#concrete top console table
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Great Room Austin Inspiration for a mid-sized transitional light wood floor great room remodel with gray walls and no fireplace
#light wood dining table#natural wood flooring#grey walls white trimming#white crank window#concrete top console table#light wood table top
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Transitional Basement Basement - huge transitional walk-out laminate floor and brown floor basement idea with white walls, a two-sided fireplace and a stone fireplace
#blackout lined darpery#custom drapery panels#giant wall scrabble game#upholstered dining banquette#concrete top console#gathering table
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Transitional Basement - Basement Example of a large transitional walk-out basement with a brown floor and laminate flooring, white walls, and a stone fireplace
#basement#concrete top console#gathering table#upholstered dining banquette#nesting tables#basketweave marble tile#blackout lined darpery
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Transitional Basement - Basement Example of a large transitional walk-out basement with a brown floor and laminate flooring, white walls, and a stone fireplace
#basement#concrete top console#gathering table#upholstered dining banquette#nesting tables#basketweave marble tile#blackout lined darpery
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Walk Out - Transitional Basement Example of a large transitional walk-out basement with a brown floor and laminate flooring, white walls, and a stone fireplace
#walk out#swivel lounge chairs#concrete top console#reclaimed wood counter stool#reclaimed console table#custom drapery panels
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Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 99)
She pulls herself out of the console feeling dazed, N has his tail wrapped around her, and the scorching heat of his flamethrowers filled the room as the ground itself rumbled around them.
The ground had been disturbed…
Tendrils of black surrounded them on all sides, inching closer despite N's best efforts. On his visor was displayed an ‘X', a gradient of red and yellow as he protected Uzi with his life.
Uzi yanked out the linking cable, stuffing it back into her pocket and allowed a feral hiss to claw out her throat. Using the solver, she manipulated a sharp peice of metal to spin rapidly, chopping up whatever it came into contact with into tiny black peices.
N and Uzi were back to back, tails coiled around each other to ensure their other half was still there. She grabbed onto his shoulder.
“Fly!” She shouted, a command that registered instantly in N's system and had him taking off before she could even finish the word. Ignoring the ceiling, he burst through it. Throwing dust, snow, and shards of concrete flying in every direction as he rocketed upwards, a flood of angry tentacles followed him up, climbing and squirming on top of each other to see which of them could reach him first.
Uzi grunted, feeling her body strain as she threw the spinning metal down, slicing up the pursuing appendages even as they continued to reach for them.
N growled as he aimed an arm downward, firing off a missile that finished them off- by turning them to mist. He covered Uzi's mouth and clamped his own shut just in case.
There was no time to rejoice however, the ground groaned and shifted, opening up to swallow the building they were just in as well as the rest of the communication dishes.
As N watched, he noticed yellow light deep within the planet, shifting in waves, arching with primal energy, filling the flesh surrounding it with a hunger that couldn't be satisfied- and a deep, untamed rage.
They looked at each other, trying to find comfort as the sinkhole continued to grow, new, blackened appendages were spat out to replace the one's they'd just destroyed.
“L-Lets get out of here…” Uzi said after a prolonged period of silence, well after the last of the building was lost underneath the hungering flesh.
N nodded, tucking her into his shoulder before taking off in the direction of the bunker.
Deep down below, something watched them…
The sun was coming up quickly, and despite how fast N was flying, he knew they weren't going to make it to the nest in time, much less the bunker.
He dove into some long forgotten apartment, just in time for the early and deadly light of the morning to break over the horizon.
His arms remained looped around his girlfriend as the snow melted off both their frames, panting from the stress of the day.
“Did you get what we needed?” He asked after a moment of recovery, looking into purple eyelights, still refusing to let her go just yet.
“Yeah, I mean, it's not the best choice… probably gonna have issues with wildlife but… it's what we got.” She replied, leaning into the warmth he gave off in contrast to the freezing atmosphere around them.
“It'll have to do. I'm just glad you got something.”
He finally let her go, allowing them both to look around the room they'd taken shelter in.
Everything was covered in dust, and sharp shards of glass covered the floor from where the windows had shattered. There was a full sized bed in the center of the room- well made and completely untouched by anything other then the forces of nature.
A wooden chair, a closet, and a two bedside tables also inhabited the room, though the light and subsequent fan on the ceiling had long ceased functioning.
“Guess we're spending the night here…” Uzi sighed, rubbing a hand over her distended stomach- mostly because the rubber had become thin and slightly painful and she was trying to soothe it.
N's hand hovered over her own as he held her from behind, resting his chin on her head and swaying them softly.
“Really the time to do this after we just got chased?”
“Perfect time to do it. We're safe now, and we have to relax.”
“You have to relax" He amended, wrapping his tail around her and nuzzling into her shoulder, his purr was a given.
She hummed in contentment, closing her eyes and letting N rub small circles into her belly- it was a comforting feeling. Right up until the baby kicked their hands and made a pained whine escape Uzi's mouth.
“I felt that too. You good?”
“I want this little shit out…” She whines.
He laughs, “They just wanted to say hi.”
Uzi just growls in response, “So do I! In person! With them out of me!”
N just chuckled, walking off to remove the several years worth of dust from the bed so that they could sleep comfortably…
A few hours later they were curled up on the bed, N taking to running his fingers through her hair, satisfying the urge to preen.
“Mm. Athena.” Uzi said, they had been brainstorming names while trying to fall asleep.
“Oooh, I like that one, definitely. If they're a girl.” He replied, his tail wagging behind him as Uzi sat in his lap.
“You have a boy name?”
He thought for a moment, turning over his thoughts in his head.
“Bishop? Like the chess peice? We played all the time at the manor.” He explained. “I always lost, but I liked it.”
“I like it. It's also a tank, so you know I'm down.” She snickered mischievously.
“Of course you know that.” He replied lovingly, kissing her cheek as he settled down to sleep. “I think that's it then.”
“Yeah. Athena if it's a girl, Bishop if it's a boy.” Uzi agreed, shifting down to lay against him, happily absorbing his warmth.
“Tera says boy.” N hummed, wrapping himself tightly around his mate, protective pride rising in his core.
“Tera isn't even a year old.” Uzi snapped back; resting her hands on his chest and burying her head in his coat fluff.
“Still, she said it. There's gotta be a reason.”
“She wants a brother?”
They both laugh, N nuzzles the top of her head, taking in her scent. Her lovely, citrus scent… and… apples.
The apple portion was new, and he somehow subconsciously knew that it was his child that he was sensing, so he nuzzled deeper.
…
The next dusk they were off again. Neither one noticing the strange figure following them home…
Next ->
#murder drones#oil is thicker then blood#uzi doorman#serial designation n#nuzi#biscuitbites#tera doorman#n and uzi#yes i know its been a bit#I've been on vacation and writing in a moving vehicle gives me headaches
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real friends / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part one
hehe a new fic, this honestly started as a one shot and then I got carried away, what’s new. excited to explore this sorta-enemies to sorta-friends to lovers idea!!! lmk what you think :) (the summary is weak, I’ll update it tomorrow when I have more brain capacity)
real friends / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part one
add yourself to my taglist
word count: 2.8k
warnings: jake’s an ass but he redeems himself, mentions of death, language, think that’s it
“What the fuck, Bagman?” you asked, storming after him through the hangar.
“Can I help you with something, Cobra?” He turned to face you, that megawatt smirk stopping you in your tracks as a new wave of anger rolled through you.
“Just living up to your name, are we? What the hell was that up there?” You threw your helmet down on a nearby table and stared up at him with an intensity he had to genuinely try not to be rattled by. “We’re supposed to be teaching them something, us staying at Top Gun is not an excuse for you to fuck off and showboat and play darts at the Hard Deck every night.”
“I think I did teach them something, sweetheart.” His nonchalance was infuriating, prickling your skin and filling you with a desire to hit him.
“And what the hell might that be?” you questioned.
“What to do if you find yourself without a wingman. You know better than anyone it can happen in the blink of an eye,” he said and you felt your heart drop. Somewhere behind you Bob dropped his coffee cup, the sound of ceramic colliding with the concrete registering faintly in the back of your mind as you stared at Hangman. Rooster and Phoenix had been watching from a few feet away, casually enjoying the latest Cobra-Hangman showdown but now looked between the two of you in utter horror at the words Hangman dared to speak.
“Cobra-” Hangman started, realizing what he had said too late. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant,” he took a step towards you, arms outstretched as if he wanted to pull you in but you took a step back, shaking your head at him.
“You said it, Hangman, least you could do is be a man and own it.” you sneered, giving him one last look laced with disappointment and disgust as you pushed past him. Rooster went to follow you but Phoenix stopped him.
“Give her a minute,” she muttered, walking up to Hangman. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked and he was at a loss for words. She just nodded her head and walked towards the door you had just stormed through, “she genuinely cares about you, you know,” she said, stopping at the door and calling out to him, “you have a shitty way of returning the favor.”
You sat on a bench in the locker room, your flight suit you’d just kicked off crumpled at your feet as Rooster slowly approached and sat beside you. “I’m fine, Roo, don’t need to check on me.”
“It’s okay if you’re not,” he replied. “It was a low blow. I’m the last person to defend him, but for what it’s worth I genuinely don’t think he meant anything by it.”
“Hard to miss the subtext, Rooster.” you sighed, appreciating the fact that the two of them had gotten to the point where he would even be having this conversation with you, but not sharing the same outlook on Hangman’s jab. “It’s on me for believing that he’d changed, even a little, after the mission. It’s Hangman’s world, we’re all just living in it.”
It was Rooster’s turn to sigh, “I think he has, Cobra, he’s just… you know how he is, he gets challenged and he slips back into asshole-Hangman to overcompensate and protect himself from it, and 90 percent of your interactions are you challenging him. I think you should talk to him, if it’s any consolation he looked like a kicked puppy when you walked away.”
“It's a little bit of a consolation,” you laughed dryly. He leaned in to kiss your temple before standing and leaving you alone with your thoughts. Being stationed to North Island as the newly-official Dagger Squad had brought you peace and comfort, teaching at Top Gun for the last month was a well-needed and well-deserved break for all of you, and you’d grown so much closer knowing when you eventually were deployed again it would be together. They had all been there right after you lost your wingman. You were assigned to the detachment only a few weeks after, your commanding officer had said something about regretting the timing of it but your presence on the mission was a direct order from way up. They’d all seen how it affected you in the air and on the ground, watching as you fought against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to pull you under every day, and were the very reason you stayed afloat and earned a place among the selected members for the mission.
Hangman had made great strides, losing some of the bravado and being more of a team player. Until he met you, he’d never seen firsthand the effect losing a teammate had on someone. He hadn’t admitted it aloud to anyone, but your panicked shouts over the radio when being ordered to stay on track after Maverick and Rooster went down struck him to his very core, had awoken something in him he didn’t even know was there. He couldn’t handle hearing your distress, let alone seeing it when you arrived back and tuned out every order to fly after them, to go against his own callsign and put his ass on the line for his teammates. Ever since that day he’d been different, kinder and softer, while still maintaining some of that cocky arrogance that was simply just a Hangman thing. You’d seen the progress before your very eyes, watched him grow and become a better human and better pilot, and you tried to remind yourself of that but the sting of him throwing the loss of your wingman in your face overpowered it all, it opened a pit in your stomach and had tears stinging at your eyes as you quickly stood to gather your belongings and go home.
Home was what you had needed. A hot shower and the lack of your stiff uniform allowed you room to breathe, room to just be without worrying about the eyes of your teammates, your students, and your superiors. You’d known from the beginning, from the moment you put the pen to your Naval Academy application that you were choosing one of the hardest paths available to you. It was a hard enough road on it’s own, but throw in the simple fact of being a woman had you working ten times harder for a fraction of the praise and recognition until you finally clawed your way up, established yourself as one of the best, earned a call sign that echoed throughout bases across the world. It had angered you at first, being told ‘huh, I expected you to be a guy,’ when people finally got to put a face to the name, but that had all changed when you met Hangman.
“And what do we have here?” The tall blonde asked, oozing arrogance as his eyes trailed your form.
“Cobra,” you introduced, eyes narrowing and mouth turning down in disgust at the feeling of his eyes looking everywhere but your own.
“Cobra? The Cobra? Well damn, I guess I should have figured you’d be joining us. Best of the best and all. Have to say sweetheart, you are exactly what I pictured.” Your resolve broke, raising an eyebrow and looking at him inquisitively. This was a first, normally people couldn’t wait to tell you how much you were not what they imagined.
“Is that so? Are you saying that to butter me up or did you really not picture a Keanu Reeves type?”
“No way, the stories I’ve heard about you, darlin’? Only a woman could be that calculated.”
Hangman saw you, like really saw you, as much as it was a fact you hated to admit. You two were more alike than not, two hotshot pilots with something to prove and tongues sharper than knives. Before he’d even met you he knew you had the same fire and hunger as him, someone who simply wouldn’t accept not being the best even if it killed you. You had something most people didn’t, Hangman’s respect, and that always showed even when you were nose-to-nose screaming in each other’s faces, cursing the very moment the other was born.
Your phone dinged from its abandoned spot on the couch next to you, pulling your eyes from the spot on the wall they’d been boring a hole into as your thoughts ran rampant.
Ken Doll: I’m outside.
You sighed, setting your phone back down, keen on ignoring it and letting him sit out there as long as he liked until he finally went home. Your leg began shaking as your foot tapped erratically on the floor below you, watching the hands tick by signaling one minute… three minutes… ten minutes.
Ken Doll: Please?
You stood, marching to your front door and throwing it open to reveal a Hangman you’d only ever seen once before. There was no smirk, no biting comment about taking your time, no cocky attitude, all that was before you was a guilty man who, quite honestly, looked like shit.
“I’m sorry.”
“Got it,” you said, already angling to close your door in his face, but he stuck his foot out, wincing as the sharp edge of the wood dug in before bouncing back.
“Look, I get you’re pissed but knock it off.” he said, exhaling sharply as he pushed your door all the way open and into your home as you stumbled backwards and looked at him bewildered.
“Excuse me?”
“I did a shitty thing, but you say all the time we’re a family so let’s act like it. Families fuck up and then they talk about it, so let’s talk,” he walked over to your couch and sat down right in the spot you were previously occupying. Your face contorted into something resembling confusion as you tentatively walked to the couch and sat, keeping as much distance between the two of you as possible.
“Alright, talk,” you said exasperated, gesturing as if to say the floor is yours.
“I shouldn’t have left you wide open in the air like that. You were right, that’s not what we’re here to do and I should have been there to cover you. I don’t know if it’s any consolation, but you really didn’t need me... regardless, you shouldn’t have been in the position of having to figure it out on your own,” his tone was gentle and you took a moment to wonder if you preferred this Hangman or the one from a few hours ago. At least with the latter you knew how to handle it and what to expect, this was uncharted territory and you fiddled with your fingers in discomfort.
“Is that all?” you asked, your voice small.
“No, I shouldn’t have said that. You were standing there yelling at me and you had that look in your eyes that honestly scares the shit out of me, and I don’t know… old Hangman took over and wanted to hit you where it would hurt, but I- I don’t want to be that anymore. You drive me nuts and genuinely piss me off more than anyone I’ve ever met, but I don’t want to actually hurt you and I’m sorry that I did.”
“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you all but muttered, keeping your gaze anywhere but on him as you pretended to be interested in the hem of your sweatshirt. It was silent for a moment as Hangman tried to formulate a response but he didn’t really have one, he desperately wished that you would say more than that. This was uncharted territory for him too, he’d spent ten minutes in his car reading articles from therapy websites about how to genuinely apologize to make sure he got it right, knowing if he didn’t he’d only make things worse. You were sitting there a few feet away from him, refusing to look at him and fiddling with your sweatshirt and he felt like he might throw up, almost wishing you were screaming at him instead of looking so small. He’s fucked up with you a dozen times in the past, whether it be pissing you off in the air or taking the friendly fire a little too far when playing pool at the Hard Deck but this was different, it was personal and pointed directly at your deepest hurt. You two were the least-close of the entire squad, your friendship being summed up into competition and the occasional surface-level conversation over a beer when everyone else busied themselves elsewhere, and Hangman had worked overtime to get it to that point. He didn’t know if he could handle you going back to ignoring him over this misstep.
He felt panic bubble in his chest as he saw a tear slide down your cheek, “fuck, Cobra,” he scooted closer to you and your body went rigid with his proximity, “I said something stupid and now you’re crying, and I- tell me how I can fix this.”
You just shook your head, “although I’m not surprised your immediate thought is this being about you,” you said with a soft laugh as you wiped your cheeks, “I was actually thinking about Henry.” Hangman relaxed a little, waiting for you to continue, “I think he would’ve liked you to be honest. He was constantly on my ass… he always said his day of work wasn’t done unless he had humbled me at least once,” you laughed again, “if he were here he would tell me to let this go, to stop being mad at you and focus on why it actually upset me.”
“You’ve never talked about him before,” he commented, now that he thought about it he’d never even heard you say his name. He only knew it through overhearing a conversation between Cyclone and Maverick. Maverick had been fighting tooth and nail for you while Cyclone thought you were a ticking time bomb that needed to be grounded. It didn’t take long for everyone to piece together what had happened, the way you snapped like a rubber band every time Hangman lived up to his name, the way Maverick treated you with a gentleness he didn’t have for anyone else… not even Rooster. The final clue was a night out that first week, you’d been talking about your former teams and Phoenix had told a funny story about her old wingman, something you’d thought Henry would find hysterical. You’d pulled your phone out and started to say ‘oh my god, I have got to tell mine-” before your face fell, immediately putting a wall up and trying to push past it like you’d never opened your mouth. Hangman had relayed the overheard conversation and from that moment on it was an unspoken truth everyone knew but didn’t acknowledge directly, giving you support when you needed it without addressing the elephant in the room.
“Most of the time it doesn’t feel like it actually happened, like it was maybe just a bad dream. I’m pretty sure my brain tricks me into thinking he’s just with a new squad on deployment because it’s easier than the alternative. I’m not angry about what you said, I’m angry that you reminded me.”
His eyebrows furrowed as he processed what you said, the words splitting his heart in two. “Cobra, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head, “I mean… it is but, it’s just one of those things, you know? I could have just as easily been reminded by a memory from my Instagram stories or an old squadmate reaching out. I don’t really have anything to be mad at you for… this is what we do, we yell at each other and say things we don’t really mean.”
“Do you ever think maybe we shouldn’t do that?” he asked.
“No. I like our dynamic, I don’t know why I didn’t realize it until today but it reminds me of what I had with Henry, the only thing missing is the actual friendship part.” You smiled sadly, feeling like it was maybe a harsh thing to say.
“I’d like to be your friend, like… your actual friend. Not just someone you spar with and get your ass kicked by in pool.”
You scoffed, “you don’t always kick my ass.”
“Percentage wise, I’m pretty sure I come out on top.”
“Have you been keeping count?”
“Not really, but I just know I’ve won more than you have.”
“Oh, you just know? That’s some bulletproof evidence, Seresin, when your career in aviation crashes and burns I think you’ve got a real shot at making it as a lawyer.” He chuckled at your response, happy to see you coming back out of your shell.
“What do you say, Rattlesnake, wanna be real friends?” he asked, extending his hand.
“That’s not my name, you’re off to a bad start.” He just raised an eyebrow at you and you cracked, smiling and shaking on it, “real friends.”
“Who knows, maybe more... I’m told my charm is irresistible,” he said with that famous smirk, using the leverage of still holding your hand to pull you closer and you just laughed before shoving him.
“Yeah, in your dreams, Bagman.”
next part
#Jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#hangman x reader#hangman x you#top gun maverick#top gun fanfiction#hangman fanfiction#hangman fluff#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin fluff
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The Mentorship, Part 15
The Mentorship
Characters: Curt Hennig/FemOC , Scott Hall/FemOC
Part 15 of ? (Parts not chapters, parts length varies)
Word Count: 3396
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14
Warnings/Considerations: Smut, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Dirty Talk, swearing Tag List: @writeandsurvive @theweaselandthekilt (feel free to ask to be added)
“I figured she’d be here by now,” Scott checked his watch again, but no sign of Brinkley. He’d thought she’d be fine on her own. She’d smarted off that she didn’t need a baby sitter, but even the guys didn’t travel alone much. It was better to have someone to at least watch your back.
“Probably lost track of time,” Kevin could tell Scott was worried or at the very least anxious, “She’s a tough girl,”
Scott wasn’t sure if he was more worried about her safety or if who his imagination suggested she might be with.
------------------------------------
“GOD, I haven’t had red meat in so long,” Brinkley nearly passed out as she chowed down probably the best burger she’d ever had in her life. She hadn’t had a cheat day in months - she could splurge a little.
Curt chuckled a little as he took a bite of his own. He knew some would be upset if they knew she was here with just him. But, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was here by choice. He laughed to himself again as she took another bite and let out a satisfied groan.
“Not sure I’ve ever heard you make those noises before,” He joked, but his smile fell a little as he thought better of the comment in retrospect.
“Sure you have,” She nudged him under the table with her foot, “You’ve heard worse,”
He was relieved that she felt comfortable enough to joke about such things.
“Well…I guess,” He couldn’t stop his instinctive wink.
Brinkley smirked back at him, but did not like the uneasy feeling in her gut that was telling her she was doing something wrong. Curt noticed a change in her face.
“You alright?” He asked, wiping his hands on a napkin, looking mildly concerned.
“Yeah…just probably my stomach not liking all this fat and grease,” She joked, willing it to pass.
“Told you it’d do that…” Curt was smug, recalling his warning long ago when he was staging her diet. He checked his watch, noticing they still had a couple of hours before they had to be at the arena, “Do you wanna kill some time before the show?”
Brinkley’s stomach tingled again, but she ignored it as she considered his offer. Perhaps it was foolish, but she found herself willing to trust him again. Afterall he wasn’t the first person to be an asshole when drunk. She placed the boundary there - she could trust him sober.
“Sure, what’d you have in mind?”
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Country music played over the radio, nothing new when it came to riding with Curt. He had a different rental car now - no long front bench seat. The console between them was a welcome barrier for Brinkley who knew in all logical scenarios that nothing would happen. But she knew, even now, that there was a weakness in her specifically for Curt. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but it was definitely there.
He drove through a natural everglades area where all that existed were only power poles, a few clusters of palm trees, and sawgrass broken up by wetlands. The narrow highway had few other cars. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was better than any concrete jungle.
“Makes me want to go fishing,” She lamented, passing yet another boggy lake that was probably teeming with wildlife.
“I love fishing down here, especially on the ocean - not far from here is where I got that shark on my wall at home,” He tried to watch the scenery too, but kept turning back to her.
“You’ve mentioned that a time or two,” She teased, having sat through the bullshark story multiple times, “What?” She asked, catching him looking yet again. She was dressed down in leggings, a sports bra and a loose-fitting tank top, she was no stunner right now.
“Nothing…” He blushed a little being caught, “Just realized the last week or so has been weird because I missed this. You know, riding together, bullshitting. Guess I didn’t realize how used to you I got,”
“Yeah, I don’t think either of us realized that. It's been weird for me, too, ya know,” She wanted to put her hand on top of his that rested on the gear shift.
“I bet. Having to share a room with those two constantly would be a big change by itself,” He had been wondering how that arrangement was going. It had shot a few eyebrows up, but Scott didn’t seem to be hiding anything anymore.
“Well…I kinda don’t anymore,” Brinkley admitted, chewing her bottom lip a little as Curt looked over curiously, “It felt too much like…living together? And way too soon to even think about that. Staying a couple days at his house was one thing…but together every night day in and day out. I’d get on his nerves. I don’t think it’d last very long,”
“Tell me about it,” Curt teased, taking a firm nudge from her.
“Hey! I’m not THAT bad,” She pushed his arm, “...was I?” She followed after a thought of uncertainty.
“Nah, I’ve had way worse travel buddies,” He shrugged his shoulders, “Way worse,”
“Yeah, but did you ever rib any of them into a surprise threesome,” She said, trying to get shocked reaction.
Curt feigned thought and she slapped his shoulder as he laughed.
“But I got you good, didn’t I?” He cocked one eyebrow at her. She tried to pout but couldn’t resist smirking. Curt felt the weight that had been weighing on him the last several days lift away.
“So paying for your own room gets pricey after a while,” He cleared his throat, knowing he wasn’t being subtle.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Curt,” She said, though she sounded somewhat forlorn about it, “For a few reasons. But yeah, it would add up if Scott wasn’t paying half. I told him he didn’t have to, he’s basically paying for a whole room.”
“Yeah, but how many times might he be in yours…it probably comes out even,” Curt reasoned. He noticed she blushed, “You don’t have to act like I don’t know what goes on between you two,”
“I know…it’s just -” She thought for a moment on how to put this, “It’s still weird for me, navigating everything. And now I’m doing it without you,” She sighed, “Just a lot of adjustments. It's kinda scary being alone sometimes.” She looked around curiously when Curt pulled the car over onto a gravel shoulder and parked.
“I know I didn’t make things any easier on you,” He said turning to face her, “I am truly sorry for anything I did ever that hurt you,”
Brinkley could see the sincerity in his eyes and couldn’t stop looking at them. She felt desire and guilt collide in her gut and found herself very confused at the mixture of feelings.
“I know you are, Curt.” Her hand itched to reach up and touch his face. But her stomach twisted at the thought of betraying Scott, “I think I can trust you from now on…as long as you aren't drinking,”
“Well that made my day…” he flashed a smile, “You know…if you're ever too scared or anything. You can always call me…” he offered, “I'll have a roommate, probably Ray, but you know everyone likes you. You're always welcome.”
“Thanks…I appreciate the offer, but at some point I gotta grow up a little,” she shrugged, biting her tongue to keep from asking if he'd just come to her room instead. She knew what those kinds of invitations could imply and clearly she wasn't disciplined enough quite yet with the thoughts flittering through her mind.
“We should get back,” Curt clenched his jaw as he noticed the digital clock in the car, “Don't want anyone worrying about you,”
Brinkley knew that was barely code for Scott. She nodded, finding herself slightly disappointed.
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“Where the hell have you been?” Scott asked as he saw her enter the back door of the arena. His eyes went to Curt as he walked in directly behind her, “What's this?” He asked, barely concealing his accusation.
“He was the only one at the gym. He just gave me a ride,” she said in an even tone, hoping to not rile him up further. He reached out for her, pulling her to his side. He kept a warning glare on Curt as he encouraged her to walk down the hall.
“I'm fine, Scott. You don't have to worry about me…” she set her things down in the locker room.
“Its not so much you I'm worried about, it's him and whether he's learned to keep his damn hands to himself,”
Brinkley couldn't help but enjoy the way Scott desired to protect her, even if it was a little patriarchal. She went over to him, slipping her arms around his torso and laid her head against his chest.
“I didn't mean to make you worry, I'm sorry,” she was relieved when he returned her embrace.
“I'm gonna be honest, I don't like caring about other people this much. It's not easy to trust people. Especially around here. I don't want to be made into a fool,” he stroked her hair, but his words felt like a warning, even a veiled insult.
She swallowed any offense she felt. She could butter him up later and hopefully make up completely. She definitely did not like being on his bad side.
“Did Scott say much?” Curt asked as they were alone in the gorilla once again.
“A little…but nothing really much,” Brinkley adjusted the sports bra top paired with the black shorts, “Do you like it?”
“It looks incredible on you. Hell, what wouldn't?” He looked her over. He bought the damn clothes. He should be able to look.
“The other shorts my ass half hangs out of them…. Saving those for the pay per view. People will be paying 29.99 for each cheek,” she joked.
“And lucky me, I get the view for free,” Curt teased.
“Nothing you haven't seen before,” she teased back, getting ready to open the curtain. Just as she stepped out, he leaned in to her ear.
“Nothing I haven't fucked before either,” he murmured, smug that she'd have to spend the next fifteen minutes in front of the crowd without responding.
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Brinkley was glad the next show was in Miami, they didn't have to change hotels, staying near Hollywood, Florida. She was tired and was happy to decline the invitation to go to a nearby club. Even Kevin tried to convince her to go, again raising her suspicion that he and Scott were in on this together.
She was comfy in a tank top and panties, not having to care about appearances in her own room. That alone was freeing. She cranked up the air to combat the humidity and collapsed on the bed to mindlessly watch tv just as there was a knock at her door. She groaned and drug herself off the bed. Looking through the peephole, she instantly recognized that stubbled chin. She opened the door with her hand on her hip.
“Can I help you?” She said playfully, but her face fell when she saw Kevin standing right next to Scott. His eyebrows went up as he reactively looked her over before she darted herself behind the door.
“Well…I was making sure you didn’t wanna come with us to the club,” Scott stepped a foot in the door, “But now I’m kinda thinking I’ve got other plans,”
“No, I told you I’m getting some rest in while I have the chance,” She saw Kevin step in after him, “Hey, I didn’t say you guys could come in!”
Scott shut the door, letting her hide behind his body.
“He’s seen me fuck you before, doll,” Scott laughed as she pushed Scott towards her bag so she could at least grab one of the oversized t-shirts she’d stolen from Scott. At least it would be long enough to cover her.
“But it was dark, you guys were drunk and we were mostly under the sheets,” She reasoned, still standing mostly behind Scott.
“True, she wasn’t as much of an exhibitionist as that Toronto chick,” Kevin recalled, laughing at the warning face Scott shot him. He knew from the intensely curious look on Brinkley’s face, that he might have started something.
Scott might have hinted that Brinkley may be down for some fun with all of them, but at the moment, it didn’t seem like she was. Maybe he hadn’t asked her yet. Sharing a room with her occasionally would be a lot better if he was also getting something out of the deal. Satisfied at the moment by stirring the pot with Scott’s road history, Kevin decided to leave for the club.
“Toronto chick?” Brinkley asked after the door closed.
“Some of us guys have regular girls in certain cities. Not every one…but some.” He admitted, suddenly thinking about Pittsburgh, “Not gonna get mad that I got my dick wet before I met you, are you?” He asked, almost condescendingly.
She frowned and walked back to the bed, flopping down on it again. “NO. I was just asking…” She couldn’t help but be a little jealous of them and wondered if he’d turn them down if they showed up. She had a comeback on the tip of her tongue, but guessed better of mentioning anything with Curt for the moment, “Sorry, just in a bad mood,”
“Well that’s why I’m here,” He walked to the bed, crawling across it to slide up behind her, “I know I was an ass earlier,I wanna make up for it,” He pulled her hair away from her neck, kissing the tender spot behind her ear down to her neck.
“Scott…” She meant to say it in protest, but her tone softened itself. She lost more of her will to resist as his hand slid over the curve of her hip and down over her ass, “You know…I know you jacked off that first night we ever stayed in the same room…” She remembered how he’d grabbed her ass that night in a similar way.
“You did?” He asked with a hint of surprise in his husky voice, “Were you awake the whole time?” He squeezed a cheek, remembering how he’d fondled her that night, “And you weren’t mad?”
“I mean… a little,” She gasped as he manhandled her backside, “But…I was turned on, too…when you touched me, it felt different than when anyone else ever had,”
“Did you want to touch me?” He pulled her back against him, slowly gyrating against her as he worked himself up, “Were you dying to turn over and see my dick?”
She nodded, her breath quickening, “I was close to turning over…but I didn’t want to freak you out or make you stop. I almost touched myself right as I felt you cum on me,” She flexed her hips, pushing more firmly into him.
“God damn, you’re such a dirty girl,” He bit the back of her neck lightly as his hand snuck around and down the front of her panties, pleased to sink his fingers in the evidence of her arousal, “I didn’t mean to…but damn just touching you turned me on so fucking much,” He nipped and pulled at her earlobe with his teeth, “Cum for me, baby girl,” He softly commanded as his fingers toyed rhythmically with her clit. He knew from the tremors of her body that she was close.
His words were all that she needed as she bit her pillow to muffle some of the strained whimpers. Even if she was ticked off at him, Scott had a way of making her respond so easily that it made her forget why she was even upset.
As the aftershocks tingled across her body, she couldn’t take his teasing anymore.
“Scott, I need you…” she said, the words barely leaving her mouth before he was stripping her of her clothes. He wasn’t sure why he was so aroused, but he knew the moment he slipped inside of her that he was not going to last long. He started with quick, firm strokes, laying between her legs as they wrapped around his waist.
The way she dug her nails into his back didn’t help stall his stimulation. He felt those impulsive words battling their way out of his mouth, but he held them back, not believing they could be true. They were just words brought on by a passionate affair. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t say when he was buried to the hilt inside of her.
“Don’t stop…please…harder,” She begged, trying to stall her orgasm as long as possible to match his. She struggled to withstand the pleasure she felt, heightened by the heat and weight of his body laying firmly against her. She could tell he was losing control, his restraint was dwindling as he shortened his strokes, penetrating deep into her sex.
She cried out into his shoulder, the frantic pleasure coursing through her as she felt him pulsate inside of her. She loved the feeling. Damn Curt for not pulling out or using a condom…she preferred the feeling of a full cunt, damn the consequences. Thinking his name so soon after climaxing flooded her with an awkward sensation, but she shrugged it off as she relished Scott’s full weight over her. She loved the feeling of him over her. He barely supported himself on his forearms as he collected himself.
“Sorry baby, you got me pretty worked up…” He apologized for his short tenure, “Give me a little bit…I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” he felt guilty now, not saying the words. Sure they were in the heat of passion, but he would have meant them. He could just as easily say them now in the afterglow. The way she was looking up adoringly at him, like he was the only man on earth should be good enough for her. But he didn’t want to say them only to have to take them back later when, as everything else had, it inevitably failed.
“Scott…it was amazing…and as long as I’m with you, I’m happy,” she ran her fingers tips along his cheek.
“I don’t deserve you,” He kissed the tip of her nose and then her lips lightly, “I’m just some dirty old man who can’t keep his hands off your beautiful, hot body,” He teased her a little. Brinkley laughed, pushing him off of her and to his back. She swung her leg over his hips, straddling him.
“You might be a dirty old man…but I have the same problem of keeping my hands off of you,” She ran her hands down from his shoulders over his broad chest and torso, “I can’t get enough of your body.”
Her praise went straight to his groin, surprising him that his spent cock ever so slightly twitched.
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It was late as Curt walked back to his room. He had limited himself to two drinks and that had been hours ago. He knew he was walking to the wrong door, but he couldn't seem to will himself elsewhere.
He stood outside her door, staring at the room number. He had no excuse to tell her why he was there. She would assume it was because he was horny and she wouldn't be wrong, but it wasn't the only reason. It was nearly 2am - she was probably sleeping. If he just knocked softly he wouldn't disturb her if she was asleep.
Just as he lifted his hand, the door cracked open slightly. He jumped and moved quickly around the hallway corner.
“No, Scott…don't leave. Just stay….pleeeeeease,” Brinkley begged in a sleepy, pleading voice.
“Are you sure baby?” Scott paused at the door, “I don't want to impose,” he joked, not quite as tired.
“Shut up and come keep me warm,” she demanded, causing him to close the door.
Curt felt his heart racing. How could he not have considered Scott might be there. She did say they didn't always sleep together all night. But he was guessing they did so more often than not and didn't realize how often it truly was.
It was a close call, he should take that as a hint to stay away. But he only seemed to think of how to be more careful next time.
#wrestling fan fic#wrestling fic#wrestling fanfiction#curt hennig#wcw#wwe#wrestling#fanfiction#pro wrestling#1999#Scott hall#kevin nash#The Mentorship#wrestling smut#cameos by a lot of wrestlers
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Some Direction
Fem Reader x Roronoa Zoro
CW: Language, stalking, violence, sexual themes and situations, ptsd 18+ only
Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -
Chapter 18: Lost
Your body was sore and cold against the hard concrete floor. Your hands and ankles were bound skillfully – tight enough to hold fast, without being so tight as to cut off circulation. It was little comfort, you had already realized that the person who was terrorizing you meant more harm to those around you than he did to you.
The gag was unnecessary, and uncomfortable. You weren't going to scream yourself hoarse in the dark cold room. You couldn't see any windows, not from your position, but there was faint light spilling out from around the roof-less interior room you were in. Your head throbbed worse than your body, and you could only assume it was from the smoke that had filled the garden.
Nausea snaked through your stomach and you focused on willing yourself not to hurl. With the gag in place, it wouldn't have anywhere to go, except out your nose, and you would really rather not do that. You weren't sure how long you had been under, but you could tell your hair was dry, so it had been enough hours for the sun to set and rise at least once. You had showered earlier in the day, but you hadn't blown it dry, and with as thick as it was, there was no way it had dried in the few scant hours of daylight that had been left.
For three months you had dared to be happy, and now here's where you were.
Time marched by slowly, and every sound of the building settling around you had you on edge. The cold was getting worse, and you were shivering. You weren't dressed warmly enough to be in a place without any heating. It was a strange consolation that you hadn't been in this building overnight. Wherever you had been before now you had at least been kept warm enough to avoid freezing to death.
Something soft and heavy fell over top of you and you gave a small, muffled grunt of surprise. You had to wiggle to look out from under the furry blanket that had been dropped on top of you. Looking around, and finally looking up, you saw a figure crouching on the rim of the walls that surrounded you. He wore a mask, strangely angled fins jutted out from it in three directions - one of which seemed broken - and there was the reflection of round lenses over his eyes.
Tight curly hair cascaded over broad shoulders, and there was a bow slung over his back. He looked relaxed, at least in his posture, but there was a tension between you – probably because he kidnapped you. Any other details about him were lost in the dim light and your limited line of sight.
"Why?" You manage to ask clearly after a couple of attempts, even with the gag.
The silence was heavy, and you were about ready to give up on him telling you anything when he finally spoke. His voice was soft, but clear, and as the only other sound in the entire building, it was easy to hear.
"Kuro's last victim was my match." He replies flatly, and the sheer lack of emotion in his voice makes your blood run cold. "I killed him. I killed him, but none of the other survivors even tried!" Anger bursts through his voice and his words are bouncing off the concrete walls. There was so much anger and volume in his words it was making your ears ring. "Not a single one of you! In two decades! Even TRIED!"
His voice vibrates off the walls in the following silence, and his next words seemed to be back under control again.
"If someone had tried then Kaya would be alive." His voice was quieter, but there was rage and pain bubbling under the surface. "Most survivors suffered from 'the curse'." He states, dropping down into the room with you. "Most of that wasn't me, but some of it was. Sometimes I'd find a survivor and they would be happy. Happy! Can you imagine it?"
He tilts his head, and the mask exaggerated the movement and its impact. "They hadn't lost enough if they could dare to be happy. Especially since they hadn't done anything. They hadn't tried! I tried, I tried and I was successful! It wasn't so hard." The glinting round lenses held your gaze, and you tried your best to not let fear reflect in your eyes. "But... I'm a brave warrior of the sea, maybe that's why I could do it."
The mask leans forward, mere inches from your face, and you could feel the heat of his breath as he continues. "He's a warrior too, isn't he? Maybe he can do it."
A gloved hand reaches out and smooths your hair back away from your face. You flinch despite your best efforts, but there's no violence in the motion. "Do you think so, (Y/N)? Do you think your match – mm, no, your love, your soul mate, I've seen how you look at each other – do you think that warrior of yours could cut me down?"
Your body freezes and the gloved hand tightens in your hair. "I wanted you to suffer for daring to be happy, I really did. But then he cut down my arrow..." He sucks in a sharp breath and his body shivers. "It was beautiful. A brave warrior of the sea could die to beauty like that. Honorably." His hand and entire body relax. "Without regrets."
You lunge at him without thinking. You didn't want him to die, you wanted him to be held accountable for everything he had done, but even more than that, you didn't want his blood on Zoro's hands. No matter what.
His crouched position wasn't very stable, and you were able to topple the both of you over. The blanket cushioned you against him, but he grunted as his back fell into the cold concrete floor. Your hands were bound, but they weren't behind your back. Your ankles twisted painfully as you let your knees fall to either side of the body below you. He wasn't much bigger than you, and you felt your knees reach the floor.
You brought your bound hands down over and over as hard and fast as you could, but despite his similar size, he was alarmingly solid. He also didn't stay stunned for long despite being knocked over and assaulted. A strong fast hand grabs the ropes between your wrists and holds your arms fast.
You grunt and twist, but you can't break the grip. You were growling curses and anger at him, but nothing was making it past the gag. With your ankles tied together you couldn't shift and move enough to stand or kick him.
You felt something cold and metallic against your side but couldn't jerk away fast enough as the jolts of electricity from the taser short circuit your body. Spots erupt in your vision and pain screeches through you.
You collapse, not entirely unconscious but on the edges of it, mind and body reeling from the intense and sudden assault. You can feel him move you aside, wordlessly, and he cuts the ropes from around your wrists and ankles, and then pulls the gag from your mouth.
He checks your pulse, and a light shines in your eyes, and he seems satisfied by this. He smacks the side of your face, not violently, but with a harsh enough snap to bring you into focus. Your mind is straining to keep awake, and your body aches from the taser so much you can barely twitch your fingers.
"You won't... get what you want." You manage to mumble between pained breaths.
"Only one of us will be satisfied at the end of this," he says, an oddly sad sound in his voice. He opens your phone, and you see Zoro's contact info come up. "You're going to want it to be me, so behave."
He hits the green call button, putting it on speaker and letting it ring into the cruel dark air around you.
It rings and rings, and by the 5th ring you wonder how it hasn't gone to voicemail. The masked man with you seems unsurprised, and on the 7th ring there's a click, and a voice, his voice, steady as a rock.
"What do you want, Usopp?" Zoro asks, and his tone is harsh and almost cruel, and you can imagine the effort he's putting forth to keep it even.
"Ah, so you figured it out. It's been quite a long time, Zoro." Usopp says, the first positive emotion in his voice that you had heard so far. "Did you figure it out first, or did the police?"
"... They did."
"Mm, but you remembered me once they did, didn't you?" There was a strange manic glee in his voice, despite how steady he was keeping it.
"Where's (Y/N)?"
"Oh, she's here, she's fine. Come on little warrior, speak up." You glare at Usopp, and knowing what he wants you don't want to say anything, you don't want Zoro to show up and have to do anything against this man. "Oh, haha that look she's giving me, I think she wants to try beating me up again. Went a little poorly for you last time, didn't it? You should urge her to speak, Zoro, before I do it."
"(Y/N)," his voice comes through the phone with more softness than you wanted to hear. "It's okay. You can tell me."
Your face scrunches up and you open your mouth, but Usopp's hand cracks hard across your cheek. You grunt from the surprise of the slap, a coppery taste filling your mouth as you feel the bruising sting on your skin.
"No bullshit," he warns, his voice hard and stern. "Just say "I'm alive". They don't need to know any more than that."
You spit the blood pooling in your mouth and considered yelling for Zoro to stay away. He wouldn't listen to you; you know that even as you consider it, but you still wanted to.
"I'm alive." You say, as evenly as you can, glaring at the mask in front of you.
"See now, she's alive. And she'll stay that way, all through this entire cursed ordeal, as long as you - Roronoa Zoro - come here and retrieve her. Bring police if you want, helicopters, snipers; the marines, for all I care. But if anyone comes in before you, I'll kill her.
"You, and the Wado Ichimonji, Zoro. That's what I want to see before I let her go."
"Zoro don't! He wants you to-oof!" Usopp's boot was into your stomach with a snapped and precise movement. The blow violently shoved all the air out of you and the tread of his boot bit into your cheek, keeping you pinned to the concrete floor.
"You remember where you'd practice your Santoryu, right?" Usopp says quickly into the phone, his earlier collected tone completely shattered. "She's here, so you'll find your way, I'm sure, but don't take too long. I'm not giving this ingrate the blanket back after that, and she'll freeze before the night's over."
"Usopp, don't-." Zoro's anger was cut off as the line went dead.
"You're feistier than I expected." Usopp says, a manic edge back in his voice, "I thought a few years of harassing you would make sure you stayed a half-broken mess, but it seems three months in that dojo was enough time."
"It doesn't make sense," you growl, trying to push his boot off. "Kuro stopped killing twenty-urgh." The pressure from the boot made you stop talking. Just when you were afraid you wouldn't be able to take anymore pressure, he let up, taking a step back from you.
"Kuro had a plan. For ten years he worked on that plan, disappearing from the world so completely that people figured he had died." Usopp's fists were clenched so tightly there was blood squeezing out past his fingers. "He was Kaya's butler. Her confidant. He wasn't Kuro then, he was Klahadore. Even tempered, infinitely patient. He wasn't thrilled that Kaya entered into the EMP with the rest of us, but he couldn't stop her."
The Early Match Program, or EMP as most people called it, let teenagers voluntarily sign up to be matched with same-age teenagers. The upside to the process was that you could often choose who you were paired with, and you had six years to marry, instead of 6 months. With no real ill-effects if you called things off at any point – except that you'd go into the pot with everyone else and get matched later by the usual process. It had a relatively high rate of success, considering it was meant almost entirely for 14–16-year-olds to use.
"She was fifteen. I was sixteen. He killed her, and I killed him. After a bunch of fuss, I inherited Kaya's fortune, and was excluded from any future arrangements. The world forgot I existed, just like they did with Kuro." He looks down at you, and the familiar cold chill runs down your spine. "Putting a timeline together yet?"
You hadn't been, but you were now. Zoro was a couple years older, and he and Usopp were in the same class, so they were about the same age.
"You would've been eighteen." You say slowly, not sure you wanted to connect any dots, not sure you wanted to know anything more. You push yourself up into a sitting position, stomach twisting. "There's no way."
"It's improbable, (Y/N), not impossible." He laughs. "I've tinkered and fiddled and invented crap since I was six. Taking out a set of brakes to cause a car accident was easy."
"No... no way, I mean – why?"
Usopp lifts his mask, and you shuffle back without meaning to. His face was scarred, his nose was mangled and almost completely gone, the scars radiating out from it twisted his lip, and ran deep lines through his cheeks and his forehead.
He glares at you with terribly clear eyes. "You were happy."
#Some Direction#Roronoa Zoro x Reader#Zoro x Reader#one piece fanfiction#arranged marriage#reader insert
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Tell None
When I got a job at Tell Technologies I only knew about their innovations in Symbots. I suspected I would get to work on a technology that most people use. It’s something so massive, yet I would get to be a part of it. I never stopped to think why they chose me though. I’m not a particularly remarkable person.
As soon as they gave me the coordinate address for the location I would be working, I should have known I wasn’t getting a design job. Their main design campus was at 928, 0, 77 USA block 5. But the coordinate address they gave me was down at -700y. Coordinate addresses don’t go that low, they should end at -345. If they go any further down they’d be reaching into the mantle of the earth.
If my apartment wasn’t built 200 years ago, I might have a teleport module inside, but instead I’m forced to walk to the nearest port hub. Even though I left early the line was long. People seemed extra slow today especially the elderly, but that wasn’t unusual. I looked over to the out-chamber trying to recall if anyone had come through. No one likely had it was 7:45am in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin. Wisconsin was not the front of any major development.
I finally reached the in-chamber and stepped inside. The central plate depressed, and the machine began to whir. I typed in my information to the center console; one passenger, my tpID number via scan, and finally the coordinate address for the Tell Technologies building. I was nervous, this address didn’t seem right. To my surprise the machine recognized the location and primed itself. Priming gives a high tone that rises briefly in pitch. It always makes me a little anxious hearing that tone. I put my hand on the lever hesitated for a moment, but finally pulled it down. I could feel the vibration of the rings circling around me and then in just a few seconds there was a flash.
Standing now in an out chamber somewhere unfamiliar, my eyes adjusted from the teleporter’s flash. It was hot. So hot. Hotter than the summer sun in Arizona. I stepped out from the chamber. The small room around me was just big enough to fit the two teleport chambers. The walls and floor were made of a thick, dull gray, concrete like material. Several feet away on the opposite wall two doorways sit open leading into a vast open room. The blinding orange glow made it impossible to see any details.
I was scheduled to start training at 8 so eager to make a good impression and be on time I pushed through the unknow doorway into the room. Immediately I was grabbed. Despite the heat a cold hand wrapped around my arm and dragged me along. I hand no sense for where I was. I was hot, dazed by the amber glow, and in pain from being forcibly moved.
My arm thud against a solid metal table. Before I could even think about moving my arm away, a hot iron was pressed to my face-up inner arm. In the smoldering building, hot was relative and I couldn’t tell if I was being burned or if it was some other sensation. Whatever it was, it was excruciating.
I must have blacked out from the pain because the next thing I remember is waking up in an office. The temperature was much more manageable in this room, it even felt cool in comparison. The room was depressingly empty, just an office chair behind a desk with some computing interface on top. Other than that, there was the cheap upholstered chair I was sitting on. It was a typical, drab, square office space.
I sat up in the chair and regained my composure. Memory of the previous moments came back as I looked down at my searing arm. The pain had mostly gone, but I could tell I would be feeling it the next morning. I touched the circular mark. It didn’t hurt to touch nor was it hot or cold. It simply felt like the rest of my skin, but it gave off a ghostly orange glow. The mark was a three fourths circle, a part of Tell’s logo.
Before I had any more time to examine the mark someone entered the door behind me. They came rushing in with a level of urgency. A burst of hot air came with them, but it dissipated quickly as the door shut. I swept my hair out of my eyes to get a better look at the person who walked in. They had on a dark gray suit with a black undershirt and a light blue tie. They looked like they were wearing armor, their hands were covered in metallic platting. Their boots seemed to be made of the same material and made a metallic click as they walked. I looked up and instead of being greeted by a face I saw a metal helmet with an orange visor. The visor took up all the front face of the helmet and even wrapped around the sides. They stood behind the desk with their hands placed on top. They leaned forward and spoke.
“Hi, welcome to training.” Their voice was somewhat deep with a mostly androgenous, but slightly feminine tone. “I would have given you the run down, but it seems our security bots got to you first. Thankfully they recognized you as an unmarked employee and not an intruder… getting fired means something a little different around here.” They straightened their posture and spoke with hand gestures. “You wanted to work at Tell, well now you’re in Hell…” They looked up to the corner where a camera sat watching. They then turned back and said, “I mean that as a joke of course.” They nodded their head and If I could have seen their face behind the visor, I probably would have seen them wink. “Well anyways, I’m Terra, hi. I use she/they pronouns don’t get it twisted. I’ll be your supervisor here in the armory.”
“I don’t know if this is what I had in mind when I put ‘okay with any position’ on my application. Armory? I didn’t know Tell was a weapons manufacturer.” I tried to speak with confidence, but I doubt any came across.
“Uh yeah… you see, this is operation is not public information. Is it illegal? Um, probably. That’s why you have that mark on your arm.” The mark on my arm started searing with pain. “If you even think about telling someone about this place the mark will hurt you. If you try to speak about it so someone who doesn’t also have a mark, then it’ll just kill you.” She said it so bluntly.
“WHAT!!!” I was taken aback.
“You did read the contract, right?”
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Five favourite designs by Bieke Casteleyn
I have a confession to make….I am a bit tired of my self designed metal table. Did I once liked really brutal and industrial furniture, I am looking for a table that adds some more warmth into my interior. If you look up the term industrial on the blog, you see a shift from really all things black and concrete in earlier blog years to a less raw and more design approached industrial feeling. At the moment we see a lot of tables in ceramic and stone and I think this might be a good compromise maybe for my own home. I am aware that the shape of a table is really personal, as a lover of sculptural design I am not sure if a really organic shaped table will do the trick for me.
Bieke Casteleyn
Looking into other shapes, still considering a round table as well, I came across the design of Bieke Casteleyn. Bieke Casteleyn is Belgian designer of high-end interiors and refined furniture. Driven by a passion to create a dining table that challenges traditional standards, Bieke debuted her first Out of Line table in 2015. With its skillfully designed, organic contours, Out of Line soon became an icon of Belgian refinement and craftsmanship. One that has been translated into a carefully considered collection of functional objects: dining tables, coffee tables, desks, consoles, benches and more. I especially loved seeing the layered design pieces, next to the different shaped tables. I could easily see some of the designs in my home. Have a look at my top 3 from the series, and visit the website to explore the full Out of Line collection and discover the different colours available.
A beautiful bench that can be used in every space, from a dining room to the hallway. I can really see this bench as a statement piece in our homes.
A bedside table like this would really transform my whole bedroom.
The Out of Line shelf creates a standout look, while the blend of materials breathes warmth into any room. The hidden drawer add a surprising element of functionality.
The Out of line in a more classic round shape.
Oval dining table
Opening Picture by Cafeine // 2-3 Bieke Casteleyn // 4 Verne // 5 Stephanie Mathias //6-8 Charlotte Lauwers Read the full article
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A Life Worth Living - Chapter 5
The rest of the night after he came tantalizingly close to getting rid of his father once again, was understandably tense. There was something about how his family looked at him after that... It unsettled him, made him itchy. A wisp of a memory occurred to him as his grandparents were told about what happened in the yard. He could see the change in them in real time.
His mother approached Mako, who asked why they all looked so ghastly. As gentle as her words could have been, his mother couldn't seem put it in a way that would spare him the shame or the look he got after. He doubted anyone could explain it in a way that didn't make him look like a lunatic. As his mother whispered in Mako's ear, Tomura watched his grandmother closely, ending up holding eye contact.
First the look was concern, then it was guilt, then confusion, then discomfort, then all of a sudden, his grandmother couldn't look at him anymore. Couldn't stand it. The wisp of the memory became clearer. His grandmother looked exactly like that old lady who approached him as he was wandering on the street in his past life. Then he figured out exactly why she couldn't stand looking at him anymore. Mako wanted to push off the responsibility of it to someone else. 'Surely, someone else will save him'. Then, Tomura couldn't stand to look at her either. The thought itched under his skin.
It was glancing away that got him to notice that his father was sitting in the direct opposite corner of the room than him, slouched in his chair, holding a glass in his hand and directing a contemplative stare directly at Tomura. When Tomura met it, it took Kotaro a moment to correct his gaze elsewhere. A deeply ingrained sense of curiosity within him asked why his father was staring at him. Common sense replied, 'maybe because you tried to kill him, and you look terrible.' Tomura reluctantly agreed.
Hana, oddly, wasn't staring at him like the rest. For some reason, she seemed more fearful of their father than anything else. She was seated somewhat close to Tomura at the dinner table, but understandably kept distance. Even a child knows when something like Tomura's hands is a present danger. She began silently sipping from a cup of apple juice Chizuo had set in front of her. It seemed oddly pointed that a matching one wasn't set in front of Tomura.
Nao sent a frustrated glare at his grandfather, "Chizuo, come on, get Tenko a cup too."
Chizuo raised his hands in a passive-aggressive denial, passing by her "I don't want him to destroy it and spill it all over the tablecloth! He's got blood all over his mouth too, he'll stain it!"
His mom grit her teeth, "You-..! Ugh..." She didn't get the chance to get a good word in before he'd already left the room. Leaning over the kitchen counter, she buried her face in her hands, pleading quietly to herself words that Tomura didn't really hear. Then she took a deep breath through her nose, pulling her hands back to look at him, not exactly compassion in her eyes, but care.
"Just hold on, Tenko, I'll get you something..."
"Okay..." Tomura mumbled in half-thought response.
Nao first came with the cup, making sure to provide a straw with it. He wasn't sure if that was meant in spite, or consideration towards Chizuo's baseless, ignorant worries. Then, she hurried off towards the bathroom, telling Tenko she'd grab the first aid kit. A kiss was planted on top of his head, which surprised him... Or it didn't. He couldn't tell a lot of things about his mom at the moment.
He joined his sister in sipping on the juice of consolation with a pinky raised on each hand holding the cup, staring into the sweet, golden juice and at his golden reflection within it. A person he was much more acclimated to seeing in the mirror stared back at him.
It wasn't exactly relief he felt staring at it, though. He knew what relief really felt like, when all the itches dissipated into air like spilled water on hot concrete, and he'd never felt more light, and everyone that hurt him was gone and dead. That's what relief felt like. He just felt... familiar. That's definitely not correct in grammatical context, but it's what he felt. An odd comfort laced with doubt, just like how he used to feel about Sensei...
That combination of thoughts unintentionally spooked himself as he felt someone's eyes peering over his shoulder, glancing very quickly just to see his sister there where his panicked brain thought All For One might be.
"Sorry, um... Tenko, I just... I wanted to- to say sorry. I didn't mean to blame you for getting into Dad's office. I just didn't want to be... and I wasn't thinking when I..." She stammered off into unintelligble apologetic mumbling, before offering up her cup to him, "Here, just have my juice. You need it more than me."
Tomura glanced between Hana and the juice for a moment, before shaking his head. "I already have some. Don't worry about it, Hana... It would've happened no matter what."
Hana's expression shifted from disappointment, to gratefulness, to confusion, "Wait, huh? What does that mean?"
Tomura chose not to deliver a response, looking away to see his mom coming from around the corner with the first aid kit.
"Okay, Tenko, I got it... Can you look at me?" Nao gently guided his face to look at her, worry lacing her gaze as she assessed the injuries on his face. "You got one on your lip and your eye? Poor baby... I'm sorry, this might sting a little, but I know you're strong, stay brave for me, okay Tenko?"
Nao took a small cleansing wipe and began to clean up Tomura's face with it, his expression vacant, with a hint of doubt. He braced himself as the wipe neared one of the wounds, but he still hadn't the muscle memory of pain. As it stung, he couldn't help crying.
The tears from his right traced crimson down his cheeks as they dripped from the wound, and something about his expression must have told his mom something because all of a sudden, all the compassion in her eyes was back.
"Oh Tenko..." She teared up herself in sympathy. "It's okay, your mama's here... It'll only hurt for a little" She brushed a lock of his dusty hair to the side and pressed another kiss to the side of his head.
Unbeknownst to Tomura, Nao was just so relieved she could recognize her child again, could still see Tenko in his eyes, instead of the vacant, barely conscious eyes he'd had the past couple days.
Nao gently cleaned and pressed bandages to the wounds, making sure not to get too close to his eyes. She sighed, "Oh... They look like they're going to scar..." She sent a short glare to Kotaro, who was once again staring at them. He quickly corrected his gaze.
She started, "That rotten... Oh what's the point? You need me more than he does." Nao began to press small bandages to Tomura's face, in such a way that the tension held the wounds together and might make a smaller scar. "Tenko, I know it just manifested, but, do you think you know how your quirk works..?"
Yes. Of course he did. A sense of guilt filled him as it occurred to him she might only be asking because of how he broadcast plainly how he tried to kill the man sitting just a few meters ago with it. Even if he didn't regret trying, he regret making it so obvious.
"... Yeah... I touch things with all my fingers, or toes, and then it all turns to dust."
Nao's brows furrowed, "That's odd. I don't think any quirk like that runs in our family... We'll have to see a quirk specialist."
All of them could just sense the way that Kotaro obviously wanted to say something, but shame seemed to choke whatever sentiment he would into silence. It was... refreshing.
The night, other than those few moments, passed slowly. For once in so long, everything felt new. Tomura was sent to bed with some haphazardly modified gloves, and as he was just heading to bed, Hana was pulled to the side by Mako, whose gaze, even though wouldn't meet eyes with Tomura again, was fearful and intense. He couldn't tell what exactly she said, but he could tell it wouldn't be good for him. Either way, Hana returned to her normal bed by the end of the night.
What did surprise him, was that she still tried to talk to him. He supposed that sibling bond between them didn't let her just abandon him.
"Tenko...?"
"Hm?"
"You... That was..." It seemed she struggled to vocalize her thoughts, "You've been weird, lately... I dunno why, but..."
She turned to face Tomura, a look of determination in her eyes that reminded him of a certain hero student, "I won't be like grandma, or grandpa, or dad. They're all scared, and yeah that was scary, but it's rude to be that way to you about it! You may be weird right now, but you're still just my little brother, Tenko. Nothing will change that."
That stung, in a way Tomura didn't quite understand. The look on her face matched that of his killer, yet her words were filled with such kindness. Such good intent that a part of him couldn't help but feel glad, but that a larger part of him insisted that he didn't take it far enough. She should be scared- No.
There it was again, his internal voice was starting to distort... He didn't like it one bit.
And it seemed he'd zoned out again, because Hana started to say something else, "...Yeah, it must be scary for you too, isn't it? I'll let you get some sleep."
Just as she turned over to face the wall, Tenko said,
"Thank you."
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Illuminating Your Spaces: The Perfect Table Lamps for Living Rooms and Bedrooms
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missed you
you pick clyde up after a long three months without him
cw: clyde logan x female reader, piv sex, mentions of food, clyde refers to himself as poppa, 1.1k words
The sun was beamin’ real bright outside the Boone county jailhouse. You were wearing Clyde’s favorite dress of yours, the one that barely skirted over your warmed thighs.
You pulled up where he had told you to over the phone, next to a big metal gate, and you waited. You waited for what was probably hours, growing more anxious by the minute.
Did something happen? Is he not getting out today? Do you have the wrong date?
Your thoughts were interrupted by the rumbling chain link fence, wheels squeaking as they dragged across the concrete.
Then you saw him. Your clyde. He was dressed in the clothes he was wearing when he smashed that old Pontiac into the Sunoco station.
You couldn’t help but squeal as he hauled himself into the passenger seat of Mellie’s Nova that you borrowed for the occasion. You leaned over the console to throw your hands around his neck.
A sigh of relief rumbled deep in his chest as he melted into the leather of the seat.
“Missed you, darlin’,” he grumbled real low.
“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on me, now.” You smiled up at him, leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek before sitting back in the driver's seat, buckling up, and peeling away from the gravel lot.
You didn’t notice, but Clyde picked up on the not-so-subtle way you were squirming the entire drive home. But, after ninety days of missing his cock you were ready to have him back. Just his presence had a pavlovian effect on you.
Sure, you got yourself off without him, but it was never the same. Your orgasms were dull and disappointing without his mouth all over you, without his cock driving deep, deep, deep-
“You’re goin’ about thirty over the speed limit.” He observed quietly, puffing out his lips like he did.
You shook your head, trying to snap out of your trance. Gently, you put your foot on the brake, softly apologizing.
Upon returning home, you cooked him a real nice meal, even finished it off with a homemade blueberry pie with fresh blueberries from the farmers market.
Now, if your darling Clyde wanted to go straight to bed, you would completely understand. He’d had a hard three months, and you’d probably want to fall asleep on a comfy mattress too had you been locked up.
But, that didn’t change the fact you were squeezing your thighs together in your chair, watching him scarf down a second piece of your famous pie.
His fork hit the china with a clatter, and he placed a hand on top of his stomach, breathing out a heavy sigh. He was satisfied, he didn’t need to say it. You knew.
Selfishly, part of you wondered how he could look so satisfied after being away from your mouth and your cunt for so long. You tried to shoo those thoughts away, offering Clyde a weak smile. Because you were happy he was home, more than.
You walked over to the other side of the table to clear his plate for him, hands shaking as you lifted it.
Suddenly, his warm hand was resting on your thigh. Your breath hitched as his palm slid further up your thigh, reaching your hip bone. He ran two fingers over your panties, tugging at the delicate hem.
“I’m still hungry.”
You wouldn’t believe he had just said such a dirty thing to you with the way his doe eyes twinkled up at you while his hand was up your dress. He licked his plush lips and broke out into that crooked smile you loved so much.
In one breath, he was pushing his chair back, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around him, and carrying you down the hall to your shared bedroom.
It was your first real kiss since he’d gotten home, and god it felt so good. You’d been soaking wet the entire day, and feeling his lips on yours again only made your thighs slicker.
“Miss me, honeybee?”
You nodded fervently, your lips still moving against his. You worked quickly on unbuttoning his pants, immediately reaching to rest your hand on his length over his boxers.
Your eyes rolled back in your head at the weight of it under your fingers. He somehow felt even bigger and heavier than you remember.
“Darlin’,” he held your hands still so you couldn’t continue undressing him. “I wanna taste you first.”
“No, tomorrow, later, just not now.” You said breathlessly. You were desperate to feel him stretch you out again.
Clyde seemed to find reason in your denial, helping you pull his pants off his thighs and throwing them onto the floor. Your dress was off in an instant, Clyde pulling it over your head and tossing it in the same direction his jeans went. Your bra and panties were discarded in a similar, rushed fashion.
You laid back waiting to feel his head slide through your soaked pussy, and when it didn’t come fast enough, you started whining.
Your prayers were answered when Clyde pulled your hips towards him, pushing himself into you with some resistance. A guttural groan reverberated in his throat as he slid further and further into your heat.
You were stretched so wide, your cunt couldn’t do anything but pulse helplessly around his length.
Three good strokes and you were cumming on his cock, seizing up tight and shaking as he stilled, reveling in the feeling of your walls around him.
You froze, eyes glossing over with embarrassment.
And that set Clyde on fire.
His hips slapped against the undersides of your thighs as he fucked into you over and over again. The breath was punched out of your lungs each time you bounced against him.
“You’re—shit!—gonna bruise my fucking cervix!”
“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on me, now.” He countered with a shit eating smile. “You can take it, can’t you, sweet thing?
He lifted your hips up and held you there, hitting deeper and harder than before. Usually, he would slide a pillow beneath your back, but he didn’t have the patience for that tonight.
“I can’t even make myself feel good anymore,” you admitted as he rammed into your cervix. “Not- not without you.”
“Only your poppa makes you feel like this?” He grunted real low.
You croaked out a pathetic yes before rolling your head back into the mattress, tipping your chin up so far you could see the headboard rutting into the wall.
A few more thrusts and you were shaking again. Clyde’s fingers were digging into your shaking thigh and he was groaning, hips stuttering as he filled your cunt for the first time in months.
He hunched over, almost falling completely on top of you. You chuckled breathlessly as he mustered up the energy to roll over beside you instead of crushing you with his body weight.
“Missed you,” he mumbled, staring up at the ceiling. “Missed this bed, missed this ceiling, missed this-”
“I missed you too, Clyde.”
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24) Spirit!
Remember the Mom-in-a-Jar AU? Here’s more of it.
-
The trip through the crumbling facility has been nerve wracking, to say the least. Nemesis couldn’t have picked a more fitting… a creepier place to lair, for the time being. The sounds of the singularity’s many-clawed legs skittering across the stonework above, the distant echo of human voices shrieking in agony, and the constant rain of dust and chunks of concrete into the lower levels she’s creeping through have had Aloy on edge during the full duration of her mission.
But, in the end, years of stealth training win out, and, with the data she’s come to retrieve safely in hand, she begins her retreat, slinking through the lower levels of the facility in search of the vents that Beta has marked on her map.
Her escape route out of this nerve-wracking place.
She’s almost all the way there when the crackle of Nemesis’s multi-limbed form sounds overhead, and it impacts the wall with a crash, somewhere above and out of sight. Stone crumbles and buckles, and with an agonized groan, one of the columns supporting the ceiling buckles, and then crashes to the ground in front of her, cutting through
Aloy throws herself backward, out of the way of the rain of stone, rolling over her shoulder and neatly back onto her feet. Her heart pounds at the sudden shock, and, hastily, she yanks her velvet scarf up over her face to block the cloud of dust billowing out from the fresh collapse.
“Hhhh! …well. Guess I’m not going that way.”
She waits for the dust to settle before glancing about, calculating her next move. She could go back the way she came… search for another exit further back among the narrow hallways and shattered offices of the facility’s upper floors.
Or…
Her eyes land on a rupture in the wall to her left, light gleaming through the crevice in fitful bursts. Humming thoughtfully to herself, she paces across the detritus-strewn floor to examine this new potential escape route.
“I can probably squeeze through here… there’s probably another vent I can get into in that room, too. And I won’t have to backtrack. …yeah. That sounds good. Ok-“
It takes a little doing, and she has to suck in her stomach and ribs to fit through the narrowest parts of the crack. But, finally, she emerges on the other side of the narrow passage, letting out a whoosh of breath and peering around the open space; clearly a research center of some sort, if the twisted remains of metal tables and the multitude of workstations built into the wall are anything to go by. And on the far side of the room, hanging open, its cover smashed loose by a falling girder…
Aloy clenches her fist in triumph, grinning to herself.
Yes! There’s the vent. I can pull up the map and figure out where I’m going once I’m inside.
Taking a moment to get her bearings, she examines the room. Part of the ceiling has crumbled away, leaving a gap that, presumably, leaves into the chamber above. The sounds of buzzing electricity and the scraping and grinding of Nemesis’s limbs echo through the hole, and Aloy instinctively flinches back, concealing herself behind a small pile of rubble.
Intriguingly… a large console, dotted with glass tubes protruding from rubber sockets all along its length, takes up most of the space. Little lights blink on and off over the top of each socket, green for some of them, and red for others. Shards of glass have spilled out over the floor from some of the shattered receptacles, mostly slotted into the apertures crowned in red light.
Even as she watches, one of Nemesis’s spidery limbs appears through the gap, a tube grasped delicately in the tips of its claws. The hand wiggles about almost comically for a moment, before slotting the tube back into one of the sockets on the bank, and tapping its way down to another. Abruptly, a tinny voice begins to beg for mercy, and, as Nemesis pulls the tube directly out of the socket, cuts off with a snap. The arm vanishes through the hole, taking the hapless cylinder with it.
Transfixed, Aloy starts forward, reaching up to tap on her Focus and scan the area as she goes.
What is this?
From above, an agonized scream rips through the relative silence, and she sucks in a sharp breath, peering anxiously up toward the hole.
What’s IN there? What’s it doing to them?
A shard of the scattered glass cracks underfoot, and Aloy freezes. The tube she’s been prowling carefully toward flickers abruptly to life, the center lighting up with an oscillating glow.
“Who’s there?”
Caution turns to shock, and Aloy’s spine goes ramrod straight. She knows that voice… but… there’s nothing nearby that her Focus can pick up on, when she scans for the source of the recording.
What is this? Is it some kind of trick? A trap?
Undeterred by her hesitation, the voice whispers on, breathy and nervous.
“C-can’t see you… hello?”
Inching closer, bit by bit, Aloy reaches for the tube, pressing two fingers against it experimentally. The glass is cold to the touch. In the middle, two thin coils of something wrap around each other like strands of DNA, one pulsing with soft green light, and the other, a coppery glow.
“What-“
In response to the pressure, the light in the tube flickers, rattling up and down in a particularly long, wavelike pulse.
“Fingers… I see them. You’re… here? Not… nnnn… not one of her tricks?”
There’s a desperation, a quiet plea to her tone. It cracks through the last of Aloy’s resistance, and, despite her remaining misgivings, she feels her shoulders relax just a bit.
If it is a trap, it’s a really convincing one. The vent’s pretty close, too... I think I’ll take my chances.
Spreading out her fingers and laying her full palm against the chilly glass, Aloy softens her voice.
“No. No, I’m not. I’m really here. What… are you?”
For a moment, the strands oscillate quietly, as though uncertain of the answer. Then, quietly…
“Trapped. Please. Please. Break them. Set them free. Set us free.”
The other tubes have begun to light, now, little glows flickering in the dark, like eager eyes, watching her. Carefully, positioning her spear for a quick thrust, Aloy reaches up to close down her Focus, muscles tensing in anticipation.
When the sound of Nemesis’s claws rending at the facilities edges and the shriek of its hapless victim pour down the shaft from above, she releases, the blade darting forward to puncture the glass center of the next tube over. A rush of cold air escapes through the gash, and, as the purple-and-gold lights flicker and die, a whisper of “Thank you” crackles faintly from the speaker set into the console above its slot.
The green-lit tube’s glowing strands leap with excitement.
“Yes… yes! Please… the others first…“
Aloy doesn’t need to be told twice. Working outward, moving with all of the stealth she can muster, and timing her thrusts carefully, she punctures the tubes, one by one. Light pulses in each as she moves down the line, differing in color, and in the tone of voice that emerges from the console’s small speakers.
But to a last, the trapped spirits whisper their thanks. Their relief to be freed of the torment that Nemesis has inflicted upon them. A few even wish her luck, or encourage her not to give up the fight.
Her spear tip pierces the last of the tubes, and she turns back to survey her handiwork; only the original is left, now, its greeny-red glow flickering invitingly, waiting for its turn.
In the room above, something rattles, and the lights in the tube’s center flare and stutter with the rhythm of a racing heartbeat.
“Too late… too late, you have to go. Now. Don’t let it-“
Ignoring the request, Aloy skids to a halt at the console’s side and yanks the tube from its slot. Instantly, the lights in the center dim to a faint glow, and the voice goes silent.
As the baleful, spidery limb reaches down into the gap, Aloy retreats carefully back into the shadows, hastily stashing the tube in one of the pouches hanging at her hip. Nemesis fumbles for its next victim, finding the end of the nearest cylinder, and pulling it free.
Letting out a quiet whoosh of breath that she can’t remember starting to hold, Aloy clambers carefully into the vent system again, pulling up the map on her Focus, and quietly worming her way forward toward freedom.
It takes Nemesis some time to realize exactly what’s happened; Aloy is crawling through one of the final sets of ductwork toward a sliver of golden sky beyond when the AI’s vicious howl of rage rattles the facility at her back.
Rocking onto her heels and taking a moment to double check her positioning, Aloy chuckles nervously, resting a hand over the tube, safely stashed away in its hiding place.
“I guess that works as a distraction… well. I’ve got the data. Time to get out of here. And… to figure out what you are, and what to do with you.”
“I’ll bet GAIA will know.”
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JNRZ Year 1 Prologue: Warlock
Lucas Clark must have had the most boring job in the world.
Being the security guard for an Schnee Dust Company Equipment Outpost located in the coldest part of nowhere gave a man a lot of time to think. And in his several months of being stationed here at his new gig, meditating to the sounds of howling Solitas winds and humming fluorescent lights has helped him conclude that yes, his job sucked.
It was his turn for the graveyard shift, so once again he was all alone in the security room, a space full of monitors for various cameras around the outpost, some rolling chairs, a gun locker in one corner and a small kitchen in the other corner. Well to call it a kitchen would be stretching it, the set up consisted of a folding table, a mini fridge underneath, and on top sat a crappy coffee maker and a microwave that was currently cooking Clark's dinner.
He mindlessly watched his cup of ramen noodles slowly spin inside the microwave, listening to the same rock n' roll playlist for what must have been for the twenty fifth time. Damn, if he had known that you couldn't get wifi out here in the middle of the icy wastes, he would have downloaded way more songs, maybe even a few books on tapes about science or something?
Lucas had taken the position because it sounded like a cushy job with little stress. Even with the recent rise in White Fang activity within Atlas, Outpost 210 was of insignificant value for attack. This outpost was built for the purpose to house extra parts of various SDC mining machines such as cogs, wiring, treads, etc. If something broke down within flying distance of the base, this outpost could ship the replacement part in no time. Gotta make sure Mr. Schnee's precious mines don't stop overflowing his pockets for even a second, right?
Oh well, it's not like he could complain since Mr. Schnee's pockets were the ones that filled his pockets as well. Sometimes you just had to complain about pointless shit in order to pass the time. The compound had about eight security guards, and only about two times as many various employees to keep the lights on and organize stock. The perimeter was surrounded by tall concrete walls aligned with automated turrets to keep any Grimm out, along with a small army of security droids that could handle any Grimm that made it past that. So in the end the only reason the SDC decided to leave guards out here at all was to make sure none of the employees contracted cabin fever and went on a killing spree.
The microwave beeped, Clark took the ramen cup, held it in a makeshift glove of paper towels and started blowing on it to cool it down. With dinner in hand, the security guard sat on his throne and rolled over to the security desk to get back to work.
He half-watched the dozen monitors as he lazily stirred his noodles. It's not like there's anything new to see. Most of the base was asleep at this point, and the only personnel that would still be walking around would be a couple other security guards and some maintenance guys. Grabbing his plastic fork, Lucas coiled up some ramen noodles and went for a bite, ready for yet another boring night on the-
"Do you hear me?"
"OH SHIT!" Clark yelped, startled by a deep pitched voice speaking over his ear piece. He had only just managed to save his cup of noodles before he could respond. "God damn! Don't scare me like that!'
"My apologies. I was testing the communications for a bit to see if I could get through. It was not my intention to scare you."
Clark was shaking his hand from some of the hot water that spilled out of his dinner while he saved it. "Ugh it's fine. Made me nearly spill my noodles over the security console though. It would have been both of our asses if I spilled food into the keyboards again."
The voice let out a garbled chuckle on the other end. "Well we wouldn't want that now would we?"
As Clark listened to the voice over the ear piece, he had a hard time nailing down who among the staff the voice could belong to. Whoever this was talking to had the most gravely deep voice he'd ever heard, to the point it almost sounded distorted…
"Hey who is this by the way? How did you get access to this channel?"
"I had to borrow an ear piece from one of the other guards. As for who I am. You can call me Warlock. What should I refer to you as?"
Warlock? What kind of name was that? And borrowing a comm piece? Sharing equipment with unauthorized personnel was a huge breach of security and a fireable offense. "This is Officer Clark of SDC Security, now I'm going to have to ask you to describe in clearer detail how exactly you've come to be in possession of another guard's ear piece, Warlock."
"In due time Clark, but first if I was hoping to ask you for some assistance. I am currently in Warehouse B, standing next to a maintenance console near dock C. Can you see me waving towards the camera?"
Puzzled by the request, Clark looked over the several monitors in front of him, looking for one that had a view in the warehouses. He eventually found a screen that gave him a view into Warehouse B, his cup of noodles fell to the floor as he looked at the live feed.
Right there on the screen was a figure casted in light from an overhanging industrial light, casting upon him like a stage light. He wore a dark purple winter's coat and a gray fedora with gold trim. Any detail that could be given about his facial features were entirely covered by what looked like a buzzing swarm of pixels, several of which glowed bright aqua, eerily giving the distorted face a pair of glowing eyes. He was waving right towards the camera as he stood next to the limp body of a security guard slouched against the bottom of a nearby wall.
"What the? Uh i-intruder in Warehouse B!" Clark quickly voiced over the security comms. "Officer down! I repeat, officer down! All units respond!"
"I'll take that as a sign you can see me. Good." Warlock said, with an eerily deep voice that Lucas could now recognize what must have been under the effects of a voice modulator. The figure then moved to the wall where a hard light maintenance screen was mounted, his hands deftly moved against the screen. "Next, I need you to tell me if something happens when I press… this."
The lights in the security room flickered for a second before the exit to the hallway was suddenly blocked off by a blast door, several metallic thunks locking it in place. Clark ran up to the door and started banging against the solid steel. "Shit! Help! All units respond! Why isn't anyone saying anything!?"
"And I'll take that as a sign that I have successfully locked the security room door. Oh and as for the comm silence, before we made our introductions I hacked the communications network so that the only person that receives your call will be me, so don't waste your breath trying to call for backup."
Shit. This was bad. The outpost was under attack and he couldn't warn people about it. He had never bothered getting other peoples contact numbers here so he couldn't call them to wake them up, the fire alarm was outside in the hallway, and the base wide emergency alarm was on the head of security's key chain! Fuck! Why didn't these cheap bastards put an alarm inside the security room?!
"You don't need to worry about your colleague here, I've simply knocked him unconscious. He should have a thorough recovery after I'm done here. As for you, Mr. Clark." Warlock's blue pixelated eyes peered back towards the camera as if looking directly at him through the screen. "Just sit tight and enjoy the spectacle. We wouldn't want you breaking anything trying to do something heroic. I'll be seeing you soon enough."
Warlock resumed pressing a few more keys on the hard light display on the wall, he then pulled out his scroll to hold it up against the screen, seeming to download something.
After the phone's task was completed, Warlock retrieved something from his coat's pocket. It was a sort of old looking locket, a golden brass chain and center piece which the intruder opened up, the contents inside facing away from the camera.
Lucas could hear over the comm piece that Warlock's breathing got harsher, quickly overwhelmed with emotion. The man looked to have almost buckled over as he placed a hand against the wall to steady himself, quickly breathing in and out.
Just after a few more breaths, Warlock closed the locket with a clenched fist. The man slowed his breath. With a few sniffs and a cough, the intruder stood straight up, adjusted his collar and whispered under his breath, barely caught on his earpiece's mic.
"No more hiding."
With the press of a button on his scroll, red lights started flashing around the outpost, a loud siren piercing through the snow filled night that there had been a security breach.
"W-what?" Was all Lucas could say as he watched the stranger walk deeper into the outpost with his pistol drawn.
"Clark? Do you read? What's going on?" A new voice appeared on the comms, thankfully one Lucas recognized as the head of security, Lieutenant Irving. He sounded tired from being suddenly woken up, yet anxious to know what's happening.
Despite remembering Warlock's words of how he can't talk to anyone else, Lucas still thought to try and warn his lieutenant, that was until someone else beat him to it.
"There's an intruder in the building sir!" said a voice that sounded like a statically warbled version of his own voice, and it could only have been one man. "He's taken down Bloomstein over in warehouse B! Now he's heading towards the main lobby, right towards security. There is a single intruder and he is carrying a gun, I repeat, the intruder is armed!"
"Got it, we'll group on security then, keep an eye on him and update us on anything he does. See you soon."
"Yes sir."
"FUCK!" Lucas threw his chair back in frustration, he's leading them into a goddamn trap! He looked back to the screens, from here he could see the entire facility waking up from the alarm. The workers were all running to their designated shelter to bunker down until an all clear could be given, making sure they stayed out of the way so the security could do their job. Everyone in the security barrack had quickly jumped out of bed and hastily put on their winter coats and picked up their company issued sidearms, quickly wrapping the holsters around their waists over their night clothes. Lieutenant Irving himself had a large ammo belt lung over his sweat stained undershirt and his very own shotgun in hand, having preferred to keep it stored on a mount on the wall above his bed instead of the security weapons locker like he was supposed to. Looks like his lax attitude for gun safety was gonna come in handy for tonight.
Lieutenant Irving brought up his own scroll in his hand as he ran through the frigid snow towards the main building and pressed 'activate'. The security droids resting at multiple charging centers around the base came to life, stepping off their platforms, pulling cables taught before snapping off their backs. The machines followed unheard orders and autonomously swarmed around the base. All looking for a single man as he now carefully made his way through the building's corridors, sweeping the area around every corner as came to hallway junctions or passed by closed doors.
"This is Milo and Sandy. We're making our way through the south wing towards the warehouse, we're gonna try and catch this guy by surprise. What's his current position?"
Warlock stopped and looked around for a second till he spotted a wall plaque that had a map of the outpost on it.
"You've just missed him, he's made it past the south wing toward the center wing, if you hurry you can catch him from behind." He responded over the radio, as he pressed up against the wall at a junction. He heard the footsteps before Milo even responded.
"Roger that, Clark."
"It's a trap!" Lucas yelled at the screen, going unheard as he saw the two guards draw near the hallway junction where Warlock was waiting. On the screen directly in the junction, he saw Warlock place a small circular device on the wall beside him, pulling out another one of devices in his hand, waiting.
As soon as the guards rounded the corner to the right, opposite direction of where Warlock was hiding, the intruder threw the disc in his hand at the back of the closest guard, followed by him shooting the furthest guard right in the back of the knee. The shot guard must have had their aura down, not expecting an ambush from behind, because the bullet went straight through.
With Milo clutching his knee and wailing in pain, Sandy quickly turned around and raised her gun at Warlock. Suddenly her body lurched towards the wall where the original disc was placed, both discs now glowing a bright purple. She slammed face first into the wall as the discs closed the distance between themselves, knocking her out instantly.
Warlock strolled forward continuing his original path towards the security room, making sure to kick away the gun Milo was reaching for with his bloody hand, and giving him a nice pistol whip for good measure to make sure he didn't try again. He then placed a finger to his comm piece.
"I've lost contact with Milo and Sandy. He must have gotten them while out of sight of the cameras."
"Fuck." spat the lieutenant. "That bastard is going to pay." Lucas started to hear a low thud against the security room's blast door. A quick look at the camera pointed outside in the main foyer showed that Irving, the last three other guards, and about a dozen robots were right outside. "Open the door Clark, it's us! We need to get to that weapons locker!"
"I'm afraid I can't do that sir."
"It's not me! I can't open the door!" Lucas yelled as he banged on the metal. Whether or not the Lieutenant could hear him through the thick metal he didn't know, but he did speak again on the radio to one of them.
"What do you mean?"
There was silence on the radio until the doppelganger's voice spoke up again. "...He's coming this way."
Lucas stayed by the door, waiting to see what the Lieutenant would say next, but if he had any response, he didn't voice it over the radio. The security guard quickly ran back to the console to find a screen with Irving angrily ordering the other guards into position, turning over the room's furniture over into a makeshift barricade as two-thirds of the security droids marched through the door entering the south wing, the rest staying behind with the guards.
On screen, the droids marched down the hallway in two groups of four, their dual arm machine guns already deployed and aimed down the corridor, waiting for their target to walk into their sights. On another screen he could see Warlock peering around a corner just a few doors down from the metal guards.
"It appears the ruse is up, Mr. Clark."
"You're outnumbered Warlock." Lucas announced as the droids closed in on the assailant's position. "You have no choice but to surrender or be gunned down."
"Then let's even the odds then."
Warlock pulled out a metallic ball with red dots on it, then with an underhand throw, sent the ball rolling right towards the robots. The dots on the ball started blinking with red lights as it's momentum slowed right in the middle of the first four bots, blinking faster and faster until glowing a brighter solid red. The machines surrounding the little ball all powered down, their shoulders and heads slumping for a moment, before rebooting and slowly standing straight again, this time with their clear black visors glowing red.
The four machine's twisted their torsos towards the other four machines that had been following behind them. Their metal brothers stopped just a few meters away from them, in silent standoff. The silence broke when the two groups of machines opened fire on each other, filling the hall with a storm of wild gunfire. In between the flashes, Lucas could see the robots gunning one another down and wild sprays, causing any camera that was in that hall to be caught by stray bullets, killing the live feeds.
The last thing Lucas saw in that hallway was Warlock calmly strolling towards the mayhem, another metallic ball in hand before the video was cut off with static snow. With eyesight now lost on the intruder, he had no choice but to set screens to focus on the foyer just right outside the security room.
What remained of security was hiding behind makeshift barricades, all guns trained on the south wing door. Lieutenant Irving was directly in the middle, flanked by three guards on either side, and the last four droids divided evenly on the far ends of the barricades.
The wait was agonizing even for Lucas, safe behind the screens of the security desk, intensely watching the double doors for any sign of an incoming attack. It must have been a minute or two before Warlock finally made his move, but when he did, the man made sure it was loud.
The explosion could be heard from behind the thick blast doors, the computer screen flashing a bright white before returning to normal again, just in time for the tail end of the trajectory of the double doors as they ninja starred across the foyer, slicing through the barricade and crashing into the opposing walls on the other side.
As the security guards got themselves off the ground after diving for cover, the security droids opened fire on the entrance, five droids covered in battle scars and visors glowing red as the charged in, some returning fire, the rest charging the barricades with their arm blades drawn.
The room broke out into a mindless brawl. Lucas saw a guard quickly try to gun down a charging droid with his pistol before it cleaved straight into the man's aura, sending the guard flying. Irving had parried another droid's blade with the butt of his gun, before flipping it in his hands and shoving the barrel straight under the robot's chin and firing. Luck was not on one guard's side, as apparently he was targeted by two droids at the same time, his aura showered in bullets before it broke and quickly brought him down as the bullets flew through his limbs.
The droids still loyal to the SDC were holding out better though, seeing as they were still in fresh condition compared to their traitorous brothers. The tactical advantage didn't last long though as Warlock entered the fray. The intruder had a hardlight shield in one hand, expanding out from his open palm providing him cover as he walked into the room, and his revolver in the other hand, taking carefully aimed shots at each robot one at a time. The shots were devastating, impeccably aimed, and charged with electricity Dust quickly eliminated the opposing droids.
By the time Warlock had taken care of the last SDC droid, the battle as a whole was coming to an end. The last standing security guard was in a melee with a hacked droid, striking it with his baton til the machine delivered a devastating strike that destroyed the guard's aura, followed by a debilitating slice to the guards leg, sending him to the ground.
It was just Warlock and one last hacked droid that was standing amongst the broken metal and wounded guards, groaning on the floor thanks to the "Non Lethal Takedown" protocols of the security droids. The hacker took one more sweep of the room before lowering his gun. It was then that Irving made his move.
With a loud yell, lieutenant Irving hurdled over the barricade he hid behind and charged the last droid. Before the machine could make a strike, the large burly man had already wrapped his arms around the robot's waist, picking it up with his forward momentum and carrying him towards Warlock. Before Irving closed in, the lieutenant hurled the droid towards Warlock, causing the intruder to dodge out of the way and the droid crash to the ground in broken heap.
The mysterious intruder attempted to raise his pistol at the head of security, but was quickly pulled in when the large man grabbed his shooting hand into an arm lock, followed by a head butt that sent Warlock backwards, his Aura flaring a lime green color as it absorbed the impact, while also wrenching his revolver out of his hand.
Now prone on the ground, Warlock could do nothing but scoot backwards, away from his assailant as Irving pulled his shotgun out from behind his back and started firing at him. Warlock managed to block the shotgun shells with his hardlight shield, but even on camera, Lucas could see the cracks forming.
Warlock continued crawling backwards until he came upon a broken droid. Thinking quickly, the hacker placed one of his purple discs on the machine's arm, then quickly threw another disc onto the burly man's chest as he pumped his shotgun for another shot.
If Lucas had blinked in that moment, he's positive he would have missed it. But brother gods did he wish he did.
Both discs glowed a bright purple, their artificial gravity wells connecting together. The disc on the robot immediately wrenched its arm right out of its socket, sending the blade arm shooting straight towards Irving's chest like a ballista. The force of the gravitational pull between the Lieutenant's chest and the metal arm instantly destroyed the man's Aura, piercing him right in the heart.
The man looked down at the blood that started soaking his already stained shirt, before his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell backwards to the ground. Lucas's stomach dropped along with the lieutenant.
Warlock himself was still prone on the ground. With his face concealed in a swarm of pixels, Lucas couldn't tell what the man must have been feeling. Eventually the man got up from the floor, fixed his collar, then walked over to where his gun laid nearby.
It was then, much to Lucas's horror, he started walking toward the security room.
In a panic, the last officer standing rushed for the weapon's locker in the corner, failing a few times to input the code 1-1-1-1, quickly grab a shotgun off the rack, and and accidentally spill shells over the floor. He was down on his knees picking up the shells one by one and loading them into the gun when he heard a voice.
"Mr. Clark, are you alright in there?"
"S-stay away!" Clark's voice cracked with fear. "There's nothing in here, so fuck off!"
Warlock waited for a second before responding. "I need to come inside Mr. Clark, I can't leave until I do."
Lucas snarled and stood up from the ground and pumped his shotgun, making sure it could be heard in the mic. "I. Said. LEAVE! Step one foot inside and you're dead!"
"There's no need to be afraid. I do not want to kill you."
"Bullshit! You murdered Irving!"
"No. I didn't." Warlock said plainly. "Your Lieutenant decided to continue fighting in order to stop me, so I killed him. It isn't murder when you're slain in war. I wish I could assure you that it was an honorable death, but it wasn't. What do you think he was fighting for? For Atlas? Defending innocents? To stop a killing spree I have no desire to start?"
"No. He died for money. He threw his life away because someone told him it was his job to do so. That it was his job to protect the investments of a man who doesn't know he exists. He died defending crumbs that belong to a bastard who already has everything!" Lucas could hear anger build up in Warlock's voice the more he talked.
"Lieutenant Irving did not die a hero, he died as Jacque's lapdog!"
Lucas was nearly to tears with frustration, he wanted to yell, cuss him out, blow his goddamn head off and tell him he's wrong. But he couldn't. He knew that Mr. Schnee didn't give two shits about lower level pawns like him and the Lieutenant. Warlock was right that Irving never even met Jaque himself. He was hired by a suit that was currently hiding in a bunker somewhere else on this base, while the man laid dead just in the other room.
What did Irving die for? Spare parts so machines could be fixed slightly faster? Lucas remembered what he thought to himself just barely twenty minutes ago in this very room. 'Gotta make sure Mr. Schnee's precious mines don't stop overflowing his pockets for even a second, right?' Bile rose up in his mouth. Was Lucas really going to die for him? Would anyone care that he was killed defending a warehouse in the middle of nowhere?
"Mr. Clark." Warlock's voice was now calm again, almost monotonous. "In three seconds, I'm going to open this door. Walk into that room. And ask you to surrender. I simply ask you to do the smart thing and not make the same mistake."
Lucas, despite his shaking, kept his shotgun trained on the door as the seconds ticked by. The man nearly jumped out his skin when the blast door quickly slid open, revealing a familiar silhouette in the doorway. The man almost looked like a specter with his glowing teal eyes against the dark shadows, slowly walking into the room with his gun drawn at his hip, not so threatening as if he planned to shoot on sight, but ready enough for Clark to make the first move.
The two men were in complete silence as they had their guns trained on one another. Now that Lucas was seeing Warlock in person, he looked even taller than he did on screen, almost towering in presence alone. The pixels that had swarmed his face like flies were now gone, replaced by a pair of glowing teal goggles and a bandana snuggly fit over his nose and mouth, decorated in geometric shapes. If he had to hazard a guess, the shapes must have been some weird scan code that automatically scrambled Warlock's face when on footage.
After a few more seconds of tense silence, Clark slowly lowered his shotgun. Their silence continued on though, the only form of communication between them were Warlock's slight flicks of his wrists as he used his gun to direct Lucas. Down to put the gun on the floor. Left to kick it away. Down again towards the handcuffs he threw at Lucas's feet to pick them up. Then lastly right, to tell him to handcuff himself to the minifridge in the kitchen.
As the handcuff locked in place, leaving Clark thoroughly at his captor's mercy, Warlock holstered his pistol.
"I'm glad you could come to see reason Mr. Clark. There's been enough death tonight." The masked stranger said with a still distorted deep voice, he must have had his voice modulator hidden underneath that bandanna as well. He holstered his pistol and walked over to the security screens covering the entire wall in the room.
"What now?" Clark asked, sounding defeated. "You have the whole outpost to yourself. Unless you brought a train with several carriages attached, or snuck an entire bull head past the perimeter defenses without us noticing, the most you're leaving here with is a few duffle bags of spare machinery parts with fuck all resale value."
"True. But what this outpost lacks in valuable goods…" Warlock's hands rapidly typed away on the security console, bringing up recordings of the attack he had just carried out on all the screens. "It more than makes up for it in high definition cameras."
Before Clark could ask why he cared about the cameras, Warlock's hand hovered over the system's hard drive, a shimmering lime green light emanated from the intruder's arm. Shortly after the glow started, little spectral numbers started floating up from the console straight into his palm. Upon closer inspection Lucas could tell they were little ones and zeroes. One by one the screens scrambled with error messages until they returned to their home screens, SDC logos taking their place on every wallpaper.
"What did you just do?"
"I got exactly what I came for."
Lucas's mouth fell open in disbelief, wrapping his head with such a simple answer yet mind boggling revelation. "All this… was just so you could steal security footage from a storage outpost?"
"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous." Warlock shook his head. "It's elementary my dear Clark. Think, what exactly would be on those video files, now that I have them?"
Lucas racked his brain for every possible answer. That footage would mostly show empty hallways, foot traffic of employees, the janitor dancing when no one is looking. It even gave him a great view of Warlock's attack on the outpost… high definition cameras.
"You wanted to record yourself attacking the SDC…"
Warlock snapped his fingers. "You are smarter than you let on, Mr. Clark." he congratulated. "This," Warlock said, gesturing an arm around the room, "...is my declaration of war. A taste of things yet to come, and a demonstration to both my enemies and potential allies."
A… war? Lucas remembered back to what Warlock had said about himself killing Irving, you can't murder someone you're at war with. This man in front of him was declaring war on the Schnee Dust Company. But…
"... but why? Why do any of this?"
The tall man looked down at Lucas with ghostly eyes, as if pondering how to answer the question. He saw the intruder place a hand over one of his coat pockets. If Lucas remembered correctly, it was the same one that housed the locket Warlock held earlier.
"... To undo a mistake."
Warlock stood there a second more before speaking again.
"By the way Mr. Clark, do you happen to be left or right handed?"
"What?"
"It's a simple question Clark, with which hand are you most dominant?"
"I'm left handed, but what does that-" His sentence was cut off when he was shot in the right shoulder. "FUCK! Y-you shot me!"
"And you're welcome." Warlock said as he reholstered his smoking pistol. "When the authorities begin investigation into this attack, it wouldn't look very good for you if you had sat around in the security room unharmed as an armed assailant had taken a stroll through your colleagues and machines. At least this way it looks like you put up an actual fight."
Warlock began to take his leave, heading out the door before sharing parting words with the wounded security guard.
"I'd advise you to start looking for a new line of work before things get worse. Maybe go back to school? A sharp mind like yours would be a terrible waste, Mr. Clark."
With that, the masked stranger tipped his hat, and opened his scroll to push a button as he walked out.
All the computer monitors flickered in and out for a short second, the prominent Schnee Snowflake that adorned every screen fizzled out and were replaced with a new symbol, or to be more exact, a single letter.
A golden, elegantly written, cursive "W".
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