#felt like making some Terra Nova stuff

[tinderbox210]

Terra Nova reboot

Esai Morales as Commander Nathan Taylor Jodie Turner-Smith as Mira Toby Stephens as Jim Shannon Lesley-Ann Brandt as Doctor Elisabeth Shannon Isabela Merced as Maddy Shannon Charlie Gillespie as Josh Shannon Freya Allan as Skye Tate Owen Teague as Lucas Taylor Katrina Law as Lieutenant Alicia Washington Rahul Kohli as Doctor Malcolm Wallace Evan Evagora as Sergant Mark Reynolds Orla Brady as Ayani Taylor ??? as Zoe Shannon

[tealin]

Cape Crozier: The Spiritual Journey

As usual, please check out http://twirlynoodle.com/blog to see this post and others in their original (functioning) formatting.

Since getting seriously into polar history, I kept hearing the same two things from polar veterans.  One was that I could not possibly understand the story properly, or be able to depict it truthfully, unless I visited Antarctica myself.  The other was that Antarctica changes people.  This was unanimous amongst scientists, historians, and even tourists: one cannot help but be profoundly affected by contact with Antarctica; that is just a fact of the place.

I have certainly been changed by Antarctica indirectly.  The inner kernel of “me” is the same in my earliest memories as now, but the Terra Nova men and their experiences have fundamentally shifted how that kernel views and relates to the world and the people around me.  I am a vastly better person for their influence, and that is a large part of why I have been so dogged in getting their story to a new audience: the hope that, through my work, even one other person might be changed in the same way.

When I finally got the chance to visit Antarctica in person, I had half an eye out for signs something had happened.  Two weeks into my visit, I had learned a lot and had some meaningful experiences, but I couldn't say I had changed at all.  Maybe that initial action-at-a-distance was the change I had been promised after all.

Then I went to Cape Crozier.

As we have spread around the planet, humans have noted certain places as being special in some way, places of some sort of power, or where the spirit world is a little more tangible.  The Celts called these 'thin places', where the fabric of reality is threadbare, and Something Else comes a little closer.  One can have a 'thin' experience anywhere, but certain places seem to encourage them.  They may remain completely unmarked, or may become loci for centuries of pilgrimage, or anything in between, but they exist in some form in every culture except, perhaps, the post-Enlightenment intellectual West.

Antarctica, generally, feels like where the edge of a painting dissolves into brushstrokes. There is a certain unreality baked-in: the sun wheels around the sky without setting, one can count on one hand the species of life regularly seen, and everything – the landscape, the weather, the distances – is so vastly out of proportion to puny humanity.  One could argue that this 'unfinished' feeling is because so much of it is white, but I have travelled through many snow-covered landscapes, and they feel like landscapes covered in snow, not fundamentally blank places with a few suggestive details dropped in by an artist whose main attention was elsewhere.

Cape Crozier was something else entirely, though.  It is, of course, hanging off the edge of Ross Island, but it felt more like it was hanging off the edge of reality itself.  It is a thin place par excellence.  And I had an experience there which I have been trying to process since landing back at McMurdo.  When I tried to discuss it with friends, my ability to speak quite simply stopped.  Then the pandemic, and the new house, and pushing through Vol.1, all rose up and drove it to the back of my mind.  In February I wasn't ready to talk about it; here in October, I worry it's too late.  But I feel compelled to share what happened there, and if I don't do it now, I don't know if I ever will.

If this were a novel, at Cape Crozier I would have felt the thinness of time, and a closer connection to the dead men I had followed there – perhaps almost to believe they weren't dead at all!  In such a place, that didn't seem impossible.  But that is not what happened.  Nor did I have some sort of enlightenment beamed into my head from the heavens.  Even the word 'happened' is too suggestive of some sort of discrete external event.  If you had asked me, there, at the time, I'd have said I was just sitting there thinking. But I sit thinking a lot in life, and this was not the sort of thinking I am used to.  It was more like a revelation.  Not in the trumpets and angels sense, but in a literal one: layers of clutter and gloss were pulled back to reveal a simple underlying truth.  It was, in essence, a dose of perspective, a view from high and far enough away to see the big picture, and not the surface detail.  As I sat at the base of a boulder, gazing at the stone igloo and gawking at how completely insane were the men who dragged their sledges to this desolate nowhere to build it, I suddenly saw my life as it appeared in the Author's notes.

Ever since first getting the inkling that this story would make a good graphic novel, it has felt like a calling.  I said 'no' to the calling for years – some sort of cosmic wrong number – but when I finally said 'yes' everything started falling into place.  That is supposed to be a good sign, for a calling.  And I was happy following it, though it wasn't easy or comfortable.  As far as I could deduce, under my own power, it seemed like what I ought to be doing.  That is not to say there weren't doubts, especially in the grey light of a winter morning when I would lie in my rented bed, looking at my desk and wondering what on earth I was doing with my life.  And I was not untroubled by other concerns: Shouldn't I be more helpful to my family? Why have I been persistently unable to find a tribe, or a relationship?  Will I be allowed to stay in the UK?  Can I do this work and keep myself fed and housed?

Here, on a wind-scoured ridge on the edge of nowhere, reflecting on its history of unbelievable and, it could be argued, pointless hardship, one might expect to realise the folly of one's ways, and to swear off quixotic enterprises in favour of the hitherto unappreciated quotidian stuff that really matters.  But that is not what happened.  Instead, I got this dose of clarity:

I am here to tell this story.  Not here, at Cape Crozier, in this instant (although that too), but here, on this planet, as a human being.  This is what I am for.

Whatever I need to make it happen will be provided.  No less, and no more.

Everything else?  Tangential.  Not worth worrying about.  What needs to happen, will happen, and if it doesn't happen, it didn't need to.  And that's OK.

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

When I was young, we had a puzzle of the United States of America.  It was made of Masonite, and the pieces were cut out in the shapes of the states, which would be assembled to fill the recessed outline of the country.  Because they were geographical shapes and not interlocking jigsaw pieces, they would slide and rattle around until the last one got wedged in and locked everything else in place.

Most of my life, I have felt like that rattly puzzle.  I didn't realise it because I had never known there was another way to be.  But there under the boulder it felt like that last piece had been dropped in, that secured all the loose ones.  It was not that Cape Crozier was my missing piece and now that I had it I was complete – that is far too literal.  The missing piece was a something that wasn't even a thing; rather, in that moment of clarity, I felt all the jangling bits come to rest, and a wholly unfamiliar solidity.  At last the clay wobbling around the potter's wheel had been centred, and I felt a metaphysical ground beneath my metaphysical feet that I had not known it was possible to feel.

Ironically, the rest of the day I felt like I wasn't touching the actual ground at all, perhaps because what I was anchored to was on another plane entirely.  The stumbling shamble through the wind back to the helicopter might as well have been happening to someone else.  We took off into the gale, and though the pilot acted as though it was perfectly ordinary, when we were rounding the ridge he said 'wow, that's the rotor all the way to the left' which I didn't understand but didn't sound great.  Nevertheless the sense of peace persisted, and I understood how, in his last letter to his wife, which he knew would be his last, Wilson could have kept insisting 'all is well.'  (I knew why he wrote that: he had read Julian of Norwich.  But now I understood why.)

The journey back was a transcendence all of its own, the beauty of which seemed to be a perfectly natural outward manifestation of that altered state.  We touched down in time for me to make it to the Galley just as it opened for dinner, so we couldn't have been gone two whole hours, and that seemed absurd to me – surely I had sat under that boulder for two hours at least?  Or had we only been at the igloo ten minutes?  It was impossible to tell.

What I wanted more than anything was to go up a mountain and ponder the whole thing, alone, until it sorted itself out and I was ready to come back down again.  I could have gone up Observation Hill, but the weather looked liable to turn into a proper blizzard at any moment.  So, lacking a better option, I went to go eat, and, after having a chuckle at the Cherry Turnovers, slunk to the back where I could usually count on having a small wallflower table to myself, especially this early.  But one of the larger tables was full of young dudes talking about bar fights they'd been involved in, and I just … couldn't.  So I wandered into the main area and discovered the One Strange Rock crew having an early dinner as well, begged a spot at their table, and ate swaddled in friendly natter instead of at one with the universe in a blizzard.  It amounted to much the same thing.

Eventually one of them said, 'You went to Cape Crozier today, didn't you? How was that?'

I made an exploding gesture around my head and said 'Pkhhhh.'

Cherry wrote that the Winter Journey 'had beggared our language'.  I am sure that my inarticulate gesture is not what he meant.  But at the same time, in fact at that very dinner, I realised something about his writing.  The Winter Journey chapter is unanimously regarded as the finest part of The Worst Journey in the World.  Some people question that this otherwise unremarkable country gent, who never produced another book, could have written with such profound and expressive talent, and they posit that his friend and neighbour George Bernard Shaw, who definitely did consult on the book, must have ghostwritten it.  I have read enough of Cherry's writing – in his own hand – to know this is bosh; the voice and the style are distinctly his.  What's more, I was surprised to discover, when going through his journals, that a large portion of the Winter Journey chapter was not written last, despite it being the last to join the manuscript of Worst Journey, but was in fact written in his bunk at Cape Evans while he was recuperating from the experience.  In the published book, he singles out some passages as being from 'my own diary' but great tracts of unattributed narration are more or less verbatim quotations as well.  The experience related therein feels so immediate because it was.

The rest of Worst Journey, while perfectly readable, is largely a narrative rewrite of Cherry's and others' diaries.  Sometimes he lets others carry the story for pages at a time.  His writing is undeniably good, but is often simply mortar, filling gaps and binding sources together to tell a history that no human invention could better.  The Winter Journey chapter, on the other hand, reads like a torrent of pure inspiration pouring through him onto the page.  That such vivid, timeless prose should have come from an exhausted 25-year-old in his bunk in a wooden hut is no less remarkable than from a jaded 35-year-old in the library of his country house.

Artists of all stripes will often say that their best work is not their own creation, but feels like it already existed and came through them from somewhere else. It's as if there's a great Beyond where things that need to come into the world – stories, images, performances – queue up for passage through artists' minds and bodies.  Sometimes one taps into it by luck; usually it's a combination of training and discipline that makes the link traversable, from time to time.  Perhaps artists' minds are their own thin places, in a way.  Sitting there at dinner with my friends, I felt as though I'd brushed against the fabric between this reality and that Beyond, and, like touching the wall of a tent in a rainstorm, broken the surface tension and allowed something through.  I felt like, if I just put pencil to paper, something could flow through me, if only I could narrow down a subject.  With the intensity of his experience, Cherry did not so much brush against the wet tent fabric as punch a hole through it; feeling just a small inkling of that myself, it was no wonder that the creative energy poured into his diary with such intuitive eloquence.

Had I sat down to write this that night, perhaps I could have tapped into that flow, but I didn't feel I was ready.  I can guarantee you that right now I am not tapped into anything but a vague and dwindling recollection.  As vast as the experience was, by putting a box of words around it, I cannot help but reduce it to the confines of the box.  But that is the best I can do under my own power.

Compared to the seismic transformation of character brought about by my first vicarious encounter with Antarctica, the insight at Cape Crozier was very small and personal, but once in place, the ramifications have been substantial.  When I arrived back home, just before Christmas, the world was still as it ever was, but I was different, and I noticed how differently I related to everything.  Things I loved about Cambridge, which previously made me desperate to stay, I appreciated no less, but valued instead as something I had the honour to enjoy for a while, and didn't need to hold on to.  A young-adults group which I'd hung around, formerly a precious simulacrum of a social life, now felt hollow, and I abandoned it in favour of time spent one-on-one with the handful of people who I really appreciated.  They all said I seemed different; one person said I seemed 'sad', but I think I had just taken the mask off the seriousness which tends to frighten people. I have never been afraid to be myself, but in recent years have tried to mitigate that self in relation to others; there seemed no point to that, now.  It was as if my inner gyroscope had finally started spinning, and I had a sense of balance and orientation that I hadn't before.

Holding on to the clarity of that moment, and the centredness it brought me, has not been easy.  It didn't keep me from panicking when my housemate excoriated me back in March.  It didn't focus my mind on my work as soon as I'd moved into the new place, or save me from getting angry and frustrated when battling my tax returns.  Sometimes it's very hard to remember at all.  But I know what happened, and I can remember remembering, even if I can't recapture the feeling itself.  Sometimes, when it's very windy, I seek out a high open place in the hope of feeling it again, but it hasn't worked.  Maybe it doesn't need to.  Having it once was all I really needed, and even if I succeeded in flicking those switches again, what good would it do that hasn't already been done?

I could not foresee, on that windswept ridge on the edge of reality, where the world would be in 2020.  In wry moments I think I was only a few months ahead of a large portion of humanity, who have been forced to sort things out when the pandemic stripped away their preoccupations and illusions.  Maybe you are one of them, and you recognise some of what I've described.  Maybe you feel like you've been running away from it.  Maybe you have been running towards it but have been unable to find it.  All I can tell you is: it's worth the seeking.

I wish everyone in the world could visit Antarctica, even just once, and see how it changes them.  The world would be such a better place.  I am so profoundly grateful that I had the chance, and am determined to pay it forward by bringing some shred of that experience to as many people as possible.  If my communication fails to bridge that gap for you, then take it upon yourself to find your own thin place.  They are all around.  It only requires that you be receptive, and undertake to look.

[mason-knight-retired]

more post war terra nova 

--

The middle upstairs room of the farmhouse doubled nicely as a makeshift lab. Mason didn’t mind the view out over the fields and the lake and the recliner was far more comfortable than anything he remembered from P1. Maybe if they had views and chairs like this, the hours they had spent undergoing diagnostics might have been a lot more pleasurable.

Luca fiddled with the connection to Mason’s wrist, making an unhappy sound as he pulled up his holographic screens. A bluish glow washed over his face, catching on the curls he let fall over his eyes and reflecting in his dark eyes.

“You know I’m not really a medic, right?” he said, tapping away at the glowing keyboard and kicking off the scan. Mason hid the flinch of the grips digging through reinforced skin then forced himself to breathe through his nose while the worst of it passed. Luca cast a sideways glance at him, lips pursed, before he continued. “I mean, I know basic first aid to keep you alive long enough to get you to a drop ship, but this… this is waaaay beyond my paygrade.”

Mason grunted as he settled back against his seat. “I don’t need you for the medical stuff,” he said. “I need you for the tech.”

Luca didn’t look convinced but he concentrated on the readouts, the rows of numbers and data flowing through the connections from the nanites in Mason’s blood to Luca’s terminal. It looked good so far, and Mason wasn’t really expecting anything to turn up, but he wanted the reassurance just the same.

“What’s it like?” Luca asked after a long moment. He doesn’t look directly at Mason, and Mason knew Luca well enough now to know when he was genuinely curious or just trying to fill the empty space with chatter. This was one of those times where he was genuine, and a little unsure. “Being a phoenix I mean.”

“You haven’t talked to Benji about it?”

Luca’s expression shifted, ever so slightly. “We… uh. We don’t really talk about that stuff.”

Mason flicked his gaze away, back out over the lake and the lawns of the farmhouse. He could see Eva by the water, the sunlight glinting off her blonde hair as she picked wildflowers and the dogs bounding around her ankles. Ben was with her, standing still only long enough for Eva to tuck a flower into his hair while Mara looked on and Isaac strode across the jetty.

Mason liked it here on Terra Nova, even if the closest thing to a nightclub was a barn decorated in floating fairy lights and music supplied by Luca’s guitar. There was something about the wide open spaces and room to run that spoke to him. He felt useful here. Less like a weapon, more like someone who could build something worthwhile, instead of just destroy or kill or maim.

He shook his head, annoyed at himself for the whimsical thoughts. “I don’t remember being any other way. It’s just who I am now.”

Luca didn’t seem satisfied with that answer but Mason doesn’t know how else to put it. He had been a phoenix longer than he’d been human, he doesn’t remember what it’s like to be out of breath after running a up the stairs or bleed from a papercut. He doesn’t remember not knowing what it’s like to be so attuned and alert to his surroundings, looking for threats inside every shadow.

He doesn’t remember what it feels like to have to be gentle, because his husband was a phoenix too.

“He’s not staying,” Luca said after a moment. The diagnostic churned away in the background, soft, beeps after every test. He casts Mason a sideways glance, shuttered in a way Luca often isn’t. “Ben, I mean.”

It wasn’t news to Mason but he wondered if it was news to Luca. He didn’t want to get too curious about whatever it was they had going on but sometimes he privately wondered if they were a good fit.

“I’m sure he’ll be back at some point.”

Luca hunched over but he was spared the need to answer by Ethan walking into the room. Mason’s lips curved at the sight of his husband but his attention went first straight to the readouts.

“How is he looking?”

“All good so far,” Luca informed him. Ethan’s hand then found Mason’s shoulder and his lips his cheek. 

“Hi,” Mason said softly.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Ethan said back quietly. Then he straightened and gave Luca a vague wave of his hand, effectively dismissing him. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Is that code for ‘I’m going to fuck him now’?”

Ethan levelled a stare at Luca that dripped ice, making Mason roll his eyes. The antagonism between Luca and Ethan was at least ninety five percent put on he was sure.

“Yes. Now get out.”

Luca didn’t need to be told twice, scrambling out into the hall. Mason held Ethan’s gaze as the sound of Luca’s clattering down the stairs faded.

“You want to tell me what’s going on, baby?”

“Nothing,” Mason shook his head. “Just being careful. We’re a long way from civilization out here.”

Ethan’s hazel eyes flashed. “Try again.”

Mason sighed but tugged on his husband’s hand. Trying to hide anything from Ethan was pointless. “Come sit in my lap first, since I can’t get up right now.”

Ethan straddled him. It was a tight fit on the recliner, two large men as they were, but they managed. Ethan’s wide palm caught Mason’s jaw, first a press of a kiss on his lips Mason tried to chase. “Mase.”

“Eth,” Mason frowned. “Don’t make a big deal. I told you. Just being careful.”

“Something prompted this.”

“I don’t know. Just… That last fight, with the raiders. Something felt like it shook loose. Maybe. I don’t know. But after Omega… Look, I’m just not willing to ignore it. Not like last time.”

“I almost lost you then.”

“I know,” Mason said softly, then tilted his face up for a kiss. “I have too much I want to live for now.”

[themurphyzone]

PatB Nova Ch 7

Ch 7: Perturb

AN: This chapter’s somehow got long so a lot of stuff I wanted to originally place here’s going in the next one.

FFN Link

Terran Date 2015.4.23

Since I currently lack access to my regular equipment, I’m making do with an audio recording program from a Terran computer. I must admit it’s not nearly as efficient as my usual method, but it will have to suffice.

Pinky is an…interesting host. I won’t deny that he’s rather generous, and the delicacy he identified as cream cheese is surprisingly palatable. I’ve also taken up residence in his cage which he also kindly offered for my use as a safe place to sleep. The sponge bed has been moved to the cage per my request.

Objective assessment of Pinky: his species is a lab mouse, his eyes have to be some odd mutation because it cannot be possible for them to be that blue, and he’s an amiable idiot. As I’m recording this, he’s currently scolding two inanimate objects for their failure to keep the cage clean in his absence.

Today’s goal: Pinky is planning for a trip to the local mall to obtain a hat to wear for the Derby. Once again, it’s an illogical custom I am unfamiliar with. I’ve agreed to accompany him for two purposes. The first, clues on Snowball’s whereabouts. And the second, to gather intel on Terran habits for world domination purposes. Snowball and I will be able to put my information to good use when we’re reunited.

Signing off for now, the Brain.

o-o-o-o-o

Getting lost, losing communications, and the unrelenting solitude were the major dangers of setting foot outside of Penumbra. Only the first two conditions applied now.

Pinky leapt through the mail slot and danced along the pavement. He wore a lavender blouse that left his shoulders exposed, his shorts made of a Terran material called denim. Apparently, this excursion was also an opportunity to make a fashion statement. But Brain didn’t see the practicality of Pinky’s clothes.  The silly Terran stepped on an odd rock here and there, but his twirls didn’t slow down. Just looking at him made Brain slightly dizzy.

Thin, white clouds drifted lazily in the vast blue sky far above them. Brain looked up, one hand on his brow to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. New Selene and the stars weren’t visible, though they were somewhere much higher than the sky.

He squinted and lowered his gaze to the ground, dark spots forming in his vision and making everything rather blurry.

Brain had switched his jumpsuit and gloves for a Terran disguise, a simple red shirt and another pair of denim shorts, both items borrowed from Pinky’s large collection of outfits. But since Pinky’s legs were longer, the shorts technically functioned more like pants, and the shirt was knee-length. Though it was comfortable, so he went along with it for now.

Besides, Pinky had been shockingly adamant about the jumpsuit and gloves needing a wash. Brain had protested at first since the material had anti-olfactory functions built in, but Pinky insisted and Brain agreed if only to shut up the Terran.

Procuring formal clothes for conquest would just have to wait.

And there was another issue he hadn’t anticipated.

Everything was so colorful and loud. He was so used to everything being muted and dark. Already he missed the ever present hum of the lab technology, and he’d barely set foot outside the door. Brain stood on the coarse welcome mat, on the border between safety and the unknown.

He was just grateful his accelerated healing kicked in overnight, and the bandages were no longer necessary.

“Come on, Brain!” Pinky shouted as he skipped along the pavement, careful to avoid all the cracks. “The sidewalk is great! Just don’t step on the crack, or you’ll break your mama’s back!”

Brain scowled. “My mother is on a different planet entirely, if she hasn’t already fallen victim to the many dangers of the natural world. Stepping on a cracked rock here on Terra will have no effect on her skeletal structure. The two actions are entirely uncorrelated.”

“The corals are related?” Pinky gasped, hands flying to his mouth in genuine surprise. “I knew they looked similar!”  

There was absolutely no reasoning with him, was there?

A large, sleek metal structure roared down the large stretch of pavement in front of them, a cloud of smoke trailing behind it as it rounded a corner and disappeared. It wasn’t his first time seeing one of those vehicles, since they’d been peppered throughout the satellite images he’d viewed back on Penumbra.

A car. One of the forms of land-based transportation on Terra, Brain recalled from the file on Terran technology. Highly practical for traveling long distances.

Cars were much larger in person. The images made them seem so tiny.

And once again, he found himself woefully lacking essential information. Did cars function similarly to a rover? How did it zoom by so quickly? What was the power source?

He looked up at the sky again, but the sunlight had somehow gotten stronger during his pondering, and he quickly averted his eyes.

“Poit. Your eyes are so squinty, Brain!” Pinky lightly tapped Brain’s head, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Don’t look directly into the sun. It’s bad for your eyes and you’d need to eat lots and lots of carrots to fix them and then your fur will turn orange!”

“A side effect of all this light,” Brain replied, making a mental note that carrots were an edible item that caused orange fur. He’d have to avoid them in the future. “I’m fine. Let’s depart for this…mall.”

The word felt strange on his tongue. But his feet wouldn’t leave the safety of the welcome mat.

“I’d love for you to come along, but if you’d rather not, that’s fine too,” Pinky said. There was a slight tinge of disappointment in his voice though, but he still seemed as sunny as the actual star. It was somewhat unsettling.

“Won’t you join my little expedition, Brain?” Snowball wrapped an arm around Brain’s shoulders. Fine mist trailed from the aisam’s claws, surrounding them with an icy chill that traveled up Brain’s spine and settled into his fur. “The road to Eclipse Lab is awfully barren and I could use a little company. Perhaps we could test our skills with star identification along the way.”

Brain shoved him away and Snowball clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“For the last time, I’m n-not interested in visiting that horrible, scrik-ridden m-mess of a lab, Snowball. If you wish to leave New Selene sometime in the next cycle, you will allow me to fine-tune the propulsion system in peace,” Brain retorted, hating the tremor in his voice caused by a brief yet violent case of the shivers. He picked up a wrench and examined it for overuse damage, turning his back on Snowball so he wouldn’t see Brain’s hands tremble.

Whether it was from the cold or the mere thought of setting foot in the place where he’d been prodded and restrained by long, claw-like fingers, he couldn’t say.

“You can’t be an invertebrate, Brain,” Snowball grumbled. His disappointment was palpable, and Brain’s fingers tightened around the wrench. “Our combined intellect is unparalleled and far superior to those imbecilic Terrans. Whatever it takes to rule, whatever it takes to wear the crown, we must seize it by any means possible.”

Then he was gone, and the Conquistador’s silent frame became Brain’s steadfast companion.

“Earth to Brain! Oh sorry, should I say Terra to Brain instead? Come in, Terra to Brain! This is Lieutenant Pinky reporting in! Over!”

Pinky was suddenly in front of his face, and Brain leapt back in surprise. He must’ve been lost in his ponderings again. Pinky held something behind his back, something bright and yellow poking out near his tail.

“Yes, Pinky. I hear you,” Brain sighed. Then Pinky showed him the item behind his back, and it turned out to be the oddest pair of safety goggles Brain had ever seen in his life. The star-shaped frame was yellow and provided little protection for the nose, and the lens were tinted dark instead of clear. “These goggles are highly impractical for technical work.”

“They’re sunglasses actually. Slipped inside and grabbed ‘em while you were pandering. I use these if I’m playing movie star-slash-chiropractor! Try them on!” Pinky said. Deciding it was best to humor him, Brain slid on the glasses, and his vision became a shade darker. The colors were still there, just not as bright. The headache that had threatened to form dissipated into nothingness.

“This is bearable,” Brain said. Pinky was slightly darker as well, though the tinted lens did nothing to diminish his shining blue eyes.

Pinky clapped his hands in glee. “Exactly! Also works for grizzlies and honey bears and teddies! And now you’re a movie star too!”  

Brain rolled his eyes, sweeping his antennae back so they didn’t get in the way. “That’s not a classification of any star. Despite your questionable logic, and I use that word in a fairly liberal sense, the color spectrum of your planet is no longer a strain on my eyes. So…thanks.”

“Aww! You’re welcome, Brain,” Pinky said. “And really, you can wear them in the lab too. I don’t mind.”

“No, Pinky. I’m coming along. I have goals to accomplish during this trip,” Brain said. Taking a deep breath, he stepped off the welcome mat, then hopped off the step and onto the pavement.

It wasn’t as difficult as his mind made it out to be.  

Pinky laughed, and Brain barely got out of the way in time before several ounces of idiosyncrasies could crash into him.

Brain wouldn’t get anything done by sitting around and being too afraid to leave the lab’s safe haven. Somewhere underneath the massive sky, Snowball was likely planning his own day’s activities. And today, they’d be taking the first steps to conquer Terra.

Through any means possible.

o-o-o-o-o

Brain prided himself on his keen observation skills, something that would serve him well when he and Snowball finally exploited the inhabitants’ many weaknesses. Pinky considered it a ‘a blousery, blustery, beautiful day’, whatever that meant, and skipped to and fro in every direction to take in the sights of the city. Brain kept him in view at all times, not wanting to be left alone in this strange world.

He quickly found that the word ‘Terrans’ failed to encapsulate the biodiversity of the planet, in addition to individual differences between members of the same species. Humans varied greatly in size, shape, and appearance, though even the tallest ones weren’t nearly as large as a Selenian. Some had their heads buried in their devices with cords going into their ears and were oblivious to their surroundings, and Brain had to keep an eye out for those dangerous folks since they didn’t seem to care about anyone in their path.

While inconvenient for him, their failure to pay attention could easily be turned into an advantage.

Several humans walked alongside quadrupedal creatures that sniffed the ground and had collars and ropes around their necks that led to a handle in the human’s hand. Pinky called them ‘dogs’ and ‘leashes’. He was more than happy to clarify anything Brain didn’t understand, and while he figured that he would have to research Terra more in-depth later, Pinky’s happy explanations were sufficient for now.

Brain firmly held Pinky’s hand as they passed by a human and a golden-furred dog with large paws and a long, panting tongue. The dog sniffed them curiously and made a ‘groomph’ noise, and though it didn’t seem hostile, Brain dragged Pinky away before the dog had the opportunity to slobber all over them.  

But even the ‘goldy’, as Pinky called it, was more preferable to the tiny, yappy thing that Pinky identified as a ‘Chi-wa-wa’. At least it was yanked back by its leash before it could give chase to them.

Pinky called himself a mouse, and his friend Pharfignewton was a horse. Two species down.

The flying creatures were pigeons, crows, and sparrows. They ate whatever they could scavenge on the ground. The tiny things that scurried around his feet were insects, and Pinky yanked him back from stepping on a sidewalk crack filled with red and black ‘ants’.

“Fire ants will make your feet itchy and tingly!” he warned. “And not the pleasant kind either!”

Brain committed his warning to memory.

Cars crawled by slowly on the street, packed closely as far as the eye could see. They made odd screeching noises from time to time, the humans inside grumpily slamming their palms against their steering devices.

Lights on every corner controlled the flow of cars. Everyone became furious with red and brightened when it was green. He wasn’t exactly sure what yellow was supposed to do since some cars sped right past and others came to a stop. Regardless, humans were dependent on those lights in their vehicles. It was an interesting observation.

There were plenty of additional rules too, which Pinky was adamant on teaching. Only cross at the white strips at the lights, and only when the red hand changed to the green human. Look left, right, then left again before crossing. Pat your head and rub your belly if you see an out-of-state license plate…well, Brain was pretty sure that wasn’t a safety rule since none of the humans were doing it. Just a Pinky thing then.

Everything was alive, from the structures that creaked on the highest buildings to the scattered pebbles underfoot. While he’d known the planet’s atmosphere carried sound far better than New Selene’s,  experiencing it for himself was nothing short of fascinating. He’d have to research the exact composition that made it all possible later. Energy flowed towards him in all directions, though the daytime thankfully masked his glowing orbs.

Blending in wasn’t difficult either. Humans were more oblivious than he thought.

“Last corner, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed, twirling happily as they waited for the signal to cross the busy intersection. “Then we’re at the mall! You’ll love it! There’s food and clothing and perfume and toys and-“

“Pinky, what exactly is the purpose of a mall?” Brain asked. Pinky had been rather unclear on that. Mostly he’d just been gushing about all the fun things they could do.

“To do fun fun silly-willy things with your friends and look at stuff you can never afford on a lab mouse’s salary, of course!” Pinky replied.

The signal to cross finally appeared, and Pinky skipped merrily across the white strip, nimbly avoiding getting trampled by several humans walking in the opposite direction. Brain walked at a normal pace, keeping his tail close to his body. He didn’t trust the distracted humans to watch where they were going, especially since their handheld devices seemed to hold more importance than avoiding getting run over heavy wheels.

As Brain stepped onto the sidewalk, an odd texture struck him on the head, knocking his sunglasses askew. Several drops of a lukewarm liquid splashing onto his fur. It didn’t hurt, but it was still an unpleasant surprise. The human next to him didn’t notice. He was too busy yelling into his device and gesturing wildly, then stomped off in a huff. He almost trampled Pinky, who barely managed to pull his tail out of the way before the man’s large foot crushed it.

“Well, he was certainly rude. He littered and didn’t say sorry for dropping the cup on your head!” Pinky complained as he helped Brain to his feet, his blue eyes narrowed at the man’s back as he disappeared into the crowd. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted in the man’s general direction. “Hey, litterbug! I bet your mom’s older than you! Narf!”  

He gave a firm nod, satisfied with his ludicrous and underwhelming insult.

A furious Pinky. That was an interesting concept, yet anger and Pinky somehow remained mutually exclusive in Brain’s mind.

“Not to worry, Pinky,” Brain said, wiping the liquid away from the base of his antennae. He returned his sunglasses to the proper position. “He’s long gone. I’ve suffered worse.”

Pinky took a deep breath, then took a sniff of the cup’s opening and wrinkled his nose. “Maybe he wouldn’t be so grumpy or litterbuggy if he put more sugar in his cappuccino,” he sighed. “Styrofoam too. Can’t recycle that.”

Dragging the cup over to a nearby garbage can, Pinky hoisted it over his head and trying to stick it through the hole on top. The cup was barely over the rim, Pinky clinging to the metal with one hand and scrabbling for a foothold. He wasn’t giving up without a fight, so Brain grabbed Pinky’s ankles to give him the extra boost needed to push the cup in.

Pinky climbed down once he heard the dull thud from inside the can. “Thanks,” he said gratefully, though he still seemed unusually morose.

Brain walked into a section lined with vegetation and dirt that separated the street from the mall. But Pinky didn’t follow. He was looking into the direction they came from. “The cup’s in the proper place now. Let’s go, Pinky.”

Instead of following Brain, Pinky moved to the curbside, looking down at his feet. Really. Pinky came to the mall for a purpose, however inane it was. He needed to commit to that goal.

Brain growled in frustration, grasping his wayward companion’s wrist and pulling him in the mall’s direction. Pinky stumbled, but hardly budged otherwise. “Quit being stubborn, Pinky. The sun will burn out before you twitch a finger at this rate.”

“But the rest of it…“ Pinky whimpered, pointing to the street.

The road was filled with cups like the one Pinky had just thrown away. Filthy, damp, and unreadable papers lined the curb. A plastic bag tumbled in the wind. There were even a few objects that might’ve been clothing at one point.  

Some people passed them by without a care in the world, others clicked their tongue at the mess but hurried on their way. Two people on the other side of the intersection were clothed in white from head to toe, picking away at the garbage with long sticks and depositing them into large bags.

From the sheer amount of garbage that lined the streets, Brain thought it was a futile effort on their part.

This was one of Terra’s downsides. Its inhabitants were destroying the very planet they lived on. It was one of the few observations the Selenian scientists were accurate about.  

Pinky reached for a mass of papers, a revolting yellowish-green grime covering its surface, but Brain pulled him back before he could touch it.

“Don’t touch that with your bare hands, Pinky,” Brain scolded. “It’s unsanitary.”

Pinky pouted. Now obstinance. He shifted moods rather quickly, didn’t he? It was baffling.

“We gotta take care of Mother Earth, Brain!” Pinky protested as Brain dragged him into the vegetation. “Or there won’t be any pretty flowers to sniff and the acorn and pinecone elves won’t ever set aside their differences to sign that peace treaty!”

“The databank contained many details regarding the pollution of Terra, Pinky,” Brain admitted. “So I’m aware of the issue. But cleaning this one street would take time we can’t spare. You’re being sidetracked from your goal, and I can’t achieve my own objectives either.”

“Wait…” Pinky murmured. “You’re gonna rule soon, aren’t you? So you can definitely protect the world! That’s wonderful, Brain! I know you can do it!”

The sudden shift in mood caught Brain off-guard.  

I can? Brain almost said, but the hope shining in Pinky’s eyes quelled that uncertain response. There was nothing but sincere admiration in that pool of blue, a massive surge of electrons flowing from Pinky’s chest into Brain’s antennae.

He would dare describe the electrons as a positive charge. How? Electrons were supposed to be negative! What kind of anomaly did he have the terrifying pleasure of knowing?

Brain cleared his throat, focusing on the enormous sprawling complex in front of them. Pinky’s blind faith was off-putting, and it was much easier to disregard it. “Of course. I will have unquestionable power in the near-future. Solving these issues will be easier than calibrating an auto-navigation interface.”

Pinky blinked.

“And…I’ll oversee those peace treaty negotiations between the elves.”

Pinky brightened immediately. “Thank you, Brain! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Long arms snagged Brain and lifted him off the ground in an enormous hug. Brain’s feet kicked out, but the warmth Pinky emitted had the strangest subduing effect. Brain’s antennae weren’t obstructed either, just swept back. Apparently, Pinky learned from last time.

Brain’s chest was oddly warm. Or maybe it was Pinky’s. It was hard to know for certain.

“Your orbs are so glowy,” Pinky said in awe.

And they weren’t achieving anything from this display of sentimentality! With some difficulty, Brain reclaimed his right arm and bopped Pinky on top of his empty noggin.

Pinky immediately let go, stumbling around dizzily and startling a nearby sparrow with his loud giggles. Brain landed on the base of his tail, a brief painful twinge travelling up his spine. In hindsight, he didn’t plan that well. At least there wasn’t another kink.

“That was jolly fun, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed upon recovery.

If he ever had the spare time, he was definitely researching the differences between actual Terran phrases and Pinky-isms.

“I’m sure,” Brain sighed, though he wasn’t sure and never would be, but Pinky didn’t need to know that.

They walked into a large, multi-level structure that Pinky called a ‘parking garage’, which housed a large amount of dormant vehicles. It was similar to the traffic they’d passed earlier, but the drivers were elsewhere. They were packed close, almost touching, and Brain wondered how anyone could possibly get in or out in these tight quarters.

Another few inches closer and the drivers would be completely trapped. That idea had potential.

Pinky hopped onto each yellow marking on the ground, arms flailing as he tried to avoid the gray areas in between. Brain followed at a more sedate pace. Then Pinky gasped and straightened up just as he landed on the last yellow marking before the mall entrance, Brain nearly bumping into him.

“Look, Brain! Somebody’s dropped their wallet!” Pinky gasped, hurrying over to a black object lying against the curb. He undid the zipper and glanced inside. “Egad, that’s a lot of money!”

Brain peeked inside. A wad of folded green paper was tucked inside one of the pockets. “A currency-based economy? Selene and its colonies utilized barter systems,” he said.  

Which could be an issue. Brain had originally planned to trade the Conquistador’s spare parts for useful items.

“Oh no, Brain. Currants would get squished in your pants. Then you’d need a really strong stain remover,” Pinky replied. “Besides, this man’s very lucky he can buy so many hats! That’s what I’d do if I had any money!”

He must’ve misheard that. Surely.

“Pinky, tell me you brought the monetary value required for your hat.”

Pinky dug his hand into a fur pocket, but only came out with a piece of fluff. “Hmmm, well, I have some dryer lint! Only money I have is Nicholas the Nickel, and he’s cleaning the cage with—oh.” His ears and tail fell limp under Brain’s glare.

Brain kicked a loose pebble, and it ricocheted harshly off the base of a metal sign. Of all the native species he could’ve chosen for a guide, it just had to be the one individual whose head was denser than a neutron star.

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky murmured. “I’m not very good at this goal-setting thing, am I?”

He said ‘sorry’ a lot for placation’s sake. But no matter the context, he always sounded sincere. Brain pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself to be irate with Pinky anymore.

“You require more practice,” Brain replied. He glanced at the strange, valuable green papers in the wallet. Funny how they came across the commodity needed at this moment. “However, it’s most fortunate that we should stumble on the item required in trade for your hat.”

The money was all in 20s and 50s, and while Brain was unfamiliar with this currency, he figured there would be enough to spare. He took the money out of the pocket and tucked it under his arm. Then he flipped his sunglasses down, but Pinky tugged the money out of his grip before he could walk off.

“No, Brain! That’s stealing!” Pinky protested, slipping the money back into the wallet. “This rightfully belongs to a Mr. Joe Lamont! We have to take this wallet to Lost and Found now!”

Pinky’s stubborn side came out randomly, it seemed.

“The money is here at your convenience, Pinky. You have to use every asset possible to achieve your goal,” Brain said.

“What if Mr. Lamont needs this?” Pinky tapped a card that displayed a human’s photo along with other identifying information. Then he pointed to a small picture of a man and woman. “What if he needs this for anniversary or birthday presents, or else his wife won’t be happy and he’ll be sad cause he left his wallet somewhere and what if someone picks it up and won’t give it back? Cause that’s just mean!”

“Then he should’ve been more careful with such a valuable item,” Brain snapped. Pinky made a noise of disbelief and turned his back to Brain. “So take one or two of the papers for yourself and give the rest back.”

While he’d prefer to keep the entire wallet for future use, it seemed he would just have to compromise with Pinky.

“He won’t notice.”

“NARF!” Pinky retorted.

His assumption was wrong. Pinky wouldn’t accept a compromise either. It was a losing battle, and as much as hated conceding defeat, no other options presented themselves.

“Fine! Do what makes you happy! See if I care!” Brain shouted at Pinky’s back.

He was only presenting the most logical solution. It wasn’t his fault this idiot wasn’t taking the opportunity! And none of this was helping him find Snowball or conquer Terra either!

“Returning the wallet would make me happy, Brain,” Pinky said with conviction.

“Why?” Brain asked. This wasn’t the type of goal-setting he’d pictured at all.

“It feels right.”

Tasks should be performed with efficiency in mind, not for emotion’s sake. But it seemed that keeping Pinky in his normal euphoric state would be in Brain’s best interest for now.

“Alright, let’s return that wallet. Neither you nor I shall use any of the money for personal reasons. We’re heading to the…Lost and Found?” Brain said reluctantly. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to keep Pinky in a good mood. “You lead the way. I’m not familiar with this locale.”

Pinky faced Brain, and the bright smile was back. Brain looked away. He wasn’t doing this out of altruism, and Pinky needed to learn that.  

“Yup, it’s like the Island of Misfit Toys, but for car keys, jackets, and other things too!” Pinky exclaimed, hoisting the wallet above his head. “And now it’s for Mr. Lamont’s wallet!”

The satellite images never pinpointed a geographical location named the Island of Misfit Toys. Probably situated next to a more prominent landmass then.

“Welcome to Macy’s, Brain!” Pinky cheered as they entered a pristine white building. “For all your expensive brand clothing and Thanksgiving Day needs!”

The store was brightly lit, so Brain kept his sunglasses down. Numerous bottles of varying colors were on display. Women shouted from behind their counters, urging passersby to purchase their products. Most people walked by quickly, looking rather uncomfortable and twitchy until they were far from the display area. Only two women seemed interested at all, spraying misty clouds on tiny strips of paper and sniffing them curiously.

“What are they doing?” Brain whispered as he shuffled closer to Pinky for protection’s sake. There was a predatory gleam in those workers’ eyes, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Even Pinky with his near-perpetual cheer seemed uncomfortable, his fingers anxiously drumming against the wallet. “Poit. Selling perfume. All sorts of lovely scents, but this is definitely why online shopping is more popular these days.”

Before Brain could respond, one of the workers suddenly rushed towards them with a manic smile that showed way too many teeth.

“Hi, you wanna buy some perfume buy one and ya get another half price ‘til May!” she shrieked. Without giving them a chance to respond, she sprayed perfume directly in their faces.

Pink mist engulfed them and obstructed their vision. A pungent scent clogged Brain’s nose, trickling its way down his throat, and he let out a hacking cough to expel it. Pinky’s wheeze suddenly turned into a yelp, and by the time the mist cleared, the woman was walking away with the wallet in hand.

Pinky clung to the wallet desperately, his legs kicking out as he was hoisted into the air. “Please, miss! Brain and I—ehem—Brain and I need to give this wallet to Lost and Found so Mr. Lamont can buy his wife nice presents!”

“Oh, it’s a sizeable wallet you’ve got there too!” the woman exclaimed. Brain found her pitch highly grating. “Let’s see, with money like that you can get lilac, honeysuckle, eau de escargot, a perfume that smells like wet goat hair sponsored by Gwenyth Paltrow-“

“I’m sure they smell lovely, but-“

“Very lovely indeed!” the woman spoke over Pinky, who could only dangle helplessly.

Brain gritted his teeth and hurried after them, shaking off his earlier disorientation. When she stopped to jabber about perfume again, he slammed his tail onto her bare ankle and administered a quick shock. Startled, she dropped Pinky the wallet. Brain darted between her sandals just in time to catch Pinky, who clutched the wallet to his chest, slightly dizzy from his sudden fall.

The perfume bottle was aimed in their direction again.

Brain took off with Pinky in his arms, running as fast as he could when those dreaded sandals got too close for comfort. He allowed Pinky to safekeep the wallet, since he was already so protective of it.

“Relentless scrik!” Brain panted as the woman hurled various sales pitches behind them. Pinky wasn’t heavy, but the wallet was a different story. And Pinky made it look so simple!

Well, Pinky was simple in general. Perhaps it was a distributive effect.  

“Brain, go into the carpeted area!” Pinky shouted. “She can’t follow us out of her department!”

Deciding to trust Pinky’s word, Brain ran straight onto the carpet, barely dodging someone’s shoe in time, and his foot caught on the raised border between the carpet and tile. He fell onto his face, one of the sunglasses’ handles digging into his fur on impact. Pinky and the wallet tumbled across the floor, coming to a stop a short distance away.  

As Pinky predicted, the woman stopped chasing them.

“Annnnd there goes my bonus,” she muttered dejectedly. She slammed the perfume bottle onto a nearby counter, startling a sleepy coworker who toppled off her chair in surprise and plastered on a fake smile for a passing customer. He glanced at her briefly and walked away with a grimace.  

“Sooo…welcome to Macy’s?” Pinky laughed nervously. “On the bright side, we smell like radish roses now!”

Brain threw a button at him.  

o-o-o-o-o

They kept to the corners after that fiasco, hoping to avoid drawing attention to a moving wallet. Pinky marveled at the various styles advertised by a human-like object he called a ‘Manny Kin’. He prattled on about the models and clothing, and Brain tuned him out to better observe the humans.

The younger ones appeared restless and bored out of their minds. The adults often stopped to admire an article of clothing, checked the price, and shook their heads before moving onto the next item. Everyone was dressed in a far more casual style than the clothing on sale.

“Oh, here’s the mall center! It’s where all the real fun happens, Brain!” Pinky said, his tail wagging in excitement. “Plus, the Lost and Found is just beyond this store. We’ll make Mr. Lamont happy in no time!”

Instead of a back wall, there was a large, doorless opening that led out of the store. Pinky danced his way across the boundary with a cheerful goodbye to the Macy’s sign. As Brain stepped into the wide open space, he was astounded by the sheer scale of the mall center.

He’d expected a plain corridor that connected different sections, not a massive space with a roof that appeared to touch the sky. The population density was much higher than in Macy’s, humans loudly chatting among themselves, shouting at consumers to purchase wares, and swinging large bags from their arms.

There were two floors above their heads, connected to the ground by staircases and escalators. The escalators seemed by far the popular choice for people moving between floors. Brain felt dizzy just looking at that open space above them, and he decided to focus only straight ahead for now.

Dozens of smaller stores lined the walls. Most of them sold clothes like Macy’s, and Brain couldn’t fathom why humans needed so many stores just to sell clothes. A fresh, rich scent wafted through the air, and though it was much more pleasant than the perfume, it made him somewhat famished as well.

“Look, Brain! The cookie shop! Don’t they smell divine?” Pinky asked with a dreamy sigh. “They taste delicious too!”

“Another one of your foods?” Brain asked, though it fell on deaf ears. Pinky had gone over to the display case, practically drooling on it as he admired the cookies inside, the wallet leaning against his side.

Brain stood on the other side of the wallet, just in case anyone had any ideas about stealing it.

At first, Brain thought the cookies were classified by ingredient, but one of the groups was labelled ‘snickerdoodle’ and Brain was of the opinion that no sane planet in the universe would ever call anything by that strange moniker.

“Let’s be on our way, Pinky,” Brain said, because there wasn’t anything productive he could do while his Terran guide was staring longingly at cookies. “That wallet won’t return itself.”

“Okay, Brain…” Pinky said forlornly. His hands squeaked sadly against the glass, but before he could pick up the wallet, a woman came out from behind the counter, her dark hair tied back in a bun. She approached them with a napkin in one hand.

Brain grabbed Pinky’s hand and the wallet, tensing up in case he had to yank them away at a moment’s notice.

But the woman made no move to snatch the wallet. She only squatted next to them and held out the napkin, revealing two small pieces of cookies. “Free sample?” she asked. “They’re fresh out of the oven.”

“Thanks so much...Laura!” Pinky read the name tag pinned to her shirt, then snatched up one of the pieces and shoved it into his mouth. Crumbs stained his muzzle. “Narrrrf! That was dee-lish!”

Cautiously, Brain took the second piece and bit into it. Sweetness flooded his taste buds, and he quickly finished his portion, the cookie melting in his mouth. If anything, Pinky had understated how delicious it tasted.

“It’s exquisite,” he said to Laura, who beamed right back.

“Glad you enjoyed it!” Laura said. She provided them with wet napkins so they could rid themselves of the remaining crumbs, and they left the cookie shop behind.

“She was so nice, Brain!” Pinky said, safeguarding the wallet once again. “Sugar cookies are my favorites! Well, after chocolate chip and macadamia and snickerdoodle-“

Brain nodded. “She didn’t steal anything while our guard was down. Count that in your definition of ‘nice’.”

Thankfully, they didn’t have to walk far to get to the Lost and Found. Brain hoped to put this wallet nonsense behind them in the next half hour. They had objectives to fulfill.

The Lost and Found was in a hallway that led to an exit from the mall, and Brain made a mental note of its location. He refused to set foot in that Macy’s ever again.

A podium was situated in front of the doors, and the worker behind it nervously held out a box to an irate man in a formal suit similar to the merchandise at Macy’s. He snatched the box and threw several articles of clothing and various lost items to the ground.

Pinky lifted the wallet above his head, his feet tapping in excitement. “That’s the man! He looks exactly like his pictures!”

Mr. Lamont was practically tearing the box apart without any regard for the other lost belongings, and the worker’s eyes were wide with fear. That didn’t bode well. Brain grabbed Pinky’s tail, but it slipped out of his grasp. The idiot had no sense of impending danger and walked right up to the belligerent man.

“You’re hiding it, aren’t you?” Mr. Lamont snarled, slamming his hand against the podium. The worker cowered behind his chair. “Hand over my wallet this instant, or you’ll be out of a job.”

The worker paled.

Brain rushed over to try and pull Pinky back. Mr. Lamont hadn’t noticed them yet. There was still a chance they could slip the wallet among the other items and leave without detection.

“Hi, Mr. Lamont! You dropped your wallet in the parking garage!” Pinky greeted. “Me and my friend here were just taking it to Lost and Found, and what a coinkydink we’d find you here too! Isn’t that great?”

Pinky held the wallet up expectantly, that silly smile never leaving his face.

Mr. Lamont snatched the wallet out of Pinky’s hands, wrinkling his nose haughtily.

“You’re welcome!” Pinky chirped, then happily turned to Brain. “We did it!”  

Pinky had done most of the work, but if he wanted to share credit, Brain chose not to correct him. “Yes. Now we may return to what we originally-“

Mr. Lamont’s foot slammed into Pinky’s side, too fast for Brain to shout a warning. Pinky yelped as he was thrown into a wall. There he laid in a crumpled heap, hands wrapped around his abdomen for protection.

“How much did you take, thief?” Mr. Lamont spat. He cast a looming shadow over Pinky, who whimpered in pain, tears forming in pitiful blue eyes.  

It was such a foreign appearance for the idiotic but kindhearted mouse.

A strange fury overtook Brain, one that was much different from dealing with troublesome ships, arguing with Snowball, or frustration with his current predicament. It brewed in the depth of his stomach and spread through the rest of his body.

Brain whipped off his sunglasses, placing himself firmly between Pinky and the ungrateful reprobate.

“He stole nothing from you,” Brain growled. “Count the money yourself, you repugnant excuse of an organism, unless your mind has degraded far beyond the ability to perform simple arithmetic.”

“And just who do you think you are?” Mr. Lamont sneered.  

Brain crossed his arms proudly. He refused to cower before the Terran. “A genetically enhanced Selenian mos seeking dominion over your world.”

And when all was said and done, Mr. Lamont would be bowing down to him.

But that glorious fantasy was cut short. Brain saw the black sole of a shoe, there was a forceful pressure against his body. His limbs refused to cooperate. He couldn’t reach his tail for self-defense, his heart pumping faster and faster until it couldn’t compensate for the lack of electrons anymore-

The crushing pressure vanished.

Faraway voices blended together, one angry, one meek, and one familiar.

Someone lifted his head, a gentle hand moving his antennae aside, then slowly pushed his head down until he rested against soft fabric. Brain’s fingers twitched. His full mobility would take several minutes to return, but this wasn’t a terrible position to wait it out.

A drop of moisture fell on his face, followed by several more.

Rain?

He’d heard of that particular climate pattern, but had never seen it in action before.

Brain opened his eyes, craning his neck to see this curious phenomenon. But he was met with Pinky’s tearful gaze instead.

He’d learned much of Terran culture during this expedition, but was it really worth all these ridiculous emotions?

“Stop dampening my fur with your lacrimal ducts, Pinky,” Brain said, his voice hoarse.

Pinky managed a giggle, inanity that was far more preferable to all this crying. “Sorry, Brain. I don’t have any milk. But are you okay? P-p-poit.”

“I’ll need several minutes to recuperate. Then I’ll be ready.” Brain felt his cheeks heat up from the proximity. Mobility returned to his right leg, and he couldn’t wait for this mortifying close contact to be over. “Where’s Mr. Lamont?”

Pinky scowled at the name, an expression that looked odd on him, but not wholly unwelcome. “Mr. Lameany called you vermin and left with his wallet. But you’re not vermin, Brain! You’re my best friend!”

A childish insult. He’d have to teach Pinky about using more sophisticated language.

“And you…are Pinky,” he sighed, patting Pinky’s arm.

Pinky smiled brightly. At least Brain could strive towards one of his objectives. They weren’t quite through with business at the mall though. He’d have to tough it out.

But for now, he settled back against Pinky, who happily taught him the age-old Terran method of settling arguments known as rock-paper-scissors.

AN: FINISHED AT LAST.

I am not making stuff up as I write I totally had a plan for this fic y’all can’t prove nothing.

Brain gets to learn good and bad stuff about Terra, poor Pinky gets hurt. These mice can’t even go the mall without something happening, can they?

[stormhawksplanb]

Storm Hawks Fanfiction: Plan “B”

https://myhushhushdarling.tumblr.com/PlanB

Chapter 7

For those who are on Mobile, Check out the #planb for all the chapters and related content!

The next few hours were quick. The terra was cleaned up, and the art exhibition was cancelled. No winners, no anything. The damage caused by the attack was surprisingly small. Houses were destroyed, and the ground we walked on had dips and small shallow craters. No one was badly hurt which was the good part.

It took a while, but when we accounted for everyone, including the COGA members, The Storm Hawks had taken off on their skimmers to search the terra for any other invaders. Leaving me, Stork, and Junko to deal with the wreckage. Usually that would be no problem, but I don't think any of them want to talk to me after my "This was my war long before any of yours" comment. But like with any negative situation, I try and correct it. After all, it'll make things easier if I at least try.

"Junko! There you are erm- doing... What are you doing?"

I caught him at the center of the town, pulling out the broken canvases and left over art utensils.

"Well the building structures are useless now. But a lot of the art work and other stuff is only partially damaged... So you know..."

My heart sank a little bit. He wouldn't even look me in the eyes. Was what I said that bad?

"Hey uhm. I just wanted to try and apologize for my behavior earlier. I shouldn't have said what I said..."

Junko turned to me, his head tilted. Then all at once it was like a lightbulb went off in his head.

"Oh that! No, yeah, it's fine. We've all heard worse. No need to apologise."

I was almost dumb founded by his reaction. He seemed so mature about it. Then it dawned on me.

"So... How long have you been a storm hawk?"

"Oh uh, since I was 15... I'm 16, going on 17 now..."

"Oh... That makes sense."

Despite how well put together the team was, I seem to have forgotten that they were in the same predicament I used to be in. They were all dealing with the carnage of a war they never started. My only other reaction was to give a quick nod goodbye and head to my next target. Why I did that I don't know.

Upon seeing the condition of the Condor, I cringed. There were scratches on the outer material, burn marks on the paint job, and some cracks in the glass. Glued to the hip of the Condor was Stork, working away at some patch work. Taking a deep breath I stood beside him, and hesitated to tap his shoulder. I jumped a bit when he grunted and glared at me.

"Heeey, do you need any help with repairs? I uh, I know how to paint and I can even get out most of those burn marks!"

All he did was turn away from me, and scoff. I gave an audible groan, wanting to get this done and over as quick as possible.

"Ok! Fine! I'm sorry for being a brat earlier, and I'm sorry for getting in everyone's way! But you can't just keep on ignoring me like this-"

I was silenced by a paintbrush being swung out in front of my face.

I felt embarrassed as the heat stroked my cheeks. He still didn't look at me, as I took the paintbrush and started working beside him. Something tells me he didn't really care about what I said. Or what I did...

After a few hours of hard labor, and helping Junko find the owners to the left over artworks, consoling some children who were lost on their way to the bathroom, the rest of the Storm Hawks squadron came back to the terra. All of their faces covered in mud and dirt. I held back a Chuckle since none of them were very pleased with their new look.

Soon enough the whole Terra surrounded us, hoping to hear about what had happened to them. Aerrow had looked away from the bombardment of "Are we safe?" And "Who was that?!". He Seemed, uneasy.

"It was... Cyclonians..."

Aerrow seemed defeated for a split second, and he faced the crowd again when the murmuring and disbelief subsided.

"It's not Master Cyclonian herself. But one of her lackeys had taken her thrown… Recently."

I locked eyes with Piper and muttered Ravess’ name in hopes the current spectators didn’t notice. She nodded at me, acknowledging my hypothesis to be true, and Aerrow continued.

"I know today was supposed to be important to everyone here. It was supposed to be a step towards our recovery as Atmosians... But today..."

It was like he froze on everyone. We all just stared at each other. My brain kicked in and I stood beside him, a sorrowful look across my face replaced with a sincere smile, and he gave me a grateful one in return.

"Today is the day we prove to everyone who dares question us. And that we now keep what was once taken by the Cyclonians."

It was a short statement, but not false. The crowd cheered and I looked back at Aerrow. A small smirk and a nod my way as another thanks.

Eventually, this part of the Terra was cleared out. Thankfully some neighboring Sky Knights arranged for people to stay at their own Terras while the properly qualified went to work to restore buildings. I had other plans. One of which was to try my shot again at convincing Aerrow to let me bum a ride to my home terra.

Walking on the drop down ramp to the condor, I more or less physically bumped into Piper. Arising a small squeak from her.

"Oh! Sorry!"

I shook my head at her, and playfully rolled my eyes.

"It's fine. It's not like you snapped my arm in half. What's up?"

She rolled her eyes back at me.

"oh you know. Navigating maps, saving a whole Terra, just normal Sky Squad stuff. And what are you up too?"

I shrugged at her, not wanting to disclose to her that I was looking for Aerrow.

"Well if you're not doing anything, could you help me with something?"

"Yeah, what do you need?"

I followed her off and away from the ship as she explained her plans for the terra.

"Well, the unexpected Bombing left us vulnerable, and out in the open. So we’re setting up a temporary Shock Wave Crystal tower. I'm not sure of how aware you are about the war against Master Cyclonis, but-"

She gave a heavy grunt as she moved a box of unmarked Crystals from a table to the floor, then taking out an old map.

"Terra Atmosia had a Sky knight named Carver who betrayed them, and joined an alliance with Master Cyclonis herself."

I grunted and scrunched my face up at the name, Carver. It rang a bell, but I decided not to press on about him. And Judging by her attitude, I'm guessing no one's a real fan. Least, not anymore.

“That also means the Terra is still without a Sky Knight. What's left of his squad still helps out, but it's hard to have a Squad without a leader."

"Why is that?"

She gave me a slight judgmental face. Shaking it off and smiling at me, deciding to humor me anyway.

"Without a Sky Knight or some kind of leader, the Squadron loses their title and rights to their Squad name. The Sky Knight is responsible for not just leading the team. They keep it together, and take responsibility for the whole squad. Those rules can be bent and flexed but the concept stays the same."

I gave a quiet "Ah" in response. It made sense. Something still bugged me though.

"If that's true, Then why don't they just recruit a new Sky Knight?"

I got the idea of what she needed help with, which was moving crates and sorting maps. My mother showed me how to organize maps, so I could do that much.

"It's not a hard thing, but because of Carver's stunt, people are scared to be the new Sky knight. It's an old wound. Some Atmosians have gone as far as to threaten the Ex-Squad members. Some people think that the whole team was involved, and carver freezing his crew mates was just for show."

"Ew."

Piper let out a huffy laugh, shaking her head.

"Storks right. You really are different from other Sky Knights. Speaking of which. Can I ask you something?"

I nodded my head, finishing up on the last map. It looked like they were creating blueprints for new energy launchers, and a radio scrambler.

"What Terra are you the Sky Knight of? Stork said you mentioned something about being a sky knight yourself."

I gave a deep sigh, making sure to look her in the face. The obvious tone mocking Stork, all whilst hinting at her curiosity.

"It wasn't my choice..."

"Is it ever really a choice?"

I gave another sigh, (Just now realizing that I’ve developed a nasty habit of doing that).

"I was designated to become a Sky Knight when I was 10. I live on Terra Argonia. I was actually hoping that you guys could swing round that way and drop me off..."

"Terra Argonia! But that Terra was swept out clean by the Original Cyclonis! That was YEARS ago."

I chuckled at her.

"Terra Argonia is home to the Nova Crystal. Why do you think they call me Nova?"

Piper was looking at me in amazement, blinking rapidly. I could tell right off the bat she was going to mention Dusty.

"That means you're the daughter of the infamous Dusty of the Raving Vultures!"

Yup. There it is.

"Ta da? I think. I don't know why you're so impressed. He's infamous for a reason."

"I know, I know! But do you know why?"

I felt an old wound open up in my chest. My face must have given away my anger because Piper was quick to apologize.

"O-oh. Right. You'd know. Can I ask what happened?"

Before I could speak a hand was placed on my shoulder. Arrow had joined us in our little circle. His face was serious.

"You're gonna have to hold that thought. We're receiving a stress signal from Terra Rex. We might also have a lead on where Ravess is hiding currently".

[aetherspoon]

Good kitten, spoon. 8 - what are three songs that suit them? and 50. can they sing? can they dance?

Lyla Dawnstrike, Level 10 CG High Elf Eladrin Bladesinger (she/her):

Ooo, songs? I quite like music. Oooo, so much more music that I haven’t been exposed to! Hopefully your planet is okay, the last few we checked on only had a few thousand people left.

Black Sheep by Metric seems to fit me really well - I mean, I’m pretty much nothing like my family or the military school I was trained in, so the title is a win there. I’m just waiting for the world to end, so that fits... it is kind of creepy that way. I don’t know about taking a ride from anyone though, I don’t like people that way, ew.

Smashing the Opponent by Infected Mushroom would work pretty well from my later academy days. Thanks to Naisa’s influence, I went from a D+ wizarding student to the top of my class and dueling some of the instructors even. One of them in particular was SUCH a perv though that I sort of just... forgot about limiting my abilities. You know, I don’t know if he actually survived or not, I kind of ran away the next night.

Empty Streets by Scandroid pretty much summarizes my experience once we went into space though. I’m not really alone, Cuddles is always with me and Ghost is probably nearby somewhere that I can’t see, but those drones should definitely be watched out for. We were in a space station - station, psh, that was TOTALLY a Wizard’s Tower. I hate those! Sure, there was a bunch of fancy technology and blasters and stuff, but the point remains - WIZARD. TOWER. I’m still trying to figure out how these so-called circuits work though. Naavi is made of a bunch of electrical signals coming from a power source that I can only describe as ‘what happens when Wizards get bored up in their towers’ and...

Oh right! I’m a MASTER of dancing.. on a technical level, anyway! It just... doesn’t seem to come up when trying to stop an omnicidal maniac from trying to become a new god in the next universe, you know? But get a good beat and give me some nice shoes and I can tap better than everyone I know!

The less said about my singing the better though. Oy, CL still brings up my attempt at singing lessons when I was half a century old. My father thought I was killing a bird and blamed my servant for it. *cries*

Endil Corvin, Level 7 CG Aasimar (?) Celestial (?!) Warlock (genderfluid, primarily she/her): 

Songs? Yeah, I like some music I guess. Hm, let’s see... oh, that’s a lot of music to choose between - must have been while I wasn't paying any attention.

Bully from the River City Girls OGS really has some nice tones to the lyrics. I like how there is the threatening “don’t you bully me” motif, and as some poor hapless thief figured out, bullying me Ends Ill. *cracks knuckles*

Sabotage by The Beastie Boys for sure, some days seem like it matches everything I do. I’m not entirely sure which celestial being’s plan I keep foiling, but I think they might be called Dee.

The End of an Empire by Celldweller really resonates with me, but I can’t quite remember why. I really wish I remembered much of my history. Maybe I was a part of an empire of some type? (read: spoilertastic reasons)

Can I sing? Well, I don’t know if I’ve tried or not. Let me see. *harmonizes perfectly* I guess that’s a yes? I guess I just haven’t felt an urge to try before. No, wait, I remember doing that on the boat, but I think that was more to lure people to their doom or something, I don’t know.

I mean, I know I’ve danced before. Have you ever danced while pretending to be a less dexterous flamboyant pirate captain who has his crew there to heckle him? I have!

Mlezi, Level 7 LG Golem Green Knight (they/them): 

Music is important to sapient life - it is the one thing I have found in common with most species here on Nova. Your Earth music may be a bit strange to me, but the concept is simple enough.

Mr. Roboto by Styx is the most suitable song for me, to the point where I am unsure of what other songs would apply. Assuming you changed that ‘Japan’ place with my actual homeworld of Terra. I wish I remembered more before we arrived in Nova though...

Shatter Me by Lindsay Stirling and Lzzy Hale fits me before my current generation of kids, I suppose. Always feeling like I need more to feel alive, until I shattered myself and became a Knight. ‘Radiant’ is a far superior title to ‘that old malfunctioning golem’.

Ancient Slumber by Rainbowdragoneyes pretty much fits what I felt like when I woke up on Nova. It was quite lacking in life, so I had to make sure I was a good person and restore as much as I could. While I’m not one for swords, the song is quite an accurate fit otherwise.

My children have tried to convince me that I am capable of “cutting a rug” as some would say, but I merely caused the locals to believe there was an earthquake in the nearby area. I am trying to learn how to sing, but I decided that learning how to paint was a higher priority. No matter, I have all of eternity to learn new things.

[mysticsparklewings]

Terrarium Nova

Would you guys believe this started out as me trying to practice trees & use up some leftover paints sitting in/on my palettes from other projects?   The tree practicing is for a different project I'll be doing later, and I'll share the specifics of then   But yeah, I have a good amount of leftover watercolor dried onto a couple of cheap palettes, as well as some acrylics paints in a palette meant to keep them fresh (but unless you monitor it and spritz them with water every couple of days, they will still eventually dry up) and I really hate to waste any of it if I can help it, especially when it's my slightly nicer stuff. (Some of it was, some of it wasn't) So I figured I'd try to kill two birds with one stone, and the end result ended up looking pretty cool, although I do still have some more paint that didn't get used here, so this may not be the last random-ish painting you see from me. Oh, and I was also recycling a little bit since I used the back of a giant piece of watercolor paper I had previously used as a protective mat for my desk. I started with the tree shapes, mostly inspired by Bonsai trunks, and that actually did use up pretty much all of the dark brownish paint I was using, so I was off to a strong start. Then I went in with some metallic watercolor that was leftover from my Butterfly Babe piece, which dried with more of the black and silver I had mixed into it on top for reason unbeknownst to me, so the first little hill/mound I made naturally came out darker and more silvery than the additional hills I added later than came out decidedly more gold. I think after that I added in the orange sun/planet (in my head it's the sun but a lot of the details here are very ambiguous in what they could potentially be) and an accompanying orange horizon line. Originally, I thought I was going to be making a very sunset-ish background with possibly a very red sky and mixing the yellows in more, but that obviously didn't end up happening. I was kinda just going with what I felt like and where the paint wanted to take me. So I ended up going in with the yellows (and later red and magenta) leftover from my $50 vs $4 Watercolors piece (these ones being the $50 ones, the $4 ones were put on a separate palette while I was using them so I wouldn't get the two mixed up) and ended up making many yellow hills to fill out the background some more, though admittedly the ones on the left kinda got away from me a little. And I'll pause here to say that I was using water brushes throughout this entire piece as opposed to actual paintbrushes, and every time I use those (at least when I'm getting proper water flow) I find that I tend to have a somewhat easier time getting certain watercolor effects, mostly when it comes to blending out hard edges. It's funny to me, as a lot of artists would say water brushes have a higher learning curve than regular brushes, and I'm sure some have a harder time with them. I think the main reason I have an easier time might be because back at the beginning of the year when I started re-discovering watercolor, the first set of paints that got (the Viviva watercolor sheets, for anyone who's curious) came with a water brush, and at the time I had never used one and was really excited to try it, as well as I just didn't have a ton of brushes at my disposal. Likewise, I spent a lot of my time learning watercolors on a water brush, whereas, naturally, most artists learn primarily on regular brushes. To be fair, I would like to one day invest in a slightly nicer set than the cheaper set of different size water brushes that I currently have, as these don't always flow correctly and at least one has a very slow leak where the top screws on, which hasn't caused any painting problems but is just kind of annoying because it very slowly gets my hand wet while I'm using it. Anyway. I then decided I hadn't used enough of that metallic paint and went in and added some dots of various sizes in the sky, since I didn't really feel like trying to make proper stars of any kind, but I wanted more up there and that seemed like a good place for more metallic paint. After that, the plan was to start on my red sky, but I started putting the red down and realized I hadn't cleaned my brush very good, so I got this interesting shimmery darker red color, and since I had already messed up, I liked the color enough I decided to make a moon out of it, which is why that red pot is hanging out over on the left side there. Why this "moon" and the "sun" are out at the same time, I couldn't tell you. Sometimes things just happen in art. That led me to the decision that instead of covering the whole sky in a color, I would just add some clouds, and I decided to got with the expensive magenta on my palette. Things were going fine until I grabbed more paint than water (as I was hoping for kind of pale/blended out soft clouds) and I ended up with some pretty nasty unblended lines one of the clouds and it was notably darker at the top than the others. And so I introduced the technique of "this one cloud got messed up so the rest of you have to suffer!"  And I also kind of had to be okay with none of the blending and layering on them turning out super smooth or nice for consistency's sake. And you know, it's not fine art or anything, but it doesn't look as terrible as I thought it was going to. (Though that could really be said for this entire piece. ) I also ended up adding in the purple-y mountains in the foreground after feeling bad that I'd neglected some of the paints I'd originally been intended to use the most, and I think in the end it adds a nice contrast and kind of ties the magenta clouds into the piece as a whole more. I knew I still wanted to do leaves on my trees, which were still just bare trunks and branches by this point, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to do for them yet, so I did this kind of dome thing for the sky, after acknowledge I did not want to have to try and get a smooth, consistent blue wash around everything else I'd already painted in. (Yes, I once again forgot the principal rule of painting--put the background in first) While that dried, I took a break to ponder my next move. I hadn't used any of the acrylic paints that I had leftover (more than I originally would've had too, as I ended up making a sign for my mom that I haven't decided yet if I want to post or not) and one of the colors was green, which is a very basic choice for leaves, but I already had so many other strange colors going on that the basic blue sky and some simple green leaves didn't seem like asking too much. So then I just had to decide what the leaves were going to look like. In the end, I went with using the back end of a paintbrush to dot on some of the green and some of this pale, yellowy color, and a little of a mixture I made using those two colors together (originally for the sign, not this), and I tried to place the dots in mostly realistic places for leaves. And admittedly I could've done a lot more leaves and really filled out the trees, but I felt like it looked better with more of the trunk and branches showing. I also went with the dot thing partially to carry over the dots in the sky. I'm not really sure what kind of theme that is, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And then last but not least, I signed it with a purple gelly roll, trying to balance in both color and placement just a wee bit. Funnily enough, the most tedious part of this process was actually what came after it was finished. Because I was working on a giant piece of watercolor paper that was previously a mat for my desk, and I wasn't really sure how this was going to turn out, naturally I wasn't really thinking about what size I was painting at while I was working. And wouldn't you know it, my poor painting here ended up being too long to fit in my scanner all at once.  So I had to cut it out of the giant piece of paper and then scan it twice; once to get one end, and then a second time to get the other end. Then, of course, the two pieces had to be stitched together in Photoshop, which wasn't too bad. I then spent more minutes than I care to admit trying to figure out how/to what extent the best way was to single out the little oval-ish shape of the painting, as I thought that would be much nicer than leaving the ugly bits an pieces of white scanner background. I tried to keep the actual edges smooth, though I nixed the idea of having it be a perfect oval shape right from the get-go, mostly because of how much of the edges would get cut off in one area or another. So the shape itself is very imperfect. Still, I think in the end everything turned out pretty nice. And admittedly after how the later part of last week went for me, it felt really nice to just kind of go in and not really worry about the details or if everything was turning out exactly right or whatever. Sometimes you need to do something that's just loose and has very few rules to it like this. Personally, I think I really needed this at this time in particular, and for as unplanned and simple as it is, I'm really happy with how it turned out. The title is a little random; the shape and what I did with the sky kinda reminded me of a terrarium, and much like a nova is the birth of a star, this was a pretty spontaneous birth of a...planet, I guess.  I almost called it "Terra Nova" (roughly "earth star birth") but upon Googling that because it sounded familiar, I decided I did not want to name it after a movie that came out in 2011 that I know nothing about and have no affiliation with. Anyway, things might be a little slower on the art front this week, as I have a bit of a tall order to-do list, but for the foreseeable future things are going to be somewhat interesting here; I finally ordered a gouache set I've had my eye on, and it should be here by the end of the week, as well as the tree thing I mentioned at the top of the description, and another project I've done some preliminary work for...Jeez, I have an awful lot to try to squeeze in before Inktober starts, don't I?   Perhaps I'd best go and get started on all that. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[strangcrdoctor]

∞Guardians commentary time, because I was honestly too wiped out to get to it last night but I’m still very up for it now. 

1. So here’s my question about the opening sequence on Morag. If Ronan had hired the people that faced off with Quill in the opening sequence on Morag, was it just the case that Ronan’s men arrived 2.5 minutes too late, like Peter arrived just early enough to beat out Yondu? Because initially my impression was that they were indigenous and guarding it, but I know now that not to be the case because Korath is very much a devotee of Ronan, etc. But even if it is the case that Peter beat Ronan’s people, holy timing Batman. Seriously kudos to Quill for being even if incidentally two steps ahead of even Ronan’s game. 2. Okay one, Nova Prime Irani Rael is a hot piece and two she definitely deserves to be the girlfriend of General Leia Organa you can disagree with me but that makes you a suspect human being. Anyway, Rael making the diplomatic call to the Kree to denounce Ronan was not out of bounds for normal statecraft. Especially with a new and tenuous alliance, she’s not only right in calling bullshit that the Kree empire has said nothing to denounce Ronan, but she’s also right in advising they make a statement to stabilize their early peace because early peace is amazingly fragile. But like way to not maintain an alliance at all Kree Empire. You suck. 3. The actual diversity of felons on the Kyln is pretty neat, I’m not going to lie. Not just interspecies representation but also body type representation. There’s big very obviously non-straight criminals. There’s cool as shit looking alien species. There’s chubby feminine looking criminals! Tell me who they are Marvel! Tell me. 4. Now that Thanos’ real character has been revealed in the course of IW it is no damn wonder why Thanos thought of Ronan as a petulant child. Granted, Thanos’ logic is worse in that it is slightly better, but by comparison Thanos is an overly dire pragmatist were Ronan is very much just a racist bigot with a power complex. Thanos predictably find’s Ronan’s racial shortsightedness pithy, and I really have zero doubt that if Ronan had actually gone to piss on Thanos’ front lawn he would not have lasted long. 5. On the other hand, really Thanos. #1 piece of advice in the universe is don’t torture and dismantle women and then trust them to be complicit. You will die. 6. If anyone doesn’t feel pelvic sorcery during a close listening to Fooled Around & Fell In Love they are definitely soulless. 7. I also really really want to know what the hell they were drinking on Knowhere that got Rocket and Drax drunk (I mean who knows they might both be lightweights but I doubt it.), because Stephen wants some. 8. I’ll come right out and say it it’s a fucking shame that Tivan’s collection gets blown to hell. Not because Tivan isn’t twisted as hell keeping live specimens and slaves to himself, but more on the “holy crap what cool stuff just got destroyed that the universe will never see again” kind of way. It’s like the burning of the Library of Alexandria, only somehow worse. 9. The nods given to Thor: The Dark World and The Avengers are of course interesting given there’s a Dark Elf and a Chitauri, but I’m super curious about what made those particular specimens of each special enough for Tivan to keep them. Tivan deals with the depths and breadths of the universe coming in and out of Knowhere, and he doesn’t just snag one item from every species or race he comes across. So was there something interesting in particular about that Dark Elf and that Chitauri? Was the Chitauri one of the only remaining survivors after the nuclear explosion? Was the Dark Elf one of Malekith’s higher ups? I’m just curious about them, and curious about Tivan’s reasoning for keeping them. 10. Okay but adding to this whole Tivan’s collection tangent, Cosmo the Space dog cracks me up and not just because it’s funny for Tivan to have a doggie cosmonaut in his collection. Cosmo is a legit character in the Guardians comics, and he’s head of security on Knowhere and telepathic. So even if Tivan is keeping him in his collection or is just trying to keep him out of the way for something, just imagine what it’s like having an angry Russian dog thinking at you all the time because you’re getting in the way of him doing his job. 11. Slightly different bend on the Tivan train, but Carina legitimately just heard Tivan talk about how the stone was capable of destroying even a whole group of people who tried to wield it, and she was still willing to take the risk of being incinerated rather than living with her current conditions. Carina wasn’t resolutely making the hero play - she was making a suicide play knowing full well it would end that way if the hero play didn’t work. 12. When Yondu states that Peter doesn’t give a rip about Terra like. Dude. How many fucking references in this movie has he made to Terran culture? Music and movies and art and holy shit would you look at that, he sure as hell talks like a more culturally integrated human than anything else you twat waffle. Great way to piss him off though and get him to play it your way, which granted is what I think Yondu was probably doing the whole time but still. You don’t look at this boy who idolizes Footloose and knows who Jackson Pollock is and tell him he doesn’t care about Earth. Caring about Footloose and Jackson Pollock at all is a labor of love. 13. Speaking of Yondu, how the fuck is that the jewel frog bauble considered by anyone to be worth of the “high end” community? On top of it just hurting me, it does really raise the question of how is trite crap like that so valuable? Does it have some vector of worth and rarity because its origins are weird, obscure, or finite? Are the gems magical artifacts of some kind? Are the wealthy in space that mother-fucking self-ironic? Because if they are I want to know them. 14. Peter Quill, everyone, who makes a dick message to garner trust 15. Not for the first for for the last time will I say this, but Ravager tech is impressive. And I am amazingly intrigued at how Ravagers got such good technology and resources on their hands. True, they steal things and make money off of trades and pilfering. But that isn’t the only way to acquire goods and it’s not the only thing a viable pirating economic model can survive off of. Half the reason the Ravagers succeed is because they run like a business, have clientele, and are clientele for certain sects, right? So what kind of powerful connections do they have that allow them their advanced fleets? That’s the kind of shit I want to know about. 16. Also what the hell are Ronan’s pilots with the weird glowy psychic spheres on the Dark Aster? Is the Dark Aster itself Kree technology, or something Ronan got from Thanos who appropriated it from some other world he’s conquered? Because we know so little about the Kree in the MCU it’s hard to say, but I suppose we’ll have to wait and see if the Kree ever do become a part of canon so we can have more data with which to make a comparison. 17. Guardians does a pretty good job of taking at least some time to portray how terrible aerial dogfighting is on a mass scale because honestly it’s a bloody nightmare. It’s pictured so often and so carelessly in film that it’s not something we often think about, and the only movie I’ve ever seen that addresses how it feels in human terms is Dunkirk, but the intensity and messiness of it in Guardians is still pretty realistic and I give it props for that. 18. It occurs to me that maybe the younger, post-GOTG Groot is so bitter and antisocial for a while because of how giving the elder Groot was, and the seedling felt the sacrifice and his existence was under-appreciated? It was just a thought that crossed my mind. 19. Also Ronan you twat. “Engage Immolation Initiative” is just Big Mean & Fancy for “light ‘em up fuckers,” don’t pretend you’re any cooler than anyone else. 20. I really really appreciate the design that went into the Xandarian cityscape as a fully intergalactic multicultural society that shows it even in the way the city and buildings are assembled. The city isn’t uniform like a lot of science-fiction cities are - it’s got texture. Different sectors have different styles of buildings and different architecture. Like a real metropolitan area, it’s a patchwork of influences and it’s very well done. 21. Kudos to Rocket for identifying that ground-to-air is a super viable defense strategy. One thing that people tend to forget about ground-to-air is that aside from clouds, there’s no obstacles behind which to hide in the sky, so while ground defense might seem clumsy at times, air offense is hugely precarious because there is absolutely no defense mechanism against any attack except maneuvering, and when a defense is fully able to target that weakness it’s pretty damn effective. 22. It’s interesting to me how well superhero movies integrate climaxes within battle sequences? Some people might call it lazy but I call it interesting when when defense lines break, plans fail, and when teams encounter interference to push the plot forward. Plot movement in Marvel movies curry a lot of momentum from these events, but actually they’re pretty interesting replications of how modern society has been built on the results of such events within our own history. History has been moved by these exact same sorts of events, which is why they make sense to us in storytelling. 23. Peter protecting Groot from Rocket’s crash into the into the Dark Aster? Golden. And then Peter immediately going to Rocket from the wreckage? Stellar. Peter Quill you are a gem. 24. I will never forgive Marvel for hurting me as bad with “We are Groot” as Warner Brothers did with “Suuuuuperman” in Iron Giant. Stop giving Vin Diesel more opportunities to rip my heart out of my chest, please. 25. My mom and my uncle, her brother, both adored the entire GOTG soundtrack so much and it brought them so much joy watching it together that it got me into Motown. Even though it was oblique and dorky, Marvel did something amazing with this movie and gave my parents a piece of their own youth back, while giving me a chance to share in their knowledge and experience. It’s stuck with me ever since, especially because fundamentally that experience is the reason I got into Motown music, which I now adore with all my heart.

Alright, done with that. These are... just getting longer and longer I’m sorry guys no one should have ever allowed me to do this. Oh well. Too late to stop me now. Captain America: The Winter Solider is up next, and oh the pain.∞

[margridarnauds]

Ronan/Laz and Wash/Mira

Thank you!

Ronan/Laz

To fully understand my relationship with this ship, we have to go into one of the darkest periods of my life, a period of time that, to this day, I struggle to talk about: The first time I was into 1789, circa 2015-ish. I was young, I was impetuous, I was heavily closeted (to myself; my mom had already given me my “YOU KNOW I WILL LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS” conversation) and…I shipped…Ronan/Olympe. 

100%. 

Like, “Google Translated French Fanfiction on FF.net to get more content” shipped it. (Now, I suspect it’s because I was a bisexual mess, but I digress). 

As I said, a dark, cursed time where I shipped the *100% canon* brother-in- law/sister-in-law. 

I barely remember it. I scarcely acknowledge it happened. It physically pains me to mention it.

I had the Takarazuka version, but I didn’t have subtitles to it and, as a result, I didn’t really…watch it…all the way through, instead skipping around as it suited me. I knew about Laz’s sex dungeon, but it really didn’t…register, I suppose? How very, very gay it was and the chemistry that was there. I did NOT like Lazare, I didn’t see why he occupied a considerable piece of fandom time (Not enough) when he has such a small role and he’s portrayed fairly consistently as an asshole throughout the musical (Yes, he’s an asshole, but he’s my asshole now). R/L has NOTHING on FF.net to this day and, I don’t think at the time, there was anything on AO3? And if there was, I don’t remember seeing it and, if I did, I’m pretty sure my initial reaction would still have been, “Who cares about Lazare? He’s so mean! EW!” (Oh, my sweet, naive, teenaged self. How the tables will turn. How the tables will turn.) 

Now, it’s hard to sustain an interest in a show with negative chemistry between the leads and the growing realization that French!Ronan is an asshole, and eventually my interest in 1789 dimmed considerably. Not entirely faded, but dimmed. 

Then came The Stream. 

So, last year, around June-ish, the Moraholics set up a series of European Musical streams that lasted around half a year and was an absolute masterpiece of cooperation, and among them, we had the Takarazuka 1789, as subbed and hosted by the utterly phenomenal @berncat, who I’m eternally grateful to but who is also still not off the hook for getting me back into this Hell. And, suffice it to say (1) Having the Japanese actually translated and, for example, hearing Lazare promise to “give [Ronan] release” while looking at him with bedroom eyes, (2) Watching Magee with that whip, answering many questions about my sexuality that I didn’t know I had, and (3) Watching it with a group of people who were likewise cheering it on was a completely different experience with the musical than I’d had before and I jumped onto the ship HARD. (Btw, whoever said, “Someone should write a smutfic with Peyrol/Ronan” fuck you because it’s been nearly a year and the Abomination is, well, the Abomination and my 2k-4k pwp is now a sprawling universe in its own right currently clocking in at around 31k words and most of them aren’t even smutty, damn it). And, the week immediately afterwards, we watched the French and, well…

If I had any doubts about the viability of French!L/R, this kind of showed me that they were unfounded, with the Other Maniaque video (You know the one to which I refer) being the clencher (Was it really necessary to nuzzle your future arch-enemy, Ronan? And Laz, couldn’t you have been at least a little more proactive in making sure you didn’t get peasant germs on your nice fur coat rather than leaning into him?) That’s the weakest ass intimidation tactic I’ve ever seen and the only way I can justify it is Laz being in a constant state of “CUTE PEASANT BOY ABORT ABORT. CONCEAL DON’T FEEL” Right now, the only production I’m not really certain about is the Toho, since it looks like the Lazare there is significantly more…brutal than we’ve gotten before but, tbh, I can probably find some way to ship it there by selectively ignoring the canon as I always do. 

So, yeah, I’ve basically been stuck in 1789 Hell since then, because apparently my brain said, “Special Interest? SPECIAL INTEREST?” It’s a bit unusual to me since I’m really not used to actually creating content for a ship this much (even if very little of it gets published). 

I still ship it as hard if not harder than I did when I first jumped on; I think that they both have the most potential for growth and development from each other and the most potential as far as an overall plot arc (and delicious, delicious angst, hence why, across the board, no matter how much of the French production I bring into a given WIP, I always keep Peyrol being the one responsible for Ronan getting shot, though there’s also significant angst potential in Peyrol not knowing, thinking bitterly that Ronan had gotten what he wanted but still going back to their apartment only to find it empty, keeping hope that he’s alive for the rest of the night even as it becomes increasingly unlikely, thinking that perhaps Ronan’s still mad at him for everything that happened in Nous ne Sommes, only to learn the next day that Ronan’s dead). I can drop them into roughly any situation, both in the French Revolution and outside of it, and, for the most part, I can have fun with it. September Massacres? Check. Zombie Apocalypse? Check. Being dropped into the Cretaceous Period? Check. One of them’s a dragon who abducts the other one? Check. Afterlife Fic? Check. Going to Disney World together? Check. I was going to say “Childhood Friends AU” but we both know that only leads to pain but, otherwise? CHECK. 

It’s very much a multipurpose ship for me; I can do basically whatever I want with it as it suits my mood, and Lazare de Peyrol is an absolutely fantastic torture subject.10/10 would recommend. 

Mira/Wash

I hadn’t even considered this one until you brought it up and I’m very, very grateful you did because ANGST! PAIN! BETRAYAL! ANGST! WASH GETTING CHARACTERIZATION! ANGST! BONDAGE! ANGST! It’s definitely my dominant OTP for Terra Nova, I absolutely love it to bits. I liked both Wash and Mira the first time I watched it; I thought that both of them were more interesting than the main plot we got and, tbh, I wanted Wash content that wasn’t necessarily Wash/Taylor centered because I tried it once and it just felt…off. It’s not “NO BAD WRONG” for me and I have the distinct feeling that it’s what the writers were edging towards (which, given the other relationships in TN, might be why it felt off), but I definitely ended up preferring it as mutual, longstanding respect/loyalty rather than an actual romance.

 So, Mira was definitely a better fit for me, in the sense that there’s a lot of potential there for Wash’s characterization that’s not really touched on in the show, there’s a chance for conflict for both of them, there’s a lot of potential as far as backstory, etc. And, looking at the trajectory of the series after Taylor goes, to use the clinical term, bat-shit insane, I think that there’s a lot of potential for a team up between the two of them and a moment where they basically end up meeting in the center so they can fuck up their respective old sides together, get Sienna, and live happily ever after. (Which is also why the Taylor/Mira team up was such a waste compared to Wash/Mira, because WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU SET UP THAT OPPORTUNITY FOR A PARALLEL SCENE IN A FEW SEASONS AND NOT USE IT.) 

The only reason I’m not as active with it as I am with, say, Laz and Ronan is because I feel significantly more uncomfortable writing in sci-fi and fantasy settings than I am with historical fiction/modern day fics. Because with that stuff, I have a decent grasp of the world I’m dealing with, how it works, the basic technology I’m dealing with, how to navigate it, etc. whereas with a sci-fi/fantasy element, it’s harder to nail it down, especially with something like TN where we got so little time in the world and most of it was wasted doing other things. (GIVE ME A SERIES BIBLE, SPIELBERG YOU COWARD; NOT JUST THE ARCS AND MYTHOLOGY WITH CREEPY!!TAYLOR.) I can’t really do research on it the same way I can for, say, The Women’s March to Versailles, and I don’t personally feel like I have as good of a grasp on that universe as a whole. I’m fine taking the characters in places that would make the original writers faint, but I want to have a decent grounding for it when I do it. 

[catu-munchkin]

Note: Well hello! I’m Yurio!! And I’m here posting my very first Imagine about GotG, with Rocket Raccoon! Well, actually I don’t know exactly how this ‘Imagine’ thing works, but to put it short, it’s a one shot.

Summary: You and Rocket are spending a day off together and found a new store in Xandar.

Rocket Raccoon x Female!Reader

Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :D

Imagine a rainy day in Xandar with Rocket Raccoon...

It was a common day in Xandar, except for the fact that you and rest of the Guardians of the Galaxy were there because the Nova Corp needed to talk with Star Lord, or Star Munch for you, nothing to worry about, but they really needed him. So the rest of the team, except for Gamora, who was staying with Peter, were given a little free time, just enough time to look around and relax a bit.

You and Rocket decided to go after good deals, and his favorites, scrap metal pieces that he could use. While Drax and Groot went in a different way, looking for good food to taste. Rocket felt a bit worried about leaving baby Groot with the maniac, but you convinced him that it could be good for both of them to spend some time together, besides, lately Drax was being a little bit more responsible when it came about baby Groot. So Rocket accepted to let go his tiny baby sprout with Drax.

You two were having a stroll down the street's market. You were going from store to store looking for some good deals and maybe to buy another good blaster or riffle for your own use. Well at least buy it on the legal way.

After buying some little stuff, you saw a new store in the street’s corner. You stood there, outside the store and found out that it was an antique store filled with interesting stuff from all across de galaxy, including objects from Terra, your home planet.

"Woow..." You said as you stood up in front of the main store’s showcase.

"Ya' wanna go inside?" Rocket asked looking at you and pointing to the store.

You looked down at Rocket and nodded smiling.

So you decided to enter the shop and Rocket just followed you.

As you entered the store, a sweet bell ringed and a pinkish old man welcome you two with a smile from ear to ear.

“Welcome, welcome. Fell free to look around. But please, don’t touch anything if you are not buying it. Thank you.” The old man said and gave you a wide smile. Rocket and you waved to the old man and proceed to look around the shop. It was huge.

You walked around the whole place, it was like a museum with antiques and strange pieces and crafts. You recognized some stuff, like little old cars, a small old airplanes hanging from the ceiling, you even saw a kite. There was a big shell full of cassette types, the ones that Peter's walkman uses. Some of those artists reminded of your home, specially your mom.

Also you saw some kind of old watches, some porcelain dolls, even toys, but really old ones, and some pretty old lamps.

It wasn't a secret that the last few days, you and Peter were feeling a bit homesick. Remembering your last few days in Terra. You missed your sisters and mom, wondering how they were doing, wondering if they were okay, and tons of thought were racing your head these days. And this specific place made feel a bit better, looking at all this familiar stuff.

Rocket, on the other hand, was very surprised to see tons of things he didn't know, but he wasn't really interested on it, on what he was really interested was you. So most of the time he was looking at you, admiring the view of you smiling at those pieces of junk.

Suddenly something caught your complete attention. A red umbrella. You gasped and let out an ‘omg’, which made Rocket jumped, but relaxed when he saw you were just being noisy. You took the umbrella and opened it, then you realized that it was in perfect conditions.

"Woooow... An umbrella, I used to have one just like this one when I was a child!” You said smiling and looking at it carefully. It was ages since the last time you saw one of these.

"What is that- exactly?" Rocket asked as he was walking closer to you.

"It's an umbrella, you use it to cover from the rain." You replied as you were looking around for the shop’s owner.

"Ohh..." Rocket said looking at the umbrella. "It has a really weird design..." He said still looking at it.

You laugh slightly and replied. "I know. Things from Terra aren’t the most sophisticated in technology." You replied smiling and laughing, and kept looking for the owner.

When you finally found him, you asked for the umbrella.

"Hi! Umm...Excuse me, how much for the umbrella?" You asked using a shy and sweet voice and pointing to the umbrella.

"Oh. It is 8,000 units, miss." He replied without hesitate.

“8,000 units?! ... I thought it would be cheaper..." You said surprised at first but a little bit disappointed then.

"It was bring from a far, far away planet, miss." The old man replied and smiled

"I know... Right." You said looking at the umbrella and letting out a long sigh.

It wasn't that you haven’t enough units, but it was really expensive to be just an umbrella from Terra, but after thinking about it, the owner was right, Terra was far away.

"Well, I think it would be for the next time..." You said as you were about to put it back to its place, but you were interrupted by Rocket. "We’re taking it, old man." Rocket said without thinking it twice. You blinked and looked down at Rocket.

"What? But it is too expensive, Rocket..." You replied surprised and confused.

"It doesn’t matter… So yeah, I'm buying it for ya’... I know you’re feeling homesick lately and it looks like ya’ really liked this thing, so yeah... I want to give ya' a gift..." Rocket said looking away and scratching his whiskers. If it wasn’t for his fur, he would be madly blushed. It was the first time Rocket was actually giving you a gift. Of course he have gave you special upgrades for your riffles, but he have never used the word ‘gift’ before.

A wide smile drew on you face and you couldn’t help but blushed like crazy. You were way too happy to hide it. You were like a child who just got the most delicious ice cream.

Speechless, you shyly handed the red umbrella to the old man, who proceed to do the check out. Rocket followed him and you stood there, looking at Rocket while he was paying. Finally you walked to the cashier feeling really happy and a bit ashamed, but it was a good feeling. You couldn’t believe that actually the guy– or mammal- you were feeling attracted to was in fact giving you a gift.

Rocket was putting his wallet away, then smiled at you. “Its yours now, Y/n.” You smiled shyly and nodded as you took the red umbrella in your hands.

“Ya’ wanna keep looking around?” You blushed a bit more and Rocket laugh slightly. “Umm.. No. Let’s get back to the Milano.” You said smiling and shaking your head to hide your blush.

When you two were getting out the antique store, the sky began to look gray and you heard how it was cracking with some not so loud thunders, and without warning it started to rain.

“Oh boy. We are so lucky! Ta-ra-ra.” You said while you where taking the red umbrella out.

“What are ya' doing?” Rocket said a little bit confused. “We are using our new red umbrella!” You said as you opened the umbrella and looked down at Rocket. “Let’s go.” You said smiling at him, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea for him to walk under an umbrella like this one, because he was sure his fur would get all wet.

“Hmm… nah. Go ahead, I'll catch ya’ later.” Rocket said waving his paw-hand at you. “Besides, I don’t want my fur to get wet.” He added.

“Ohh… that's right.” You replied, then you crouched to Rockets level. “Well, I can carry you, if you want. So we can get back to the ship together.” You said giving him a sweet smile.

“What?! No! I'm ain't no kid or whatever.” Rocket crossed his arms and felt like he was blushing like hell. But, deep inside he would love the idea of him being carried by you, but his honor wouldn’t let him do that, or at least it won’t let it be easy.

“No, of course you are not! You are more man that Star Munch, himself” You said laughing a bit, but somehow you loved the idea of having Rocket so close to you.

“Besides, I don’t want to go back to the Milano- without you, Rocket.” You added and looked at him sweetly. Rocket couldn’t help but twitch his ears and think of an stupid excuse to say no to you, but you kept trying to convince him.

“Come on, Rocket. You won’t get wet if I carry you back to the ship. Just imagine I'm Groot and you climb up on my shoulders. But I would be a small Groot, because I'm not that tall.” You said smiling and laughing, just trying to hide your blush.

Rocket couldn’t think about anything to get rid of the situation, but deep inside he always wanted to be close to you.

“Okay, okay.” You started. “I have an idea. What if just say: I am Groot??” You said trying to make the best impression of Groot you could do.

Rocket looked back at you with a small smile on his face, and let out a sigh.

“Fine. Ya' win.” Rocket said waving his hands to the air. You stood up and smiled down at Rocket. When he finally began to climb up over to your back, he accidentally dug a bit his nails on your arm, which made you say “Ouch…”

“S-sorry…” Rocket said shyly as he lifted his hand off of your arm.

“No worries.” You replied and felt how Rocket was finally on your shoulders, hanging from your belt and from your shoulders.

Neither you or Rocket said a word during the way back to the ship, both of you just enjoyed the moment. The only thing you could hear were the rain drops hitting the umbrella’s cloth, but you know you loved this sound. Since you spend a lot of time in space, it was nice to hear some natural sounds, like rainwater.

You couldn’t believe that Rocket was actually this close to you, and you really liked the heat on your neck produced by his fur and his breathe.

While you were walking down the street you saw other people running from the rain, others were covering from it and for some reason you two were the only ones walking down the rain. It was like for that single moment Xandarians forget about his high technology to deal with the rain, which made the both of you the only persons walking under the rain. You felt it was like magic, or just the universe beings gentle for a moment.

All this situation made you feel so lucky, it wasn’t a secret that you actually felt something for Rocket, and in that moment you felt like anything could go wrong. You let out a long sigh and smiled, Rocket noticed this and smiled too.

You two were finally getting close to the Milano and for an very obvious reason you started to walk slowly, Rocket noticed this but didn’t say a word neither. But suddenly he decided to break the silence. “So, this is an umbrella…?”  He asked casually.

“Yeah, it is. An umbrella from Terra. When I was a child I used to play in the rain with one just like this one.” You couldn’t help but feel a bit sad, because sometimes you really missed your home. “Well, if ya' want- Y/n-“ Rocket brought you out of your thoughts. “We can play in the rain someday. But- just if ya' want. Even Groot can join, I bet he would love it.” Rocket said smiling and scratching his furry ear, just to hide the embarrassment on his voice. You giggled a bit and replied. “Sure! It would be fun!”

You laugh slightly and smiled again.

You two finally arrived to the Milano, and for some magic or destiny thing, the rain stopped.

“Woow, just in time.” You said moving the umbrella to see the sky, then back to the Milano's entrance.

When you felt Rocket was getting ready to climb off of you, you stopped him. “Hey, Rocket.” You said as Rocket looked back at you, and at the same time you moved your free hand to hold his face and bring it closer to yours and whispered. “Thank you…” And kissed Rocket's furry cheek.

It was, at least, a good two of three seconds kiss, under the red umbrella, covering both of you from the last drops of rain.

Rocket froze and blinked twice before try his best to get off of you without falling hard on the ground, but he was already falling for you.

“N-no problem, Y/n…” He replied and jumped off of you. He fixed his little bags and trying his best to avoid eye contact with you he said. “Well- umm I'm gonna see if Groot is already here.” And finally walked indirection of his upper room.

“Okay.” You smiled and giggled softly. Then turned back to see the blue and bright sky, and looked at your new red umbrella that the guy you fell in love just gifted to you.

Fin.

Bonus*!

“OMG!!” Peter Quill said with excitement while he was holding the red umbrella. “Where did you get this, (nickname)?!” He asked looking at you with hope in his eyes. “We found it at a new store in Xandar.” You replied smiling at your leader. He tilted his head a bit and asked. “We?”

“Umm- yeah. Rocket and I…” You said looking away and blushing a bit. “Actually- Rocket buy it for me, and it wasn’t cheap.” You added and give him a wide smile.

“Oohhhh… Rocket buy it for you, huh?” Peter replied looking at you with a mischief smirk.

“Units?” He asked with concern. “Eh… Umm- 8,000 units…” You replied with a whisper and smiling ashamed.

“Phew…”

Then he turned back in the direction where Rocket was working.

“Well played, Ranger Rick!” He shouted so Rocket could hear him.

Rocket didn’t looked back just twitched his furry ears and jumped while he accidentally dropped some of his tools.

You looked at Rocket and smiled.

[lucas-taylor-rpg]

The Second It Began, Part 4

((Previously))

((Circa 85 April 21st, 2143))

He had fallen asleep. He figured that out upon waking up. When he opened his eyes and saw bright daylight, he realized he must have been resting for much longer than intended—and that his father must have returned by then.

He got up from the bed. His head was still hurting, but less than the previous day. It seemed that sleeping had helped, as he had anticipated. Yawning and wiping sleep from his eyes, he shuffled his feet towards the door of his new bedroom. He opened it and found his father sitting behind the dining table, which held a plate of an omelet with fruit and a glass of juice.

The old man looked up at him and smiled—not in happiness or love, but in amusement. “Well, hello, sleeping beauty,” the father greeted, taking in his son’s mussed hair, small eyes and tired frown.

“Did I sleep through the whole night,” Lucas asked, “or is this planet so freaky there’s daylight after sunset?” He was sure he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear a confirmation.

Taylor chuckled. “No, you slept, all right,” he replied. Lucas dragged himself to the table and slumped down onto the chair opposite to his father. “Actually, you slept for almost twelve hours.” Lucas sighed and rubbed his face. Taylor frowned. “You don’t look very rested for someone who slept that long,” he noted.

“In my defense,” the young man said, “I was really tired.” And sick. But he did not tell his father that. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Well, lucky for you, today is Sunday, so you can rest as much as you need.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, I was thinking maybe we could spend the day together. Catch up on what’s happened since we last saw each other. Maybe I could give you a tour of the colony. I mean, it’s not that big, but you should know where to find stuff.”

Without saying a word, Lucas stood up.

“I didn’t mean right now.”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Lucas explained.

“Oh, right.”

Lucas walked off. Two minutes and one flush of a toilet later, he came back. When he sat down, he realized Taylor had put a glass of milk-like liquid on his side of the table. “What’s that?”

“Your breakfast,” Taylor replied simply.

He took a closer look at the liquid. It seemed just like milk to his eyes, but when he leaned in and its scent hit his nose, he could tell it was something else. It smelled too funny to be milk. “Wait, I read something about that in the manual they gave me,” he said. He remembered it mentioning a drink specifically designed for easier enzyme consumption… or something along those lines. “Is this the only thing I’m allowed to have now?”

“Yup. Just until you get used to the food we have here.”

“How long will that be, again?”

“You have to drink this for three days exclusively. Then you can ease into real food as you see fit.”

Lucas gave a nod. He picked up the glass and took a mere sip of the liquid inside. With a frown on his face, he lowered the glass. “That tastes awful.” For something that looked like milk, it was quite sour. It suited the smell, though.

“That’s just because you’re not used to it, yet.”

“Hmph.” Lucas took another sip and could not help scrunching up his face. He put the glass down. He was not looking forward to drinking it for the next three days, but he figured there must have been a reason why it was required. Then he realized something. He parted his lips and glanced aside. With a thoughtful expression on his face, he looked at his father and watched him eat. “Dad, you didn’t…” he spoke up hesitantly, “you didn’t need this milk when you came to Terra Nova… did you?”

“We didn’t have it back then. The recipe was designed after I came.”

“So why do I need it?” Lucas asked. “I mean, if you got used to food without it, why should—”

“It’s not that you need it per se. It’s just meant to make the transition easier for you,” the father explained.

“Was it hard for you?”

“Well, it was not as easy as it would’ve been if I’d had this,” Taylor replied, pointing at the glass.

Lucas sighed. He just sat there for a few seconds, pondering what his father had told him. Afterwards, he reached out and grabbed a red grape from Taylor’s plate. Before the latter could stop him, he shoved it in his mouth.

“Hey!” Taylor said. “You’re not supposed to eat that.”

“Yeah, I can see why. This is even worse than the milk,” Lucas grumbled with the fruit still in his mouth. He chewed it slowly, a grimace making its way to his face. After he swallowed, he extended his arm to take another one. His father slapped his hand away. Lucas frowned. “Come on, don’t be so stingy!”

“I’m not stingy, you’re just not supposed to eat that.” The commander pushed Lucas’s glass closer to him. “Drink this if you’re hungry.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, then leaned back. He stared at the glass in silence, but he did not pick it up. His head throbbed suddenly, making him wince. Fortunately for him, Taylor, having returned attention to his own breakfast, did not notice.

“So,” Taylor spoke up, taking a grape himself, “how have you been since we last saw each other?”

“You mean since I went to the bathroom?” Lucas asked, even though he knew what Taylor meant. The pain in his head started to ease. That was good.

“No, I mean since I left for Terra Nova.”

Lucas shrugged, quiet.

“Come on, talk to me,” Taylor demanded. “What’s new in your life?”

“Well, I came to Terra Nova yesterday, that’s still pretty new.”

“I know about that. Can’t you tell me something else?” Lucas shrugged. “What’s new with your work?”

“I was relocated from Chicago to Terra Nova.”

Taylor frowned, giving his son a look. “Lucas…”

“Dad…” Lucas replied in the same low tone.

“Will you tell me something I don’t know yet?” Lucas shrugged again. “My, are you in a chatty mood, aren’t you?”

Shrug.

“Oh, come on! Don’t you have anything to tell me?”

Lucas shook his head. “No.”

“So much love for your old man, huh?” Lucas did not even bother to shrug that time. “It’s been, what, almost five months for you since I left, right?” The boy gave a single nod. Taylor sighed. “Well, I don’t know if you heard, but when I walked through the portal, there was some sort of malfunction, and I ended up here completely alone for 118 days. So, to me, it’s been almost nine months now,” he told his son. He looked at his plate and cut off a piece of the omelet.

“Yeah, I heard,” was all Lucas said. Another throb of pain. And another. Lucas raised his hand to his temple. With mouth now full of food, Taylor looked up at him. Lucas quickly brushed his hair behind his ear, then lowered his hand as if that had been the reason he had raised it. He gazed down at the glass, tracing its side with his finger. He squirmed a little when he felt his father’s eyes still on him.

“You know,” Taylor spoke up after swallowing, “when I was here alone, I kept—”

“I didn’t ask.”

Taylor gave his son a look. “Okay, I can see that you don’t want to speak to me for some reason, but can’t you at least listen?”

“I’m not in the mood.” He was in the mood to lie down again. The sound of his father’s voice was making the throbbing worse.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Lucas lied, “I just don’t feel like chatting.”

“Why not?” Taylor asked.

Lucas shrugged. “Why do you want to chat, anyway?” he queried. He leaned forward and supported his head with his hand, seemingly bored. The throbbing was getting better again. “We never used to chat. Why start now?”

“Because we haven’t seen each other in a long time,” Taylor said. “We didn’t even get to talk over phone.”

“So?”

“Well, I missed you.”

Lucas snorted.

Taylor frowned.

“What?” Lucas said. “It’s only been, like, five months. That wasn’t so long. I’ll miss you when we haven’t seen each other for five years.”

The commander shook his head. He looked down at his plate. While he was cutting the omelet, Lucas lowered his hand and stole another grape. “Hey!” Taylor glared at him. The son chewed slowly, grimacing once again. “You know you shouldn’t eat that.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m hungry,” Lucas said, the fruit still in his mouth.

“That’s what you have this for,” Taylor said, picking up Lucas’s glass and putting it back down.

Lucas swallowed, then took another one of his father’s grapes. “Good lord, this is bad,” he complained after biting down on it. He reached out and grabbed two more. Taylor just stared at him. Lucas stuffed them into his mouth, even though he had not yet swallowed the one he had taken before.

Taylor shook his head in disbelief. “Then why are you eating it?”

“Don’t want the milk,” Lucas mumbled, his mouth full of grapes.

“Why not?”

Lucas raised his hand, then pointed at his mouth, wordlessly asking his father to wait. After a few seconds, he finally swallowed—only to take another grape. He grimaced through the whole process, but that did not stop him from repeating it.

Taylor could not help but laugh at the faces his son was pulling. “Come on,” he said, “why do you keep eating my grapes?”

“’Cause I like them.”

“You like them? Really?” Taylor asked incredulously. Lucas nodded, even though the scowl on his face as he ate said something else. “Like, a minute ago, you said they taste bad.”

Lucas nodded. “They do,” he told his father once he swallowed, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t like them.”

“Yes, it does,” Taylor said. “That is precisely what it means.”

“No, it doesn’t. ‘Bad’ means ‘not good.’ It doesn’t mean ‘unlikable.’”

“I think it’s kind of given that when something is bad, people don’t like it.”

Lucas gazed down. “Well,” he muttered under his breath (quietly enough for Taylor not to understand), “people seem to like you.” That was a sure proof of the fact people could, in fact, like bad things. Or bad people. Unless it was because people just didn’t know the commander was bad—

“What did you say?” Taylor’s voice interrupted Lucas’s thoughts.

“Oh, nothing. Just that you have a different dictionary than I do,” the boy lied. He grabbed another grape, leaving only two on Taylor’s plate.

The father sighed. “You know, drinking that would help you get used to the local food,” he said, glancing at the milk.

“That milk tastes as bad as this, I don’t see the point.”

“It’s the enzymes or something that make it taste so bad to you. This ‘milk’ is designed—”

“I don’t want the milk, okay?!” Lucas all but snapped, raising his voice and interrupting his father. The commander frowned. Lucas squirmed a little under the stern look he received, glancing down at the table to avoid the gaze. He was not in the mood for a lecture or an argument.

“What’s your problem with it?” Taylor inquired, studying Lucas with his eyes.

Lucas sighed. “I just don’t like it,” he claimed. It was not the whole truth, but it was not a whole lie, either. He really did not like its taste.

“I don’t care if you like it or not,” Taylor replied. “You’re going to drink your milk, and you’re not going to complain about it, understood?”

Lucas frowned. He reached out for Taylor’s plate again, but the older man quickly grabbed it. He held it up and away from his son’s reach. Lucas pouted like a sulking child, prompting Taylor to smirk. “Fine,” Lucas said. “Keep your food, you stingy… stinger. I’m not that hungry, anyway.”

“Hey, three days from now, you can steal as much of my food as you want, but for now, you’ve got your milk.”

Lucas crossed his arms. “I don’t want the milk.”

“Well, that’s too bad ’cause you’re going to have to drink it, anyway.” The commander put the plate down and proceeded to eat the last two of his grapes. Lucas was not entirely sure about it, but he thought he saw his father smirk for a moment, as if he was mocking him.

Taylor resumed eating the omelet. The young man stared at him in silence for a few seconds. He pushed the glass farther away from himself, then crossed his arms again.

Taylor gave his son a look. Without a word, he pushed the glass closer to Lucas.

Lucas pushed it back.

“Come on, don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not a baby, I just don’t like it.”

“Come on!” Taylor said. “Does it really taste that bad?”

“I don’t know…” Lucas shrugged. “I’m not hungry.”

“Lucas…”

“Dad.”

Taylor let out a breath. “Well, you’re going to have to drink this eventually.”

“No, I’m not.”

“And what are you going to do?” he asked. “Go on a hunger strike?”

Lucas shrugged. “Maybe.” Taylor gave his son a look. The youth just smirked and briefly raised his eyebrows as though he was challenging him.

Taylor shook his head. He was starting to get tired of his son’s defiance. “Lucas, just drink it.”

“No.”

“Drink it,” the commander repeated, his tone turning stern.

“I don’t want to.”

“I don’t care. Drink it.”

Lucas was quiet for a couple of seconds. Afterwards, he leaned forward. “Dad,” he spoke up, “do you know how old I am now?”

“Eighteen,” Taylor replied. “Almost nineteen.”

“Do you know what that means?”

Taylor sighed, already knowing he would not agree with whatever answer Lucas would give him. “Enlighten me.”

“It means I’m an adult,” Lucas explained, “which means that I don’t have to listen to you anymore. I can do whatever I want.”

Taylor nodded, even though he was about to disagree. “Well,” he replied, “as long as you’re living under my roof, you are going to listen to what I say, son.”

“Fine, I’ll move out,” Lucas responded matter-of-factly, as though it would not have been a big deal.

“Oh, and where are you going to go, genius?” Taylor asked.

“I don’t know.” Lucas shrugged. “Anywhere.”

“Of course…”

“You think I can’t live on my own? I’ve been living that way for the last two years.”

“No,” Taylor told him, chuckling, “that’s not what I’m saying. But, you see, there are really not enough houses in Terra Nova, so unless you’re planning on living in the jungle…” He chuckled again.

Lucas frowned, seemingly insulted. “What, you don’t think I could live there?”

“No,” Taylor replied, “I really don’t.”

“Didn’t you live there alone for, like, four months?”

“Yes, but—”

“Well, then why couldn’t I live there?”

Taylor just gave Lucas a look.

“What? Why couldn’t I?”

“Because there are dinosaurs out there?” Taylor said, raising his tone at the end to show the answer was obvious.

Instead of understanding the danger, Lucas seemed to shrug it off. “So? You survived those.”

“Yeah, but let me tell you,” Taylor said, picking up a piece of omelet with his fork, “it wasn’t easy. Not something anyone could handle.”

“Oh, I see,” Lucas said and nodded. While Taylor ate, Lucas bit his lower lip. “So, in your eyes, I am just ‘anyone.’” The young man snorted. “Geez, Dad, stop overestimating me…” he said sarcastically.

Taylor shook his head. Once he swallowed, he said, “You’re not ‘just anyone,’ but—”

“Then why couldn’t I handle it?” Lucas cut in.

“Because you’re not a soldier, son,” Taylor answered. Lucas glanced aside. “You’re a peanut.”

Lucas furrowed his brows upon hearing that. “Peanut? Again?”

“Always,” Taylor said, sending his son a strangely fond smile.

Lucas stared down at the glass of milk in order to stop himself from returning the smile. “Well,” he said after a couple of seconds, “I am not a peanut. I am an adult, which is why I don’t need to do or drink anything I don’t want to.”

“No, see, that is precisely why you’re not an adult,” the father claimed. “If you were, you would understand that drinking that milk is going to help you, and you’d drink it. But instead you’re acting like a sick child who doesn’t want to take his medicine just ’cause it’s ‘icky.’”

Lucas shook his head. “No, if I were a child, I would listen to what you say—”

Taylor gave a laugh. “When did you ever?”

Lucas frowned, pressing his tongue against his cheek. “…but because I’m an adult,” he continued, “I can make my own decisions. And while I do understand this milk is designed to help, I also know it’s not necessary, which is why I’m not going to bother drinking it.”

“Oh, you’re going to drink that milk.”

Lucas leaned back and stared at his father. “You can’t make me.”

“Can’t I?”

“What are you going to do? Ground me if I refuse?” he asked. “You can’t do that anymore ’cause I’m not a child.”

Taylor gave a shrug. “Well, maybe I could just pour it down your throat myself,” he suggested matter-of-factly.

“Oh, please! You wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh, I will if you don’t drink it on your own,” the commander claimed.

“I won’t,” Lucas insisted. “And neither will you.”

Taylor gave his son a stern look. The boy’s own stare did not falter at all. Instead, he crossed his arms, then briefly raised his eyebrows. The commander straightened out his posture. Lucas smirked. “Last warning, Lucas,” Taylor said. “Drink the milk.”

Without a word, Lucas uncrossed his arms and pushed the glass farther away.

“Fine.” Taylor stood up. He picked the glass up and stepped over to his son.

Lucas seemed surprised by that. He chuckled nervously, looking at his father with disbelief in his eyes. “Are you serious?”

No. He was not. But he figured the threat of being serious might make Lucas cave. “I told you,” Taylor said, suppressing a laugh to keep his voice steady, “either you’ll drink it on your own, or I’ll pour it down your throat. Now open your mouth.”

Lucas watched him for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not bluffing,” Taylor lied. “Open your mouth. Wide, I don’t want to spill it on the ground.”

Lucas tried to grab the glass, but his father held it away from his reach. “Give it!” he all but whined.

“Are you going to drink it on your own?” Taylor asked.

“No, I’m not.”

“Open your mouth, Lucas.”

Keeping his mouth shut, the boy stared at his father. The expression on the soldier’s face seemed serious.

“Do I have to open it by force?” Taylor asked.

Lucas really was not sure anymore if his father would do so or not. In the end, he decided not to risk it. “All right, fine!” he said. “I’ll drink it. Geez…”

Taylor smiled. “Here you go,” he said, handing Lucas the glass. Reluctantly and with a frown on his face, Lucas held the glass up to his lips—but did not drink. He looked up at his father, who was still hovering above him. Somehow, the man seemed even taller than Lucas remembered him being. Sighing in defeat, Lucas finally took a sip. He grimaced when the liquid touched his tongue, but his father grinned and went to sit back down. “See?” the old man said. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s terrible. Stupid milk…” Lucas grumbled. He drank a mouthful, then put the glass down and scowled. The taste was making him feel sick. “Ugh! I’ve only been here a day, and you’re already making me hate this place.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t mean that.”

He meant it. He definitely meant it. But he opted not to say that. Instead he drank another mouthful and prayed for the strength to keep it down.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

Taylor finished his meal, and Lucas begrudgingly drank the remainder of his milk. Taylor insisted he show his son around the small colony as he had suggested earlier. He waited for Lucas to unpack and brush his teeth (Lucas was disappointed to discover that even water tasted funny to him). The boy also needed to take a shower since he had fallen asleep before doing so the previous night. Only about ten minutes in (fifteen minutes at most for sure), Taylor was knocking on the bathroom door, calling Lucas and telling him to hurry. Lucas gritted his teeth, leaning his forehead against the wall in an effort to calm himself down. He had not missed his father’s ‘hurry up in there’ when they had been living separately. He had not missed it at all.

Finally, having left the shower and put on clean clothes, Lucas was ready to go.

They stepped out of the house. Lucas had to squint at the bright sunshine coming from above. And the air… The air outside was even fresher, cleaner than inside.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Taylor said, looking around. “So much green everywhere…”

At least he assumed the air was fresher out there; all he knew for certain was that it stung enough to make him cough, albeit mildly. Lucas cleared his throat to hide the cough from his father. “Yeah, a whole buttload of it,” he muttered in response to what his father had said. He knew his father would not like the word (then again, that might have been a good thing—it would divert Taylor’s attention from that little cough of his), but he was grumpy. Not only because he was sick, but also because he was not looking forward to spending more time with his ‘I’m high and everything is great’ (which had scared him a little as he had not expected it), ‘I’ll pour things down your throat if you don’t hurry up’ (which had made him angry even though he had expected it) father.

Taylor frowned. “A buttload?”

“What?” Lucas shrugged. “I could have used a worse word than that, you know?”

Then he heard a screech. He looked up, only to find two giant bird-like creatures soaring above the jungle, not too far the fence. “Holy…”

“Watch your tongue, young man,” Taylor reminded.

“I wasn’t going to finish that,” Lucas defended himself. He looked back at the birds (which were not actually birds—not that Lucas was aware of that). He knew it. He knew there would be birds in Terra Nova. And birds could fly over the fence… “Those are big.”

Taylor smiled. “Majestic, huh?”

“Could they attack us?” Lucas asked, shifting weight on his feet.

“No, don’t worry. We’re a little too big prey for them. They eat fish from the nearby lakes.”

“I wasn’t worried,” the youth lied—and Taylor knew it. The father gave a chuckle, then asked Lucas to follow him as he set off.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

They walked for about five minutes before they came up to the square behind the main gate. A couple of stalls were nearby; Taylor explained there was a market, but since it was Sunday morning, the vendors were not there yet. The commander showed Lucas the place where he would work (a nice, clean place with just enough space for all his equipment, he supposed) as well as the infirmary (“In case you ever need it—let’s hope not,” Taylor said), which happened to be in the same building.

“Come on, I’ll show you my office now,” Taylor said. Lucas sighed. “You know, I think you might be surprised by how nice it is.”

It turned out to be up in that funny-looking wooden hut. While they were still on the stairs, Lucas heard muffled voices coming from above. Taylor entered, exchanging a greeting with the people inside. Lucas stayed in the doorway, taking note of the people in there: Lieutenant Washington as well as two military men he did not recognize.

“Hey there,” Wash said to him.

“Hi,” Lucas replied, while his eyes scanned the room. It did not take long before he noticed the centerpiece of the office.

“This is my son, Lucas,” Taylor said to the two men Lucas did not know. The two said hello to the boy, but Lucas was too busy to listen—busy staring open-mouthed at a giant dinosaur skull with a glass panel on top of it. Taylor noticed what his son was looking at and smiled. “Pretty nice, huh?”

“What is that?” Lucas asked when he found his voice.

“That’s my desk,” Taylor explained. “I found the skull nearby. I figured it would look neat in here. What do you think?”

“That…” Lucas finally entered the room, taking a couple of steps towards the table. “Okay, I hate to say this, but… this is the coolest desk I have ever seen.”

Taylor chuckled. “Why do you hate to say that?”

“Because it’s yours and not mine.”

“I see.” The man gave a laugh.

Lucas slowly walked over to the chair that stood behind the table. He traced the glass panel’s frame with his finger, gently, carefully, as though he was afraid it might break. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Washington started talking to his father; he did not listen to the conversation, focusing his attention on the piece of furniture. He knew his father was like a king of the colony, but he had not expected his father to own something so extraordinary. He had not seen much of the colony, but he was sure there was no other table like that anywhere. It really amazed him. The only thing it was missing was an actual throne behind it instead of a regular chair, which paled in comparison with the desk.

The young man looked up at the four soldiers. They seemed to be engaged in a conversation about… something important he did not care about in the slightest, surely. Taking advantage of the fact their attention was not directed toward him, he silently pushed the chair back and took a seat. He smiled. Somehow, just sitting behind the desk felt empowering. He touched the glass with his hands, then folded his arms on it.

The chair, while not as cool-looking as the desk, was actually really comfortable. After a moment, Lucas leaned back. He glanced up at his father, but the man was still talking to his soldiers. The kid grinned. Pushing the chair back just a little bit, he lifted his feet off the ground and put them up on the desk. Oh, it was glorious! Comfy chair, awesome table, feet up… He felt as though he could spend the rest of his life in that very spot. He did not understand why his father ever bothered leaving the place. With a content smile on his lips, Lucas closed his eyes. He could easily fall asleep in that chair, he was sure of it. It wouldn’t—

“Hey!” his father’s raised voice interrupted the moment of rest and glory he was having. The young man’s eyes snapped open. “I’m glad you like my desk, but get your feet off it. Now!”

Lucas looked at him with eyes resembling a puppy dog. “But this is so comfy!”

“I don’t care. Put them down.”

Frowning, Lucas did as he was told. “Killjoy,” he muttered under his breath.

“Listen,” Taylor said, “there’s something I need to go take care of now. I won’t be gone long, I promise.”

Lucas gave a slow nod, knowing that Taylor saying so meant that he would, in fact, be gone long.

“You remember the way back to the house, right? Or maybe you can go look around the colony on your own if you want.”

At that moment, Lucas got an idea. Fighting back a smile, he said, “Or maybe I could just wait for you here.” Taylor narrowed his eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t want to get lost, you know, going somewhere…” His father eyed him, but Lucas feigned innocence. “What?”

“Fine,” the commander told him, “you can stay. I’ll be back soon.”

‘You won’t,’ Lucas thought, but he did not mind. If anything, he was glad. The four soldiers turned away from him and went toward the door. Lucas watched them leave—and as soon as they did, he grinned and put his feet back up on the desk.

Three seconds later, Taylor came back.

Lucas put his feet down, but it was too late. His father had seen him. “I—”

“I knew it!” Taylor said, going over to his son. “I knew that was why you wanted to stay. Come on, I’m taking you back to the house.”

“No, come on!”

“Well, I’m not leaving you with my desk. You’re dishonoring it.”

“I promise I won’t put my feet up again.”

Taylor frowned, narrowing his eyes.

“Please!” Lucas gave his father the most adorable puppy eyes he managed to make.

“You promise?”

“I promise! My feet will stay on the ground the whole time,” he claimed. “I just like this place and want to stay here. And I really don’t want to risk getting lost.”

“Fine,” Taylor said. “But keep your feet down. This is a nice desk, and it deserves respect.”

Lucas nodded. “I completely agree. I don’t know what I was thinking when I put them up before.”

“Mm-hm. You’re going to put them up as soon as I leave, aren’t you?”

“No, I’ll wait for a few seconds in case you come back again,” Lucas admitted. Taylor scowled. “Hey, you want to take me back to the house? Fine. I know the way here, I can come back on my own.”

Taylor smacked Lucas’s head; it was only symbolic and did not hurt, but Lucas still let out a small “ow.”

“Keep your feet down, smarty-pants.” After those words, Taylor left. Contrary to Lucas’s expectation, he did not come back a few seconds later to check if the boy listened. He probably realized there was no use.

When a whole minute passed, Lucas leaned back, clasped his hands behind his head and put his feet up on the amazing dino-desk. It felt really comfortable…

((Continue here))

[werecogsinthemachine]

End Times, Fall of Terra- Part One

>Activation Protocol Live, AI  Ultimum Actum online, temporal data storage crystal: Stable >Dimensional Bouy Online, Relative date and time: Unknown Error, SSDTB  (Shiva Standard Space/Time Broadcast) Not found, entangled partner missing >Lifeforms Detected, Class 4, Intelligent Humanoid, Sampling local dialect for translation if needed >Receptive device detected, Beginning preface data stream: Intro 001, video/audio recording

“Greetings. My name is Gaberil Reed. If you’re seeing this…well, hopefully we have won. Enclosed within this buoy is a compete record of the series of events leading to the launching of this device, including files on personnel. Last Light, the on board AI, will help you navigate these files. Know that what we did, we did for redemption.”

>Hello, I am Last Light. You may use your touch screen to navigate file selection. >… >You have selected Incident 34, Ley Line Necrosis >Beginning video/audio record. Please note: while one subject was interviewed for this, data was pulled from other reports and a clinically undead brain for a more complete picture for events. >Beginning playback of Memory Engram A-23, taken from infected individual: Jane Doe

>Sector 0034, Extreme Inner Disk area, 7000 light years from Galactic Core, Planetary system E289 “Daemon’s Playground”

Daemon class planets were the most inhospitable planets in the galaxy. The planets in the Daemon’s Playground were particularly bad. Liquid iron acid rain, unstable tectonic activity, winds like in the atmosphere of Jupiter, and problems with the flow of space/time due to their proximity to the gravity well of the galactic core were common.

Such rifts opened ways between worlds when reality was stretch especially thin, such as the cataclysmic end of the Cancer Mage, when his planet was torn apart by Nether Drives. Chunks of his infected world were ejected into the atmosphere of E289-3, one of the least nasty of the system with a few microbial species in its cave systems.

The chunk of rock that impacted was large enough to send ash into the atmosphere, wrapping the planet in a protective darkness, and coating the planetary fragment in a thick enough covering that what was left of the Cancer Mage was not dissolved. It slicked into the caves, infesting the microbes and twisting them to his needs. Calcium and iron deposits were drawn up from the ground, making a skeleton. Left over organics were pulled from a ship that had some remaining bits of humans left, and wrapped up in a cocoon of nutrients.

Two years passed, leaving E289-3 in the throws of an ice age, which in this case was a balmy temperature, helping the Mage to regenerate his body, while he gathered power from the Lay Line running through the center of the galaxy. The planet began to twist around him, reordering to his monumental will. Even the system’s star started to go gray and filmy, like an eye with a cataract.

As his influence slowly crept across space, infected individuals started coming to the system, taking orbit over the plague world, basking and mutating vile power that radiated from it. A massive fleet congregated after months, waiting for their master to rise from his world and lead them again.

>Beginning video playback of interview with subject Gaberil Reed, Fleet Admiral, Shiva Organization >Interviewer: AI Ultimum Actum, Last Light >Interview takes place aboard flagship Titanicus, enroute to Galactic Core

Last Light watched the Fleet Commander through his cameras and sensors for a moment before speaking. To an entity such as Last Light, who could run trillions of complex calculations in seconds and still have processing power leftover to do hundreds of other tasks, this was the equivalent of a few days.

The giant man was cleaning his armor. A relaxation ritual, or so his psychoanalysis subroutine was telling Light, that humans would fall into when under stress. Light wondered what the AI equivalent was to such a menial task. The Fleet Admiral was on autopilot as he worked on his armor, not having to think about

it much, since he had done this many times before. For an AI like Light, not thinking was impossible. He was, after a fashion, made of thought. There was no task he could really do simple to take up time. He filed the train of thought for later. Soon, he would have forever to contemplate such things.

Light did the AI equivalent of clearing his throat, playing a single chime to get Gabe’s attention, then projected his holographic form. An orange sized, crackling ball of flames sprang to life. Light felt his name sake was enough to choose his former for him, and he enjoyed the simplicity of it. He could convey emotion through shades of flame and intensity, and some humans seemed to find the tiny floating camp fire relaxing.

“Good evening, Fleet Admiral.” The AI said. His voice was a near baritone, tinged with crackles that would come with a camp fire, and sparks were projected to complete the hologram.

“Light.” Gabe said, not turning from his work. He was drumming a finger on a dent in his chest plate, using little pulses of kinetic energy to bend it back into shape. The rune etched metal glowed faintly from heat. “What can I do for you?”

Light’s projection floated forwards, seeming to look of the Fleet Admiral’s shoulder. An illusion, since Light was literally everywhere when he was loaded into Titanicus’s computer systems. “I’m here for our next interview. This one is a record of the Ley Line Incident.”

Gabe nodded as he worked. “The dimensional buoy. How are your other recordings coming?”

“Very well, sir. I have ten more to go.”

“Alright Light, I’ll start then.” Gabe set his armor aside and looked into one of Light’s many cameras, and began to recite his tale.

>Terra, Sol System, January 15th 2568 >Five weeks before Cataclysm

I knew there was trouble when news came down about the four ships exiting the Jump Gate. A Seelie and Unseelie ship, flanking a ship of the Circle. All three were instantly recognizable, the Circle blood red with gold trim and a gold circle on each side of the bow. She was a mage guild ship, and the golden trim and circle emblem were crisscrossed with complex runes and sigils that could be empowered for attack and defense.

The Fae ships were an exercise in opposites. To the right of the Circle cruiser, the Nova Court’s ship was golden, seeming to flow through space on her delicate solar wind sails. Her hull curved gently, a sight so pleasant it was relaxing to look at. While not obviously armed, I knew the ship could bring devastation through beams of pure Light strong enough to cook a Destroyer in a few shots.

On the cruiser’s left was the Unseelie, or Void Court, ship. She was like a predator stalking through the sky, all sharp edges hardly contained strength. She rode on a plume of darkness, an utterly black cloud that left a slowly vanishing trail behind her.

Behind all three was the last ship, wrapped in magic and being tugged along by means he couldn’t see, probably more magic. She was glossy gray and shaped like a dagger, her bow splashed liberally with something that looked like old, caked on blood. Her engine bank was dark, but a look showed she was a predator, and she held a pack within. Landing bays were across her flanks, ten to a side, and the smaller single Mas ships were buzzing around inside the magical shield like angry bees. A ship of the Wild Hunt, a group of Seelie who patrolled both the Solar and Void courts territories.

I wouldn’t have been worried if it had been one of these three ships coming to the heart of Shiva. It could have been a routine check in of an ally. But all four, together, represented most of the magical clout in the galaxy. Four power houses that could be a real problem for one another and Shiva, coming to his front door could only mean trouble. And one was being brought against its will

I found myself wishing for some wood to knock on.

Three of the ship’s requested docking in the massive orbital shipyard above Terra, and quarantine docking for the Wild Hunt cruiser. I sent a diplomatic shuttle up to pick up our guests. Royalty Didn’t like the bare bones military shuttles. Always send the comfort. I debated getting into something more official than my standard jump suit, which had “Reed” on the upper right of my chest, and two shoulder patches. One patch was the Shiva crest, a sword with wings coming from the hilt. The other was the crest of the Guardian Corps, a skull with a stylized blue eyes in the center of the forehead. The only decoration was on the tips of my collars, with the five starts of a Fleet Admiral. I figured that would be plenty.

My office was much the same, a spartan space, built for function, yet aesthetically pleasing. Six columns, three on each side, made the entry hall. Between each column was a work of art from an invaded parallel earth. A hold over from my past friend, Alberton Swift, when this had been his office. The hall led into the office proper. Four leather chairs were around a coffee table, and set into one wall was a bar with actual alcohol, rather then the cheap synthetic stuff. Further back was my desk and chair. The desk was a single slab of touch reactive computing crystal, could project images as well, and hovered over the ground on four repulsor units in each corner. Behind my chair was an alcove for my armor, and access to a private shuttle pad that would take me straight to Titanicus, which hovered above the building my office was in, ready to take to the skies at a moments notice.

A twenty minute wait later, a group of four was before me. I came from around my desk, shaking hands with the lead individual. He was dressed in the Circle’s power armor, crimson red with a circle of gold in the center of his chest. A cloak of white with gold edging hung from his shoulders, held there with a silver clasp. It was embroidered with runes and sigils, as were the edges of his armors plates. The clasp had a shield in the center, emblazoned with a crossed staff and sword.

“Arch-Mage Leon.” I said as I walked over, offering my giant hand to shake, looking down at him. It wasn’t in any way malicious, I’m just tall. Very tall. Through genetic engineering, all Shiva Marines are tall, usually seven to eight feet. I’d taken a bit too well to the engineering, and come out around ten. My hand engulfed his when he shook it.

“Fleet Admiral Reed. It would be a pleasure if things were no so dire.”

“I see that.” Between the two Fae Queens was another one of the Fae, though I had never seen one like this before. He was in armor of the strange metal that the Fae seemed to favor. It was fur lined and etched with scenes of great hunts. He was bound to a metal cross frame, legs together and arms spread. His head was pulled back and a metal bit, engraved with spell work was in his mouth, gagging him.

I bowed to two She Queens. “Queens Titania and Mab. A pleasure to see you both again.”

The two Queens were, like the ship’s they came aboard, completely different. Titania wore a warmly colored dress that seemed woven from the light and matter inside the heart of a nova with a necklace of bright rubies. Mab, on the other side of the prisoner, wore a body glove as dark as the void, fitting perfectly down to her feet. Diamonds, like glittering chips of ice, we’re about her wrists.

Titania came and clasped my hands between hers. “Gaberil, how lovely to see you again, child.”

Mab gave no such preamble, gesturing to the bound figure. “How have you been so blind human?”

I rolled my eyes slightly, walking to the figure. “I don’t even know what I’m looking at.”

Closer inspection showed he had been beaten, badly. His armor was pitted and scared, black shadows crawled across the surface, entering and exiting through rents in his armor. The bound Fae suddenly lunged up, mouth opening around the gag which unrolled and covered his mouth now. The lights in the room dimmed as he spoke words of power, the spellwork glowing red as it absorbed the curse. I leaned back away from him, looking at Mab with raised eyebrows.

“This is the Erlking, Lord of the Wild Hunt.” Mab said. “He took one of his hunting parties to fight a force invading Fae space. He came back like this.”

The Erlking’s attempted spell ended, and the muzzle folded back into it’s metal bit form. Black eyes glared at me. “What was invading you?”

The Arch-Mage handed me a data pad that he produced from a slot on the hip of his armor. A single image shown on the screen. A fleet of ships, all pocked and worn, hung in space. The lead ship was a mass of metal and tumors, radiating a sickly parlor, even though the image. “...the Cancer Mage?”

The Arch-Mage nodded. “He’s back, and worse now. He had learned to reach into the Ley Lines, and is drawing power from them. The King was able to resist, for a time, and gain some insight into the Mage’s plan before the hive mind overtook him.”

“And?” I walked to the bar, getting a bottle and four glasses. I can’t get drunk, more genetic engineering, but it was a strange comfort thing.

“He knows about Weaver King, and how to get to him. The Mage plans to kill it completely. He won’t have to travel for ages, he won’t have to bridge gaps between worlds. In one fel swoop he’s going to end everything, absolutely.”

The glass in my hand cracked. Information about the Weaver King was closely guarded. The universe as we knew it was the subconscience of a god like being. The spread of life was like a virus to it, and the Weaver’s immune system had reacted like any would, attacking the problem. We dealt it a debilitating blow, essentially lobotomizing it. Now it couldn’t fight back.

“How bad it is?” I asked.

“He’s spread over several systems.” Said Titania. “Absorbed several species we’ve not met yet. The void and stars are both sick.” As the Queens, both Titania and Mab had power over their respective domains. They could probably feel the sickness slowly spreading. “He’s turned his eye to Terra now.”

I set the glass down, turning to the Queen’s and Arch-Mage. “How long do we have?”

“You plan to stand and fight?” Mad raised her eyebrows. “This is suicide. We should be fleeing. Open the portals, let us leave this verse for a new one!”

“I can’t.” I crossed my arms. “Not with this plague. It may not even matter if we do run. He can take the knowledge of others and use it through the hive mind, use it to jump after us. But that may not be his plan...”

“You’re keeping secrets, Gabe.” Arch-Mage Leon said.

“Do you remember the visions?” I asked. The three went silent. Months prior, as far as we could tell, every living being received a vision, announcing the return of the Elders, and ancient race that created...well, everything.

“The instruments have dealt the blow, and Helios has seen it. Now you are summoned back, to become witness for the End you have brought.” Titania nodded. “We remember. We can’t forget it. None of the She can. What is it?”

“We followed the signal after the vision. It went to and Elder station that had activated. Life was a weapon. A disease created by the Elders to kill the their creations, the Weavers, who rebelled against them. We hurt the Weaver more than we realized, and now they have woken to finish the job.”

“What’s the End, then?”

“...which theory of the end of the universe do you subscribe to?” No reply. “Now multiply that by infinity, multilaterally speaking.

The silence was deafening.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Yes, we do. It’s being worked on now. I was going to contact you three for help, but since you’re here, I assume I can count on it?”

Mab, of course, was the one who took offense. “You assume of the Lady of the Void?”

“I assume you don’t want the End to consume everything, rather than just one verse.” I shot back. She fell silent. “The Elders have a machine called the Fate Driver. Think of it as a wireless power transfer and conversion system, that keeps the power from the Weavers in check and funnels it into the Elders, and keeps all the systems going. We’re writing a virus to reverse the Fate Driver, and give the Weavers the punch they need to win. But we need everything in its place in this universe”

“But what about when they turn on the life inside them?” asked Leon

“Only happens when life starts to consume too much.” I replied.

“I don’t understand something.” Titania said. “Why do you need everything from this universe?”

“In order to tip the power in the Fate Driver, it needs a jump start.” I took a keep breath. “It will require all the energy from this universe. Everything. Every being, every planet, every star. Every atom. Even if we ran, we would be picked out of whatever dimension we settled in.”

Silence.

“A suicide mission.”

“I like to think of it as a blaze of glory.”

A chime sounded from my desk, along with a flashing red light. “Fleet Admiral?” Came a voice from the desk. “We have a problem.”

[stormhawksplanb]

Storm Hawks Fanfiction: Plan “B”

It was a fine day when I was racing some guy from Terra Neon. The kid thought he could beat me to Terra Rex, going around Terra Atmosia, but on the way the FLX Skimmer started sputtering sparks from it's engine. Forcing me to crash land. Last I remember was being separated from my skimmer and my back flat on the ground. I was about to just let myself black out until I heard a single voice pulling out from the crowd. Once my eyes had adjusted from the darkness of my lids I saw who was standing over me. A young red head. The faint distant buildings let me know I was on Terra Atmosia.

"Hey, can you hear me-" His voice was all together but kept breaking up to the point I couldn't respond.

My eyes slowly closed again and I could hear him saying something else, but I could only hear the demanding panic in his voice. I felt my body slowly rise up. It felt as if someone was picking me up, only to set me back down on a near by bench. Raising my head up I met eyes with the same green eyed kid as before, and a blonde with spiked hair who had a bit more concern showing in his blue eyes then the first.

"Where am I? And what happened to my skimmer?"

The two continued to stare at me, as I looked around for the vehicle. It crashed landed into some poor person's roof. The crowd from before had gotten bigger, and a Wallop, A young dark skinned girl, and some kind of blue rabbit thing rushed toward me. Harassing me with questions. The girl being first to try and aid me up off the bench.

"What happened? You're way to pale to be out here! Aerrow, we need to get her medical attention."

I shook my head a little, and pulled away from her lightly. Managing to stand on my own I look at the group in shock. It wasn't just the icon painted on their outfits that gave it away. I knew all the squadrons by heart. These were in no doubt the storm hawks.

"Wh-I… You're the storm hawks." I felt so enthralled by their appearance.

As soon as those words left my mouth the blonde stepped forward in front of the others and over straightened his posture. Like he was the best thing I'd ever see.

"Yea, it's a pretty big deal. I mean, we're great. I'm Finn, by the way" I chuckled a bit at him and rolled my eyes.

The red head placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head at him, and walked over to me.

"It's good to see you're okay, or at least better. Mind telling us what had happened?"

By then the crowd had slowly dispersed. They seemed more interested in the actual damage instead of what had actually happened.

"Yea, sure. I was racing a guy from Terra neon, we both had a velocity stone, and I was going fast, but not fast enough to cause my engine to spark and cause me to crash. Right?"

He scratched the back of his head, as I explained. I don't think it was enough information for them to understand. I had no choice but to sigh in defeat.

"Well, the least we could do is have our mechanic look at it, and see what he thinks. That okay with you?"

Everyone's eyes followed to my wrecked skimmer sitting on the roof. All of us cringing as the handlebars fell off.

"If you're able to get it down, I have no problem with it."

A small smirk appearing on my face as they all look at each other either giggling or sighing.

A short while later they had actually managed to retrieve my bike. The wallop that hung around with us had scaled the building and jumped down with it, the impact causing the back tire to fall off. Even as we climbed aboard the condor I could tell that the skimmer was in no condition to ever fly again. You can't even get the wings to spanned back in without it falling apart.

       We were standing in the skimmer bay, off the landing strip and bridge, while we waited for their mechanic. I got slightly bored, and they did say to make myself comfortable so I walked on over to everyone's skimmers, catching the blonde's attention, who earlier I found out was Finn. He seemed to hang around the wallop the most out of everyone else, to the point it was safe to assume they were close friends.

"Hey, how's it going? Did you come over to check out my skimmer, it's a pretty sweet ride." I smiled a bit at Finn, and shook my head no.

"Nah, just looking around that's all."

A sudden thrashing sound came from behind me, and as I turned around I saw my skimmer almost completely taken apart, like every single piece of my ride was picked clean and sprawled out.

"DUDE! What the heck- why did you take it apart?!"

I was so furious about someone dismantling my skimmer that I didn't realize the man who was flipping around and inspecting the pieces had been right next to me the whole time.

"Uhm, you do realize you're on my ship?" I jumped a bit and turned toward him, as he shifted into a more sassier pose, with his arms across his chest.

"But if you don't want my help, you could always go somewhere else."

His voice went from a sassy strain, to a more serious threat. Me being the more passive type, I submitted to his tone and uttered a quick apology, to which he gave me a face of disbelief and continued to examine what was once my skimmer. A sigh passes my lips rather loudly.

"Do I even wanna ask about the damage done?" No answer.

The red head then stepped in between us and started a conversation with him.

"C'mon stork, don't start, she fell from the sky after her engine sparked up. Her skimmer crashed into the roof, and she had didn't have anytime to pull out a parachute. It was a rather rough landing for her. Cut her some slack, please? She's probably just a little jumpy."

The silence grew heavy on me, and I introduced another sigh to the quiet and sat next to, stork, but not too close.

"I'm not gonna lie. You took this thing apart rather quickly." His ears stood up slightly more then usual. He didn't turn toward me but he did seem to perk up.

"It's a basic FLX Skimmer." I didn't really know much about skimmers, and I didn't want him to hold back any information, which it felt like he was, so I asked him a question.

"A FLX Skimmer?" My ride was given to me by the guy who wanted to race me. I don't know too much about skimmers so I kind of trusted him…"

He dropped a wrench he had recently picked up and face palmed, then he began to rub his right temple.

"You don't race with a FLX Skimmer. Do you know what the FLX stands for" I was only able to sound out an 'uh' before he continued.

"It stands for Fledgling, Learning, Extra Safety. As in 'I've never driven a skimmer before, and I can barely keep balance'." He picked up the velocity crystal that was hidden under the engine hood and extended it in front of me, handing it over.

"They aren’t designed for racing, especially with a velocity crystal."

I frowned, feeling my rage rise up again. I stood up quickly, letting a frustrated groan out, startling the green Merb beside me.

"I can't believe it! That punk and I made a bet! 250 silver coins, and a crystal of our choice! I Bet in my only Nova Crystal!"

The girl with the dark skin quickly walked up to me at the mention of the Nova crystal.

"You have a Nova Crystal?" The green Merb known as stork popped into our conversation.

"Had."

"Fine. Had, a nova crystal. There's only 3 in existence. Why would you risk losing a Nova crystal?"

She had a point. The Nova crystal did nothing but make clouds of sparkly dark blues, and purples, but combined with other crystals it can go from useless to a force to be reckoned with. Hopefully not everyone knew this by now.

"I didn't think I would loose! The guy who raced me seemed like the clumsiest person in all of Atmos." Stork placed a hand on my shoulder, his touch a bit more firmer then what I had expected.

"You mean, that title isn't yours yet?" The sinister smirk under his innocent tone caused me to smirk back, more or less challenging him.

The red head of the group came over with the other two, the Merb automatically backing away, and placed his hand out to shake mine.

"If you want we can get your stuff back for you. What's your name anyway?"

I shook his hand and stood there with my hands on my hips.

"I go by the name Nova. Isn't it fitting? And I've only caught a handful of your team's names as well."

"I'm Aerrow, leader of the storm hawks, and this is Piper, Finn; Who you've already met, Junko, stork, and my co-pilot Radar."

I chuckled at the little grayish blue creature as it waved to me once it sat itself on Aerrow's shoulder. Then panic set in completely.

"Oh no! I told Gear to stay behind with those thugs-" Aerrow placed his hand on my shoulder, me having to look up at him since I'm relatively short. 

"Don't worry Nova. We got this-" Almost as soon as it left his mouth Finn had easily appeared.

"After all, we are the storm hawks, Chika-cha~" His fingers were pointing out like a couple guns.

With that we were all off of Terra Atmosia, and heading course towards Terra Neon. A fun little Terra with a bunch of family friendly games, and super cool and fast rides! And one idiot who was about to get smacked upside the head.

[stormhawksplanb]

Storm Hawks FanFic: Plan “B”

Chapter 2

Terra Neon was just as colorful as usual. Lights in every direction, carnival games making the usual dinging and bleeping sounds. Finding this place isn't a problem for anyone, especially in the night time. I was staring out the window in the cockpit right before we landed. Aerrow had come up to me to see if I was okay.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you Nova."

Silence loomed for a few seconds. It was never my intention to leave her behind. The fact that I ever trusted a group of thugs to watch over her while I raced made my stomach turn. I turned to Aerrow anyway.

"It would be so much fun to just relax for once. Maybe hang around on the rides and stuff, but right now my mind is more focused on finding gear. She was with me ever since..."

I chocked up a bit as he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. Ever since the others had agreed to help me on my search and rescue mission I've been nothing but emotional. I've been through a lot, and having my closest friend abandoned, and by me, is the worst thing one could experience. Even looking back at it now there was so many red flags.

While I was deep in thought we had landed on the Terra, and Aerrow had us split up into groups. He, Radar, and Piper went towards the concert hall, Finn and Junko to the rides and games, and I was going to head off on my own. That is, until stork walked off the ship with some sort of device in his hand.

"What are you doing? I thought you said you weren't gonna come off the ship to help look?" A smirk plastered to my face. I had recently discovered he's just as neurotic and paranoid as what people say. Though it's not annoying. It's almost helpful in most situation, and in some bizarre possibility someone gets bitten by some deadly scarlet spider, and sometimes it's just humorous.

"Well. I didn't have a choice..."

He shrugged after speaking. As if he needed to make more of a point. I could hear Aerrow walking up behind us.

"Alright everyone. We are going to have to spread ourselves thin across the Terra. Finn, Junko; Go search around the food vendors and rides. They might think they're in the clear. Nova and stork, check the main attractions and the buildings. Me, Piper, and Radar are going to be watching from above in case they try leaving."

At that point I understood what stork meant by "Had no choice". No matter, any and all help is appreciated. I just want to find her.

As everyone went there separate ways I started to feel a bit guilty. I had never managed to properly apologize to stork for yelling at him. I mean. I said sorry, but.

"So~ Stork About earlier. When you took apart my- I mean their training skimmer-"

He raised his hand up at me, which I only now noticed he only has four fingers.

"Save your breath. I don't need an apology, again."

"I know but... I feel bad. All you were trying to do was help me."

I watched his eyes roll, and a heavy sigh left his lips. I was forced to watch his back as he walked out in front of me. Not sure if I had felt more guilty, or offended. I appreciate everything the storm hawks do, I am a bit of a fan, but I still feel like I deserve some respect...

I had asked just about everyone on the Terra as to where on Atmos these punks were. Stork didn't even have any luck. He even climbed a few poles every now and then. I never knew Merbs were so athletic. It seemed the more we searched, the more useless it was to look for gear. So I finally decided to sit down on the ground, next to a Skimmer-go-round. Quickly joined by my search partner. I wanted to keep going yet we were running out of places to go, and people to question. I soon felt cold, and hurt. Even looking up at all the people smiling I just couldn't bring myself to do the same.

My hands rested in my lap as my throat threatened to swell up. I just needed that one final push, and I would find her. I know I will. I stood up quickly, which caused Stork to wince, and walked off on him. My mind set.

"wait!"

Nothing was going to stop me.

"Would you just-"

The sky above me could turn to concrete and fall! But I will not rest until-

SLAM!

I had just ran into a metal box. Which by the way did really hurt.

"O-owie..."

It didn't take Stork long to catch up and offer me a hand back up, staring at the small bump forming on my forehead.

"That's gonna take a lot of ice..."

"Thanks captain. I would have never kno-"

I was unable to finish my sentence once he had dragged me out of sight behind the metal plating of the box. We were on the ground. His back against the steel with me facing away fro behind us, in between his legs, and under his chin. One of my legs however had swung over his knee. A hand over my mouth. I felt the tension stir. A low hiss of some sort, almost a growl, broke out from his throat. Confusion set in but I knew better then to question the situation, and as I decided to play along I could hear some men talking. All familiar Voices.

"I can't believe that fool took the challenge. She was even dumb enough to bet the crystal."

Gyro.

"Ye-hea! I didn't think it would work on such a 'witty' young lady."

Flash backs of our conversation before all this had struck me. They were giving me a ride to Terra Atmos where I was gonna register as a full fledged sky knight. I was sadly denied since my Terra was no longer on maps since it was blown to almost nothing by the Master Cyclonis the original Storm Hawks failed to defeat. I was kind to them, an open book even. They said I was witty, strong, and able to handle any situation. To prove themselves right they wanted to race me. Even said the trash skimmer they gave to me was the fastest. Like a true fool, that one person who never learns; I trusted them. The sound of their voices made me sick. If we weren't out numbered. Stork's grasp on my arm tightened as a females voice stepped into conversation.

"Well done boys, I am impressed. I'm almost considering hiring you on as my own comrades."

Her voice was sultry, but in a stuck up kind of way. No doubt in my mind she was running the whole ordeal.

"But I can't allow you to accompany me until you've completed one more task."

My body shivered, and my blood ran cold. Something was off about all of this. The sudden shifting behind me made me jump a bit and a small squeak came out. just loud enough to break the pause in silence.

"What was that? I thought you told me no one had followed you here!"

The lady's voice strained with annoyance as the group started tossing more acceptable explanations.

"That didn't sound much like a person, right fellas? Maybe a mouse?"

Crashing noises followed by a feminine growl. She must have knocked something over. This is when stork had slowly gotten up behind me, and ushered me to follow. As soon as we stood up a women with spiky dark pink hair had came around the corner. She walked right past us as we stood frozen. Unsure of how that had happened.

At this point my mind quickly shifted onto finding Gear. I walked around the box we were hidden behind to spot a cage sitting on a table across the way.

"Gear!"

Stork had come to my side and huffed, speaking in a low, but annoyed, whisper.

"That's what we came for? A rodent?"

I ran to her and small squeaks greeted me. She was a fairly large albino ferret. She hardy fit in the cage she was in. Red eyes staring widely at me, her little pilot hat a bit dirty from who knows what. She still had her brown vest and parachute on though.

"she's not a rodent! She's my companion, and my only team mate! I've known her for so long."

"Yea yea, that's nice, but can we please get out of here-"

"You aren't going anywhere..."

I heard Gears growls as we all faced a young man. Black hair swept to the side in an array of spikes. A goatee dangling from his chin. I started looking around for anything that would help us. A smile playing on my lips as I raised my hands up in surrender.

"Alright. You caught us Gyro. But please whatever you do, don't call for help or anything."

He scoffed at my sassy remark and yanked out a gun like device that had a rope and weights fitted to it. One shot was all it took to tie us up and leave us venerable. Stork finally giving in as well.

"And this is one of the reasons why I never leave the condor."