#fighting the urge to say what i always say when we get a new/refined weapon

[weisscreamcake]

before and after. it’s a good day for veronica fans.

[i-do-trash-fanfictions]

Thera’s Journal Entry #50

(Wasn’t planning on posting any journal entries, but I had the urge to after playing this weeks new mission)

I had been taking part in a lot of battlegrounds lately. I had been in my ship earlier today, after just finishing an assignment given to me by Lord Saladin. Crow was going to slip in to investigate the plans for the Vex prediction engines. He had said that with me on the front lines, it would be easier for Crow to slip in unnoticed. 

After getting the message on my jumpship that Crow wished to see me, I headed to the H.E.L.M immediately. When I transmatted there and went down the stairs, Crow quickly waved me over. I removed my helmet and tucked it under my arm as I reached him.

“Listen, I’ve been combing through the prediction you pulled from Nessus. I’ve got bad news.” He told me solemnly.

My shoulders slumped and I began to worry.

“I think the Cabal are going to try to take Zavala out.”

My heart leaped into my throat.

“He’s missing from every single one of the futures they’ve predicted. Not missing, “where’d he go”, missing. Dead, missing. Osiris says they’re only possibilites, but I think it’s the real deal. Zavala has refused to work with Caiatl. It’s in her best interest to remove him.” He wiped his arm through the air. “Sends a strong message. Glint can’t pinpoint a time and place yet. We need more information. Word is the Vex have always had trouble predicting you. Maybe that’s our edge. What do you say? Wanna help prevent another prophecy?”

“You already know I’m in. I know how it feels to loose a Vanguard. I refuse to let that happen to the Titans.”

Not only that, but Zavala was a leader figure to everyone. Every Guardian, no matter the class, and every civilian. If he were to die it would cause chaos all throughout the city. I’m not sure who we’d find to take his place, but I can tell you now, they won’t be the same as Commander Zavala. Him and I didn’t always see eye to eye on things, since I liked to be more risky in my ways when I could, and usually broke the Vanguard rules, but he was still a good Commander, and I couldn’t imagine anyone in his place. I also thought of Ikora, who still was hurt by the death of Cayde. I refused to let her lose another close friend.

I left promptly after Crow explained what I was to do, which was destroy the Vex that were on Europa, hoping for some kind of fragments. On the way there, I tried to sort out my worries. I tried to push away my ‘what ifs’ about the situation, and there were a lot of them.

What if the prophecy turned out to be true? What if Zavala were killed? Who would be the new Titan Vanguard? How would Ikora feel? How would everyone else feel?

I knew how everyone else would feel. The same way they felt when Cayde died. Mourning for weeks, and the Titans would continue to mourn longer than others. That’s what us hunters did. Some of us hunters still can’t bear to here Cayde’s name, because when we do we nearly break down into tears. And Ikora, Ikora would be broken. Her two best friends, taken from her.

I continued on with my missions, going through lost sectors and fighting off Cabal and Vex, Crow guiding me throughout the way.

Finally, after hours of fighting, I returned to my ship.

“Crow will want to see you again to discuss.” Scout said.

“I know, I know.” I said, pulling off my helmet. My armor was dirty and covered with Cabal blood. I sat in the cockpit and set the coordinates for the Tower. Soon I was transmatted into the H.E.L.M once more.

“Thanks to your fieldwork,” Crow began when I arrived. “I have an idea of what the Psions are planning. It’s not good.” He said with a shake of his head. “This gadget you found, it’s a tiny Light-disruptor. Small, but strong enough to knock down a Ghost.”

I took a deep breath in. No, I whispered to myself in my mind. No, no, no.

“Saladin says that when the Cabal seized the City, they severed our connection to the light. Looks like the Psions have refined that tech. It’s... elegant, actually.”

I felt my blood boil slightly. “Elegant!” I exclaimed. “Crow, this is a device that can take out a Ghost. That Ghost could be Scout, or Glint! Elegant is certainly not the word to use.”

“And it’s deadly too.” He added. “They wouldn’t need to fly a whole fleet into the city to use it, just one single gunman.”

“You think I don’t understand that?!” I took another breath to calm myself. “Crow.” I said in an even voice. “I’ve seen Ghosts die before. Or at least, felt them die. Blaze, Blythe, Sundance. I know anything that can take out a Ghost is deadly, even if it is unlikely that the gunman will catch a Guardian or their Ghost unawares. But it has happened before, to the best Guardians I’ve ever known. I didn’t mean to shout, but do not call a weapon that can take out Ghosts, elegant.”

“I’m sorry.” He said silently. “I will tell Osiris. And I’ll keep an eye on the Commander. You know... just to be safe.”

I nodded. “Make sure he doesn’t see who you are. Keep your mask on at all times. And stay safe.”

I looked around then reached over and lifted his mask to press a quick and gentle kiss to his lips. “I have other work to do. Meet me in my room after work is done. Ann is adamant on the three of us playing this board-game called Monopoly. I’ll explain it later.”

And I turned and walked off.

[thesilkenlair]

(Casey Here!)

As much D&D as I play, you'd imagine I would eventually get around to illustrating some of their most iconic monsters! Which is to say, the ones that I personally find the most iconic. Which is to say, the ones I memorized when I was reading my dad's monster manual at age nine. Purple worm - Sandworms never go out of style. I've seen a lot of rad designs for this bugger over the editions, but I favor the slightly less reptilian older takes for this particular critter. It's kinda basic, but sometimes that's what you want. It's like a shark or a crocodile: Just flat out unchanged across the ages. Hook horror - I've heard it rumored that Gygax used a small Gigan figure to represent this monster. I can't verify that, but it definitely sounds right. Hook horrors are one of the very first things you meet when you play around in the caves, and they kind of remind me of the Father Deep monsters of the Hork Bajir homeworld that way. Mind flayer - Mind flayers! Basically, take all of your Dracula conventions and dip them in a fresh coat of Lovecraft. There's that old "decadent aristocratic upper caste system who literally eats the poor, but still somehow comes across as less evil than the actual real life 1%" setup that will never stop being relevant. Though personally, I see mind flayers as the first alternative for folks who want to play that monster-who-feels-the-urge-to-eat-their-friends-but-refuses-to-do-it shtick but don't want to deal with vampire baggage. You know, the furry option! ... Slimy? Rubbery? Do we have a word for anthro-cephalopods? I'm only a casual furry. Gelatinous cube - I'm not apologizing for giving this one a slot. Froghemoth - So, back when I participated in my very first long-term campaign, I played a druid. You've met Talia before. Naturally, I was chomping at the bit for the day I finally got to turn her into a froghemoth, and celebrated the day my wish was finally granted and she was allowed to chug human-supremacist-cultists like popcorn. Yeah, okay, the froghemoth is one of the classic vore-monsters. But it's a charming design in its own right. Kind of a freaky Hanna Barbara critter, like you'd see Space Ghost fighting. No matter how many artists draw it, they can never shake that inherent goofiness that third edition tried so hard to purge. I would probably cram them somewhere onto Fronterra if I was sure they were public domain. As is, I'm 99% certain that this is what Visser Three turned into when he ate Elfangor. Tarrasque - D&D's original kaiju! Kind of just takes the name and nothing else when it comes to its mythological origins, but I don't mind. The Tarrasque is that endgame "let's test the players" final boss monster... Or at least it's supposed to be. My DM reskinned it for our final Pathfinder session, and one of the PCs still nearly killed it in a single turn. Also, he let Talia turn into one, so maybe Pathfinder is just bullshit? Regardless, the Tarrasque has one of those simple, iconic designs. I've heard rumors it was based on the concept art for Fallout's deathclaws, and like the Gigan-figure, I can't verify this in any way. With its reptilian features, twin horns, spiny carapace and grabby fingies, it has an undeniable lizardlike quality that I can't help but find charming. Kinda feels like a more refined version of Zilla? Though for an insatiable eating machine, I notice a lot of artists give it very little belly to work with. Come on, this guy eats entire cities! Give him somewhere to put it! Rust monster - An icon of icons, the rust monster! Drawing its origin from a bizarre Chinese "dinosaur" toy, later designs have made it more insectoid in appearance, but never feeling QUITE like anything Earthly. It's the four limbs. Between the four limbs and the tail, it's hard to tell if it's an arthropod mimicking a vertebrate or the other way around. I'm pretty sure this is part of what inspired my ossaderm creatures for Fronterra. Also, Ryla can turn into one in our campaign. I have no shortage of havoc to wreak when the opportunity comes. Behir - Dragons in D&D are kind of... extra. Godlike beings, paragons of whatever personality trait they represent. Whenever there's something uber powerful in D&D, it gets compared to dragons. It makes them kind of unapproachable. Behirs provide all the essentials of a dragon - Serpentine body, scaly skin, horns, sapience, breath weapon, taste for human flesh - wrapped up in a smaller, weirder, IMO cooler package. You know, your Lambton Worms. A lot easier to port in and out of adventures, a lot less of an event when they show up, but still a formidable force in their own right. I like the behir. The behir knows how to taunt me just the right amount. Bulette - Another Chinese "dinosaur" figure monster, the bulette is actually another one I associate with Talia. Whenever we faced a problem that didn't have a glaringly and immediately obvious solution, she would turn into a bulette, whether it was for beating up robots, digging through obstacles, trampling smurfs, navigating labyrinths, distracting slashers with cute dog tricks... it was kind of her signature form. But shenanigans aside, the bulette is just an excellent monster. While the "land shark" shtick may be common, there's a lot more going on with the bulette's design. It's rumored to be a mad wizard's creation, as he combined a snapping turtle with an armadillo and mixed in a helping of demon blood to taste. Personally, I always considered that to be a neat little rumor to flesh out the world, but never assumed it to be true. The bulette just feels too naturalistic for that. Like some kind of protomammal or crocodylomorph, or weird triassic monstrosity. Magic and demons and dragons and so on DO affect the ecosystem. I always figured the bulette was just something that evolved to compete in this new biosphere. Owlbear - This one, on the other hand, I fully believe the "mad wizard was bored" explanation. Another chinasaur critter, the owlbear is frequently made fun of. What makes it scarier than a regular bear? It can't fly, so why have owl parts at all? Why trade fangs for a beak in what is at best a latural move? Well, first of all, fuck you, owls are creepy motherfuckers, and that alone is enough to justify it. But secondly, that's part of its charm. Besides some improved vision, the owl DOESN'T make it more dangerous. What makes the owlbear dangerous is that it's an insane, Frankensteinian monstrosity roaming uncontrolled through the wilderness! It doesn't need weaponry, its sheer temperament is enough to make it a worthy opponent. Sure, the practical threat might not be hugely above that of a bear, but storytelling isn't about numbers. Any asshole can go outside and get eaten by a bear. The owlbear is part of this world. The owlbear is a reminder of what magic can do. Someone somewhere actually made this thing, for whatever reason, and now the world is irrevocably changed because of it. Owlbears go beyond practicality. They bring the lore! Also, bears don't have very good eyesight, so the big owl eyes probably make them better hunters. Flumph - Is that a Japanese-style martian? Do we just have aliens in D&D? Dear lord, I love them! Okay, the flumph has got a sizable hatedom. And that hatedom can eat my ass, because the flumph is precious and perfect just the way it is! Flumphs are designed as a sort of sidekick-type creature. They're not very good fighters, but they bring knowledge and lore to the table. Whether they're aliens from some far off star, seeking your aid to prevent catastrophe, or psionic natives of the Underdark eager to bask in your positivity and hopefully stick it to the tyrants they're forced to share real estate with. My group generally treats them as straight up aliens, benevolent but strange. Course, we're all pretty strange, so we get along just fine. Otyugh - Okay so, the aberration creature type implies that this is something from another world that doesn't belong. And yet otyughs, which are aberrations, are an essential part of this world's ecosystem? Okay, I can buy the idea that an alien organism adapted to our world and is now a key part of it. Fronterra's got a TON of that. It just feels like after a point, the otyugh would be considered a beast? Otyughs are great. Every ecosystem needs a decomposer, and every fantasy story needs at least one dive into the sewers. Otyughs provide both, and are intelligent enough to keep the plot moving if it hits a snag. There's always going to be garbage, refuse, carrion, decay, things that need to be broken down and processed. Carrion crawler - The carrion crawler is pretty similar to the otyugh in that it's technically not considered a beast, and therefor must have its origins elsewhere, but feels so integrated into the ecosystem that it just feels like it belongs. They usually can't talk, so they're not just reskinned otyughs, but I still consider them pretty essential. Otyughs find a singular spot where waste is dumped and shovel it down at their leisure, while carrion crawlers skulk through the tunnels, actively seeking their food. The crawler got one of the most radical redesigns on the transition from second to third edition, but I can't really choose a single favorite. The oldschool tentacle-faced cutworm looks like it could be a real animal, while the googly-eyed Halloween decoration feels like it could be from another world, merely having set up shop here. Could there name apply to two wholly different creatures? If so, then I'm not sure which one mine would be considered. I kinda mashed them together into something that doesn't quite feel like either. But I like it for what it is. Maybe I'll sneak it onto Fronterra. Aboleth - Tentacled, telepathic sea creatures who turn humans into slimy minions, who remember everything their race has ever seen, and who are always plotting something behind the scenes. Yeah, the aboleths really crank up the Lovecraft elements. Actually, between the mind flayers, the flumphs and the aboleths, even the most oldschool D&D covered quite a few essential Lovecraftian bases. The flayers are your corrupt yet still recognizable humanoids who can be considered truly evil, the flumphs are benevolent-yet-bizarre guardians who know more than you, and the aboleths are the truly unknowable, sinister intellects. The fact that they can barely function on land honestly only adds to that, IMO. They're inherently difficult for a party to reach, and they offer some nice underwater adventure seeds. Not enough adventures go underwater. There's this perception that the ocean is bad for storytelling because so many writers lack the creativity to make it work. I wanna run an underwater adventure now. Beholder - Icon of icons! THE D&D monster! The beholder! Paranoid, jumpy, always five steps ahead and twenty steps perpendicular! Beholds are fun in just about every way. Between their wacky, diverse designs, their elaborate lairs, their eccentric personalities, their bizarre powers, you're never gonna run out of fun with beholders. Remorhaz - It's always been a thing that bothered me with environment-based monsters. Why does the ice monster who lives in the cold use ice as a weapon? Aren't most of the things it encounters going to be resistant to the cold? Sure, a cone of cold will still kill a polar bear, but a lot of the monsters in the tundra are outright immune to cold. A while dragon's not going to get much use out of its breath weapon fighting frost worms and frost giants. That's one reason the remorhaz sticks out to be. We have an icy tundra beast whose insides are a scorching furnace, which it can intensify and weaponize as it sees fit. Which also conveniently explains why its design - a sort of cobra-esque centipede - invokes warm-weather creatures, despite its icy environment. It's a nice subversion of the usual tropes, plus it's just a memorable, cool looking critter to begin with. On a smaller note, the remorhaz feels like a good loophole for Ryla's "no cold weather morphs" rule. Turning into something elementally affiliated with ice is no good, but a non-magical monster that survives the cold by superheating its insides? That seems perfectly viable to me!

[rosalind-of-arden]

Ash and Quill Reread chapter 10

Here we go again. Let’s see what Morgan, Wolfe, and Santi are doing in this chapter.

Morgan’s door isn’t locked. Is she waiting for Jess? Or are locked doors a trigger for her?

Jess just left Wolfe and Santi’s room with them all over each other. He encounters Morgan in a bed, and what is he thinking? “He wanted to be in that bed with her, the way that Wolfe and Santi were no doubt already in theirs.” I think Morgan would approve of their relationship role models inspiring Jess to think of comfort sex.

Sharing Morgan’s Obscurist vision is painful for Jess, like a bad headache.

Obscurist vision: shimmering, shifting lines and colors. Jess can see sap moving in plants. Shows life energy in everything.

The Iron Tower lies about how quintessence works. Are any of us surprised by this?

Morgan had at least some direct interaction with Keria in the tower. Keria told her she has a gift for seeing quintessence.

Morgan can not only drain energy from living things, but also summon victims for draining.

Morgan asks the animals she’s about to kill to forgive her. She feels bad about killing them, and makes sure it isn’t painful. There’s her compassionate side.

But then we also have her ruthless cunning. She feels bad about it, but not so bad that she doesn’t recognize this as a useful ability and make an effort to practice and get better at it.

Morgan says she absorbs the energy from living things to make herself stronger. How accurate is that? After doing it, she feels cold, her eyes are lifeless, and she almost collapses. Is there just an initial shock to her system when she takes in new energy? Or does she not fully understand what she’s doing? I get the feeling that Morgan developing this power is a bit like Jess and Dario developing their plotting skills: doing the best she can based on limited understanding.

High Garda weapons have “power capsules”.

I love how Wolfe neither asks nor demands to be included in the press building. He just suggests the possibility.

Here, with only Jess (who has seen him in some bad moments) and Thomas (who has been in the same prison) to hear him, Wolfe can admit to his fragile mental state.

Also, Wolfe, actually understating his own abilities and achievements: “My version was crude.” “I’m not unskilled.” That’s some insecurity he’s letting show. He hasn’t been able to do this kind of work since before Rome. He’s probably concerned about how much he’s still capable of, so he’s not letting the boys set too high of expectations.

And then here’s the deflecting sarcasm after the display of vulnerability: “Don’t butter me, Schreiber; I’m not a piece of bread.” Wolfe does not want to be reassured that he is valuable after expressing insecurity, he wants to get right to work and pretend there is nothing emotional about this.

At the same time, what else is Wolfe accomplishing with all this self-deprecation? Building Thomas up. Telling him repeatedly what a genius he is. For all his attempts to pretend he doesn’t need it, Wolfe understands the value of having one’s talents recognized.

Thomas also gets Wolfe’s need to be busy with work. Wolfe says he wants to get to work? Thomas busts out the plans.

Thomas and Wolfe are both so happy to be working together. If it didn’t end horribly, this could have been such a healing experience for both of them, a chance to do the work they’d been violently stopped from doing and to be appreciated for it.

I am never going to get tired of Jess and Thomas discussing the names and genders (or lack thereof) of mechanical lions.

“I never expected to have to make anything but things of peace.” Awww, Thomas. Thomas needs hugs.

Thomas’s comments here make me thing he and Wolfe might have been doing some scheming as well as building. He’s building another Ray of Apollo and plotting to take on the Archivist. Jess is completely cut out of whatever Wolfe is planning this time, but it sure sounds like Thomas is included, maybe even an equal partner - he wanted the weapon power supplies before Wolfe showed up. Is this an indication of Wolfe’s level of trust in Jess, or just of the skills needed?

So many lessons Jess misses in this whole round of failed jewel theft plotting. Khalila is more perceptive and ruthless than he thinks she is. Wolfe can anticipate his moves and out-think him. Wolfe can find a better solution to a problem than Jess can.

“Mothers love their sons, however flawed that love might be.” Wolfe is projecting his own family problems onto Jess’s family here. There is some overlap, certainly, but we don’t know Mrs. Brightwell quite well enough to know whether this is accurate.

I do wish we knew how Wolfe got those gems, though. Another fun conversation Jess missed out on.

Morgan refines her energy draining powers, but she’s sad to see Thomas create the Ray of Apollo. She doesn’t want him to become like her: a kind person with destructive power that must be used for the greater good.

Santi: Ooooooh, shiny laser gun. Want.

It’s not just weapons geekiness that has Santi so insistent on more testing, though. He needs to know the full capabilities of this thing so he can properly incorporate it in battle plans.

Wolfe almost always calls Santi “Nic.” Here it’s “Niccolo.” I think this is the equivalent of a parent using a child’s full name when the kid is in trouble.

Wolfe vs. Santi, round 10, on shooting the Ray of Apollo again. Santi doesn’t even let Wolfe finish his sentence here, which is rather unusual. Have they had this fight already? This one is a definitive win for Santi, bringing the score to 6-3. That’s still Wolfe winning twice as often as Santi.

Here’s a bit of foreshadowing of Wolfe’s later discomfort with the Ray of Apollo, though.

Again, hints of schemes Jess wasn’t in on. Santi wants Thomas to make more Rays.

Morgan has clearly decided to be more direct about asking Jess for sex. It does not get much more direct than waiting in his bed in a sexy nightgown.

Morgan: You are upset and I know you’ve been plotting. Jess: Is that why you’re here? Morgan: No you oblivious moron!

Morgan immediately agrees with Jess that Santi wouldn’t go along with the plan. She knows how overprotective boyfriends are.

I am still of the opinion that Jess is right to anticipate that Santi would find out about the plan if Wolfe knew (but not because Wolfe can’t keep a secret, just because Wolfe would have no reason not to tell him), but his conclusion that Santi would not go along with the plan is flawed. He’s thinking about how much control he wishes he had over Morgan’s risky choices, and projecting that onto Santi and Wolfe. But Santi, despite his controlling urges, doesn’t actually exercise that level of control over Wolfe. See the Wolfe vs. Santi score above. Ironically, Jess gets Wolfe and Santi so wrong right when he makes his own decision to conspire with Morgan to send her into the same dangerous prison where she had traumatic experiences.

Chess ephemera. More “sacrifice” language. Caine is really setting us up to think someone (probably Wolfe) is going to die at the end of this book.

[ladylynse]

Anyone who knows me from FF.net remember, years ago, when I said I was debating writing a sequel to my Danny Phantom fic Confessions and possibly tying it into Complications so I could pretend those all happened in the same universe? The fact that I never decided whether I should officially tie it in is one of the reasons this sequel stalled, but here’s the start of it.

All Maddie did was look at the ghost files on the computer; she didn’t expect to learn so much--or be reminded of just how little she knew.

It wasn’t very often that Maddie was home alone. Usually, Jack was with her or Jazz was up in her room, studying or doing homework. But both her husband and daughter were out with her son, doing something she never would have dreamed they would be doing even a month earlier: they were out patrolling. Ghost hunting.

Target practice, Danny had called it. Jazz had improved since she’d started helping him, he’d said, but Jack still needed to work on his aim. “I shouldn’t be safer floating in one spot than flying around,” Danny had pointed out. “And let’s face it. I’m better off staying right where I am when Dad’s shooting at me.”

But it wasn’t just target practice. It wasn’t just patrolling. It wasn’t just hunting together, giving Danny and Jazz a chance to bond with their father. They’d needed to make a statement: that the Fentons had decided to support Danny Phantom. Working with him was their way of getting the public to accept it.

They hadn’t waited until a major ghost attack to start working with Danny. Jack had been too eager to hunt ghosts with his son, and Maddie hated the thought of aiming an ectogun at Danny, even if it was for practice. So, whenever they turned up at the scene of a ghost attack before Danny had taken care of the threat, they focused on fighting the hostile ghost. They left Phantom alone.

There was still a bit of a show each time. Danny always reminded them, loudly, that he was the good guy. But it was more for the benefit of bystanders than a reminder to them to resist the urge to shoot at a ghost. Because Phantom, at least in her eyes, was no longer just a ghost.

He was her son.

He always would be, and she’d never stop loving him.

They’d managed to get most of their weapons to ignore Danny’s ecto-signature. The Ghost Gabber was a strange exception, for instance, and Danny refused to test a ‘supposedly modified Fenton Peeler’, as he put it. Maddie couldn’t blame him, really. But she made sure she kept a non-modified Fenton Finder on hand and, at Danny’s request, a Fenton Thermos. Three, in fact, all to be stored in different places.

He’d never explained that request, though it wasn’t for lack of her asking.

She’d even opened her mouth to ask Jazz once and received only a significant look and a deliberate shake of the head in return. The intent had been clear: don’t ask. Don’t push it. If she knew, she wasn’t going to say. It was up to Danny and Danny alone. They weren’t to force him to say anything to them.

It was as much Jazz’s reaction as Danny’s actions that made Maddie suspect that the Fenton Thermoses were indeed being kept for a deliberate reason rather than merely for simple caution. That just made her worry more, of course. There was so much that Danny had told them, but so much more he hadn’t….

She found it hard. She wanted to protect Danny, but she couldn’t do that when she didn’t know what sort of danger he was in half the time. And as much as he had proven that he could protect himself, that he could protect her more than she could protect him, she couldn’t stop worrying.

Maddie smiled wryly. That must be how Jazz felt. How she and Jack hadn’t picked up on the increase in Jazz’s protectiveness of her little brother was beyond her. In retrospect, she knew that the signs had been there; she could recognize them now.

Of course, she could also now recognize the reason for Jazz’s fierce defense of Phantom.

It was quiet in the lab; she was so used to the soft hum of machinery in the background that she hardly heard it. Maddie took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. It had gone cold. A shame, since it was rare that she allowed herself the luxury of food or drink the lab, even though Jack had no such misgivings and it was he who usually encouraged her to fill her favourite mug.

“Perhaps I’m too sentimental for a scientist,” Maddie murmured, knowing her occasional inability to separate her emotions from her work was one of the reasons it had taken her so long to believe the truth about her son. She placed the ‘World’s Best Mom’ mug on the countertop. It was one Danny and Jazz had proudly presented her with on Mother’s Day the year Danny had been five. They’d pooled their allowances and picked it out, filling it with little trinkets they’d made. According to Jack, they’d also bought a few candies to put in it, but those had been gone before they’d made it back home.

To this day, she wasn’t entirely convinced that her children were the reason for the disappearance of the sweets.

Maddie smiled. She might not have Jack’s confession, but she knew his sweet tooth wasn’t restricted to fudge. A double batch of cookies didn’t always make two days in her house, particularly if they were one of her kids’ favourite kinds. Especially now; she hadn’t had much time to bake of late, and her cookies had become a rare commodity.

No, that wasn’t quite true. She’d had time; she simply hadn’t spent it baking. Instead, she’d worked with Jack to ensure all of their inventions were safe for Danny. She’d watched the news channels and listened to the radio to monitor ghost attack reports more fervently than before. She’d turned her attention to ways to help Danny combat problems he might encounter in the future, brainstorming everything from smaller, more inconspicuous ghost containment devices to chemical formulas that could counteract potential pregnancy complications arising from Danny’s unique DNA—something that would be infinitely easier if Danny would simply let her take a few samples. Until he did that, she couldn’t so much as begin to genotype his DNA and identify ecto-markers that could be useful if he ever ran into any complications in his own life, like a ghost-related disease such as the ecto-acne that plagued Vlad.

And she’d debated, over and over, how to get more information out of her son.

She’d questioned Danny frequently now. Not about anything major; just small things. Who he had fought tonight. Whether he’d gotten injured. If he’d started his homework. Why he hadn’t called them in to stop the ghost so he could study for his upcoming math test.

She hoped to start getting more things out of him. Tactical information, perhaps, like the fighting styles of each of the ghosts he faced regularly. Something he would be comfortable with answering. It would be easier to move from those questions to the more difficult ones. How he had coped after the accident and how he had learned to control his powers, for instance.

Those still weren’t the questions she wanted to ask, of course. She’d gotten a few reasons for her son’s more questionable actions as Phantom from Jazz’s scrapbook, but a jotted note did nothing to really explain anything. Hypnotized? Framed? By whom? She couldn’t just accept that it had happened and leave it in the past. Someone had tried to use her son, had tried to turn everyone against him. She couldn’t just…. She needed answers.

There were so many things Danny kept from them. She’d given him ample opportunity to talk to her, but he ignored every opening. He’d change the subject. He’d suddenly remember he had homework to do or, more often, that he’d promised to meet up with Sam and Tucker somewhere. He’d come up with any excuse he could to avoid talking about it.

She didn’t want to push too hard too soon, for fear that he’d soon find reason to avoid talking to her at all.

Maddie breathed a soft sigh. She’d been sitting in front of the computer, just thinking, for far too long. When she’d first come down here, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, she’d thought she could turn her focus to the latest FentonWorks invention in development. The Fenton Spectre Binder had been pushed off to one side in favour of the Fenton Freeze Ray—“To look at once we get the kinks of this baby,” Jack had said, proudly patting the prototype for his latest brainchild. Despite the fact that Jack had insisted on taking the prototype for a trial run, she knew it could stand a good deal more refining.

Jack had originally intended to call it the Fenton Phantom Freeze, until Danny and Jazz had heard the name and immediately forbade him from ever saying that again. “It’s not a secret if you practically announce it to the entire town,” Jazz had argued. “Danny doesn’t need you to hand out any more clues than he already does!”

Danny, in the end, had been the one to suggest the Phantom Freeze be renamed the Freeze Ray. “It’s basically an ectogun that shoots out stuff that’ll temporarily turn ectoplasm to ice, right? I mean, it won’t stop time, but it should still be pretty cool if you can get it to work.”

They had never dreamed of suggesting that Danny act as a test subject for them, but his input had moved their research along considerably. He had offered to give them some spectral ice—something he hadn’t realized was any different from regular ice until she’d studied it and informed him of its differing properties. By using the product of his ice powers as a guide, she had been working on synthesizing a chemical that would freeze when it came in contact with a ghost’s ectoplasmic structure. Jack was refining the design for the gun and, she suspected, trying to discover how much pressure the liquid could withstand before the weapon would either explode in the user’s hand or simply freeze up and not fire.

It was thinking about Danny’s reaction to the Freeze Ray that had led her to thinking about Danny himself. Danny, and his secret, and everything she still didn’t know. Shortly after Jack had first announced his idea, Danny had told her, in passing, that he was good friends with the ghost who had taught him to keep his ice powers under control.

“Klemper?” she’d guessed, remembering that this was the ice ghost’s oft-repeated request, but he’d doubled over laughing.

“Frostbite,” he’d managed at last. “He’s the leader of the ghosts in the Far Frozen. I’ll introduce you guys sometime.”

She’d never even heard of the Far Frozen, but then again, she could count the places in the Ghost Zone that she had heard of on one hand. Even now, after a month of off-handed references from Danny, she felt she knew very little. She knew the reason, of course. Even after the Spectre Speeder had been finished, she and Jack had never ventured into the Ghost Zone. The only time she’d been there was the time the entire town had been transported there, essentially held hostage by a terrible ghost.

It was another time Danny had yet to tell them about.

There was no single reason that she hadn’t begun to explore the Ghost Zone. She and Jack had long ago agreed that it would be too dangerous to take the kids—ironic, really, since Danny and his friends had begun mapping the Ghost Zone because of the frequency of their travels there and that map had given her more knowledge of the Ghost Zone than she’d gained before. The danger, however vague, had felt real enough to them as ghost hunters to be wary. It was one thing to fight ghosts in the Real World, but quite another to fight the ghosts in their own territory, even if they intended to do no more than defend themselves from attack.

She’d been making…preparations…for when she and Jack made their first trip into the Ghost Zone.

Just in case.

But there was also the fact that there had never been a good time to venture off into the Ghost Zone when they were unsure of how long the journey would take, the fact that Jack always seemed to be thinking up new modifications for the Speeder, the fact that the ghosts might take advantage of their absence from Amity Park….

There was reason enough to put the trip off again and again, but Maddie now felt that she’d been trying to find one more excuse not to go, even if she couldn’t pinpoint the reason for the avoidance.

Maddie glanced at the computer again, at the three accounts on it—hers and Jack’s, Danny’s, and Jazz’s, though Jazz preferred to use her own computer—and wondered, just for a moment, if she’d always felt that they didn’t know enough about the ghosts themselves to venture into unknown enemy territory.

“Collaborating with Danny Phantom will give you an instant insight into almost every ghost that you’ve seen in Amity Park,” Jazz had told them. “Danny keeps his own files.”

Danny didn’t have his own computer. He’d never earned it, and he’d never saved enough to buy one.

If he had electronic files—which was likely, considering he was friends with Tucker—they would be here, on their shared lab computer.

Maddie hesitated for a moment, then clicked on Danny’s account. He’d never told them not to look, and Jazz wouldn’t have informed them of the existence of his files if Danny was keen on keeping them a secret. She’d forgotten about them at first, and she knew her son well enough to know that he had likely forgotten that they hadn’t seen them.

Maddie stared at the blinking cursor in the password box for a moment.

She knew her son.

She wasn’t sure if he had yet accepted some of the things she, along with almost everyone else, knew about him.

Slowly, Maddie typed a name into the password box and hit enter. INCORRECT PASSWORD glared back at her, so she tried again. Capitals and space, like last time, but this time, the full name. The name that would be used for the signatures, when the time came, for she was sure it would.

This time, the screen loaded, and Maddie smiled. “I’m proud of you, Danny,” she said quietly. “Perhaps you aren’t so clueless after all. Just nervous, like your father was.”

Maddie found Danny’s files in a folder on his desktop. She found the ghost files, as he called them, to be surprisingly organized, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Jazz had had a hand in their creation. Of course, Danny would be more likely to keep something like this organized than, unfortunately, his room or his schoolwork. To him, they were more important, and if something happened, if someone other than him needed to access the files, they needed to be navigable.

Maddie started reading the files, skimming them over rather than taking the time to absorb their full detail. She wanted to know who her son had faced down, who he had beaten, all without her knowing, and she wanted to know who his allies were. Who she could trust, if she really needed to.

The files were alphabetized, and it became all too clear that there were many ghosts she had never heard of. Amorpho? Aragon? The first one she recognized was the Box Ghost, and he wasn’t even the first of the ‘B’s.

Danny had more ghosts on file than she had ever seen in Amity Park.

He had more details in each file than she and Jack had managed to garner collectively.

And, for some inexplicable reason, he had some of them locked down.

Tightly.

She could understand perfectly well that Danny would have met more ghosts and discovered more about them. She wasn’t particularly happy with the idea, since she knew most of his encounters had probably been unpleasant ones, resulting in fights of which he undoubtedly would never want her to know the details. She could understand why he had his own file encrypted and password protected and otherwise locked to her. She was even sure he had only called it Phantom, D., in case she or Jack had stumbled upon it before he had confessed his secret to them, despite the fact that they were both well aware that he was calling himself ‘Danny Phantom’.

Still, judging by the number of subfiles she could ascertain it contained…. It had to be more than just a description of his powers.

But she respected Danny’s privacy, at least in this instance, and after a half-hearted attempt at guessing the password for the folder, she’d moved on.

It was when she came upon the second—and last, she suspected—file that was locked up so tightly that it was undeniably Tucker’s work that she knew she would be having a talk with Danny when he got back.

She’d seen enough of his fights to know that Plasmius, V., was not only the true name of the Wisconsin Ghost, but also that he was one of the strongest enemies Phantom—her own son—had ever faced. Their fights ended in draws or with one party or the other conceding, just for a time, than there was a clear victor. If Plasmius was Danny’s enemy, quite possibly his arch-enemy, then she wanted to know as much about him as possible. They could even design a weapon for Danny to use against him, if it would help.

But she couldn’t even think of personalizing the weaponry, specifically targeting Plasmius’s ecto-signature, when she didn’t know any more about him what he’d looked like, the places he’d haunted, and the fact that, for some inexplicable reason, he wanted her son.

Plasmius didn’t want to destroy Danny Phantom. He didn’t see her son like a trophy as the hunter ghost Skulker did. But it was as if her son was the ghost’s obsession, which did not make sense when accounts of the Wisconsin Ghost predated the day of Danny’s accident. The day of Phantom’s creation.

It had to be something else. There was some reason that she couldn’t find, a reason she suspected, by the unopenable file, that Danny already knew.

Jazz’s words from that day a month ago flitted through her mind once more, as they had so many times since she’d first heard them. The unfinished question that was proof enough that Jazz still knew so much more about Danny and his secret—his secrets—than she. “You’re not even going to tell them about…?”

Perhaps this was it. Perhaps this was the end of the question. You’re not even going to tell them about Plasmius?

Danny’s answer, at the time, had been simple: “Not yet.”

Not then, but perhaps now.

Because secrets…. Secrets had a way of coming between people, when important things were kept from those dearest to you. And she didn’t want to see Danny hurt at the hands of Plasmius, not when she might be able to do something to help him. He wasn’t alone anymore. She and Jack weren’t hunting him down, and even the Red Huntress—though if Danny knew her identity, he was being tight-lipped about it, too—seemed to have accepted that Phantom wasn’t about to destroy the town.

But Plasmius’s actions, true to form for the ghost that he was, hadn’t changed.

“I hope you’ll tell us what’s going on, Danny,” Maddie whispered. “This is too important to keep secret.”

2XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Did you have fun, sweetie?”

Danny drained his glass of water, set it on the counter, and looked at his mother, who was sitting at the table. Jazz had already gone upstairs and Jack down to the lab, the former to study and the latter to tweak the Freeze Ray, which hadn’t done well in its first field test. Well, it hadn’t done well considering it was supposed to freeze ectoplasm instead of create so much friction when discharging that sparks flew. But he somehow got the feeling that wasn’t what Maddie was getting at.

“Uh, yeah?” Danny could hear the uncertainty in his own voice, brought on more from the clear unease in Maddie’s stance than anything else, and when he wasn’t called on it, he knew something was wrong.

Well, something was wrong or she’d found out something that unsettled her. She was on edge, at any rate. She didn’t look a whole lot better now than she had when she’d been on the trail of his secret. And if he could see that….

“Mom, is anything wrong?”

Maddie sighed softly and tucked a stray auburn lock behind her ear. “I think we need to talk,” she said.

Danny’s gut twisted unpleasantly in a way it hadn’t for a while around his parents. “What’d I do?” he asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down beside her. He should’ve known that she’d wanted to talk when he’d seen her sitting at the table, waiting for him, not so much as a notepad or file of blueprints in front of her.

“Oh, you didn’t do anything, honey,” came the immediate reassurance.

Despite the words, Danny felt his insides take another cruel twist. Then what? Ghosts were his first thought, but Maddie Fenton was used to dealing with ghosts. It was hard to find a ghost-related situation that would have his mother looking like she did, where she didn’t know what to do. She’d already faced the worst she could—finding out that her own flesh and blood could now technically be classified as an ectoplasmic entity—so there was no reason for her to look like—

Oh.

Oh, crud.

He didn’t want to go there yet.

Danny’s mouth went dry. “Mom, what were you doing while we were out?” He was pretty sure he had everything even remotely related to Danielle buried, but he’d been hoping to have a little more time to figure out how to best dig that skeleton up—and ideally track down where Dani had gone off to—before he said anything, but now….

Maddie stretched out her hand, found his, and squeezed. This did nothing to help Danny’s racing heart. “I didn’t think you’d object to my reading your ghost files.”

Danny shifted in his seat. “I don’t,” he said, “but….” Some of those files were locked for a reason. Who knew his mother could hack stuff better than Tucker? He hadn’t even thought the Guys in White would be able to get into all of his files if they confiscated the computer.

Maddie sighed. “I’m sorry, Danny. I should have waited.”

“No, it’s fine,” Danny said immediately. “It’s just….” How was he supposed to explain Dani? How could he explain Dani? He didn’t even know where she was, and that ate at him more than anything else.

He should have bitten the bullet a long time ago. Told his parents about her—about him—when she had first turned up. But he’d known how much she’d needed to get away from Vlad and everything he represented, get away from him and all his influence, and find her own self. He’d thought…. He’d made excuses, talked himself into thinking that letting her go was the best thing for her, when in reality, it had only been the best thing for him.

It was selfish. He was selfish. Danielle wasn’t old enough to live on her own, especially if he considered her actual age rather than her physiological and mental one; she shouldn’t have to fend for herself, and that’s what he’d let her do. She was…. She was his responsibility, and he hadn’t even opened his mouth to say she should stay with him.

All because he didn’t want to face his parents.

Vlad being in town definitely didn’t help matters.

“Mom,” Danny said slowly, “I think I know what this is about.”

Maddie was looking at him earnestly, the worry clear in her eyes. “I don’t want to push you into telling me,” she said quietly, “but I think it’s for the best if I know more about the situation. I might be able to help.”

Considering he was going to propose Danielle live with them once she’d had her fill of roaming and they figure out how to come up with her background story and the appropriate papers after the fact, he was definitely going to need her help. And probably Tucker’s. And Sam’s. And Jazz’s, if only for the transition.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Danny admitted.

“Just start at the beginning,” his mother said, tightening her grip on his hand for a few seconds. “Once I understand why he’s after you, I’ll be able to help you defend yourself.”

Wait.

What?

“Once you understand why who’s after me?” Danny asked, pulling his hand out of Maddie’s grasp and staring blankly at her.

He was both relieved and ashamed that this wasn’t about Danielle.

It was a few seconds before Maddie answered, and in that time, Danny saw what she was thinking displayed clearly on her face. There were still more secrets. Secrets she hadn’t uncovered yet. Things he was deliberately keeping from her. This wasn’t it, and he still didn’t trust her enough to tell her everything.

But Maddie Fenton was quick to hide her dismay—heartbreak, the little voice in Danny’s mind corrected—and, keeping her face carefully blank as she studied him, said, “Plasmius. The Wisconsin Ghost.”

She didn’t ask what he’d thought she’d been getting at.

She didn’t want to push him too hard.

That just made him feel even more terrible than he already did, really. Keeping his secret from them had been hard enough. Keeping everyone else’s secret from them when they already knew his was even harder. Only this time, they weren’t pushing. They were letting him keep it. Even though they knew that, if he was keeping it a secret, they probably wouldn’t like the truth—despite being convinced they should know it.

Of course, the subject of Vlad wasn’t a whole lot better than Danielle, even without considering they were connected. Danny swallowed. “Plasmius is, um, kinda a, uh….”

“Danny.” His mother’s voice was gentle. “I just want to help you. Please, let me.”

“It’s a long story,” Danny managed weakly.

Maddie’s face fell. “And you aren’t ready to tell it,” she concluded.

“It’s just….” He’d have to tell them sometime. He just wasn’t sure now was the right time.

How long could he use that excuse?

Latching onto something Valerie had once said to him, Danny offered one more point to make his case: “It’s complicated.”

He could see the unspoken response in his mother’s expression: But if you’d just let me, I’d help you make sense of it.

Danny took a breath and let it out slowly. “You’ve probably noticed,” he said carefully, “that the Wisconsin Ghost isn’t still in Wisconsin.”

Maddie didn’t say anything. She just sat quietly at the table, waiting. Waiting, and watching him, and listening to every word he was willing to tell her.

She wanted to help him, and she didn’t understand the half of it, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted her to understand.

Sure, it would cement her view that Vlad’s a creep. She’d see him for the fruitloop that he was. His dad would finally understand that his old college buddy wasn’t his friend and didn’t deserve to be treated as such. Vlad wouldn’t be able to pull any more stunts to try to work himself deeper into their lives.

Frankly, Danny would be happy if he never saw Vlad again.

But this…. He wasn’t sure he could say it like this. True, he found it hard to find any sympathy for Vlad, but his dad would be crushed. There had to be a better way to go about this.

He needed Jazz.

He hadn’t said anything for a while, and Maddie took this as an opportunity to prompt him. “He fixated on you when we brought you and Jazz along to our college reunion, didn’t he?”

Close enough. “That was the first time I met him….”

Maddie bit her lip. “I didn’t know, sweetie. Your…. After your accident, I’d attributed the increase in ecto-activity to the Fenton Ghost Portal.” She hesitated. “The other ghosts don’t usually seek you out, do they?”

Besides Vlad? Sure they did. Skulker. Walker. The list could go on, but Maddie didn’t need to know that. “Not all of them,” Danny said after a moment. “I mean, even in Wisconsin, the Dairy King only really showed himself to me because I needed help.”

Maddie didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow, meaning she remembered the name from his files. Instead, she asked, “How often do you need help?”

Right. He shouldn’t have admitted that. “Plasmius surprised me, that’s all. Besides, you should know now that the Dairy King isn’t the only friendly ghost out there.”

“Honey, I’m not sure you should—”

“It’s okay, Mom. Honest. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

[black-strike-otp]

LT : Chapter 8

Trust is such a fragile thing.

Barely a joor left, and they’d have been gone from Cybertron a full cycle. It was thrilling and arduous all at once on Nova’s processor to think that they were finally going out to fulfill an objective held close at spark. Much less horrendous than the first time she had laid her gaze upon their homeworld while on a shuttle being thrown into oblivion. The last time she’d had such a view, she was mourning the still painful loss of a friend and leaving what had been a norm all her life.

You could say that fighting a losing battle on a planet in disarray wasn’t normal; that it wasn’t healthy, but it was a lifestyle she had been used to.

Now, standing aboard a ship bound to destinies unknown, there was a goal. Clear familiarity. With each bot that strode by her, a reflection of time itself in motion, on their way to perform their duties diligently.

She stood a bit straighter as though it would give her height and an appearance of authority for a femme slightly less than half the size of more average mecha. A glitter of stars were before her from the bridge; signaling her to new beginnings afair. She gave a little sigh to herself and looked to her left, where in the center of the room surrounded by stations to work was the single most state of the art equipment on the vessel.

A projected three dimensional star chart hovered in a holo-projected field. A few bots were murmuring a discussion to themselves beside it; gesturing to various positions. Even as Nova watched them operate it; stitched together portions of the map would zoom in and out as it identified worlds and galaxies; stars and asteroid belts.

With a stroke of a digit, you could pull up just about every string of information gathered on anything in the universe. The lifeforms that were known to exist, when the planet was last investigated, the life rate of stars and the dangers documented. It took just as much if not more time to manufacture than the Guardian’s Light had, but they’d had a lot of help in doing so. And not just from bots, but from an undiscovered and lost room built in the Golden Ages in some ruins among the Sea of Rust.

Twitching her audio stacks to the side, the pale moon colored femme listened in on the mechs at work with interest.

“This is Nighthawk’s last known location, as stated in his message,” one of the mechs stated, flicking his wrist to speed through the map. His sharp digit pointed to a planet named Gochivie HR57 in the Tadpole Galaxy.

“That’s an estimated…” a mech stuttered, faltered, and went to tap a few keys in.

Another beside him vented, rolling his optics as he grunted the calculations, “3.48 million light-years away.”

“Exactly. And that last transmission was received seventeen cycles before departure; nearly eighteen now. And traveling at our current velocity; judging by rate of travel on Nighthawk’s broadcasts, it should take us…”

“Four deca-cycles to reach them; give or take,” muttered the mathematician wiz.

“That’s given they continue at their own current speed,” one agreed. “And with no sure way of knowing their direction; as they have looped around on numerous occasions for reasons unknown, we could reach them sooner- or later if they choose to flee.”

“The Rising Star’s fuel economy isn’t exactly the best,” another joked.

Rolling her optics, the short femme gave a shake of her helm. She spun around, heading to the door while still eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Well, if we push the Guardian’s Light to it’s full capacity; we’d be sucking fuel down like a rabid Insecticon, but we could push the boundaries a bit…”

The rest of the bot’s words were lost as the duel pneumatic doors hissed closed behind Novastrike. One-hundred-fifty days, and that was all but a guess.

They’d waited this long. They could get by a little longer.

She just hoped Nighthawk had that sort of time…

“You look a bit distracted,” a voice growled in her direction.

Raising her helm, the femme squinted her dark sapphire blue optics up at her sparkmate.

“And a bit worried,” Blackout continued as he caught her gaze; his own a scarlet haze of concern. “Having second thoughts?”

“By the Primes no,” she sniffed, lashing her tail back and forth whilst crossing her arms.

She halted a moment, looking over the cool stolid features of her always impassive mech. He quirked a brow slightly the longer her pause continued, with the blades on his backside sliding back and forth behind him gradually.

Ever patient. Always willing to wait and let the silence speak on his behalf.

Groaning quietly, Nova glanced aside as she responded: “No, I’m not having second thoughts. I am a bit worried about Nighthawk, though.”

“Worried about him?” the titan echoed, ushering his mate to follow with a curl of his digits as they walked. “What for? You know how reception goes; the time it takes messages to travel, the delay, the waiting process. Eighteen; sorry, nineteen days now, is nothing.”

“I don’t know… my gut says something is wrong.”

“Are you sure it’s not just nerves, dearest?”

She huffed. Her pedes practically glided on the floor seamlessly; an enchanting motion, a pace of confidence and well-timed coordination. It was an action she didn’t even need think about, but it spoke volumes to her growth. A few years ago, such a look of assurance and positivism would have been lacking from her posture entirely.

Just as she felt more sure of herself and her footing, and what she could do, so she felt confident in her unease. Something was… off. Maybe the handsome devil staring at her with worry had a just point. She could reason his words to truth; they seemed credible, even likely, but her intuition whispered something different.

“Things are just going… too well for us, I guess,”  she finally admitted with reluctance, her ears lying back against her helm.

Blackout chuckled, a rich deep sound. “He’s a medic, Novastrike. I’m sure he can take care of himself if he gets some bumps and bruises.”

Her next words came out harsh a bitter; even unexpected by herself: “Like Guard.”

There was a strained, uncomfortable silence. Worry and guilt gnawed on Nova’s thoughts. She shouldn’t have said that.

“Guard was… not expecting that kind of betrayal,” Blackout said slowly, his voice a hush. “It surprised him. Nighthawk agreed to help. He has an idea of what he’s getting into. He’s not alone, either. His companion will see to it he’s not taken by surprise.”

“Infiltrator,” Novastrike noted from memory, recalling the dragon with perfect clarity. Funny how different he was from Fireline, yet they both carried an uncanny appearance to Predacon lore. One a goof; a playful and hyperactive wvyren with a hoarding problem and enough wit under his guise to offer surprising intellect in the science field.

The other, a refined medical professional with some sly comments, clever comebacks, and a witty if not at times wisecracking sense of humor.

When bots said that Primus made each Cybertronian to be unique, they certainly weren’t kidding.

“Yes, the uh… dragon,” Blackout offered with disinterest.

“Oh come on love,” Nova snickered. “It’s not that difficult to learn his name.”

“I’m sure it’s in my memory files somewhere,” the giant agreed offhandedly. “But I’m more inclined to faces than names.”

“Why; harder to forget a pretty faceplate?” Nova teased, placing a servo on either side of her cheeks innocently.

“I could never forget the most eloquent and beautiful face,” he chuckled. “But designations… they’re easy to change. Your identity lies within yourself.  Besides, it’s easier to recall a face than a name.”

“You went from sounding poetic to plain lazy, love.”

“Forgive me, dear, I’ve never been the best with words.”

A quiet wheeze escaped Nova. That wasn’t entirely true, but she’d let him go on and think that.

“Have you thought of any further plans on how we’re going to board the Rising Star?”

Blackout gave a doubtful shake of his helm. “No, not really. We can either try discretely sending in some smaller bots; like yourself and a few others, and try gaining some traction taking out larger bots and disabling primary functions on the ship before getting other’s on board… Or we can use my EMP. But I’ll need to be in a decent proximity if it’s going to be effective, or last very long.”

“And that would be exposing you to whatever working weapons the Rising Star still has, or has had installed since, as well as any crew members under Neutroboost’s command,” she muttered. “Too bad we can’t just blast the ship.”

Solemnly, the obsidian mech nodded as he glanced away. There was a sense of regret about him that was all too common these days.

“I don’t want to risk losing any more innocent lives,” he reminded her softly.

In that moment, he sounded so much like Guard that Novastrike had to rub her optics just to make sure it wasn’t him. It was astonishing; down to the gaze that had a million thoughts lost in them, the murmured agony in his voice, the sag in his shoulders.

This same mech had once looked to her like she was nothing but collateral. He’d rebuke the very idea that he’d changed, but it was all over him. Stains of Guard’s life and habits, his thoughts and ideals were blotting Blackout’s very essence.

He was still lethal. Of that, there was no doubt. But his sharpened judgmental edges had been snipped and sandpapered; his glaring optics now more often a thoughtful, wide-eyed look of consideration. The former gladiator from the arenas of Kaon was still evolving, hundreds of years past when most stopped learning how to grow and change he was only just discovering things anew. Feelings were fresh and exotic; expressions a new boundary, to care and to have compassion a foreign affair he was entangled.

Smiling sweetly, she reached out to pat her servo against her sparkmate’s pede. He turned his helm to look back to her blankly now.

“You’re doing just fine. Don’t doubt yourself; we all believe in you. We can all do this, together,” she urged.

The indication of a smile pulled at his lips. His optics softened; closing partially as he emitted a deep reverberated rumble deep within dark ebony armor.

“We’ll figure out our course of action when the time grows closer to do so,” Blackout growled. “There’s bound to be things to factor in at the time anyway; a hostage situation, planets we can use for cover…”

“A black hole, trying to suck us all in?” Nova suggested with a grin.

“Nova… No.”

“What? Plan for the impossible, right?”

“My warrior goddess of the moon, please, do not speak bad omens into reality.”

A mirthful laugh escaped Nova, pressing a servo to her mouth. “Since when did you become the superstitious type?”

Blackout frowned deeply. “Since now, when you decided to throw in a black hole and threaten to squash us all.”

“Or send us into an alternative parallel world; frozen in a paradox timeline that never ends, stuck fighting the same battle over and over again with no recollection of the beginning or the end,” she expressed loudly. “Or, you know, we could just run into our altered opposite selves. You’re altered-self would be a humble artist bent on peace and would oppose all fighting; and my altered-self would be a far-less attractive bland femme who just wants to punch things to see how they function.”

“I’m destroying all copies of ‘The Astrophysics to Black Holes’ immediately after this conversation,” he mumbled with deep disapproval.

“Will you be doing that before or after you get into the berth?” inquired the femme with a virtuous smile.

Sharply, her mate cleared his vocalizer. There was a stern appearance about his stature but in his face, mild entertainment.

It sent waves of adoration through Nova’s entire body. Starting in her spark and sparking with electric pulses through her veins. Oh how she treasured his happiness; the way his mouth curled up and the way light danced in his optics with just the right sparkle. He could pretend to hide it, especially around others, but it was just as obvious in his face and the minuscule shifts of his gears and body as it was the smell her hypersensitive features picked up on.

“We’ll discuss that later,” Blackout finally said in answer, shaking his helm a little. “I had meant to go to the bridge before I was drawn impulsively to the brightest star I’ve ever seen.”

For a klik, Nova thought to harass her handsome other half with a comment questioning him on what star was, in fact, the closest to their current position. But she thought better of herself before opening her mouth for such silliness, looking to his inviting gaze and feeling her spark give a little flip. She was, truly, at a loss for words.

Blackout too seemed a bit taken off guard for spare moment. He parted his lips just slightly, staring, before shaking himself with a shy snicker. He turned away, shaking the spell as he turned to walk in the opposing direction of the white femme. Stopping to speak to the nearest bot walking by to confirm their current course and traveling speed.

Withering, Nova began to internally sulk. Just a smidgen. How she longed for tranquil days of serene bliss; lost only with each other and their closest friends and family. For her, she needed no other life. Staring into his optics, clutching his servo, kissing his mouth and teasing that foolish mech from the break of a dawn’s light to the twilight dusky hours of the night.

Days spent wistfully lost in thought. The smiles on the faceplates of those who she cared for; who she lived and breathed for. It wouldn’t be paradise; it wouldn’t be perfect. They would bicker and argue over even the stupid things but they would get by. You forgave those you truly loved.

A slight skip now in her pedes, Novastrike made her way with her helm held high. She’d offer a comment or wave to those she passed until she came upon the rear deck to step into the armament room. Within it, some bots were stepping carefully around constructed weapons positioned on pivoting retractable arms that took on the size of multiple Predacons.

She spotted the Sigma Three defense cannon. One of three onboard; with two others connected to externally enclosed casings reachable through air-tight doors. The final cannon; a rapid-fire plasma shooter, was placed in an upper deck, with its lines running through the ship to a section in the hull that contained its ammunition.

A swell of pride hummed in Nova’s spark. Blackout had helped to manufacture and install these. Unsurprising really; the mech had such a knack of artillery. He’d grown using it all his life just to survive.

Decepticon’s hadn’t simply called him a weapon’s specialist for his own unreasonably large arsenal.

Novastrike moved with care not to get too underpede of those few bots roaming the room. Only a few were stationed here permanently and specifically to maintain the Sigma Three. The others were general mechanics and engineers, walking the length of the Guardian’s Light to inspect the entirety of the spacecraft. Any signs of degradation or damage from their first few cycles were being heavily scrutinized, but what space debris around Cybertron that remained from the war they’d knocked into left aesthetic damages here and there so far as anyone had noticed thus far.

From there a simple look around would suffice from time to time. The little femme could understand their concerns. For their own safety and for their love of a project and a dream, they wanted this vessel to succeed.

Too small to reach more than a thick under-panel to the beastly weapon, Nova reached up to pat the equipment with a devious smile. She turned around slowly, examining those busily moving around until she caught the look from a mech. He went from looking over the form of the gun, to her with some misgivings written on him.

“Sorry,” she stated with a smile while retracting her digits. “I’m just coming by to check up on things.”

Mutely, the mech gave a simple nod.

Feeling awkward by the lack of response, Nova quirked a partial smile as she stepped out from beneath the cannon.

“Designation Novastrike, mech,” she purred, offering a servo.

He looked from her face to her servo. Back again.

Uncomfortably, he finally reached for her servo. A single digit from the mech was extended for Nova to shake.

Stammering, she uncomfortably released his digit. “S-Sorry for bothering you-”

A sudden, wheezing laughter had Novastrike’s ears swiveling. She turned her helm a moment later to follow the trail of the noise.

“Aye, lieutant-commander, don’t mind Whisper,” a mech cackled. “ E’s a mute, you see. Born with a defective ‘box. Can’t speak a lick.”

“O-Oh,” she squeaked, giving an apologetic glance back up to the bot beside her.

“Don’t worry ye’ pretty little helm there girly. ‘E’s fine. Just o’ bit shy. Can’t blame him; ye’ a pretty sight to these optics.”

“E-Excuse me?”

A flame of tinted blue worked into the femme’s audios as she went slack-jawed. Partly, she was surprised by comment. Another part of her was irritated. Whether he was mocking her for a cheap gag joke, or if he was disrespecting her position came into play.

Every bot here was well enough aware of her situation with the captain of the ship. Yet this one was openly mocking her; toying her. Defying her role-

The mech tapped beside his optic, grinning. “I mean no harm girly; I promise. I o’ bit of a vision impairment myself. Got some damage from the war, ye’ see. But ye’ a bright thing of beauty on this dark ship. Won’t be losing ye’ armor or ye’ eyes anytime soon there, young miss.”

That should have made her feel better, but Nova instantly felt terrible for thinking the worst. She swallowed, well aware her ears were far beyond a simple pestering glow and now a full lantern of light. Cascading blue seemed to bounce off of her and glow upon anything within her radial circle of space.

“Well… thank you, uh…?”

“I’d be Killshot, miss.”

What a designation.

“Right,” she stated, giving a lopsided smile. “Well thank you, Killshot. But in the future please, keep the uh… flattery to a minimum, shall we?”

He nodded. “I can do, ma’am,” he agreed with a salute. “Come ‘ere Whisper, ye’ can help me with checking this ‘ere hydraulics system for the arm extension.”

With just a hush of his pedes, Whisper moved past Novastrike on almost deathly-silent pedes to follow the other bot. An ear upon Nova’s helm tilted to the side as the other remained erect while she watched the two. Oh boy, she really misjudged. She owed them an apology…

She turned, smacking instantly into the bot directly behind her and falling on her aft.

“Oh- sorry lieutenant Novastrike!” the dark grey mech yelped with a blush. “I shouldn’t have been so close; I was just keeping an optic on you, making sure you were safe.”

“I think I’d be safer if you were a bit less up my aft,” she growled, reaching up to tentatively touch her now-throbbing forehead.

Taking a moment to adjust her optics, Nova looked up to see the mech offering her his servo. The mech had to be all of but twenty-one feet at maximum; not including the jutting pieces of decorative metal on his helm. He held a guilty little smile on his face as she took it, helping her to her pedes.

“You can call me Oblivion, lieutenant-commander Novastrike!” he stated with glee. “I was assigned to be your assistant. Not because I asked, of course.”

He gave an awkward little laugh at that, waving a servo in the air.

Peculiar mech, Novastrike reasoned while eyeing him over. But what was most intriguing were his optics. One was a solid shade of red; a few hues brighter than that of Blackout’s. The other, a steely grayish-blue.

Even as she watched, she could swear the blue one gradually appeared to waver between blue, and green.

“I don’t require a personal assistant,” she coldly remarked. “Maybe you got the wrong bot.”

“Oh no, I got the right bot,” he chirped with merriment. “You’re the second-in-charge after captain and Commander Blackout. You were on board the Rising Star; a neutral party during the Autobot-Decepticon war. Previously an Autobo-”

“Okay, mech,” Nova vented with a servo placed to her faceplate. “I’m going to stop you right there. I don’t know how- or why- you know so much about me but I don’t need an assistant.”

Oblivion laughed breezily, his engine purring to life. Even the door-wings on his back began to give a joyous little flutter like he was some sort of a seeker.

He seemed rather young, and childish. Novastrike tapped a digit against her chin lightly with confusion and curiosity as she mused the odd behavior.

“Well of course you don’t need me,” Oblivion agreed. “I’m just handy. You know, a messenger just for you. Run some errands, finish up uh… do you even get paperwork? We don’t keep that type of stuff here, do you-”

“Oblivion, might I ask: what were you before you were my assistant?”

“Oh, well-” he scratched the side of his helm. “I was an Autobot during the bot-con war. Before that I was a-”

“No no- I mean, what were you before you requested to be my personal subordinate?”

“Ooooh! Gotcha. I was originally on bridge duty; you know, keeping ship’s course and such. But that didn’t work out, so I got put on maintenance. Then I broke too much stuff, and…”

Scrap. They threw her a bumbling moron for her aid. Some respect the other’s had to insist her be her aid.

Giving her most impressionable and dazzling smile, Novastrike laced her digits in front of her chassis. She breathed in, breathed out just as slowly, and dropped her arms to her side. Finally, she looked up to the young mech.

“What are the chances I can reassign you?”

There was a clear indication of hurt in the mech’s optics.

“Little to none, lieutenant,” he mumbled.

“Right,” she vented. “Alright- fine. But we’ve got to work on your personal space thing. And you’re breaking-things thing. And maybe we’ll find you a more suitable position once you’ve worked your way up a bit.”

A soft, delighted gasp escaped Oblivion. He slapped a servo over his mouth as a sparkle entered his heterochromatic optics.

“I’d love that,” he squealed. “Well- except the not working for you part. I mean, what an honor-”

Raising a servo, the white-armored femme held up a single digit. The mech fell obediently silent, looking to her with the most puppy-dog like gaze.

An honor, he’d said? This bot was disillusion. An honor would be serving a historical figure. Bots like Blackout, or Guard, or frag even the Primes. Even the famous Ratchet or Sideswipe would do, but instead, this bot was looking to her with reverence like some sort of legend.

Did he ever pick the wrong bot to idolize. A scrawny, little-known neutral like herself. She pitied him as much as she was annoyed by his peppy attitude and the fact he’d been placed on her like some second-hand yappy canine.

“Come on, then,” Novastrike vented, giving a whisk of her servo.

Without question, the mech glued himself to her side as she walked. From his subspace, he emerged a datapad and stylus to take notes studiously. Or, for all Nova knew, to scribble doodles.

As they left the room, Oblivion glanced in the direction of Whisper and Killshot. There was a tense moment between the trio, with the two later squinting their optics towards Oblivion. He gave a gradual flinch, blushing before darting out of the door after his tutor.

[nayrusfountain]

Simply Human

His raspy shaky breath caught in his throat, the sensation of pulling air into his refined lungs feeling completely alien to him... His body had shrunk, but that is the least of his worries...Pure white scales molted away as he shifts his appearance against his will, giving way to pale light skin. Every fin on his once shark like body completely phase out of existence, with nothing to replace them. He hesitantly look down at his shaky hands with wide startled eyes as his scales peel off of his fingers, sprinkling the metal floor like flakes of new fallen snow. The fingers shorten with the rest of him, and his blue claws cracked off as new, growing nails push them out forcefully in their place. He felt the sharp teeth in his mouth is all but gone now, instead there were blunted and squared, more suitable to grinding plant matter... Mikau wanted to scream, but his voice came out distorted and horribly wrong in his ears...Wait, what happen to his ears?! He reach to stroke where his dangling fin had been on the side of his head...now there were an elf like ear instead, twitching with a soft jingle as he gingerly felt them. As he did, he grew startled as he felt something soft and furry tickling his scaleless fingers, and he realize instantly that it was hair. His hair. He need not to be a rocket scientist to figure out that obvious trivia. Laughing cackle from all direction, mocking him as he dwell in his confusion. It was at the moment that panic overwhelm his rational thinking. With little regard of his new physical form, Mikau instinctively leaped into the pool of water in the lab, disappearing into its blue depths. He suck in the water through his mouth, and instantly regretted it. His eyes widen, wild with fear as his limbs kick and flail frantically, and muffle screams gurgle out of his mouth as the ex-Zora hurry back to the surface. His lungs scream angrily at him, cursing him for his foolish actions as the reality that his gills are gone ram him hard. An explosion of liquid crystals shatter into the air as he practically jump back onto the cold metal floor of the room. He flop heavily to the floor, trending water and heaving painfully as he heard the people laughing at him again. A puny blubbery creature came forward and tap his shoulder. It was grayish blue in color, with a round funny face, tiny polished pebbles for eyes, and a small dorsal fin on the back of its head with a grin that never shifts. It basically looks like a bipedal Irrawaddy Dolphin. When he glare up at her, she presented him with a mirror, her smile never leaving. Mikau angrily snatch the object out of her grasp and look into its reflective glass. What greeted him was the face of a man. Mikau's eyes grew in size and he nearly drop the mirror in his shock. His head was cover in white hair and side burns cascade in front of his ears, with strings and bangs casting shadows over his now cerulean eyes, rimmed with whites around the pools of blue. His skin tone is a pale light shade, and his inner ears had extended out of his skull in a slender elfin fashion. What in Nayru's name did they do to him...?! "How you like your new look Zora?" "Screw you," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. Oh how he wish he still had his claws, fangs and fins. Then he'll gladly rip each of their insides out and hang them with their own intestines! "Be nice, sharky!" she growl crazily, whipping out a surgical knife to his face. She wave it around as one would with their finger, eyeing the use to be Zora with the same unsettling grin. "Not what we wanted; you should've been dolphin like us, but its good enough! Next is your girly friend. She be a pretty mammal too!" "Touch her and I'll fu-!!" "Shut up fishy!" Slash! "Ah!" Mikau's head's forcefully slam against the floor, stunned as he try to make sense of what just occur. A warm liquid trickle down his cheek under his right blue eye, smearing his skin red. He reach with his fingers and pull back to see it was coated in a thin layer of blood as it continue cascading from his slashed cheek. A growl radiated from his throat, coming off as awkward and nonthreatening compare to a Zora's more animalistic noises. "You son of a..." "Son? You mean daughter," she giggled as she did a little dance, stroking the blood soaked blade nonchalantly. "You stupid shark! Always resorting to violence to solve your problems. 'Oh! I mad! Imma bite people and watch them bleed and die!' You so naughty! We trying to help you! Give you better life and purpose. That's what we're here to do; to correct Nayru's mistake and you came out beautifully. Be a good little human, and no bloodshed from me. Kay?" "Don't call me that! I'm a Zora! And don't say such garbage about my species. Who are you to play Goddess by meddling with her creation? Everything exist for a reason, and sharks are vital to the ecosystem to keep the ocean healthy. Stop spreading racial bullshit about sharks just because of your paranoia." "He has delusion. So sad...boo hoo!" The dolphin like thing gave a loving pet to his snow white hair before trotting happily over a frozen Lulu surrounded by more of the mammalian sea creatures. The Malletila Zora stare straight into his eyes, her voice caught in her throat as if trying to say something. The little dolphin creature stop in front of her with the same insane smile beaming from her rubbery face. "Hello!" "Hey..." Lulu murmur absently, adverting her gaze as a wave of cackling echo throughout the small lab. She cringe and gave a low hiss in response. The last thing she wants right now was to associate with these giggling freaks. "Hissy shark. Very hissy," the she dolphin tsked as she materialize a slender glass tablet in her hands from seemingly nowhere. It pulsed with radiating magic as holographic data file up on the touch screen. "Let's see your species' criminal status so we can fix you, shall we?" "Please don't. All I want to do is be with Mikau right now," muttered Lulu as she look back at Mikau. The poor male seems completely out of it despite his outbursts, trying to get up from his shaky knees as he topple over clumsily. "Nonsense! I need to gather vital information to further help you overcome your breed's psychopathic instincts. We're not trying to be mean at all. We just what you to be happy with yourself." "I do not need help!" Lulu yelled sternly, her beautiful fins flagging in anger as her fangs flash. She caught glimpse of Mikau's reaction, the ex-Zora perking considerably from his kneel position and his new elf like ears twitching to her voice. "Right...Now let's see here. Ah! The marvelous Malletila Zora; descendants of the Hammerhead line, the Sphyrnidae family. Habitats: Tropical waters! Yay! I mean no! That's bad! Anyway...Malletila Zoras are timid shark people and only mildly aggressive when disturbed, but attacks are extremely rare. That's good. Out of the 9 species only three had been known to attack people...Great, Smooth, and Scallop variants...Uh oh." "Oh no." Lulu backed away with a warning glare, aware that her Great Hammerhead lineage is going to get her in deep trouble. "It seems your kind is bit naughty," The freak chuckle deviously, getting uncomfortably close to Lulu's nose. Lulu had to resist the urge to strike her stupid round face away from hers. "What else do I have to say on your evil breed? The fact that you're all cannibals!? Ha! Hammerhead Sharks are known to eat their own pups; what are the chances of their Zoran equivalent preforming the same atrocity?" A crazy grin reveal the creature's sharp conical teeth. "And I bet you eat dolphins like us too..." Swoosh! "AIEEE!!!!" The beakless bipedal dolphin squeal bloody murder as a stream of blood splay out of her now shredded face, covering her wounds with her hands. She drop the frail tablet in her agonizing distress, the magical device shattering into thousands of tiny glass shards and magic bursting in a ball of hot white light. She topple to her side with hard thud, screeching in high pitched squeals not unlike her cetacean brethren. Lulu scramble to her flippers and leaped over the injured...thing....and dash over to Mikau's side, grabbing his arm as she help him to his feet. Her left clawed hand was soaked in glistening crimson, the crazy lady's blood. "Damn...The way you bury your claws into her fat face was satisfying," Mikau whistle as he stumble a bit, pleased to see the creature in pain. His weak legs felt like gelatin, bucking slightly as he fights to stand erect. Lulu allow him to fall into her soft pearly body, the welcoming coolness of her glassy scales easing his troubles. He saw his unfamiliar face reflecting off of her body, shuddering at the idea of being trap in this body forever. He couldn't bare to live like this for the rest of his life honestly. This boring, unimpressive terrestrial creature with an ego bigger then their fully develop brains; there is nothing more rewarding then being born a magically gifted Zora and ruling a magical world many would never dream of. He likes humans enough, for instance Kafei is one of his closest Hylian friends, and he loves hanging out with the Sheikah, his favorite breed for they share a lot in common with Zoran Heroes. But living as one? No thank you!   "Savages!" A male creature howl in fury, coal black eyes blazing. He has the face of a striped dolphin, beak and everything, and his humanoid body is mostly the color of moon frost streaked with rivers of silvers. He is also well build, smooth slick blubber that express a fair amount of muscles. Fairly good looking for someone that looks like he's wearing a goofy, black duck beak. The striped dolphin thing cast a hateful glare directly at Lulu, taking a menacing step towards the Zoran lovers while the rest of the mammal-things scramble for their non lethal weapons such as teasers as they help their downed comrade. "Naughty creature! Bad creature! How dare you mistreat my sweet Lianna, you feral fish brained brute! You need a big time out!" "Hey dumbass, maybe if your annoying girlfriend wasn't being a total b!tch and invading her personal privacy, and committed witch crafting to turn me into a human of sorts, she wouldn't had felt incline to cut her face up! The dumb chick was basically asking to be attacked by us 'savages' at that point. Piss off and leave us alone!" Mikau defended, getting ready take on the male as he stood before Lulu protectively. He tentatively usher Lulu to back up with him as he shield her from the crazed creature's seething glare, and the mob of the mutated beasts juggle over the pair in quick fleeting prances, surrounding them. Teasers and electric prods cackled dancing, explosive neon, their intelligent eyes glowing madly. For the first time in a long time, Mikau felt primal fear shallow his courage as he stood at their mercy, spreading his arms in vain attempt to protect Lulu. His newly refined heart thump heavily in his chest, knowing that as he is now he is no match to challenge these quick and crafty cetacean people. More likely, he will fall, and they'll have their sadistic ways. But he has to protect Lulu. No matter the cast. The dolphin man, blinded by his rage, unleashed an madden feral roar and charge straight into the couple screaming, "This is for Lianna!" "Kill!" Lianna hiss in an almost demonic way, a sadistic bloody grin exposing her rusted tainted teeth. She crane her neck back and laugh maniacally as the blood drizzle down her face. "Kill! Kill!" The air in the room soon echo with the word "kill" being repeated as the rest of the cetacean people chanted out the phrase with her. The dolphin man lunge for the fish folks, his neck outstretch as he intends to ram them with his hard beak. Mikau spring forth, diving under the enrage creature and swinging up into his stomach. The dolphin was violently jerked backward and and the two males roll and tumble across the metal flooring. The mammal spring to his flippers instantly and roar wildly as he leap over the ex-Zora for his female friend. Mikau quickly recover and swiftly swung his leg into the rampaging creature's ankle, causing the craze male to drop heavily to the floor. The dolphin grew angrier, and without warning spun around and propel himself to Mikau instead, his beak open to bite his assaulter. Mikau duck and roll out of harms way and the dolphin was met with a mouth full of air. Growling, unleashed a shrill high pitch squeal, and as if on command, the rest of the cetacean people rush for Lulu in a chorus of loud whistling and obnoxious chirps that sounds more like sick birds being butcher in the slaughter. "Mik!" Lulu cry as she swung her claws and sank her teeth into their blubbery skins, shaking her head wildly to twist the flesh beneath. She yelp and growl, turning and chasing after them as she snap and lash at the offending creatures. They jump at her with artificial shocks of their teasers or ram her with their iron hard beaks, pushing her forcefully into the wall as they dug their own teeth his her scaly skin. Creature after creature hammer her into the without letting her recover, only leaping back when she viciously rake their faces and tear chunks of blubber in between her wickedly sharp fangs. The metal began to indent as they bury her further and harder into the wall, laughing insanely as they listen to her squeals of distress. "No!" Mikau push himself forward as he rush to her rescue, but felt his frail body pinned painfully to the ground as the dolphin man trap him under his grasp. Mikau squirm desperately to break free of his iron grip, but his strength is too inferior in this form to properly fight back. "Release me you freak!" Out of nowhere, the scarlet coated face of Lianna suddenly pop into his view, blood still pouring out of her wounds at an alarming rate. Ugly claw marks plague her shimmering blue-grey face as the crimson liquid drench her chin and jaws, drooling from her mouth as she grin. "Beautiful boy. She is impure. Must be dealt with before she cause more bloodshed. After we beat her to bloody plump, we heal her with enlightenment and perfection. You will understand soon enough." "No! I don't care about this 'perfection' you speak of! Just let her go and keep me instead! Or I'll kill you both in cold blood if I have to." "You still dare to oppose me? After what we've done for you?" her male friend boom as he press down on the scrawny humanized shark. "You are a weak little human; a mistake in our experimental hexing ritual. The way you are now, you're only going to end up seriously hurt or dead. Give up already. Its not worth it." "I don't care. Lulu is special to me. I may have lost my previous body, but my Zoran spirit burns strong. I'll protect her even if it means I'll lose to you. Please let me fight for her. Its too painful to watch..." "And yet you think its fine to spread pain onto others? You think it wasn't painful for me to watch that wretch damage my mate's face? You vile creature! All of you sharks are the same! Only thinking of yourselves and expressing your sadistic, bloodthirsty nature onto other creatures. If anything, this is justice being serve! And what can you do as of now, you whelp? A weak, insignificant little insect that are humans? Until we send you to rehabilitation and preform better spells, you are nothing but a cockroach to us." Mikau stop struggling and look at his free hand, his arm twisted in an odd angle. A small noise came out of his mouth, his gaze anything but happy. No blue claws or winter scales, but in their place weak nails and soft skin which is useless in relation to the situation. The hurting is much more evident as a human, whereas his Zoran self have a higher tolerance to pain, being of a fighting breed. But above all that, he felt an unfamiliar weight to him, and he knew that it was because his skeleton had trade cartilage for bone, which is denser... A spark flew through his cerulean gaze, and as he glance up to notice the pair giggling giddily to themselves as they watch Lulu kick out at one of their demented friends. The cheerful Malletila Zora is no push over; she'll valiantly fight back if she has to and this is clear as day as she grab hold of another dolphin creature in her claws and struck her hammerhead skull against its crown (a weapon often use by her breed.) The humanoid animal squeal as it tumble back holding its forehead, and Lulu gradually pull herself from the dented wall and pants at the now wary cetacean people. After dealing a decent round of punishment to them despite their frequent attacks, Lulu manage to give the mammals second thoughts of blindly charging her. Many of them bled from deep cuts and gashes across their faces and adornment, some were even limping or whimpering. They whistle to each other, clicking out various tones in their strange language. The stripe dolphin holding the ex-Zora down beam, chirping to Lianna as he directed his authority to the pod. "Don't be discourage my friends. She's just one mindless shark while you're an army of highly intellectual beings. Give her your worst." "Yes please," sang Lianna playfully, eager to see the female Zora suffer. 'Now's my chance,' Mikau mentally said. In a flash of a second, he thrust his finless arm backward towards the man holding him captive. His elbow dug into the stripe dolphin's stomach, the bones providing extract force to the impact. The sea mammal gasp in shock and release his hold on Mikau, rolling on to his side in pain. Lianna screech in disbelief and anger, lunging for the white haired human. Mikau duck and sprinted towards Lulu, pushing past the startle creatures as they whine and squeal. Lulu's heart flutter with joy as she open her arms. Mikau jump into her welcoming embrace and nuzzle into her chest, the female Zora spinning him around in their brief moment of bliss together Its funny being the one to be lifted off his feet like this when it had always the other way around, being naturally taller then her (Sylovaakiens are normally a towering 12 ft while Malletilas are 8 to 9 ft, dwarf by the former.) He gave her a quick satisfying peck on the lips before being set back down by her, turning their sights on the boiling rage building up within the cetacean pair. They have little time to rejoice, for they must find a means of escape. Lianna nuzzle her partner, squeaking softly as he dwell in his agony. She turn her hateful eyes back to the Zoran couple, bouncing up and down immaturely. "No fair! You cheat! You dummy dumb dumbs! Now you leave me no choice! I'm going to unleash my super ultra sonic means of wavy doom! Prepare to beeee....nullified!" Mikau and Lulu back away, this time with Lulu standing protectively over her boyfriend's small frame. They had an idea what this "super ultra sonic means of wavy doom" actually is. Cetacean are famous for their echolocation, and they had seem some use it as weapons against shark firsthand...Its most likely how they ended up in these guys' clutches; one moment an awkward face to face confrontation with this psycho specifically while minding their business, and the next thing they knew they woke up with major headaches in their cold lab. The room around once again rang with laughter, and the chorus gradually grew in volume as the beakless female's eyes grew wilder and dark. Suddenly the only door to the room slid open, and a larger dolphin man waded through but stop and blink by the doorway. He looks like a bipedal orca, sharing the coloration and dorsal fin on his back. He stand 14 ft tall, very imposing looking. Unlike the smaller abominations, he seems to be mentally stable as his bronze eyes held a calm and relax demeanor despite his surprise. When he spoke, a row of sharp tawny gold teeth neatly line his mouth, and a spotted tongue lays within. "Lianna, Nixon, what is the meaning of this? This isn't right! You're not suppose to torture our guests! We're here to help them reach a new positive life through healthy means. How would they accept our society with open arms if you treat them so poorly?" The room seem to grow eerily silent. Lulu and Mikau watch as the cetacean people stood there, as if realizing their blindsided mistake. However, they dwell little on the creatures' thought process for they practically flew for the open doorway without a moment's hesitation. They swift darted past the orca and race down the hallway, pressing faster and faster against the hard metallic floor. They ran so fast that their feet barely touch the ground as they merge into a fleeting blur for random cetacean scatter around the facility. Mikau pants as he try his best not to leave Lulu behind, knowing how clumsy of runners Zoras make. As a human, Mikau's feet gain more traction, allowing him to sprint faster then he ever have in his life on land. A rush of icy air suddenly chilled them to their cores, but they press on running, never looking back. They blaze through the snow, slipping through the ice as flakes of frigid breath of winter sheered their faces, but still they ran. They ran and ran, never stopping, never turning. They just blasted through the dark blue woods, startling animals into hiding as they rain through shimmering threads of beautiful frozen dewdrops draping like delicate curtains from the branches. Blue fairies lit the forest as they cluster the crusty shrubs and treetops like fireflies, lighting their way through the night. The glow of the city beam from the distant valley, its Clock Tower emitting a beacon for all who lost their way... *** Mikau and Lulu finally slow to a brisk trot as they trudge down the icy street of a well off neighborhood, the streetlights stretching their shadows as they pass by. The shine of their brightness reflected off the slick black ice that froze over the sidewalk they roam on, causing the pair to slip and slide as they continue marching on. Many of the houses were fairly lit, and plumes of fluffy smoke rose from the chimneys indicating the inviting warmth of the indoors. Decorations for the upcoming holidays grace the houses in bushy greens, ribbon reds, and blinking colors as tiny lights strewn across the windows and hangs from roofs and porches. Snowmen would occasionally greet the pair as they past by the yards, and once in a while a dog could be heard barking into the night. One of the Moons shone crisply like a silver sickle in the black, smoky sky, faith glimmers of stars seen twinkling beyond the flurries next to it. Mikau lag behind as he struggle to keep himself warm, hugging himself feebly as his breath converted into frost laced crystals. The only protection he wore was a old trashy t-shirt with cartoonish dolphins on it and tight, ripped sweatpants the cetacean gave him at some point, mostly after his transformation when he was still knocked out. It looks like something they just dug out of the trash so they can cover his exposed dignity, but honestly he wouldn't be surprise as that is mostly the case base given its appalling smell. Lulu meanwhile didn't seem bothered by the cold, her scales insulating some heat during the sunny day to keep her mildly comfortable. She look back at the under dress human, concern laced in her facial features as she confronts her friend. "Oh Mikau, just hold on a little longer. We're almost at Kafei's house. He'll know what to do." "I-I hope so..." Mikau murmur as he cast his eyes to his buckling knees, ready to to drop from the cold and exhaustion. He cough hoarsely, rubbing his throat in pain. "I'll get hypothermia if-if I don't t-t-turn back to my Zoran self. I don't want to be a human forever." "Don't be so rough on your appearance." She giving him a soft hug. She pet his soft hair as she continues. "I think you're cute as a little human." "Babe, you find everything cute...N-not that I blame you." "I mean it though. You're quite the looker as a tiny person. You're adorable!" "Oh Lu," Mikau sigh as he bury into her, half for warmth, half out of affection. There is truly no other girl in the world that he rather be with then with his mate. But in midst of their embrace, he something was off with Lulu, an eerie silence falling on her as her eyes grew dark and concern. "Lulu? What's wrong? You're not hurting from the attack are you?" "Mikau," Lulu breathe, trying to muster up her courage as she carry on. "When I was being ram into the wall of the laboratory, I heard it; I heard the yells and cries of distress Zoras on the other side." "What?" Mikau pull away from her with such a bewildered expression, such surprise as it flash across his blue eyes. Worry soon wash over him. "Are you sure there were others?" Lulu quickly nodded. "Yes. I heard them yelling and squealing from their side. They said things like 'Another one?!' They're torturing her!' 'Leave her alone you warm blooded freaks!' But what really caught my ears were these one sentences; 'How many innocent shark Zoras in Termina are they going to kidnap and turn into dolphin people? They need to understand that our kind matters just as much as any stupid sea mammal!' Mik, there were more Zoras then just the two of us back there. They are all shark Zoras like us, I knew this much by that last quote. They're trying to erase sharks off the earth by replacing them with their own kind." "Oh Goddesses...Its coming back to me. Sharks and dolphins had been mortal enemies since the beginning of time. The instinctual hatred must've carry over in the cetacean people's own evolution line. That's why they were so eager to put us through their little experiment against our will. They want to 'fix' us to avoid competition. Paranoid freaks. I never thought I'd hate a group of dolphins this much, especially since the ones in our oceans had coexisted peacefully with domestic sharks. We can live in harmony if they just give us the chance." "Sadly, they are too blinded by their mammalian superiority complex to care. They see fish as unintelligent and lacking of any real feelings. They'll only continued committing these unspeakable crimes as they come in contact and collect more breeds of shark Zoras." "All the more reason to find Kafei and turn me back then. I'll give them a good asswhipping and serve them to our pet sharks. Come on. Let's find Kafei' house." *** Kafei lean back comfortably in his couch as he read his book, the fire crackling and popping softly in front of him. Sprinkle of glistening snow flutter down from the outside world beyond the foggy window next to him, the lights from houses across from his barely pouring into his living room. He bundle himself with a velvety raspberry robe that match his plush carpet. The golden flames before him danced and licked briskly at the protective barrier of the fireplace as the sparks and embers glowed with an alien hue. By his bunny slippered feet was a Keaton, resting quietly on the rug as it snore. It had its head on its paws, its face masked with a peaceful expression as is side breathes steady, its fluffy tails curled around its body like a blanket. Kafei's mother was understandably never keen on allowing wild animals into the house for safety concern like diseases or attacking, always telling her son to respect their space and admire them from their backyard. The large yard borders a small wooded area where Clock Town's domestic animal and Pokemon residents (smuggle into the realm for illegal pet trades) likes to hang out with their wilder counterparts. Wild critters would pop up on their property all the time through a hole in the fence his father fail to fix up, and his mommy was quite stern when she wants minimal interacting between him and "vermin". But despite her warnings that doesn't stop him from sneaking his little "pet" in when they weren't around. He known the Keaton for years, remembering when the curious fox approach him and Anju during a festival as he wore the Keaton mask. Obviously it was smitten with him for that reason and began a series of it following him around and asking for attention. He started to feed and play with it, and the two had share a strong bond since. A knock on the door pulled him out of the novel he was reading, and he saw his Keaton sleepily raise its head, its eyes still close as it whimper quietly to itself. Just when he was in the most suspenseful part of the plot too! Annoyed with the abrupt interruption, Kafei speed walk over to the door and try not to glare into the peephole. When he comprehend who was standing outside, cover in shimmering scales that brim like opal, he felt his heart skip a beat and butterflies crashing blindly in his stomach. Immediately he undid the padlock and nearly swung the door open. And swirl of powdery snow wisp into the warm house, chilling his skin as it yank his robe back forcefully, revealing an Indigo-Go's boxers that he wore. Kafei squeal like a startled puppy as he try to hurriedly cover himself, his blood red eyes wide as he smile stupidly in his visitor's direction. Lulu held her hand to her as she struggle to surpass her giggle, watching the little elf eared human quickly cover himself as his face grew a hot red. She felt Mikau huddling up to her, peering into the tempting warmth of his house with a longing expression. Lulu clear her throat. "Oh Kafei! Let's ignore that little moment and get to the point. Can we come in?" "Sure!" nodded Kafei with a bright smile. "Anything for a frie-" His crimson sights landed on the under dress person latch onto her silky smooth frame, the man shivering so violently he could hear his teeth clattering. The poor...Hylian? Sheikah?...had frost lacing his snowy white hair, and his skin had turn pale with a tinge of blue from the cold. "Oh my Goddesses Lulu! Who's this sad bloke? And is he poorly dressed in this weather?" "I-its a l-l-long story," Mikau murmur, struggling to speak as his throat became scratchy and irritated. "Wait, Mikau?!" Kafei blink as he step back in shock, his eyes suddenly wild as he recognize his voice. The only thing different was that it lacked the elegant aquatic trill of a Zora. "What the hell-?" "Y-yes, We know. Looong s-st-story. Please let us in already. I'm dying out here. My ass is freezing off!" "Yep, that's Mikau all right," Kafei commented half humorously as he allow the two into his house. Lulu picked up Mikau and carry him in as Kafei locked the door behind them. In the position he is in now, Mikau felt both embarrass for being whisk around like a little pet. The last time he was carry around like this was several years ago, and before that was roughly a decade ago. It was Darmani who had carry him that last time in response to the daredevil Zora having twisted his ankle after skiing down Snowhead. The Goron had to struggle across the mountain just to get his scaly rear to the nearest hospital. Now, here he is, being cradle like a newborn tadpole as Lulu snuggle him in her arms. She keeps saying things like "Who makes a cute little human? You! You're so cute!" and pet names. Zoras sometimes see humans as pets, and vice versa. Though humans tend to be sensitive with being called animals even if that makes zero sense since they ARE animals like Zoras, though not in the same sense as his fish brethren. Lulu rub her nose against his, and Mikau remember that his electro-sensitivity, a trait unique to sharks of all kind, was no more. He no longer felt the tingling sensation that he pleasures when Lulu and him rub their sensitive noses together. But that didn't stop him from closing his eyes with and trying to purr in delight. He nuzzle into the nape of her neck, curling into a ball as he try to take in the warmth of the living room. Lulu's fins were wrap around him protectively, trying to provide extra warmth as she scooted onto the couch. She carefully lay Mikau on the cushion, stroking his velvety hair as she cuddle onto him. Kafei trotted over the the next room over and quickly reappear with a bundle of blankets in his arms. He usher the female away and cover the humanized Zora under the thick soft covers. Mikau breathe a sigh of relief and duck his head underneath, disappearing completely as he shuffle to absorb its warmth and get comfortable. "Thanks pal," he smiled, satisfied with the comforting blankets as the fire slowly heat him up. He bundle himself up and nuzzle into its cozy embrace blowing playfully at the little Keaton as it came to inspect him. The golden three tailed fox whine happily and it gave him quick licks with a tiny pink tongue as the ex-Zora tickle its cheeks. "No problem. But I have so many questions regarding your little....er..." "Transformation?" The couple both quoted in unison. "Yeah, that. I mean-What the freaking hell? How and why did you become human?" "There was an unusual incident that occurred today," Lulu began as she stroke Mikau's head. "We were 'invited' to participate in a program geared towards Zoras, specifically those of the shark family. Turns out we were abducted to be part of some bizarre experiment to turn us into bipedal sea mammals." Kafei's crimson eyes grew large and held his hand up to briefly silence her. "Wait a minute. Bipedal sea mammals? Were those the freaky things that pop up in Clock Town a few week ago? Nobody would shut up about these humanoid animals since." "Y-yeah. And they're freaking obnoxious," Mikau growl as he was reminded of the dolphin people's unholy existence. "What do you know 'bout them?" "I'll tell you what I know. They are not native here in Termina. In fact the marine biologist Dr. Mizumi found out that they came from the distant seas of a country called Holodrum, which is in another dimension altogether. Apparently there are no Zoras there, and they rule as the dominate species of their ocean domain unopposed. Ever since they found a way to Termina, Zoras had been disappearing left and right at an alarming rate, all who are shark Zoras like you guys. I keep hearing it on the news and work. Many Zoras are on edge because of those creatures." "Another dimension? You've got to be kidding me..." Mikau groan inwardly. "And in an effort to turn me into one of them, the stupid female creature read the wrong spell book and turn me into a defenseless little person instead. If they're going to turn Zoras into members of their own races, at least be competent enough to do their job. Like really. I don't even know what breed of elf-eared human am I. There's Gerudo, Sheikah, Hylian, Lokomo, Cobble and Twili. Obviously Twili are out of the picture since they evolved separately from the main branch and are radically different from any other members of your species to the point they look like aliens. I don't have the sunburned color of a Gerudo, so that's ruled out too. Maybe I'm a Sheikah given the hair? They do traditionally have white and blond hair after all." "No, you're just a Hylian," Kafei said as he point in the direction of Mikau's newly develop ears. "You see, elfin humans have slight variants of our pointed ears depending on the race. Though because of its minor alteration, it is not noticeable among regular humans and non-humans like you guys unless you really look at them. Hylians have slightly broader ears, while Sheikah ears are slender. To make my next statement really count, all Sheikah have blood red eyes. It is a specific trait that only exist among Sheikah and Sheikah hybrids. Its what defines us as the Shadow Folks." He finished off with a gesture to his own almond shaped eyes, the blood coloration betraying his lineage as a descendant of the ninja people. His grandmother from his father's side was a pure blooded Sheikah, and thus Kafei had inherited the traditional eye genetics of her people. Though he still has more qualities of a Hylian then a Sheikah.     "Aw, that's kinda disappointing. Sheikah are my favorite because they remind me of my own species in so many ways. We share some things in common, and it gives me even more of an excuse to kick those freaks' blubbery asses in the most epic moveset imaginable. Not that there's anything wrong with Hylians." "No problem. I recon that since you obviously had a bad day, you want to get back at those guys and turn back into a Zora?" "We both want to get back at them," Lulu nodded. "With the knowledge we learned, Mikau and I agree that with the combine forces of the authorities we shall avenge our fellow Zoras and punish those giggling lunatics harshly. But at the state he's in now, Mikau cannot take them on. He has no defenses, and can easily be overpowered by the much larger dolphin folk. And you know how Mikau is not one to sit back in a fight. That and he is getting sick from the cold. We were hoping you know of a way to turn him back to normal. You are very savvy with how to solve other people's problems." Kafei click his tongue, ruffling the fur of his Keaton as it nudge his hand with its snout. "Well lucky you, this race change, magic or not, is completely reversible, so you're in luck. However there is only one person that I know that has the power to change you back...and I don't think you'll like the concept of the idea very much." "Who is it? I'm willing to meet them if it means turning back into a Zora again," Mikau said with a cough, getting annoyed at the feeble state he's plunging into. Kafei seem to hesitate, then, in a meek voice utter the following. "The Great Fairy of North Clock Town." ... ... ...Silence... "Oh! Um of coarse," Lulu laugh awkwardly, looking at Mikau's direction. His face was a mixture of complete horror and disgust. She never seen such lively expressions on his face before, all thanks to his Hylian transformation which allows his emotions to be that much clearer. "No way. I think I can get use to a human lifestyle instead. Being a human is suddenly not so bad." "Oh come on guys! I know she's famous for being a little...suggestive...flirty and maybe overly skimpy...but she can really help you regain your true form back. Don't you want to be a Zora again? You ALWAYS boast how amazing Zoras are and how proud you are to be born as one. Besides you can't stay like that forever. What about your lifestyle as a musician? Your career and millions of adoring fans? You're a Zora! Think of your friends waiting for you back at sea. Think of Lulu. You can't have any of this looking like that." Mikau took a longing look to Lulu at the mention of her name. Their eyes met, and he knew deep inside that he want nothing more then to be by her side for an eternity and more. Those beautiful, haunting orbs of magenta shining against her pearly white body. The lilac/indigo tinge of her crown and rims of her wing-like fins. Her curvy hourglass frame. The glittering scales that gleam like opal in the light of the fire. She is the definition of perfection and he knew that life would be hard living away from her. He needs her, and he knew that she needed him too. They were more then mere band mates. They were more then simply mates... "You're right. I need to get my form back not only for the ass kicking I'll commit upon those ocean rejects, but for the sake of my friends. When should we go to the see her?" "Tomorrow," Kafei answered pointing his finger to the clock mounted onto the fireplace. The time signified 10:00 pm, a little late to go out and about especially at this time of year. "The snow's set to settle sometime in the night, and the roads should be plowed by the time we head out. I know you're a little ill, but I already been told by my parents to watch over the house for the weekend while they are away, and too not invite people over. I promise though her shrine is in the park only a couple blocks from here. We should arrive there in a few minutes of foot." "Well I guess we're stuck here for the night huh?" Mikau said as he smile at Lulu. She smirk softly, bopping his nose with her own yet again. "I suppose so," confirm Kafei warmly. "My mom and dad won't be coming back til Monday morning. But I don't mind having company tonight; they don't have to know anyway. I was getting a little lonely today and was thinking of inviting Anju tomorrow. I'm glad you guys decided to stop by, though I know for a fact you two must be tire from your little adventure. There's a guest room that you can use tonight. Its down the hall to the left of the stairs." "Thank you Kafei," Lulu bowed politely, picking Mikau up in her arms. He felt heavier with the thick bundles wrapping around his weak frame, but she did not mind. Kafei got up and escorted them to their temporary room, his Keaton padding along besides him. The travel through the dining room and past the stairs where they came across a lovely little bedroom inviting them in. Lulu set Mikau down and brush his hair away from his eyes, planting a soft kiss to his forehead. Never had she kissed a human before, and his skin felt so... Soft and tender. "If you need anything, give me a call ok? In the meantime I'll prepare some nourishing soup for Mikau's cold and a nice batch of milkberry tea." Kafei quoted and the pair nodded delightfully. He smile as he quietly shut the door, and his muffle footstep journey to the kitchen in preparation of the beverages. Mikau invited Lulu to lay next to him, patting on the open space on the queen sized bed. She gladly crawl in and they curl into each other's arms closing their eyes. Mikau felt so much better knowing that Lulu is with him. Even as a human, he knows that their future will remain bright and positive for years to come. The hardships they endure had only strengthen their spiritual bond for each other, and now, as he awaits the arrival of Din's Dawn to smite Nayu's Night, his human heart thump against her beating chest. And he sigh as he drifted off in her embrace. Beating an unbreakable musical rhythm. Between human and Zora.

Oh my gosh I’m sorry this came so freaking late. But I had no choice but to write a Fanfiction out of the blue because the prompt for that day was "human" and trust me my human drawing skills is atrocious to say the least. I had to write something instead, and I just made up this ridiculous story as I went along. I remember reading a Ratchet and Clank story long ago in which Ratchet woke up as human instead of a Lombax and was deeply confused. That became my inspiration and it help me get through this story. I wanted Mikau to go through a similar thing by waking up as a Hylian rather then a simple alternate universe where the characters are just randomly humans. I think it fits better in terms of the Zelda universe. Spoilers!: If Zelda can turn into a Sheikah with magic, why not expand upon the race changing concept? 

Hope you don’t mind!  

[ascendingexotitan]

The Strikers’ Bold

inspired and proofread by @maunderfiend

“Are you sure this is the place?” Banner-1 muttered, his eyes flicking off to the side as he kept a close quarter with his companion for this ‘mission’. His hands in his jacket’s pocket and the breeze licking at his synthetic fur-lining, it wasn’t often he came to the western sector of the City. Its reputation is known as the more dangerous spot, not because of some wayward gangs fighting at the constant struggling; nor the malfested who survive the blight of fear to the Fallen that occasionally dwelled at the nearby mountain, but because of the shadowy pickets and devious actions done in light of the City’s struggles - despite all that the Guardians do.

A hand grasped the brown-painted Exo’s shoulders with a clawed thumb brushed once on the fur, provoking an instinctive jerk and glance at Typhon-5 who looked down at him - or rather, his visored face aimed in his direction. How did that thing work anyways? The war-torn titan never gave him an answer. While Banner was one of the smaller Exos around, Typhon was a big model. He was refined to look similar to everyone else, but under that paintjob, plating and very fine synth-muscles was a war machine. The civilian clothes fit him well too. The tight black muscle shirt gripping his pectorals, covered by a duster coat and satchel holding their trade. Prompt legs were wrapped in tested pants and iron-toed boots. Funnily, he couldn’t resist the urge of putting ancient Egyptian motif on those boots.

In the observation of the old Exo’s get up and the wait for him to say something, they stood at the start of an alley hissing with steam from the nearby munition factory that helped with the war effort.

Finally a minute in - probably one of his neural glitches again - Typhon spoke with his gentle yet gravelly dark voice, “I wouldn’t be dragging you here otherwise.” He stated, then he casually graced Banner’s shoulders and patted his back. “Just remember what I said.”

Keep the sensors up. Why, the enigmatic robot never said that either!

With that, the two stepped through the steam and darkness. Unlike Humans, Exo had the benefit of upgrades and combat-appropriate systems, including optimal optics to see through the dark when fighting through the warrens of Fallen caverns and the Hive’s wretched tunnels. Banner’s optics were quickly adjusting, pupils widening a little in their twisting emerald irises. Systems immediately checking for any surprises or dwelling dangers.

In this two-man wide passageway, it made a good ambush spot, and…

A limb wraps around his right elbow with a little squeeze.

“Hm?” Banner questioned, looking down at it. It was Typhon. His big arm locked to his, holding the other close. He looked questioningly, but the visored exo didn’t provide an answer. The mech was always uncharacteristically touchy, ever since they met at the Crucible in a game of Clash. The almost pinpoint memory caused a flare of heat in the metallic cheeks, replacing his anxiety with a fluster. Decidedly he held on to Typhon in return, giving him a gentle pat to his big bicep.

The walk seemed to stretch forever, the sound of their boots being the only noise outside of industrial movements. The afternoon was dark today with the sun pushing the ever-resting shadow of the Traveler over their heads now. The lights of flaring forges and running energy was their only actual illumination. In actuality, by their system’s City Standard Time, it was six minutes. Banner didn’t even notice they were going through a near labyrinth till they stepped out into a small courtyard in the back of one of the Monarch factories.

Piles of crates and storage units were placed here and there, but there was certain dreariness that kept the Exo on edge.

“Spooky.” He acknowledged, provoking a little sound of amusement from his companion before the gruff voice replied, “Don’t worry, this won’t last long.” Suddenly, the big mech grabbed his partner by his belt loop and pulled him into a rough kiss. It was unexpected, why’d he drag Banner all the way out here for some mischief while on their mission!?

Despite the complaining, Banner gripped at Typhon’s jacket as he was dipped slightly. There was grumbling but each soft metallic smack and a grunt from a fanged nibble on his bottom lip muffled it, servos shuddering at the aggressive little growl that the older titan tended to make in these affectionate movements. It was like trying to pet a back alley dog, you just didn’t know if they were going to lunge. As quick as it came, the kiss broke by mere inches with that snarking grin from the red Exo. Banner was about to question when his audio receptors caught something.

Quickly, the two looked over to see a guy landing against a crate. A figure stood there, dressed in dirty work-clothes with a bent crowbar in hand, tapping the surface. Their face was obscured under a filter-mask, meant to fight off the constant smog in the factory and actually breath. “Hey now, don’t stop on my account. Not often we see a bot get dirty!” He spoke with a muffled tone, followed by a nonchalant shrug. Despite the welcoming posture and voice, the malice was there.

Seven others appeared from the smog; several humans - three males, two females - and two Awoken males followed suit. Most were like the first, dressed like workers and the other two wore guard uniforms. They were scruffy, ill-prepared guards armed with standard-issue rifles.

Typhon smoothly pulled Banner upright and let him go. With a hand placed on the small of his back, he gave a subtle, single nod.

“Yeah. We get nice and dirty, that’s what we are good at,” he answered, head moving slowly. Calculating with his body, he edged to an angle. “You must be the gang dismantling the Frame units posted here?” The gangster rolled his shoulder again, causing Typhon to tick his claw. “Guilty as charged, Exo. We got a few of your kind too, took enough pieces. Not enough to have you ‘revived’, yeah?”

While Typhon had the majority of attention, Banner had his own look. A slight sneer, hard to see in the dark quarters. These part-stealing scum were the objective. Since the City Guard couldn’t risk upsetting the civilians here into a small revolt of agitated rights and give the gangs more fuel to their upstarting, they sent two of their own to take care of it quietly. So here they were, two Guardians against six. There were probably more somewhere, but immediate problems first.

“They must have been new. Disgusting.” Typhon snarled, the darkness shrouded the quivering outline dancing his body but his partner could feel it. The gathering ions of Arc energy surged through him. “We’ll fix that.”

Immediately taking that in consideration, the two ‘guards’ snapped their weapons up to take the two down while they were open. However, the Exo were much quicker. The puffs of leg pistons sent the pair in their intended directions. Banner crashed his way through one of the women and bashed his armored head against one of the Awoken’s face with a loud crunch. Typhon was on the kill like a prowling cat. Bullets were flying at his direction but the big Exo angled his body in a way that caught the gang’s speaker into a savage rend of claws across the chest from the right side and up to the left shoulder. One iron vice caught the man’s collarbone, heaving him up the moment his boots pushed off the crate and taking the person with him.

Catching the edge of the top crate,his weight lessened for a brief moment with arc energy pushing through him. Typhon bounced and came back down, using the screaming man’s body as an adequate meat shield to streak across the courtyard again before using him as a living javelin. He tossed the man with one swift movement, sending him onto members who made an attempt at rushing him.

Banner wasn’t nearly as acrobatic. Each movement was a precise and fierce blow. Leaving the Awoken reeling with a crushed nose and upper jaw, the small Exo caught an extended electric-baton by its wielder’s wrist and finely snapped it to the side at the small motion of kicking another’s plasma torch in the air with the cost of some broken fingers.  With a sick drop, his heel popped the other arm from its socket and a free fist gave one straight punch to the ribs.

One swift crunch, shattering ribs beneath his fist.

Screams became yawns of struggling pain, but Banner drowned it as he hurled the crumbling human into his dangling-armed friend single-handedly.  Squinting at the count in his head, his body snapped into action with hands lifting in front of the guards. He just barely stopped a full automatic barrage with an output of Arc, the crackling energy popping the heated projectiles into harmless spits of metal by the time they pelted his body.

The show of power had the woman agape in shock, obviously they hadn’t handled Guardians that were ready for them. Her eyes flicked at the other Exo holding one of her fellows by arm, twisting him one way and another with ruthless yanks as he was trying to pull it out before hammering a blurring fist into a knee and right behind the ribs. Immediate crippling.

“Fuck this.” She spat, turning tail and running in the same direction that the last Awoken in the group was heading for. However, Banner wasn’t letting that happen. His eyes burned and veins boiled with the weaponizing of his inner light. Hands opening, feeling the focus reconnecting and suddenly crackle into fists of righteous electricity.

“You’re not going anywhere!” His electronic-jittered voice roared and when one made the mistake of looking back, they saw a Striker pouncing with his Fists of Havoc primed. Stories were well told about that, the videos of the Crucible showed them...and they knew - no one but the most heavily-armored survived a Striker and his Fists of Havoc.

*** Banner stood over the spot where they once were; Where there had been two people - criminals under the law and practical murderers and torturers of his kind - there was now just atomized remains. His hands clenched and relaxed, feeling something akin to phantom tensions. His robotic mind was trying to comprehend, but something told him to ease. They were bad, they had go. Prison and exile wouldn’t have helped...would it?

He was staring, warily. Killing was easy, yeah - after fighting hordes of aliens and robotic menaces for as long as he did - it was as simple as stepping on a bug. Humans were strange; one would think every form of life would unite against their frontiers of enemies, but Humanity had an odd penchant to do dumb things. Perhaps, that is part of their programming too.

This time, Banner was aware of his surroundings and he felt Typhon behind him. That familiar speck of Light wrapped in some form of anomaly. The larger Exo walked next to him and looked at the spot as well. “Targets neutralized. We got ‘em. Ka’s digging into their communications now…” He reported. “The Vanguards asking for us to come back.”

Banner was still quiet for a moment.

“I know it isn’t easy.” Typhon inputted, his voice managing to be gentle and sympathetic despite its deep, gritty tone. “Killing the Humans aren’t the easiest feeling, make you feel like uhm...those ancient warning vids about A.I. rebellions, hm?” The brown Exo quirked his lips at that and couldn’t help but grin at the other. “You are terrible at this.”

“Being sympathetic is hard, don’t know how you youngsters do it.” The older Titan quipped with a huff.

Moving slowly, Banner wrapped his arms around the larger mech, “maybe you should just stick with one of these.”

It took a couple seconds before strong arms wrapped around the smaller Titan with a short squeeze. “Yeah. Also, um...thanks.”

“For what?” Banner spoke, muffled against Typhon’s chest.

“For helping.”

“You are so vague.” He spoke, answered by a teasing chuckle. “Can’t spill all of my beans, as they say.”

“Old mech.”

“Pup.”

[avanneman]

Fred Kaplan: So sadly so right

I blow hot and cold on old Fred Kaplan, who hangs his hat at Slate, most recently, cold, when Fred waxed hot, announcing that “America’s retreat from the world under Trump has shown why we’re still the indispensable nation”1, vaguely claiming that all the world is crying out for American “leadership” to solve all their problems. Well, now Fred is hot, about nuclear nonsense being emitted by Secretary of State James Mattis, and this time he’s right on the money.

As Fred explains in some detail, and so will I, the once skeptical four-star appears to have plunged happily into the Never-Never Land of high-end nuclear strategy/fantasy, where enough is never enough, where windows of vulnerability are always opening, and where true security always requires just another hundred billion for another set of brand-new warheads. Otherwise, anything might happen! The whole world might blow up!

Fred describes Mattis’ descent from grace—and common sense—as follows:

“James Mattis has fully joined the nuclear tribesmen.

“As recently as 2015, Mattis urged Congress to reassess the need for the triad, the long-standing practice of placing nuclear weapons on three types of platforms—land-based intercontinental ballistic missiles, submarine-launched missiles, and long-range aircraft. He even advocated dismantling the land-based missiles. He argued that their hair-trigger posture increased the chance of nuclear war.

“His views at the time reflected his status as a just-retired Marine four-star general—the Marines being the only branch of the U.S. military that has never possessed nuclear weapons—and his friendship, as a fellow at Stanford University, with prominent arms-control advocates on campus, notably former secretary of defense William Perry.

“But now Mattis himself has been secretary of defense for a year, and, as he acknowledged at a House hearing Tuesday morning, his views have evolved. He came in to the Pentagon, he testified, “wanting to challenge just about everything,” but after speaking with experts of all stripes, he realized that the land-based ICBMs are “a stabilizing element” and that other weapons he once looked at askance also have their merits.”

As Fred points out (though not in so many words), this is total bullshit.2 First, and most importantly (and it’s something Fred doesn’t emphasize enough), we don’t have any enemies. Yes, Vladimir Putin doesn’t want us in his front yard (or his back yard) and the Chinese don’t either, but no one wants us dead, the way the Soviets did. Saddam Hussein was quite possibly the last national leader who believed that he could increase his power through an old-fashioned war of conquest.

Mattis and his department will have none of that, of course. The department, in its recent Summary of the 2018 National Defense Strategy spouts a virtual parody of polysyllabic, neo-Trumpian trumpery:

“Today, we are emerging from a period of strategic atrophy, aware that our competitive military advantage has been eroding. We are facing increased global disorder, characterized by decline in the long-standing rules-based international order—creating a security environment more complex and volatile than any we have experienced in recent memory. Inter-state strategic competition, not terrorism, is now the primary concern in U.S. national security.”

Well, except that we aren’t. Every statement in this paragraph is false. Particularly amusing is the way the DoD dismisses the “War on Terror”, which apparently is no longer capable of justifying the kind of cash the department wants to throw around. I mean, those guys don’t even have tanks!

So we’re back to a good old fashioned Cold War, requiring a massively rejuvenated nuclear triad, spelled out in another DoD pub, “Nuclear Posture Review”, which assures that “The world is more dangerous, not less,” which is a complete lie, followed by more lies, claiming that, while the U.S. complied with the three post Cold War nuclear disarmament treaties, Russia and China, those cheaters, did not. Time for the U.S. to smarten up, time for Uncle Sucker to turn into Uncle Bust You A New One!

As Fred (remember him?) points out, this allows the Pentagon, with Mattis leading the way, to jump back into the warm, stagnant pond of “nuclear strategy,” where the more horrifying a scenario is, the more likely it is, a pond where the only sure reality is the dream, or rather the will-o-the-wisp, of absolute omnipotence. According to the myth generated by hysterical neo-cons, first during the administration of that damned hippie Richard Nixon, and then honed to stiletto sharpness during the reign of hillbilly Jimmy Boy, we cannot allow “the enemy” (which, I repeat, we no longer have) to achieve “parity”, because, because, well, suppose the enemy attacked us first. Well, sure, we’d still have enough firepower to wreak unimaginable havoc upon them, denying them any hope of victory, but would we do it? Suppose we had a sissy president, who, you know, wouldn’t have the balls to kill, say, 75 million people out of pure spite. And suppose the enemy knew that! Then they’d just blow the shit out of us, and we’d do nothing! And they’d win! So we can’t have parity! We have to have absolute, total, fucking overwhelming superiority in every aspect of, well, everything! So the enemy would be absolutely terrified of us!

Well, of course, “the enemy” doesn’t want to be absolutely terrified of us. They want to maintain what used to be called a “credible deterrent”. Which guarantees an unending arms race. Which of course is what the hawks really want. The neocons want endless international tension, requiring the sort of leadership that only the toughest of the tough can supply (meaning that Democrats will have to “prove” that they just as tough as Republicans, à la Hillary Clinton), while the military wants jobs!

Fred does a good job of describing our already massive (already grotesquely massive) “deterrent”, which is in its own right a massive waste of money, because no one wants a nuclear war! Because a nuclear war would be so destructive that, as John F. Kennedy was wont to say, “the survivors would envy the dead.”

But our military is at its wit’s end, a solution in search of a problem, sitting on a huge pile of useless weaponry, weaponry that, sadly, is, you know, boring and out of date and basically not cool and, worst of all, does not provide careers! If we don’t need this stuff, then we don’t need the guys who operate it either! One can wonder if the massive bribery scandal of “Fat Leonard”, which has led to the investigation of 60 (!) admirals, isn’t at least in part the result of years of sailing endlessly about, pretending to have a mission and purpose, when in fact the only purpose is to spend money. Hey, if wasting money is our job, we might as well enjoy ourselves!

Thanks to Trump, and the Republican party in general, the military is going to get a great big pot of new money to play around with, to waste on ever more esoteric and non-functioning weaponry (aka “jobs programs”—see my rants on our out-of-date-for-forty years and counting bomber program here). Furthermore, the Trump Administration continues to gin up hysteria regarding the “threat” of North Korea’s nuclear weapons program, which does not threaten us, at all. In fact, one might say that we possess an overwhelming superiority in nuclear weapons vis-à-vis North Korea. But in the Trump Administration’s “final” (to date) refinement on nuclear “strategy”, even overwhelming superiority isn’t enough.

Afterwords Fred expresses his skepticism regarding unthinkable thinkin’ folks in a more measured, not to say grown up manner: “As someone who has studied the nuclear world for 40 years and has interviewed hundreds of its denizens for a book (Wizards of Armageddon) and many articles, I have learned this: When it comes to nuclear strategy, there is no reality. The weapons are real, and their destructive power is cataclysmic. But the countless attempts to harness this destruction into an elaborate war-fighting strategy are excursions into metaphysics, not the hard-boiled realism that its purveyors like to believe.”

Fred is particularly hard on the new nukes folks’ latest hardon, a “mininuke”, which apparently the Russians have, and so we must have.

“Mattis’ argument, as laid out in the Nuclear Posture Review, is that the Russians have low-yield weapons and that they’ve simulated using them in military exercises that simulate a war with the NATO nations in Europe. Therefore, we have to match this capability, so the Russians don’t think that they can lob some mininukes at Western Europe, as a pressure tactic, leaving us no choice but to surrender or to fire back with much more powerful weapons, which would prompt the Russians to fire back at us.”

As Fred points out, we already have low-yield weapons, which generally run 5-10 kilotons, as compared to the Hiroshima bomb of 13 kilotons. But, to make an argument that Fred doesn’t, the Hiroshima bomb killed a minimum of 75,000 people. If the Russians used a number of “mininukes” on NATO forces, they would be guaranteed to kill thousands of American troops. How could any American president allow that to happen? All the war games developed back in the Cold War days indicated that general conventional war in Europe, not to mention a “mininuke” one, would rapidly escalate to an all-out exchange. In his (justly) little-read book, Thinking About National Security, Harold Brown, secretary of defense under Jimmy Carter, tried to justify our unjustifiable chemical weapons program. Brown acknowledged that chemical weapons don’t work very well, and also acknowledged that every study concluded that any Soviet use of such weapons against U.S. forces would inevitably result in a full-scale nuclear war. Well, when studies don’t tell you what you want to hear, you ignore them. Which is pretty much nuclear “strategy” in a nutshell.3

Fred also notes that Barack Obama arrived in the White House as a dedicated no nukes dude and ended up signing off on virtually whatever multi-billion-dollar must-have the hawks put on his plate. Why? Because 95% of the American “left” simply takes no interest in foreign policy or military affairs. Sure, they hate “war”, but other than that they won’t lift a finger. No politician is going to get in a pissing match with a bureaucracy as powerful as the Pentagon unless he knows he will have a strong, well-organized pressure group—something similar to the pro-choice movement—at his back. But liberal voters don’t care. When even Bernie Sanders is the Pentagon’s bitch—and as long as Vermont gets a cut of Pentagon cash, he will be—the chances for a “sane” nuclear policy are slim to none.

I corrected Fred by explaining that we were “an indispensable nation,” along with (I would say) China, India, Germany, Japan, and even Russia. In particular, we don’t need to protect Europe from Russian invasion, nor do we need to prevent the rise of China’s influence across Asia (as though that were possible). ↩︎

Fred prefers “metaphysics”, which I think is unfair to metaphysics, though I see his point. ↩︎

I took a poke at Harold here. ↩︎