you, for her.” Nobunaga put a hand on Masamune's shoulder.

Shingen arrived to find Selene working on automatic mode. She might fool the untrained eye but she was terrified and occupying herself in order to regain a bit of control. Smiling softly he approach and gave a warm salute.

“Oh Good Morning, my precious angel. I believe this is the entrance to heaven isn't it?” taking Selene's hand.

Selene stood there while looking at him without reacting to his words.. Shingen frown this is not the reaction he was hope for.

“Princess are you...?”

“Oh, sorry I've been absent minded lately. Too much work Mr. Takeda, are you here for an appointment with Mr. Oda?” Selene tried to regain her normal self but she was struggling. She needed time to think, but then she remembered her promised to Masamune.

“This situation have me a little rattled up that's all. Forgive me, will you like some tea,sweets anything for Mr. Sanada, Sarutobi or Mr. Uesugi?” she gave a look to the rest of the group.

“Tea will be good for all since we are on working hours right Kenshin?” Sasuke gave a look to Kenshin who was sited pretending to read a magazine.

“Whatever, I'm here because there is no other remedy.” Kenshin didn't bother to look up.

“OK, just pass to the conference room I will be bringing the refreshments there I will let know Mr. Oda you had arrived.” by now Selene was acting professional and normal.

Selene guided them to the conference room once she made sure everyone was comfortable she let know Nobunaga. At the same time went to the little kitchen to make some tea and sandwiches. When she arrived Masamune was cooking, apparently she wasn't the only one with anxiety. The kitchen although not as big as the one on his home had all the commodities a normal house needed including an oven, Microwave and a full refrigerator. When Selene began to work she noticed the place was all ways completely stacked with food. Taking mental note she always made sure it was ready for use. Masamune either was there or working on a case. Since this time she was the case he was cooking. Selene observed him from the door smiling. He was wearing a black apron, while moving in his element.

“Like what you see kitten?” Masamune turned to give her a wink.

“Yes, I do. Although I'm not used yet to see you with an apron.” Selene approached and try to get some of the essence of what he was cooking. “ You ok?” his smile didn't reached like always do. His eye was trying to hide the conflict inside of him.  

“You scared me this morning when we arrived.” he was chopping some vegetables. He wasn't recriminating her for it , but he sounded defensive.

“I'm sorry, I guess I just went into a defensive mechanism. You know not everyday I begin my mornings with an incoming missile and destroys my...” both look at the same time looking for the elusive word that was escaping them.

“It's there a term for us at this stage?” she ventured to ask.

“If it is, no one sent me the memo. All  I know kitten, is that whatever it is I hope to soon change that to a more official term.” he gave her a rapid kiss on the lips while continuing his task.

Selene felt her cheeks getting hotter, deciding not to add anymore, she prepared the tea and some sandwiches, on her way out she added.

“BTW, Shingen and his group are here, it seems they will stay for a while.”

“OK, I will add more portions. Let me know if something changes.”

“Thanks.” giving him a flushed smile Selene took the tray to the conference room.

Upon arriving the room everyone was verifying all the clues they had gathered about the case. Copies of the letters were obtained thanks to Kincaid, while Detective Katakura called again to let Masamune know that the missile was robbed from a facility on Russia. Which meant it was acquired on the black market ending the trace on that part. The investigation kept going for the next days.

“We just hit another dead end.” said Mitsurani to Sasuke both were working the network and any digital media.

The threats didn't match any Modus Operandi of any case on the police data base. Neither any case worked by Shingen's group or Nobunaga's. Comparing also the cases of Masamune and Mitsuhide gave nothing making the situation frustrating for everyone. After the second attempt things calmed down. Even the threats stopped being delivered. But an envelop left one morning in front of the building gave a reminder to the group that their predator was still at large. The envelop has a group of photographs where Selene appeared with any of them. Sometimes in group others with Masamune or with Nobunaga. Since the shooting incident the press started to report on Selene often making her prey of some unlawful rumors. With the photographs was a note also in Blood.

“Give me what I want and I will go away.”

“Ha?, what is that suppose to mean? I beat I need a break” Yuki was so upset that went out of the room to clear his mind.

Everyone was at their limit, it was then that Selene seemed to remember something.

“There was an horror book that I read once, what really called me out was that phrase. “Give me what I want and I will go away.” The book was about a group of people each with their own dark secrets. At the center was this girl who was innocent and yet caught on with them. Since she never agreed to their bidding they made her life a living hell. I need to make a call.” Selene went to her desk to make the call when Kenshin called her out.

“So how the book ended?”

Selene looked at Kenshin and said in a solemn tone. “She killed them all.” and left.

“I know, I know, yes you can come tomorrow to visit. Bring all of them if you want. Just make sure he also comes alright?” Ian hung up. Turning around he faces the man if everything goes according to plan after tomorrow what belong to us by birthright will come back to us.

The man dressing all in black and red converse shoes smiles while adjusting is Fedora.

“Good, I cant wait to see you once again my love.”

Nobunaga parked his car, it has been 6 years since they spoke. He swear he will never come back again. But right now Selene might need him if something didn't work out on their meeting of tomorrow. Entering by the backdoor he knocked the door and a grumble resembling “Come in” was heard. A cocky smile drawn on Nobunaga’s features.

“I guess some things never change uh Yasu?”

Notes: For some reason I struggle a lot with this chapter. Any comment or feedback is welcome. I hope you guys like it.

@elievalentine @datemasamunemaiwaifu @colivara @unstoppablelinda @yeshasays @masa-little-kitten @kimi00twin @jennacat84 @xathia-89 @notsafefortum-blr @sengokuotaku82 @serenity-writes @la-piperina @louveau @epicdragonlady @mikamiw

[trliteraltrash-fics]

Grin And Bear It - Chapter Five

Chapter Four: Respectfully, Fuck You

Ao3 Link

Inspired by @miss-conduct​

Summary:   You’re a 27 year old military Lance Corporal. You’d think that’d be good thing, but on a covert mission gone south, will you ever get to go home? Or will you adapt and find comfort right where you are? oh, and maybe you hadn’t heard, apparently time travel is a thing?

Catch up here! Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

'I suggest you find a better place to nap.’ Soldier: 76’s voice echoed through your head as you sat by the window, colours thrown in a spectrum of reds and purples across the sky. Hardly anyone disturbed you here. It was quiet, and hell, sometimes you just had to get away from people. Away from the noise and the buzzing of electricity in wide hallways or places like the infirmary where there were so many devices running. Coming here had become part of your daily routine. Over the past week since your night of gaming with the ‘Tree Musketeers’ you spent each day training, going through drills and sets with 76. Thus far he had taught you basics – mostly things you already knew. It was familiar, and it brought a sort of calm as you threw yourself into it, the routine training becoming more and more like muscle memory.

After training you’d usually share a meal with the younger agents who had quickly become friends to you, more than you could consider yourself to them. Today, you had skipped the option to each with them. Watching the sunset, wanting to do so from start to finish today. The colours were more vibrant today, clouds covering the sky. You wondered if it would rain soon; you loved the rain. You sat with your arms wrapped around one knee, the other leg out straight in front of you. The world at ease for a few precious moments, these usually being the ones you would plug in your headphones and listen to Maris’ voice. Her picture sitting in your hand. Her face smiling brightly at you.

The window had almost become your ‘spot’ in a lot of ways. No one really walked by, it was just inside a blind spot of a security feed. It was disconnected from the crazy outside world of the future and it’s millions of things you couldn’t even begin to understand. Sitting there it didn’t matter if the other agents of Overwatch thought you were crazy for doing a chore or two when it needed to be done, nor did it matter how hard you would push yourself when you trained. At the end of the day, you still had this. The sunset.

Hell, if Hanzo could preach about meditation and finding peace, glorified bathrobe and all, you could certainly find it for yourself in these small moments.

You ran your thumb along the edge of the polaroid in your hand, the edges worn and middle starting to fade despite your careful folding to keep it from doing so. Her smiling face was still the most beautiful thing you had ever had the blessing of experiencing in person. The sun was starting to dip further behind the trees.

You’d find a way back home to her eventually or die trying. It was a promise you were making to yourself, you wouldn’t stay more than half a century into your future. You’d get back home and make a difference, even if that meant leaving the army, risking the loss of being paid due to the aim at the special pension reserved for soldiers who serve twenty years. You could get a real job that would still pay the bills, one that would let you spend time with your sister. Try to make up for lost time.

“Cadet.” You jolted at the sound of your Commander’s voice, his tone sending your mind reeling to images of memories you’d rather keep buried. You stood from the ground, at attention.

“Yes, Sir?” You stood with your shoulders straight and right arm up in a salute.

“At ease.” He started, you placed your arm down at your side. You were still rigid, fingers curled into fists.

You nodded at him when he hadn’t continued with your orders.

“Winston wants to see you in his lab. He’s got Intel he wants to show you.” Your eyebrows furrow as you grow confused, eyes turning towards the ground. It had been in the last week that they had stopped running scans. Could they really have sorted through everything that quickly? It was a hell of a lot of data. More importantly, what was so important that they had to interrupt you during the one thing you looked forward to each day?

“Can - - Sir, may I have a minute to - -”

“No. He wants to see you asap.” Soldier: 76 stood there, his arms folded over his chest with a coldness as though he were scolding a child making a stupid decision. You relaxed your fingers. Maybe it was stupid to look forward to something as silly as a sunset.

You nodded, a defeated sigh falling from your lips as you moved forward, following an invisible path to Winston’s lab. If it truly was that important, then you supposed the sunset could wait until tomorrow. Not like they thought much of the natural phenomenon anyway. You took note that 76 didn’t join you on your long walk towards the lab. Was it a private matter? They didn’t really exclude him otherwise.

You followed the stairs down to Winston’s lab, the electric buzzing faintly in your ears left you tense as you stepped through the doorway. Both Winston and Doctor Zeigler were in the lab, documents open on the electronic interface of the desk. The gorilla scientist looked up at you upon approach.

“Watson. Please, have a seat.” He started, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. You sat, albeit hesitantly.

“We have some concerns.” Mercy told you, her eyebrows furrowed, looking over a type of chart. Your own concern only grew as you saw document after document glowing over the desk, each one having a single name written on it.

Watson.

“You need to listen very carefully to what I’m about to tell you,” the scientist started, his gaze sympathetic. You nodded, urging him to continue. He brought up a document, your original medical report, it seemed. “When Tracer brought you in, we didn’t know what to make of you.”

“She insisted there was something special about you.” Mercy cut in, looking at the document hovering between the three of you. “She said that you were different from other civilians.”

“The tests we conducted over the past three weeks have concluded quite a few things.” Winston states, bringing up a 3D holographic image of a brain. “The first being that you have an abnormally high level of perception and processing.”

“Meaning?” You asked, wanting to prompt the conversation along when it looked like both doctor and scientist were going to hesitate.

“It means,” She sounded hesitant to tell you, walking over to lean against the desk and face you. “Your brain sorts through information at an increased rate, constantly taking in information in your environment and analysing it. Like a super computer that is constantly running, even when you’re not conscious.”

“Is that a problem?” your gaze flicked between them.

“Ordinarily, no.” She sighed, placing two fingers against her temple. “Watson, it seems that whilst your mind has amplified its ability to process information, this has also lead to an increase of each of your five senses.”

Winston separates the image of the brain into two, different levels of colours appearing.

“In the first scan, you can see that your mind is working and processing information at around thirty cycles per second whilst in your induced coma. The second shows the activity to be running at forty cycles per second.”

You looked at the images, it impressed you that your brain could be processing so much, so quickly.

“We believe this has something to do with your lost memory.” Winston adds, bringing up yet another series of scans that no doubt leads down to some chemical equation as you why you’re the way you are. “It has to do with the theory of time travel.”

You nodded. The change in subject taking your interest, they were only just now deciding to tell you even though you had already known for weeks. You weren’t sure if you should be thankful that they were coming forward with it, or offended that it took so long.

“Watson, we are under the belief that whatever happened before you were found in London, has led to travel through time.” Mercy crossed her arms, button down shirt and lab coat bunching at her elbows. “It’s both fascinating and concerning.”

“And, how does this connect to my brain?” Your question was pointed. You didn’t see how the topic concerned you other than the fact that it was your brain at work. It frustrated you. If they knew this, then what were you all siting around for? Why weren’t you looking for a way home?

“Watson,” Winston’s voice was full of compassion, hints of sympathy laced through it. “We know very little in terms of your condition or even how it came to be.”

“Why?” You stared at them, eyebrows furrowed and finger nails digging into your palms as you sat in the chair in front of Winston’s desk.

“We only know what you’ve told us. There are no records of anything that could help us to get you back to your own time. Please understand - -“

“Russia.” You ground out, hanging your head. The conversation pauses, your head felt hot, cheeks flushed with both shame of failing to keep mission details confidential, and the disgust you held. You were desperate to get home… But at this cost? The cost of potentially important information?

“What was that?” Mercy asked you, her voice so irritatingly calm.

“I was in Russia.” You bring your hands to your lap to grip onto the fabric of your pants instead of digging so hard into your palms. “I was working surveillance.”

You could hear the tell-tale signs of typing as what you were saying wa being recorded on yet more reports about you.

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” You heard mercy ask, feeling as though there was a sort of condescending hint that probably wasn’t actually there.

“It’s classified. The whole mission… I’m not even supposed to tell you where I was.”

“Why?” Why? What did she mean, why? What part of classified information did these people not respect?

“Doctor.” You started, eyes trained on your shoes. “I am giving you all I can on the mission. It is my duty as part of the Australian Armed Forces to not tell you anything about it. The information I have supplied you so far would get me court-martialled alone.”

You blocked out their voices as best you could after that. You didn’t want the questions. Your heartbeat was rising, the feeling of being unsafe filling your chest as it had on day one of being in the facility. You weren’t supposed to tell them about the mission. And you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them the specifics, but you had given them a location. You were sure that was enough. God, you were so selfish. Selfish for wanting to go home instead of protecting the information as it was your duty to do. Selfish for wanting to see your little sister, for wanting to get home.

For wanting sunsets.

You slowly forced yourself back into the conversation, you had to deal with what was in front of you. Had to deal with the repercussions of leaking classified information to people who weren’t supposed to be privy to the information you just handed over. An image of blood coated the backs of your eyelids. Blood on your hands, on walls, clothes, limbs. You could practically feel your guilt sticking to you like drying blood.

You took a deep breath as you looked up at them.

“What is your point in all this?” You asked, jaw clenching, hands trembling in your lap, skin flushed in controlled anger.

“Watson, almost the entirety of your brain is working at any given time. Taking in information, analysing it, processing and presenting it to you with a speed that we have never seen before. It is simply faster than any human has been able to accomplish. It is likely that this will not ever happen again.” Winston tried to explain, hints of curiosity and excitement in his tone.

“So, what you’re telling me is that you’re focusing on my brain to see just how ‘spectacularly’ it works? See if I maybe have a few screws loose that maybe some duct tape can hold together long enough for you to just examine?” You were raising your voice, every syllable pointed with the precision of a fresh blade. Your blood felt like it was boiling, face burning with anger that you just couldn’t hold in.

“Watson, that’s not - -“

“I’m not finished!” You growled as you stood from the chair, legs scraping against the floor. “I’m not going to just hang out and wait for you to ‘fix’ me and send me home.”

“We don’t know if it was just your mind that has been affected.” Mercy tried to reason, bringing her hands forward to reach for your shoulder. You shove her hands away.

“I travelled into the – fucking – future. Which, by the way, I knew about a fortnight ago.” Your voice was venom now, acidic as your eyes focused on the doctor’s shocked expression. “But oh no ma’am. That’s not the best part! I get to have the equivalent of a ‘super computer’ as if that’s a blessing that I should be bowing down to some god for. And yet I still get to find out that you with all your fancy equipment and future tech – don’t have a single, foggy clue as to what the bloody hell is wrong with me?!”

“Watson, please, try to understand, we –“

“You What? Just want to help me? You want to try to understand my condition?” You shook your head, voice levelling out to a commanding tone. “I know your organisation needs new members because of the geographical spread of all of your soldiers. But I’m not a cadet, nor a private. I’m a fucking Lance Corporal. I don’t need to be talked to as if I’m stupid. If I have to be fucked up because of the sheer ‘concept’ of time travel, then I can sure as hell find my own way to get back to my own time and fix all of this absolute bullshit.”

You turned and stormed out. The scientist and doctor with all of their graphs, diagrams and data spread around the room had not a word to say. The display of frustration and anguish enough to silence them. It only took the edge off the amount of anger you had slowly piling on for weeks in the same halls, same rooms, same god forsaken building. You were probably less than welcome in their office now, you realised.

It wasn’t that what they said had made you mad to begin with. It was that they spoke with both the terminology of someone who was supposed to understand, and the condescending undertones of people who would regard you as stupid, or with no possible hope of understanding. A dull ache started in your chest, settling everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You pushed it down, not wanting to deal with it, not wanting to deal with anyone.

You were headed towards the window, knowing full-well that the sunset would be gone, and that you would have to last until tomorrow to see it. When you arrived at the window, the mood changed dramatically. The soldier was standing there, leaning against a wall by the window, staring out, a cup of coffee in his gloved hand. The sun expectedly gone as you approached, not wanting to back away and find somewhere else. You lent against the other wall, arms folded as you tried to compose yourself and rein in the anger before you opened your mouth and ruined things between the only other person of authority that you knew of.

After a moment or two, you felt his gaze on you. He could probably see the flush across your skin from being in the lab and snapping at his colleagues. You could feel it, even as you wondered how you would get the band around your wrist off and leave the facility. If you could find a hacker, they might be willing to get it off your arm. Although the idea was entertained, you knew it would never work, not only would you need to find a computer to do so, but you really had nothing to trade. There was no chance it would work.

“You lied.” 76 said from next to you, voice lowered.

“What?” Your gaze turned to him, the light of his visor emitting softly in the dark of the hall as he face you.

“Your name isn’t Watson.” He stated, the air turning threatening with the danger that seemed to radiate off him in waves. “You lied.”

“I didn’t lie.” Your tone was calm, level even. It surprised you how quickly the anger bubbled back up as your fingers curled to dig into your arms as you kept them folded. If he decided you were a threat then there wasn’t much of a future ahead of you, here or in your own time.

“If you didn’t lie, then what the hell is this?” He took a folded pile of paper from his pocket and held it out to you.

You took it from him, your gaze turning downwards as you unfolded the paper, reading over it. The basis of the accusation, and the information had a great many things running through you as you read over things you already knew. How the actual fuck did he get this? The man standing before you was much smarter than you gave him credit for, he had found your birth certificate, the school you went to, even the date you enlisted into the fucking army. He had the name of your little sister, Maris [L/N]. He knew who you were, and it showed in his cocky-arsed, military drilled attitude.

“Something wrong, [Y/N]?” His voice was like the distant rumble of thunder, promising lightning to come, it sent ice through your bones.

“How did you find this?” You looked up at him, was there really any point in hiding it anymore?

“Wouldn’t have had to go looking if you had’ve told the truth.”

“Yeah, because the truth is that your name is really ‘Soldier: 76’” Your voice was dripping with both sarcasm and anger. Fingers gripping onto the pages in front of you, heart beat rising. You almost regretted your decision to snap at him when he leaned down to your level.

“You’re digging yourself a grave - -“

“What? Be prepared to lie in it?” You finished for him, your entire body facing him, jaw set and shoulders straight, glaring into the ‘eyes’ of his face. “I constructed the fine print on my funeral the day I signed the enlistment paperwork. I’m already lying in it. I’m. Waiting. To. Fall. Asleep.” You hissed, shoving the papers into his chest as you turned, leaving with the last word, bitterness seeping into every last crevice of your body.

Deep down, you knew getting home was a stab in an inky blackness that could swallow you whole. Seeing your little start was as good as your chances of getting your next ‘headshot’ in one of D.Va’s videogames the next time you play. Near on impossible. If everyone around you could stop looking at you, your name and your family and start looking at your situation, maybe you would be home by now.

If they wouldn’t focus on what was important, then you would.

“Well done, mishka.” Zaryanova’s praise touched your bittersweet mood with a cheerfulness that had you feeling tired.

You had come to the training hall to blow off some steam, away from the infirmary, but still being productive, even if it was for your own gain. The Russian woman beside you handed over a water bottle as you sat up. You took it, stretching out one arm as you drank from the bottle. Your gaze turned to the weights, the total seated at about 180 pounds. Your goal was to bench 200 by the end of the month, if you were even still here at that point. You looked up when a shadow fell over your legs, looking up you saw the strongwoman standing over you, arms across her chest over a pink tank-top.

“Something is on your mind.” It certainly wasn’t a question, the stern undertone of her voice encouraging you to tell her what was bothering you in a very distinctively Russian way.

“It’s nothing too important.” You shake your head, shrugging your shoulders.

“You are happy with progress, no?” she sits across from you, taking a weight in her hand.

“My progress is fine – here at least.” You sigh, watching as Zaryanova uses the weight, doing bicep curls.

“Then, is an emotional issue.” She states, levelling your gaze with hers.

“Call it an altercation – an emotional immaturity, if you will.” You look out across the training hall, breaking eyecontact.

“What causes you to think that?”

“Over the course of the lax six hours, I’ve managed to be aggressively insubordinate.” You crack your knuckles, fingers giving as easily to the motion as you had to your previous anger.

“Is it important?”

“What?” Your gaze turned back to the woman sitting in front of you, working her muscles. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Was it a necessary argument?” She was looking down at her arm as she completed another curl.

Was it?

You were a little stunned, did you really need to have the argument? Sure, you could’ve gone about it differently, but you had been so angry. You had felt like a child, everything down to something as trivial as a sunset stripped from you. It had made you feel vulnerable, defensive. Did Winston and mercy deserve to be yelled at? No, not really. But it was something you had to get off your chest. You didn’t think anyone would listen to you otherwise. Not even the soldier who appeared to take in your every word with a critical eye, he probably fact checked everything. You nodded.

“Yeah, I think… I think it was.”

“Then what is the problem?” She looked up at you.

“I…” You pressed your mouth into a line, looking at your hands as your shoulders sagged. “I think it’s going to severely mess up my shot at getting home.”

“Home is where you make it, mishka.” You felt a hand come to rest on your shoulder. “Is not home that is problem, yes?”

“I have… A family – a sister – to get back to.” You move your gaze to look up at her.

“You have much to learn.” Zaryanova sighs, running a hand through her bright pink hair. “Brothers and sisters are here as well.”

“How do you mean?” You were confused, just what’d she mean by that?

“To live, to fight in team. Would you not live and die for them?” She asks, giving you some ‘food for thought.’ “Are they not family in arms?”

You stared at the woman in front of you, giving you sound advice. Sure, you had to figure out the answer for yourself, but really you should’ve asked yourself that before. You’d not even been here a month and yet you had already acquainted yourself with new people, new friends. Were you being selfish by not accepting what was put in front of you? Throwing away the opportunity to do better?

“You might just be right, Zaryanova.” You decided. The two of you stood, her height allowing her to tower over you without a thought. You grasped each other’s forearms, the grin on her face was brilliant as it was cocky.

“Of course, I’m right, mishka.” She pats you on the back as you turn to leave. “I’m Russian.”

You left her in the training room, a calm sitting over you as you thought about what she had given you to consider. There was a lot you had to sort out.

-

The next morning, you were standing in Winston’s, having just interrupted a meeting he was having with Mercy and Soldier: 76. Which was unbelievably convenient. The issue certainly wasn’t going to sort itself out, and you had to get it over with. Standing there now, you felt small and insignificant, your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to compose not only your apology, but also your defence as to why you had argued and yelled at them in the first place. In a way, you felt as though they expected you to apologise, not that you had much of a choice. You didn’t want any more debts to pay.

“I want to apologise, for my actions yesterday.” You started, attempting to keep your voice even with their attention pointed at you. Your hands sat in front of you, one hand holding your other wrist. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It was wrong, and immature. Especially when I’m here out of the generosity of your organisation.”

You took a breath, slowly, eyes scanning each of them to see if there was any disbelief or perhaps any hatred in the eyes of the trio that you considered judge, jury and executioner. You straightened your shoulders.

“Specifically, I wish to apologise for providing you a false name. I understand that there may be distrust of my position here, but by providing a pseudonym, I had a way to protect my identity… Not that it did much good in the end.” You looked at Soldier: 76, red visor light staring right at you. “I don’t mean you any harm. Not to your operation, families, or any information you have here. My name is [Y/N] [L/N], I am a Lieutenant Colonel of the Australian military… And I wish to formally apologise, and request that I take responsibility for my immature actions.”

Your long-winded apology didn’t go without its flaws, and you certainly hoped they would accept it, even if you highly doubted it. This was, realistically, the best wicket you had in terms of not only surviving in the future without any knowledge of how anything from income to shelter worked. It was also your best show at getting home. You didn’t know what was outside the perimeter of the facility, not with the Mad-band around your arm tracking your location.

You fidgeted as you waited for them to respond, your gaze turned down to your shoes as they looked at each other, the silent conversation running over your head. You were mentally preparing for them to drag your arse out of the facility with nothing more than what you had arrived with.

You hear Winston clear his throat. “Well, uh. This is a change of events, certainly. But your apology is accepted.”

Your eyes snapped up to look at him, you were surprised. The only other person in the room who even showed a fraction of sharing that same sentiment was 76, who had tensed as Winston spoke.

“However,” He continued. “we understand that mistakes are made, but as you said, you wish to take responsibility. I believe the best course of action would be to leave you at the hands of Soldier: 76 to levy the consequences.”

“Yes, Sir.” You nodded, turning when you were dismissed. Walking out of the lab you mulled it over; Soldier: 76, the American hard as nails Commander with a stick up his arse was going to deal your hand. Perhaps by the end of this, you wouldn’t need to find a way home after all.

-

Boots falling in step, Angela Zeigler and Soldier: 76 made their way towards the MedBay where Angela was looking to drop off some printed documents for filing. The topic of conversation was you.

“I know Watson had an altercation with Winston and I… But one with you,76? I hadn’t suspected that.” Her tone was thoughtful, her arms resting comfortable around the stack of files in her arms.

“A pointed conversation.” He clarified, opening a door for Angela to step through first. His thoughts on the content of the conversation he had shared with you.

“And that’s when you discovered that her name is, in fact, [Y/N]?”

“No. I have been looking into her from the moment she woke up.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I have a few concerns about her.”

“General, or security?”

“Mental.”

He nodded, his mind flicked to the sight of you, anger so prevalent that you had been trembling with it. Eyes holding a darkness he had seen too many times in the mirror.

“I’m not certain of the extent of her condition… It’s… difficult.” She admits, eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s certainly something of an enigma.” He agreed, watching as Angela stepped through the entrance of the MedBay.

“I will have to test for Post-Traumatic Stress…” She sighs, placing the files on her desk. “One can only wonder what she has had to do with the old ideals.”

Soldier: 76 placed his hands in his pockets, the sight of you laying against the window appeared behind his eyes. The journal page that had been damp with tears, the note to a young child, and the way you were perpetually tense whenever you were anything but asleep. If he thought about it, perhaps he was being too hard on you from a security standpoint. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume that you carried yourself the way you did due to your experience. What was it you had told him?

You were waiting to fall asleep.

He considered the implications of that statement. Being here, closed off from the outside would, admittedly, send even him stir-crazy. But he didn’t that was what it was, the only thing he really considered in your actions was that it consisted of an almost muscle memory that set you into a routine best to adapt yourself to the environment.

“Is there anything I should take into consideration, Soldier?” She was looking at him now, her tone suggesting it wasn’t just the facts she wanted.

“That soldier needs help, Angela.” He admitted, sighing. “Don’t push too much, too fast.”

“Understood.” She wrote something down, eyebrows furrowed. “I best be tending to her arrangements.”

-

You felt a pair of eyes on you as you pulled yourself up for your sixty-seventh consecutive chin-up, a weight seated on your calves that were crossed at the ankle. You had been waiting in the training hall for Soldier: 76 to show up and give you your orders. It was possibly a stupid idea to place yourself on the highest bar to do chin-ups in the training hall, however it ensured that your feet wouldn’t touch the ground. You huffed as you pulled yourself up again, adjusting the grip of your hands, feeling as though they were starting to slip. You left yourself down before pulling back up, bringing your feel up when they felt like they were dropping, keeping your focus on the bar.

“You have better form. Good to know you were listening.” A deep, gruff voice called from beneath you.

It startled you, not expecting whoever had come in to come by and talk to you. You tried to adjust you grip as your hands faltered on the bar you were pulling yourself up to. The surprise yelp you gave as you slipped from the bar was replaced with the immediate realisation that you could potentially be seriously injured when you hit the floor. You brought your arms out as if that would do anything.

The hard floor never reached you, your descent suddenly slowed to a careful halt as you heard the weight thud loudly against the floor. A pair of strong arms were around you, holding under your knees, and across your back. Your heart beating quickly to both exertion and the sudden slip. You looked up to see Soldier: 76, the red light of his visor up close not as intimidating in the light of the training hall.

You breathed in, realising that he had caught you as though you had weighed literally nothing. It would’ve made for a romantic moment if you weren’t in the army, or if the thought that he was your commanding officer only there to make sure you knew just how badly you had screwed up.

“Thank you - - sir.” You mumbled as he put you down.

“You need to be more careful, cadet.” He stated.

“Because falling for you is something I can account for.” You muttered.

“What was that?” There was an edge lace in his voice.

“Nothing, Sir.”

“Exactly. Drop and give me fifty.”

This was going to turn out just great.

You weren’t getting up there, no way your arms could pull your body towards the bar. Since when did you weigh this much? Your legs felt like mush, the muscles exhausted. Push-ups were fine, planking across two benches, you were okay with that. Fifty damn laps around the complex had left your legs turned into jelly. And after all that, you were back at square one; chip-ups. You were up to number 34 out of one-hundred. You couldn’t do it, you didn’t want to do it. But he wouldn’t let you down, not until you finished. Sweat was pouring off you in waves, making if that much harder to pull yourself up.

76 stood with his arms folded near you, watching as you pulled yourself up, grunting with the effort it took to simply pull yourself upwards. Your hair was a mess, having no chance to retie it for the duration he had been dealing with you so far. This form of cruel and unusual punishment confused you, originally, you thought he’d make you scrub the room, do laundry and other chores until he had thought you’d done enough to satisfy the grievance.

This hadn’t been what you had in mind at all. Did he enjoy putting you through training? Watch as you eventually struggled to so a basic set? You pulled yourself up, falling back to the full length of your arms before your chin could raise above the bar. Dammit.

“You can’t come down until you finish.” He reminded you, and you were sure you could hear a smirk in his stupid voice. You’d be hanging here for the rest of the century!

“I can’t get up there.” You groaned, trying again to pull yourself upward, muscles protesting with every centimetre.

“Then you’ll just have to hang there.” You pulled yourself maybe an inch higher, gritting your teeth at the comment.

“Sir?”

“What, Cadet?”

“Respectfully Sir… Go fuck yourself.” You quipped, pulling your chin above the bar.

-

“You told Soldier: 76 to – ha! That’s so great!” D.Va laughed at the comment you had made to the commanding officer hours ago, making your way down the hall with trembling muscles.

“I don’t feel great.” You groaned. He had made you clean the entire training hall after the smart-arse comment.

“Still. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to say it.” She smiled at you, “I can’t quite tell if that was a stupid or brave move on your part though.”

“Trust me, D.va, it was incredibly stupid.” You stopped at your door, the one with the sticky note on it, your name written down in neat letters.

“Hey,” D.Va turned to you, your gaze now on her. “Call me Hana.”

“You nodded at her. “Alright… Hana.”

You opened the door to your room and stepped inside. You were taken aback, it was certainly bigger than you thought, especially when you considered it housed a single person. There was a bed in the centre of the wall, too big to be a single bed, yet too small to be considered a double bed. Next to it on the right side was a desk, at the corner facing the wall, a window seated above it. The window just enough to let natural light in during the day. Next to the door was a dresser. There was still ample room for you to walk around, and have another person inhabit the space with you.

You looked at the room, your eyes widening. It might’ve been quaint, or small to some standards, but if filled you with a small sense of security. A sense of ease that came with having a space that was yours. Hell, you had your own bed.

When was the last time you had your own bed?

“At least something good came out of all this.” You sighed, walking over and running your hand along the covers. They felt soft.

“I’ll let you get settled into the new room.” You could hear the smile in her voice. “Meet us for dinner?”

“Yeah… Sure.” You nodded, hearing the door close behind her.

You turned and laid down on the covers, sinking into it, the mattress firm and holding you properly. It smelled like vanilla and something earthy. Not wanting to move, you laid there, staring at the ceiling, contemplating just how lucky you were in a lot of ways. Being here had improved you physically already, you were significantly more fit than you had been the first couple days you used to sneak off to the training hall. You had gained a sort of surrogate family born out of the battlefield rather than during the middle of it.

Tracer kind of reminded you of your sister, energetic and optimistic with an impatience that rivalled most. Hana was what you thought a ‘best friend’ should be, with her competitive nature and overly fantastic instinct to read the emotions of people. Lúcio was like a brother to you, his music was pretty good and showed not only his work ethic, but his big heart that you could see in each interaction you had. Even Zaryanova had made it into the mix, he solid advice had you in the position were in now, pushing through and trying to stick it out. To be patient and prepared for the possibility that you might not actually be able to get home.

Even McCree was on the list, only, he spent most of his time either in the firing range or doing god-knows-what somewhere else. He was always up for the company though, if you had time to give it. Your ‘acquaintanceship’ was more him openly flirting with you, like he did with most anyone (except Tracer – something about a girlfriend?) and you’d have a one-liner. It was kind of like going out drinking, without the liquor.

Your thoughts drifted to the American poster boy; Soldier: 76. Sure, he was your superior, but so was Zaryanova, and even Mercy. Both of whom would share a slice-of-life type story if it came up. With your commanding officer, there weren’t any conversations besides the regular Drill Sargent insults, and your smart-arse comments. Would he be the only one around who would almost outright avoid you outside when he had to talk to you? A small part of you hoped that wouldn’t happen. In a weird way, it felt like he could relate to you better, knew when to push you harder or to back off a bit. You shook you head, closing your eyes and sighing.

He was different to others that had trained you, sure. He treated you like he was supposed to, but there was a mutual respect there. The whole ‘I’m your superior but you’re still a human, kid.’ (why could you imagine him saying that?) You rub at your left wrist, feeling ghost pain rise up in an unexpected dull ache.

It was going to be one of those nights.

-

About two weeks into the hard and fast training Soldier: 76 had put you through since your apology in Winston’s lab, you found that you were allowed in the gun range. So far, you had been in there for about two hours. Mercy having just been by with a pair of hearing aids, only, to do the opposite to what you considered normal for your hearing. They adjusted automatically to the noises around you, gunshots scaling lower, and voices at a regular volume. You were immensely grateful to her for them, the sound of electronics in the area barely registering upon your ears now as you stood in front of a training bot that hovered above the ground.

You pulled the trigger to the rifle you had in your hands, apparently it was called a ‘Pulse Rifle’ and it had a far greater range to regular bullets. You looked at the training robot, some thirty yards away, you aimed, keeping your elbows from locking as you steadied the weapon. When you pulled the trigger, your arms moved, the force of the kick moving your hands, and the rest of you to the ground. The bullet missing the bot by a few metres, McCree chuckling to your right.

“You alright there darlin’?” He asked, a smirk in his voice as he watched you get back onto your feet.

“M’fine.” You brushed off your hands onto your pants. “Kick’s a bit bigger than expected.”

“Should’ve taken my advice.” He said, putting his cigar into the holder on an ashtray as he walked over. “It’s not enough to jimmy it against yer shoulder.”

You looked at him, eyebrows furrowing. “How’d y’mean, cowboy?”

“Well, missy,” He places his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face the bot again. He smelled of tobacco and stale liquor, whiskey mostly. “What it is yer doin’ is sitting the butt of the rifle against the wrong part of yer shoulder.”

You face the mark once again, eyebrows furrowing. “Okay, let me figure this out.”

You looked at the bot, adjusting your grip on the rifle as McCree stepped back. You moved the back end of the gun to sit better against your shoulder, and your side as you aimed it towards the bot and practice targets around it. You adjusted your stance to be more grounded, more centred as you pulled the trigger. The first few shots you tested missed. You readjusted and took to it again.

The shot hit.

Your eyebrows raised, and eyes widened as the training bots’ head exploded, the bot falling to the ground. Sure, you were adept at using weapons, or, at least those you could understand, but to actually hit a shot with this type of weapon? You were impressed with yourself. Your gaze turned to McCree, a smirk on his face.

“Looks like you’ve got the hang of it there all on yer own.”

“Yeah.” You breathed a laugh. “Wasn’t expecting it to just blow up like that though.”

“Best not stop while you’re getting the hang of it.”

You nodded, an affirmative sound coming from you as you turned to shoot, eyeing each target and shooting at it. Sure, anyone with a pair of hands could pick up a weapon and shoot, be it beginners luck or what have you, but it took training to get the amount of shots you were getting. You guessed it was perks of working your arse off when you were back home training or out on the field in a skirmish, that lead to your ability with this new kind of weapon.

A low whistle from beside you caught your attention, you lowered the weapon, looking for a way to reload it.

“Do I meet your expectations, darlin’?” you mocked his accent a little bit on the last word, raising an eyebrow as you found the release for the clip.

“Meetin’ and exceedin’. Didn’t think you’d actually start hittin’ the targets that quick.” He confessed, smiling at you when you looked at him.

“And they call you a quick draw.” You reloaded the rifle, looking back to the grounds as more targets rolled out. “Besides, I gotta set the bar somewhere.”

Aim, shoot, breathe.

-

Winston’s conversation with Soldier: 76 was going no where near the plan he had for it. The anger in the soldier’s features was evident as he presented the news.

“You want to put her out on the field?” 76 asked incredulously, voice low and seething as he stared down the gorilla from behind his visor. “She hasn’t got the training, let alone the bearings.”

“She’s been improving steadily.” The tone of Winston’s voice suggesting that he was trying to be reasonable. “She holds tremendous tactical advantage. Look at this.”

He looked at the live feed that was brought up. You were standing in the range, McCree smoking a cigar at the table nearby. You were handling a rifle half the size of you. When you took a shot and stumbled back, you turned, saying something to McCree, a smirk on your face as you adjusted your stance and took another shot. You hardly flinched with the kick, taking shot after shot.

“With her fighting for us, we could take care of Talon and its agents scattered over the globe. We could stop the largest crime organisation in the world. You don’t think she has the training? Look at her marksman skills.”

He watched as you took calculated shot after shot, until you emptied the clip. You brought the rifle down to look for the release. Just how many weapons had you tested so far? He discounted the thought. It didn’t matter if you could carry a weapon and have complete accuracy. It didn’t matter if you continued to exceed his expectations. It didn’t convince him that it would be the same on the field, he didn’t want to be the cause of more needless death. Especially when you didn’t even belong here.

“Handling a weapon in a controlled environment means nothing. It’s completely different on the field. Just because she’s able to stick something with a bullet doesn’t ensure she has the physical endurance required to take down Talon by any measure.”

“76,” Winston sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You know her, evidently more than I do, but the fact is that with her, we may have a chance at bringing peace again. Making a difference again.”

“She hasn’t got the training.” He stated.

“I’m sorry, but the matter’s out of my hands. It’s already been decided.”

“By who?” His voice was stern as he folded his arms, you shouldn’t be on active duty. He watched as Winston brought up your file, or, what he had access to.

“These scans and diagrams show that she is physically stable. 76, Angela cleared her for active duty, everything in her files, from medical diagnosis to conversations they’ve had is strictly under Angela’s clearance.”

“You didn’t look into her files yourself?”

“Angela is a capable doctor. Her decisions have come to be an advantage to us more than once.” He takes her file from the display on his desk. “She will be accompanying you tomorrow. There isn’t any risk, the mission’s only reconnaissance anyway.”

“You’ll regret that decision when her blood’s spread across the pavement.” He said, standing and leaving Winston’s lab. He had preparations to reorder.

-

The next morning, you were guided to a hanger, located in a separated building from the rest of the complex. There were ACVs – Well, kind of. You could tell they were military vehicles, due to the reinforced tyres on most of them, the thick metal shell of them suggesting that the vehicles were built to be in a skirmish. You crouched to look at the wheels of one of the vehicles, your eyebrows furrowing. They weren’t touching the ground, and nothing was connected to them.

They had hover cars.

“Stop gawking.” Soldier: 76 said, standing beside you. You got up, looking around the base again.

The hangar was big, and it seemed every car had its own designated space. Your eyes turned forward when you noticed movement, a pair of familiar faces standing by what looked to be a dropship. McCree and Tracer stood by the door. It brought a small comfort, having familiar faces on your first mission, even if this whole thing felt like a test.

You’d have to place trust into people you hadn’t long met, only one of which you had actually train with, and they would have to place their trust in you. You’d have to be ready for anything that came your way. It felt like déjà vu, like meeting your squad back home all over again. McCree like Jenks, the Texan boy with a sharp aim. Tracer like Mouse, resourceful and extremely quick. Then there was Soldier: 76, and yeah, he was kind of like Sprint, quiet and to the point, if he didn’t have the metal visor for a face, you were sure he’d always have a scowl on his face. The revelation had you feeling as though you were in good hands, and it made you want to be better.

Being in the army did that, you supposed, trusting your comrades faster than any regular person. They were the ones you had to trust like your life depended on it, because, your life did depend on it.

“Get in.” 76 ordered, Tracer and McCree walking up and into the dropship. You followed them up, abiding by his orders. He was the highest-ranking attendant to the mission as far as you knew, and thus, all orders he gave had to be followed.

You sat down across from Tracer, McCree next to her and the Commander next to you. You were nearest to the back of the vehicle, wondering what the mission would entail. You were told it was a simple reconnaissance, which explains why you were even allowed to toe in the direction of the mission in the first place. However, in your experience, nothing was ever just recon. You were hoping it was an easy in-and-out mission. That wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

Your thoughts were interrupted when the ship lurched, lifting upwards before moving forwards. You looked forward to Tracer, a recurring thought came to mind that had your eyes widening, awe dawning on your face as she laughed.

“You have hover cars.” You announced.

“Of course, love! They’ve been around for ages.”

Setting foot on ground zero had an eerie feel to it, there weren’t any people around, not that you could see. You were on the outskirts of what you were told was a rundown city, which, in all honestly just looked like the grungy side of Sydney. There was graffiti over the walls over buildings, posters over noticeboards. The more you looked at the city, which was really more a town anyway, you found that it was fairly run down. A car had been stripped of parts nearby. Windows were broken, doors broken in.

“Group up over here.” 76 ordered, placing a bag of equipment down and crouching to unzip it.

You stood alongside your companions, McCree inspecting his revolver and flashbangs, Tracer adjusting her jacket before she took her weapons from Soldier, who unloaded a rather large rifle that matched what you were coming to assume was his unspoken aesthetic. He stood, turning as his gaze settled on you. He had another rifle in his hand, a scope sitting atop it.

“Your weapon.” He stated, holding it for you to take, which you did, pulling the strap over your shoulder, letting it rest comfortable. Your commanders gaze turned to face the three of you.

“This is a monitoring, reconnaissance, mission. I don’t want buildings going down due to a lack of tactfulness, or lack of care.” He stated, turning his gaze to you for a moment as if you would send a building to the ground. “We aren’t expecting any heat on this but be on your guard. Don’t get yourself killed.”

You nodded, watching as Tracer and McCree just listened along, probably used to this kind of quick, on the job briefing.

“Report back if you see anything. Tracer, you’re headed east. Watson,” His gaze was back on you for a moment. “East. McCree and I will head through the middle. Remember to use your coms. Move out.”

From there you spread out, taking the east side as you were instructed. You appreciated the fact that you were given all the information you needed to know and weren’t expected to know when and where everything was. It gave you a sense that you were still part of the team despite the obvious difference in authority. You crouched at the corner of a building, looking around before heading inside to start clearing it, attempting to find any information that could’ve lead to the call to come out in the middle of nowhere.

You ducked through a kitchen, dirty dishes still in the sink. A teddy bear siting beside a highchair. You worked through clearing each building you could get to on the way towards the east side, not spending too much time in a building; just enough to clear it before moving on. There were a few stores that you cleared, the one you were clearing now had a door siting ajar, leading to what was probably the office. You walked over, pointing your gun towards the door. You toed it open with your boot, scanning the room.

You had to turn away.

A family had been killed in there, mother father, and two little boys. The dried blood on the wall hand your grip on your rifle firm as you worked to clear the rest of the store before moving on, only pausing to take a lone roll of duct tape from a shelf. Never knowing when you might need it as you pushed down the failure and thoughts of being so useless that you hadn’t come at an earlier time to save the people in the store. Not that there was anything you could’ve done.

It felt the same, each building was empty of anything interesting, unless you counted the body count. A common theme was occurring to you as you worked your way through the buildings. It had to be an act of terrorism, or a measure of control that had left the few bodies you found, other places with a spray-painted sigil of a barn owl. You found your way outside, weaving past bins and cars that had been stripped for parts. This town was a horror show put on display, and you had to focus.

You were probably at it for about an hour now. You were growing concerned as you searched, you hadn’t received word from the others. You reached up to your ear and pressed the button on your communications device.

“Commander, status. Over.” You spoke as you cleared the street of any possible signs of movement. All you got was static.

Shit.

“Commander, status report- -” The sound of distant gunshots ringing in the distance caught your attention.

You hadn’t been expecting resistance on this mission. The line was dead on your commanders’ end. You had no way of contacting him. You made your way towards the sound, creeping behind bin, cars, even fences to find cover. You tried your coms again.

“McCree, do you read me. Over.” Static.

You got closer to the gunshots, loud enough to tell you that the fight was going on very much nearby. You swept the area before going into the closest building. A hotel. It would make for a good vantage point. You had your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, clearing the open halls as you took the stairs, running up them as quietly as you could manage. If you could make it to one of the top levels, you’d have an almost perfect vantage point given the heights of the other buildings.

You heard shouting in the street, someone was down there. You ran into the closest room you could get to, kicking the door shut behind you. The empty living room of an apartment facing you, everything set out as though a family had lived there. You jump over a couch, rolling to land against the far wall of the room, adjusting your rifle so you could see through the scope. You sat up, using the scope to look out the window, attempting to pinpoint the location of the skirmish.

You look over the streets, your gaze turning to find movement towards the north-west. You moved your rifle to the window and crawled over to the next window, not wanting to take the chance if there was a sniper. You looked through the next window, scope showing you that the boys; McCree and Soldier: 76 were outnumbered, a group of mercenaries facing them with what was the equivalent of automatic weapons. You tried to get a clear shot, they moved behind a building, out of your range.

You groaned and hurried out the door, back down the stairs. You needed to make clear shots or you would give away your cover. You almost tripped on the last staircase, catching yourself on the rail as you made your way through the foyer, legs carrying you with an ease as you cleared corners and roads on your way to a closer building. Your eyes found a higher building as you heard how loud the skirmish was. It was rather close. You sprinted towards the building, ducking and weaving behind anything and everything in the environment you could find as you got to the entrance.

The large broken window was enough for you to jump through and find the stairs going up. You heard voices as you climbed the stairs, they sounded like mercenaries. You made your way up the stairs, careful not to make an unnecessary amount of noise. You followed the sound of the voices as you made your way up the staircase, to the fourth floor. They were being rather loud.

Kicking open the already ajar door, you were met with a group of three surprised mercenaries. You aimed at the first, the one on the right, aiming and shooting him as your muscle memory of how to operate in the situation took control. He dropped to the floor with a thud, the one on the right was a girl, her face looking young, but not for long. The middle one had scrambled for his gun. He aimed for you, but the shot was too far to the left, whizzing past your ear. You aimed and shot him, the bullet sinking into his shoulder. Gritting your teeth, you took the second shot in a rapid succession.

Dead.

You stepped inside the room, which was wrecked. Furniture and miscellaneous items scattered everywhere. Jumping over a couch and near missing some glass bottles, the smell of old, and new alcohol mixing in the air was enough to make your stomach leave you feeling nauseous at the smell. You made your way to the window hoping you weren’t too late as you set yourself up, aiming.

Looking down at the field, you saw that there were at least six targets on the ground, shooting at your comrades, another two in the lower level of a building. You looked up at the top of the building, a sniper with a long pony tail on the roof. Setting up the shot, you took a deep breath in, squeezing the trigger. The sound of your shot was like lightning cracking as the bullet you sent her way missed your intended target.

The only bright side was that her scope was broken; a heavy disadvantage in the field of ranged targets. Your attention turned down to the heat on the lower floors of the building the sniper was on. As you ducked out of the way, you felt a hot pressure graze across your arms, looking down, you saw that you were bleeding, a hole now in your jacket sleeve. You looked it over, hissing in pain, the blood not enough to worry about, you pushed your sleeve up you arm so that it could soak up more blood that would no doubt seep from your arm.

You chanced another look at the battlefield below you on the ground. Your concern not only on the talented sniper you would have to deal with, but onto your team who was being pinned down. You saw a black figure down on the ground now, a white face under his hood. You didn’t have time to think about it as a bullet collided with the brickwork at the height of your head. You swore, ducking behind the wall further. You just caught the flash of blue on the ground, a British voice calling out, signalling Tracer’s arrival to the unexpected party.

Perhaps you could use her arrival to your advantage? You looked around the room, you took note of the electronics from earlier, the nails that were sticking into the carpet and various other seemingly useless items. An idea struck you, effectively lighting a fire under you as you took to the floor, taking wiring, nails, a liquor bottle and an empty soup can, as well as the roll of duct tape you found in one of the stores earlier in your search. You crafted a ‘home-grown’ grenade, all kinds of shrapnel put inside of a device that could very easily explode. You only had one chance at seeing if it would work.

Turning to the window you saw that the figure in black had the attention of your comrades, the other targets busily reloading their weapons. It wasn’t that far, maybe fifty metres. If you could throw it at the right angle it would land and (hopefully) explode at the feet of the enemy. You stood behind the cover of the brick wall, calculating the trajectory of your very dangerous concoction.

You took a breath as you stepped out of your cover, throwing the grenade and watching it’s trajectory, landing a meter out of proportion. The confusion of the targets on the ground matched your own disappointment as your contraption did nothing, your intended targets inspecting it. It was only the span of a few seconds, but the resulting explosion in a flurry of glass, nails and liquor left a sadistic, morbid side of you satisfied with your work. The screams of pain, and the sight of fire catching to the clothes of the targets below left you – wincing? Why was there a pressure in your abdomen? You move behind the brick wall, looking down as you lean backwards. There was blood seeping over your shirt. You placed your hand firmly over the wound as you pushed yourself forward, towards the door. The crimson covering your hands a result of the wound and your physical strain as you coughed, placing a hand on the wall, blood slick hand slipping as your shoulder slammed into the wall.

It hurt.

You clenched your jaw and kept moving, towards the stairs. You knew it was a bad idea, but you started running when you saw the stairs, bringing your hand up to your coms. The resulting static signalling that they were still cut. Fuck.

Your blood pumped faster, your legs moving overly quickly as you ran down the flights of stairs. Warm liquid cooling against your hand, leaking over your arm. It hurt worse than when your hand was broken, or the time you were beaten for a long close-minded belief.

Your feet lost traction on the ground as you tripped, hands flying to the hand rail, your body slipping and rolling down the stairs into the main foyer of the building you were in. The gunshots outside didn’t hold as many numbers, it left you guessing that the targets in your sights had been neutralized. It was a fleeting, yet comforting thought as you pushed yourself up on slippery, sticky, and crimson covered arms. A harsh cough sending more blood and saliva over the floor. Your blood quite literally starting the paint the floor. Your skin felt flushed with heat. It confused you, you were losing blood weren’t you? Fear made its presence known around your rapidly beating heart.

You didn’t want to die.

You caught a glimpse of bright red outside, pulling yourself to get closer. You groaned with the effort of moving, the pain causing tears to spring to your eyes. You squeezed them shut, taking as large a breath as you could, hoping he’d be able to hear you.

“I need a medic!”

The sound of your pained voice just barely reached Soldier: 76’s ears. He didn’t want you out on the field in the first place, and yet, here you were. The explosion had certainly caught his attention, had you been caught in the blast? He didn’t bet on it, your voice coming from behind him. He shot his pulse rockets at the man before him, now known as Reaper before turning around, sprinting towards the building as Tracer and McCree distracted him. He looked around for you, unsure of what he’d find, especially from a kid who had told him explicitly that they had wanted to die.

He stepped into the foyer of an apartment building, heavy boot falls pounding against the pavement. He saw blood covering the floor and the sound of raspy, shortened breathing coming from the corner, near the staircase. He jogged over, finding you leaning against the wall, your eyes dull. He was over to your side in less than a second, the recognition on your face only followed by coughs that had your shoulders shaking, and blood pouring over your chin.

Soldier: 76 leaned over you, putting his arms under you, one under your knees, the other across your back, his rifle against his back and he lifted you upwards, turning to get back to the dropship. He could hear your shallow breathing, could see the tears that collected at the corners of your eyes as you leaned your head against his shoulder, biting into your hand when he headed for the door, just barely muffling the whimpered groan that made its way up through your throat. He made a mental note to figure out why you did that when you were safe, back at the facility.

“I know you’re lying down, kid. But don’t fall asleep just yet.” He managed to saw as he called for an E-VAC.

There was a set of hands on you, a gruff voice talking to you, a hard surface beneath you. Above you was the roof of the dropship, the face of McCree looking down at you with concern hair falling around his face. Pain was shooting through your side, the wound at your shoulder doing the amount of a paper-cut in comparison. You could feel your eyes closing, eyelids heavy. Why did you bother trying to stay awake? It was so hard. Wouldn’t it be easier to just rest? A wet hand met your face, turning your gaze to a red lit visor, something sticky attaching to your face.

“Stay awake for me, [Y/N]. Don’t fall asleep.” The man in front of you said, almost pleading undertones in his voice. Despite his robotic face, he looked how you imagined your perpetually disappointed guardian angel to appear, if you had one. Maybe he spent his days drinking? You didn’t have time to entertain the thought, a retching sound hit your ears as you jerked, a splash of saliva and blood hitting the floor, doing nothing to relieve the pain in your abdomen and chest. You couldn’t breathe.

“Bloody hell - why does she sound like that?” a British voice asked.

“Punctured diaphragm, collapsed lung. We’re going to have to stabilise it ourselves.” The white-haired man said, taking some type of tool from a first aid kit.

A hand took yours, a flask of something put to your lips as you were made drink whatever burning liquid was in it. You thought you heard something like ‘just squeeze if it hurts Darlin’’ before immense pain hit your side, the ability to breathe becoming slightly easier, something putting pressure on your lungs as the hand in yours was set in a death grip. Weren’t you supposed to be good at this?

You felt hot, what was the temperature? Did it make a difference? The pain wasn’t so intense, so it had to be a good thing, right? There was more talking, but you didn’t pay much attention. Couldn’t pay attention. It felt like you were under water, everything blurry. You could feel your vocal cords vibrating in your throat, suggesting that you were speaking, or groaning – something that you couldn’t register. You felt hot, why was it so damn hot? An intense wave of tiredness washed over you, a fleeting memory of napping in the summer passed behind your eyes. Were you allowed to sleep?

Eight hours later, Doctor Mercy Ziegler was looking at you perplexed, her confusion evident. Your wounds weren’t as bad as the amount of blood on your clothing, nor Soldier: 76’s. You had only needed a few stitches and gauze, but only because she had to take out whatever was used to stabilize your lung in the first place. It was quite the ordeal, leaving you feeling stupid for wasting resources that someone else may have needed. But, in a way, it was the lack of care you required that scared you in the whole situation. Shouldn’t you be dead?

“You were shot, yes?” She asked, for the fourth time in the last hour to which you nodded yet again. You hadn’t understood it either and you didn’t like the alienated feeling it gave you in a room with both sets of eyes on you. “Hm. And there’s no extensive damage… Perhaps... no, that’s not it..”

“It’s not, what?” You asked, gaze on the doctor who was looking back through your files. Mumbling to herself about charts and scans.

“An effect of your travel in time and space.” She said, the gears of her mind churning, you could almost see the gears clicking into place.

“So, what? I get super powers now?” You asked, a sarcastic edge to your tone.

“No, not ‘super powers’. However, it seems likely that you may have gained some physical abilities –  aside from the mental effects. Such as your apparent regeneration.” Her eyes were on your wounds. “I will have to and this hypothesis to your medical file.”

“So… I’m free to go? Just like that?” You asked, standing up and pulling your shirt down, Doctor Ziegler nodded.

“There isn’t much I can do for you now, other than suggest you take things easy and rest.” She had a rather thoughtful tone to her voice, profound confusion evident. “We may need to run another scan.”

“You’ll want to talk to Winston about that first.” You stated, seeing him as the head of all things to do with scanning and any other scientific developments in the complex.

“Yes, yes. I will.” She dismissed, waving her hands to signal that you could leave.

You walked out of the med bay, seeking a much-needed shower, hoping to get clean and release the tension in your muscles. Walking presenting a dull, but manageable ache as the stitches pulled on your side. The universe left you with more questions than answers. Was the mission a success? Was the point even surveillance? Who were the enemy? Did anyone else get injured?

What was with the sympathetic looks you got when you talked about you home country?

[tk-duveraun]

Title: Frozen Expressions 6/? Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Rating:  T Genre: Romance & Adventure Summary: All Morathis wanted was to save his brother. Despite researching with an intensity to make any member of House Seris proud, it may have been a mistake to approach Lord Faximil for help with the endeavor. Notes:  This Is Fine.png Previous Parts: One Two Three Four Five

“You look a lot better today.”

Morathis glances away from Tava to look at Lunia. He gives her a short nod and turns back. “It took a while to set in that… He’s really safe.”

“As safe as he can be, with a war on.”

As he considers that comment, Morathis touches the gold House Arimo pin on his lapel. “You think the Republic may attack here?”

“Possibly. It’s far more likely the Empire will come strip the land for resources.” Lunia says. She sighs and pours herself a fresh cup of tea. “Whomever picked the location wanted us to be self-sufficient to minimize the number of outside traders coming on world, but it’s a double-edged sword.”

“I’ve been doing forensics on…” Morathis trails off. Fox’s name lingers in his mouth, even more than the taste of him. “The Sith’s accounts. There’s nothing in them to suggest it’s worth the Empire’s time to come here. And I was looking for something to investigate.”

“That’s good to know. More tea, dear?”

“Please.” Morathis lets the familiar clink from the china settle over him. He can see Tava busily reading on a datapad with his foot tapping the air in some silent rhythm. With their parents, Tava would have been, and frequently was, punished from such lack of control.

Lunia sets the cup in front of Morathis and then says, “I hope he warms up to you before you have to leave with His Lordship.”

Morathis blinks owlishly at his brother before looking at Lunia. “Warms up to me?” He can hardly fathom the suggestion. Had she not seen the uninhibited way Tava tackled him when he arrived? Did she not see the significance behind Tava’s impromptu hugs every time Morathis was in reach?

Lunia brushes a stray lock of hair from her face and nods. She points to Tava’s bouncing foot. “Usually the pillows join in.”

A cold ache settles in Morathis’ chest and he looks back at his brother. “I should have known he was hiding it from me.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re the only family he has left. He just doesn’t want to disappoint you.”

“He could never-” Morathis cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I should have done more to reassure him.”

“You’re his brother, not his parent. You did your best and you brought him somewhere he can be himself without fear.”

“He’s my responsibility.”

“He doesn’t have to be. Not anymore.”

---

The moment Morathis returns to the residential complex, Mardh gives him a significant look and then silently leads him into a small office. Mardh closes the door firmly behind Morathis and then takes a seat behind the desk. The office itself is bland and utilitarian with white walls broken up only by monitors and holodisplays. The desk is a solid, faux-wooden thing with a spartan lack of adornment and personal effects. For all appearances, the room could be an empty spare, but Morathis has known Mardh long enough to assume it’s his.

Once Morathis has taken a seat across the desk, Mardh says, “Don’t mistake our motivation for letting you learn the secrets of Olkin II as altruism.”

“I assumed there was an ulterior motive, yes,” Morathis responds.

“Under other circumstances, there are ways to attend to our business here without you being any the wiser.”

Morathis doubts this, but says nothing.

“You’re expected to build a personal rapport with Outpost Palanquin. With good reason, your people are hesitant to answer an Imperial distress call, but we cannot afford that here.”

“The closest garrison is Fort Allescen. And their force is more than twice that of Outpost Palanquin. I appreciate the vote of confidence in our skill, but this seems an unnecessary measure.” Morathis studies Mardh’s reaction to his words carefully. Mardh is the best Imperial military analyst he’s ever met. Surely he already knows this.

“Lord Hyal the Elder took control of Fort Allescen when His Lordship took over the colony here,” Mardh says. His eyes have the slightest wrinkling at the corners to show his annoyance.

“Ah. I’ll see what I can do, but they will be even more hesitant knowing of the rivalry between Hyal the Elder and Fox.” The name slips out of his mouth before Morathis can stop it. While he’s careful to show no outward sign of slip that might simply draw more attention to it, he wants the chair to sink into the floor.

“Good. I trust I don’t have to impress the importance of this on you.”

Morathis nods. That seems to be the end of the conversation, so Morathis stands and makes a move towards the door.

“One more thing, Arimo.”

Morathis doesn’t turn the doorknob, but neither does he remove his hand from it. Mentally, he braces himself for… For what he’s not sure. A warning? Encouragement? Advice? He’s not sure which option is worst. He clears his throat. “Yes?”

“We need you in attendance tomorrow. I’ve already informed the Armandes, but you may wish to send your brother a message.”

“Thank you. I will do so first thing in the morning.” Morathis escapes before Mardh changes his mind and decides to say anything about that morning. He plans to go into his quarters, think about his life choices and then plan a course of action for winning over the staff at Outpost Palanquin. The commander is a Safis, so that might be a good place to start. However, his feet don’t seem to care for his plan, as they walk through Fox’s open door.

Fox is lounging on the same chaise, with the same trousers and thin undershirt. The only difference is the light bruise Morathis left on his collarbone.

The sight may as well have drenched him in gasoline and tossed a match. Before he can retreat, his mouth blurts out, “Mardh said you need me tomorrow.” Somehow, Morathis’ tone is even and professional, belying the firestorm just under his skin.

After a moment, Fox turns his head and blinks up at Morathis. He plucks the datacron out of the air and sets it on his coffee table before standing. “Yes, we’re meeting with the bursar tomorrow.”

Morathis licks his lips and steps further into the room. He hears the door shut behind him at a small flick of Fox’s wrist. “You think he’s falsifying his reports?”

“I know he is. If he wasn’t, you would have been suspicious of Olkin II. However, the population here is growing and soon he won’t have the resources to doctor all of the forms.” Fox walks forward until they’re close enough to touch, his strides as smooth and languid as any jungle cat.

“You want me to make the modifications?”

“I want you to make a system that does it automatically.” Though they’re the same height, Fox seems to loom over Morathis.

“Why not have Mardh do it?” Morathis asks. He swallows around his suddenly-dry throat.

“He’s good at interpreting data. Less so at making data give a certain interpretation.”

Morathis nods, but moving his head makes his gaze catch on the bruise on Fox’s collarbone and he’s suddenly swallowing for a different reason. He looks back to Fox’s eyes, blue and clear like no real Sith’s ever could be. “I’ll take care of it.”

They stand in unmoving silence for an entire minute before Fox says, barely above a whisper, “Was there anything else?”

Morathis doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how the bridge the space between them when he’s not shouting and lunging in anger. They aren’t lovers. It’s not as simple as tilting his head towards Fox’s bedroom with a nod. “Did you put any illusions on me?”

Fox’s eyebrows shoot up. “Not recently.”

Excellent. Perfect. Something to be angry about to explain the fire in his veins, “Not- When? Why?”

“What are you on about? I had the illusion on your desk just the other day. You were cross then; you can’t act like it’s a surprise now.” Fox looks surprised, but isn’t mirroring Morathis’ passion the way he had the night before.

“That’s not what I asked. I meant an illusion to hide me from sight, not to fool mine.”

“Why would I?”

“This morning,” Morathis says, the fire searing his face.

“I’m not ashamed of taking you to bed; you’re attractive and brilliant.”

The words crash into Morathis like the tide, but do nothing for the heat in his veins. Fox’s tone, it’s like he can’t even fathom why he would hide Morathis. Like he’d be just as pleased to kiss him full on the mouth in the middle of the Citadel.

But Fox just continues speaking blithely on, as if he hasn’t said something impossible. “If you’re worried about discretion, don’t be. Ivan’s better at keeping secrets than I am.”

“You need to stop talking,” Morathis forces out in half a breath, which is all he can spare before he has to press his mouth to Fox’s, has to pull their bodies together, has to grab the impossible man by the hair. He’s completely lost the plot.

But Fox’s tongue is in his mouth and he doesn’t care.

[aiimaginesbts]

Halloween Special 3 | Regional Photos

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Horror

Word count: 1,103 words

A/N: This fic is based on something very similar that happened to my dad.   Geophysics is not my specialty so I apologise if there are mistakes in this!

A week-long Halloween Special, also for Bangtan Bookclub’s October Supernatural Challenge!

[1] Late Night Shower (Seokjin) [2] Extra Passenger (Yoongi) [3] Regional Photos (Hoseok) [4] Found Me (Namjoon) [5] Visiting Granny (Jimin) [6] A Long Drive (Taehyung) [7] Secret Tunnel (Jungkook)

Disclaimer/Copyright

Even though you were protected by the shady tress, you were already sweating bullets. This was your passion, but there were always days that were difficult and tiring. The blazing sun beating down through the cracks between the leaves combined with the heat that rose up from the Earth in unrelenting waves sadly wasn't enough reason to cancel this.

Besides, you'd already asked for his help, so it wouldn't do to back out now. You looked up just ahead of you, watching the back of the man who was guiding you through the forest. His energy knew no bounds, it seemed, talking without even stopping for breath as he walked, but unfortunately it was not infectious. Still,it was hard to be annoyed at someone who was so genuinely friendly and helpful. So you just tried to focus on what he was saying as much as you could, although most of the contents of his babbling escaped your grasp as you trudged along.

"Thank you for accompanying me here, Hoseok," you said.

"It's no problem," Hoseok grinned as he brushed off your gratitude. "A young woman such as yourself shouldn't go into the woods alone, and I don't have anything better to do, anyway."

You could think of a million things you'd rather do than hike through the overgrown bushes on as sweltering weekend but Hoseok was going out on a limb to help you out so you didn't complain. "We're almost there," he informed, and you voiced out your acknowledgement in a huff between short, panting breaths. It was only a few hundred meters' walk, but the heat took its toll on you. You could hardly imagine what it was like for the students and technicians to make the trip with all the equipment in tow last week.

When you finally arrived at the site, Hoseok sat down against the trunk of a tree, watching as you examined the area that had been cleared by the team who'd come there before. Assuming that you needed to concentrate, he watched quietly as you studied the site, measuring the lines that the team had established, taking note of the spots where the geophones were placed. Before you finished up, you fished you phone from the inside of your cargo pants, switching the camera on, and finally he spoke up.

"What are you doing?" He asked curiously.

"I need to take some photos to put in the report," you answered as you snapped away. Thank goodness for the advance in technology, allowing you to take photos with such a small device. It was good enough for the purpose, and you shuddered at the thought of having to lug anything bigger or heavier.

Hoseok hummed thoughtfully at your response, but didn't have anything else to add while you finished up. After confirming that you'd had everything you needed, he led the way back to the car.

The sun was kinder than before as it traveled the other half of the sky, but Hoseok still turned up the air-conditioning as he drove back in the direction of the hotel you were staying at. "So, how come you're visiting the site after your team is done, doctor?"

"I was too busy to come after my first survey of the site," you explained, scrolling through your phone, ignoring the forest that you were passing by in favour of checking the photos you just took. A smile lit up your face when you confirmed that they came out well.

"How did the photos turn out?" He asked, noticing the satisfied expression on your face.

"Great! Say, Hoseok, why don't we get dinner? My treat."

"Really?" This time his excitement was catching, and you grinned back at him.

"Of course! It's the least I could do for your troubles."

"Ah, you don't have to, you know."

You did know, but you really wanted to. Other than repaying him for his help in guiding you and your team around the area for free, you genuinely liked the man, and wished to spend more time with him. "Show me the best place around here, I'm starving!"

"Yes, ma'am!" He boomed like a proud soldier, eliciting an amused laugh from you.

You had to hand it to Hoseok, the food at the restaurant he brought you to was simply divine. When you returned to your room later, night had fallen and you could hardly move; you were so full. After giving yourself about half an hour to rest and let your stomach digest the food you'd eaten, you sat at the table and opened your laptop. Taking out the memory card from inside your phone and putting it into the slot in the laptop, you accessed the folders, searching for the photos you took earlier to attach to your report.

However, you couldn't find anything. Just a few silly photos you took with your sister last week. Puzzled, you switched your phone on to look through it. The photos were not saved in the phone memory either. So you turned back to the memory card plugged into the computer, deleting the other photos and looking back at the storage space left in the card.

The available space had increased a little after your deletion, but the card was still storing too much data for an empty storage. Changing the folder settings to enable you to see the hidden files finally rewarded you with a bunch of photos, but your heart sank when you looked at them.

They were all pitch black. Checking their properties confirmed that they were the very same ones you took earlier that afternoon. Letting out a loud exhale of frustration, you reached for your phone again to dial Hoseok's number.

"Hoseok, I'm sorry, but it looks like I'll have to go to the site again tomorrow," you stated as soon as he picked up, not in the mood for pleasantries any longer. "The photos I took all became black for some reason. I have to go back and take new ones. You don't have to come with me tomorrow if you're busy. I'll be fine on my own."

The volley of arguments and disagreement you expected to come from his end never graced your ears. He remained quiet for so long you thought the line was broken, but before you could ask if he was there, he said in a quiet voice that was unlike his normal excitable persona, "I don't think taking more photos tomorrow will change anything."

"Huh? Why not?" Irritation turned into bewilderment at his unexpected response.

:"You see, some thins are never meant to leave that forest."